summary: toji struggles with a dark past, forced to fight in order to survive. it’s the one thing he’s ever truly excelled at. it isn’t ideal, but stepping into the ring provides him money and a sense of purpose. as long as he can use it to provide for you, that’s enough for him.
cw: mentions of fighting, cursing, dark themes, getting arrested, injuries, blood, toji comes from a dark past, reader checking for injuries, toji is soft for you, petnames
word count: 1.9k
toji is used to fighting in places that weren’t legal—basements, back alleys, parking lots – anywhere people would pay to see. it wasn’t about winning. it was about surviving, walking out with enough money to make it to the next day. he only had himself to depend on. he had harsh reminders of this - the weight of an empty stomach clawing at his insides, the dull ache in his bones from sleeping on concrete, the way his vision would blur if he went too long without food. winning just meant he got to keep going. he never lost, because losing wasn’t an option he could afford. if he didn’t win then he didn’t eat. it was a cycle. violent and unforgiving.
he learned early that pain didn’t matter. not the sting of knuckles splitting open, not the crack of something that might’ve been a rib, not the copper taste of blood filling his mouth. pain was temporary.
toji didn’t have the best childhood, he grew up with no real home, no one waiting for him at the end of the day. and when kids picked on him he had two options – continue to feel sorry for himself or fight back. so that’s what he did.
at first it was for his protection, until he started looking for fights. because the anger inside him needed somewhere to go, and this was the only thing that made the noise in his head go still. people took notice of the kid who didn’t go down. and they started betting on him. at first it was small pocket change and loose bills passed between hands. but as he grew, so did the price. voices would call his name. pushing him forward, setting him up, using him. he didn’t care. as long as they paid.
it changed him. he became more intimidating, more tense. it was clear in his body language. he’d position himself in every room with his back to the wall, eyes on exits at all times. his hands flexed when someone got too close.
rules didn’t matter. underground fighting wasn’t just fighting. it was brutality dressed up as entertainment. bodies slamming into each other on cracked mats or bare concrete, the sound of impact echoing too loud in tight spaces. the crowd shouting, laughing, demanding more. the sight of blood made them louder. and toji was very good at giving them what they wanted.
he’s gotten in trouble more than once for it, almost a regular at the local police station. at first, he’d get off with warnings, then it turned into paperwork. a name that started showing up too often and a file that got thicker with every arrest. he spent many nights in holding cells, sitting on cold benches with dried blood still on his hands. his bad behavior followed him. doors closed before he had an opportunity to reach them. no one wanted to hire someone with his reputation. so he went back to the only thing he knew he couldn't be denied from.
–
tonight was his first fight since spending the weekend in a cell. while the opponent across from him is pacing, hyping himself up, throwing wild practice jabs—toji just stands there, shoulders loose, head tilted slightly like he’s bored. too calm because he knows how this will end.
when the bell rings a switch flips. he’s fast and efficient. no wasted motion or hesitation. and it’s over before the opponent’s brain can catch up. the crowd is shocked, roaring at another victory but he barely acknowledges it. just wipes the sweat from his face, rolls his shoulders once, and walks out like it was nothing more than another day. afterward, he comes home to you.
you first met him when he was already built like a wall, with broad shoulders, thick arms, a heavy weight that makes people move out of his way without thinking. you learn his past in pieces that don’t always come willingly. he doesn’t talk much about it, but you piece it together in fragments. the life chooses to live gives him structure, money and a way to temporarily escape the real world.
you wait with the tv murmuring low, some show you’re not really watching. the lamp in the corner casts a warm glow across the living room. it smells like the candle you lit hours ago, comforting for him after his long night.
you hear his key in the door and sit up in anticipation.
“hi baby” he mumbles. your eyes quickly scan him, checking for any obvious signs of injury.
“you won?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
“yeah.” of course he did. he always does.
“come” you softly call him over to the couch. he melts into it, tired and happy to be home. your hands glide over his shoulders, his arms, his legs, anything that might be affected from his match.
“hold still” you scold.
“i am holding still” he says.
“you’re not” you murmur, pushing lightly until he exhales and relaxes under your touch. your fingers press gently, searching for anything out of place. there’s nothing surprising, just a faint bruise starting to bloom. nothing worth worrying over.
“you’re fine” you murmur, relieved.
“always am” he says it like a fact. you just press a soft kiss to his chest, right over his heartbeat. strong and steady. he watches you, his gaze soft.
“you worry too much” he teases.
“and you don’t worry enough” he huffs, almost a laugh. you rub his arms, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles go anyway. he groans in appreciation.
“you could get hurt one day” you whisper. he tilts his head, studying you. he’s always known that is a possibility. but it hasn’t happened. if there’s one downside to this job (although there are many) it’s the thought of you constantly worrying about him. especially when you’re looking at him like this, and touching him like he’s something worth keeping.
“i won’t” he says softly. it’s a small statement, but it’s not a guarantee he can keep. you shake your head.
“you can’t promise that”. he doesn’t answer. because he knows you’re right.
—
“you have a collect call from toji fushiguro. to accept the charges, please press 1. to refuse please hang up”. you don’t hesitate, you’ve grown used to the message by now.
“toji, what the fuck?” you scold. he told you he wouldn't get in trouble anymore. he doesn’t have many chances left and his lawyer is running out of excuses he can make. toji closes his eyes, cursing under his breath as the familiar feeling of handcuffs rub against his wrists. he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder. he feels a deep sense of self-loathing shame. he’d promised. he’d told you, again and again, that he was done with this kind of trouble. that he’d be more careful.
“don’t be mad, babygirl. i got caught up in something” he sighs. the words were flat, hollow even to his own ears. he hated the sound of his own voice, stripped of its usual low-tide rumble and reduced to this apologetic, tight rasp. he pictured your face—the slight downturn of your lips when you were truly disappointed, the way your brow furrowed. that look hurt more than any jab to the ribs. he was frustrated, something else to add to the list of reasons why he is terrible for you. he was poisonous, and you were too good, too bright, a soft place he didn't deserve to land.
he lets you tell him off without interruption and no attempt to defend himself. he knows he deserves every word you throw at him. and you let him have it. not only for your sake, but for him.
“hang up the phone” a voice says flatly. toji looks sideways at a man in a suit that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. he looks him up and down, thinking the man is trying to get an early turn at a phone call, before focusing back on you. he felt a primal urge to drop the phone and snap the man’s neck, to silence the interruption, to keep listening to the only voice that tethered him to anything good.
you’re in the middle of scolding him when toji hears the dial tone. his eyes snap open and towards the man, who he sees holding the switchook down and ending the call.
“what the fuck–” toji starts.
“i’m your agent” the man says. toji lets out a humorless huff. he doesn’t work for anyone, he works alone.
“…i don’t have an agent” he dismisses. he’s fought hard enough to get where he is now, he sure as hell isn’t going to have a boss. especially not one that takes a percentage of his earnings.
“you do now”. toji furrows his brows, still pissed that his conversation was cut short.
“if this is some kind of sick joke, you better let me call my woman back–” he threatens. the man doesn’t flinch as toji steps toward him. he doesn’t even look concerned.
“i’m bailing you out” the man says. it stops toji in his tracks. he frowns, not believing him.
“as of five minutes ago,” the man interrupts, “you have been released from custody. you’re a free man, toji”.
toji stares at him. really looks this time, taking in the details of the stitching on the suit. it’s familiar, bringing back memories of him mid-fight and the man standing just outside the chaos of the underground ring, always far enough back to avoid attention, but always there watching.
“i have an offer for you”. despite himself, toji listens.
—
toji walks back to the apartment with thoughts racing in his mind. he doesn’t say much as he drops his bag by the door. the man’s voice takes over his thoughts. the offer seemed too good to be true. everything shifted in a matter of minutes—from a holding cell, to freedom, to something that feels a little too close to opportunity.
your back is half-turned toward him, but he can already see the tension in your shoulders, the set of your jaw and the scowl you don’t bother hiding when you finally look at him. it’s full of disapproval, worry and anger that hasn’t cooled since the call.
“i got an offer” he tells you plainly. you blink at him,thrown off because that’s not what you expected him to say. you were sure an apology or a half-assed excuse was going to be the first thing that came out of his mouth.
“what kind of offer?”.
toji exhales through his nose, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “a professional one”.
you turn fully to him. “like… actual league fighting?”
“yeah” he agrees. you didn’t come around to the idea easily. it took a few days of going back and forth before you accepted that toji wanted to do this. the perks spoke for themselves, even though it was the fighting that worried you most of all.
your life noticeably changes after that. the fights become cleaner. there are rules now. referees who actually step in before things go too far. it’s safer compared to what he’s used to doing. and the money pays well. bills get paid faster. groceries are always stocked. you don’t have to stretch things the way you used to. when he comes home and hands you envelopes of cash like it’s nothing, you know he does all of this for you. he never says it outright. but everything he does, every fight he accepts, every bone-deep ache that settles in his muscles, is for that stability he’s been craving since he was young. because in his mind—this is the only thing he’s ever been good at. the only thing that’s ever worked. and as long as it keeps a roof over your head, he’ll keep stepping into that ring.
⋆·˚ ༘ * a/n: banner creds: @aquazero - i posted 3 different fics today. go me!!
thank you for reading ch 1!! this will be a two part fic!! lmk if you would like to be added to the next chapter!
summary ❥ the story of how the paparazzi changed the life of the strongest mma fighter. heavily inspired by lady gaga’s song
warnings: angst, TRIGGERING topics, friends with benefits, unfaithfulness, degradation, deteriorating mental health, nudes, stalking, oral sex, etc.
note: happy PYSKINKTOBER. m.list here
the red button glowed red as the reporter set it on the table, before looking up at the scarred lip man.
“can we have your name please?”
“toji fushiguro, but please call me toji.” the reporter nodded and scribbled in her notebook before continuing with her next question.
“and how do you know know her?” she slid over a picture and he sighed. he looked over every detail of her pretty face. she was so happy then.
“she was one of my biggest fans. she was a reporter and journalist, just like you.” his voice was gruff and his face was plain, but behind those eyes held a story; a painful one.
“you talk about her like she is no longer with us,” the reporter chuckled at her own joke, but there was nothing to joke about. there was a brief silence before she cleared her throat to ask him another question.
“tell me all about her. how you met, her life, don’t spare any details…”
“alright. she was….”
“you’re fucking annoying.” he cursed, peering over his shoulder, watching the girl follow after him—note book in her smaller hands. she rolled her eyes and pushed some of her hair out of her face, still hot on his tail.
“same thing could be said about you, toji. now are you gonna let me ask my questions or are you going to keep dodging me?” she was used to his antics, wasn’t scared of him one bit. he was intimidating inside and outside of the ring, but not to her. she saw right past his demeanor and saw who he really was.
he sighed and grabbed his bottle from his manager and downed the cool liquid, before shoving it back into his hands. “three questions, only. no more. no less.” she smiled and watched as he shooed people out of his locker room, giving them some privacy.
she pressed the button on her tape recorder before beginning with their introductions and then moving onto her first question. “how does it feel it feel to be the undefeated heavyweight champ?”
“great. im untouchable, in and out of the ring.” he was cocky, but he had to be. in this industry, they eat the weak and worship the strong.
“i hear your next fight, you’re fighting your prodigy. think he can beat you?” she slid off her jacket and folded her glasses up, looking at him through her long lashes. “did you not hear me, woman? im untouchable. i trained him, but he can never beat me, no one can.” he responded, sitting down on the bench behind him, pulling the white towel from around his neck.
“last and final question,” she paused, turning off the table recorder and reaching for her matching white buttons to her crisp button up, “when are you going to finally kiss the cute reporter?”
by now, the locker room was cleared out, leaving the two of them alone. he sighed and ran a hand over his face, before standing up; his body towering over her. “didn’t i tell you, i don’t kiss? that’s how people get attached.”
the two had been in a mutual relationship for a while now. a friends with benefits relationship and from the moment it started, he made it very clear that there would be no affection between the two of them—no kissing, no holding hands; just straight fucking.
she understood that and in the beginning, she wasn’t looking for a relationship, but as time moved on; that changed. she wanted him, craved him even. the sex was so good between them too, she wanted more. she just wished he wanted more too.
“right of course….how could i forget?” she moved to re-button her top only to be stopped by his big hands. “take it off. need to see my pretty girls today,” he smirked, alluding to her breasts. it puzzled her, how he can call her body his, but wouldn’t make her his? however, she took it off—along with her black bra—and sat on his lap, watching as he sucked on those pretty lil nipples he loved so much.
“ tojiiii~” she whined as he teased them, swirling them on his tongue and not fully placing the mounds into his mouth. “quit yer’ whining,” he pinched them, making her squeal, until he finally gripped both of her breasts and placed them into his mouth.
he knew how to get her off easily. he knew all of the spots that had her creaming her panties instantly. it was like her body was made just for him.
the more he sucked the more she felt herself get wet and soon she could feel her panties starting to stick to her second set of lips. she rolled her hips over his crotch, feeling his boner rise and poke her core. he groaned when she tugged at his raven colored hair, mouth still attached to her little love buds. “need you so bad. please”
“not till i taste her,” he picked her up and placed on the work bench a few feet away, laying on her back before tugging her pants down, along with her panties. “shit, you’re soaked. so pretty and wet fa me,” he cooed, swiping his thumb over her slit, watching how webs of her essence stuck to him. he did this a few more times, eliciting a series of mewls from her before he finally attached his lips to her needy clit—making her back arch off the leather workbench.
he was like a dog licking up cold water on a hot day, feasting on her clit; slurping and sucking up all her fluids that pooled out of her. he knew exactly how to please her, slipping two fingers inside of her aching hole and curling it upwards—hitting her spot each time.
she was a mess. her sweet, sticky slick slid down from her cunt and onto the black leather underneath her—gushing each time she felt him. her hands were tangled in his hair and she brought her hips up, his nose pressing into her clit as she grinded against his face; speeding up the orgasm she desperately needed.
“gonna cum—oooh shhhitttt,” toji started to spell his name on her clit, sending jolts of electricity up her spine. and once he got to the ' r ’ in fushiguro, she was cumming all over his scarred lips. he wouldn’t let up on her clit either as she came, causing a gush of a water like fluid to splash against his face.
he quickly lapped up every droplet, sucking on her sensitive clit once more, before letting go— a ‘pop’ sound following afterwards. after taking a few minutes to calm down, she sat up on her elbows expecting him to have his dick out, only to be met with him pushing her panties back up her thighs.
“you’re not gonna fuck me?” he shook his head and chuckled, pulling her pants back up as well. “nah, got a press conference in a—“.
he was cut off as the door opened, entering his best friend and his trainer; shiu kong. she immediately sat up and buttoned up her pants, sliding off the piece of equipment—trying to fix herself.
shiu smirked, shooting a nod to his best friend before looking at the flustered woman. “y/n”
“kong,” she responded, clearing her hoarse throat, turning her attention elsewhere; eyes lingering on the puddle she made a few seconds ago. “you know, you were very loud. lucky it was just me out there,” her eyes widened and she tried to hide her face; too embarrassed to be seen. “bye toji! thanks for the interview!”
she ran off, running out of the gym and to her car—driving far away from the establishment.
“looks like you two had quite the relationship.” the reporter spoke, blushing herself, shifting in her seat after hearing the lewd story.
“that’s what you think. there’s more to it.”
—
the chime of her phone put her attention elsewhere. she stppped typing on her laptop and checked her phone; a message from her best friend, utahime, telling her to her asap.
she pressed her contact name and held the phone up to her ear, immediately hearing her voice. “turn on the news right now!”
she raised an eyebrow and stood up and got her tv’s remote, turning it on and turning it to the news. “hello to you too, utahim—WHAT THE FUCK?”
on the screen it was toji and some woman walking out of a restaurant, hand in hand, avoiding the paparazzi the best they could; that is until one of them finally stopped the new couple. “toji we wanna say congratulations on the fight earlier! you did amazing! and who is this lovely lady right next to you?”
“my fiancé,” everything seemed to fade into the background as her mind blurred. she couldn’t believe it. fiancé? ‘but he said—he just—‘ her mind was running rampant, trying to come to terms with what she just watched. utahime’s voice was like white noise in her ears, before the girl started to yell on the phone. “YOU THERE, Y/N?”
“gotta go hime’.” she hung up before she could even respond, eyes glued to the tv, watching as the couple got into the all black jeep; before she turned it off. she quickly grabbed an all black hoodie and a hat, switching into something comfortable; grabbing her car keys and headed out.
she appeared outside of his building in a heartbeat, slamming her car door before jogging into the building. there was no doormen at night so she was able to not be spotted, taking the elevator up to his penthouse suite. she was fuming, pounding on his door, teetering on the edge as each second passed. and when the door opened, she threw a punch to his jaw, causing his head to swivel. “fucking lying asshole!”
she tried to hit him once more, but he caught her fist and put her in a distressed hug, tearing cascading down her smooth face. “you’re a liar! get off of me!” she pushed away, staring at him with nothing but hurt and anger in her gaze.
“it’s not what you think,” he started, trying to keep calm—not wanting to upset her further. “then what is it? hm, toji? you don’t do relationships remember? yet you’re fucking engaged! since when?”
“like i said it’s not what you think. sit down.” he pointed to the couch, but she wasn’t budging. “SIT. DOWN.”
she huffed and sat down on his soft leather couch, watching through her red eyes as he walked over to his mini bar, pouring her a drink before following suit. he explained to her that this was just a publicity stunt. he was being sued by another pro mma fighter and in order to paint a good picture to the media that he’s not some hot head, his manager thought it was good for the world to see that he was a family man.
by now she was on her second glass of wine. her tears were dried up, yet she was still sniffling. her mind still on a hundred, trying to process everything. when she didn’t say anything, toji inched closer to her and cupped her face, his emerald eyes staring into her’s, before he closed them and pressed his scared lips against her plump one’s.
she was in shock. he was kissing her? yet, she quickly followed his movements and enjoyed the kiss. his tongue sweeping into her mouth, dominating her’s with ease, pulling the woman into his lap—big hands all over her ass. and when he pulled away, a string of spit followed, making her whine. “toji~”
“never wanted to hurt you. i hope you believe that. just let this case play out and end, then it will all be over.”
“why did you kiss her?” the reporter asked, only to be met with silence.
“alright then. continue.”
—
as the case against him progressed, so did the portrayal of his healthy relationship with his new fiancée. there was photoshoots, interviews and home visits. none done at his place, always at his fake house.
and she was always there. covering it or writing magazines on it. she hated it, it was like torture. but, she knew this was for the media. she knew how the paparazzi worked and how the world would take things. anything for a good story.
however, she was a little happier. every night she would be at his house. dressing up each time, putting on some sexy lingerie and covering it with a long black trench coat. toji loved it each time. they would fuck until the sun came up and usually he would kick her out, but now he enjoyed having her stay the night.
cuddle up against her underneath his thousand dollar sheets, sun peeking through the curtains—making her skin glisten. he loved watching her sleep. loved the way her nose would scrunch up when the sun hit her eyes and the way those same beautiful eyes would flutter open; greeting him. he would kiss her in the morning and watched her pretty lips curve into a smile. he didn’t want to admit it, but he had it bad for her. he was in love.
and the moment he finally said “i love you,” had her swooning for days. she had got what she finally wanted. him.
that is until the court day came and he delivered her terrible news. “pregnant? she’s having your fucking child?!” she was seething, pushing him further into the bathroom. why was this happening to her again.
“look it wasn’t sup—“
“save it, toji. just save it. i can’t believe it….again? what about me?” she paused and looked at him, waiting for the answer that never came. she chuckled and wiped away her tears, fixing her makeup and her blazer. “whatever. let’s go. your trial is about to start.
—
it looked good for toji. everything the prosecutors tried to throw at him was immediately turned down. he was gaining the jury’s trust, that is until the prosecution pulled out some evidence.
“this relationship he’s trying to paint? it’s a sham. this was found on his phone! i hope your fiancée knows about this, fushiguro.” higaruma, the lawyer for the guy suing toji announced, pushing the button to the projector—showing off a toji’s messages with a woman posing nude. however, it wasn’t just some random lady. it was her, y/n.
she gasped and screamed in horror. her face wasn’t blurred out either, so everyone knew who she was. the flashes of cameras blurred her eyes as she stood up, racing out of the court room; ignoring all media personnel. she ran, ran until her feet started to blister—her heels bullying into her skin. she hailed a cab once she was far away from the courthouse and went straight to her place; where she stayed for months.
her world was crumbling by the second and it was all because of him.
he had won the case, despite her nudes being leaked, however his fans still blamed her for what happened—blamed her for trying to ruin his career; even though she wasn’t suing him. their outrage and her face was plastered all over the media, shaming her, calling her all types of degrading names. she had to quit her job as a reporter and stayed in solitude.
the police came to her house and put her into protective custody, after seeing how many threats she was facing. utahime came and tried to console her but everything was a blur.
she sat in her new apartment, living in a shell of her old self. the bottles of alcohol started to pile up as she drank herself to death. she couldn’t take it, the more hate she received and the more she thought about him—killed her. he never called her since that day, it was like he never loved her.
she was over him, for good. that is until she received a text from an anonymous number. it was an address and a time, telling her to be there. she raised an eyebrow and put on something to keep her incognito, before getting into her truck and going to the address.
she parked across the street, hiding underneath a tree—staring at the big beautiful house. she was wondering what she was doing here or why she was sent here, until she saw him. his raven hair still looked soft as always, hanging in front of his face. his muscles looked even bigger, poking through the black sweater he wore. he looked good. however, she had to stay focused, to see what was going on.
she watched him climb the black steps, knocking on the front door; revealing a woman—and not the one he was engaged to either. ‘what the actual fuck?’ she thought, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out her truck. the slam of her door caught his attention, his eyes widening when he saw her approaching.
she whipped her phone out in a flash, recording as she started yelling at him. “so much for not doing relationships right?! you said you fucking loved me! toji!”
the woman standing at the door came closer to the door, tugging on his sweater, “toji, who is this?”
“the woman who’s life he ruined.” there was silence between them, the crickets chirping filled the void, only their eyes were having a conversation—before she started up again.
“my nudes get leaked and my life gets ruined! but, yours? oh you get to live happily ever after! you got a baby and a side piece? oh oh and you still got a career! well what about me? hm!” she couldn’t cry, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t. he wasn’t worthy of her tears anymore.
“got nothing to say? hm? cat got your tongue, toji?!”
“im sorry.” he huffed out and she laughed, flipping the camera to face her. “oh he’s sorry?! you aren’t, but you will be!” she stopped recording and stormed off his porch, before turning around to face him once more.
“im about to ruin your fucking life!”
“oh so that’s where that infamous video came from.” the reporter rose an eyebrow, swallowing down her warm cup of coffee, staring at the man sitting across from her.
“look, you got five minutes left. you gonna let me finish telling the story or what?” his voice and demeanor were cold, and she held her hands up in defense. “sorry. what happened next?”
—
she sent her video to the media which earned her a new job as a paparazzi. she also made articles and never stopped covering articles about him. each one was there to deface him. she was doing like she said she was, ruining his life. but, she was ruining her own as well.
she was drinking more and taking pills to escape her thoughts, sending her into a downward spiral. she was heavily depressed and on the brink of a mental breakdown, yet she still kept going. she was obsessed with him and she should’ve moved on, but how could she? how could she forget the past? when it hasn’t been a year yet?
the more time that passed, the more she wasn’t herself and when utahime came over and saw her in her wretched state—she did what any best friend would do and got her some help.
she was in a psych facility, being treated for chronic depression and memory loss; due to all the pills and alcohol she was consuming. her body couldn’t handle it. all she could remember was the good ole days she had with toji, before her life was ruined.
as for toji, his life was never the same either. he blamed himself for what happened to her, everyday for the rest of his life. he divorced his current wife and co-parented with his ex fiancée with their child that they shared, retiring as a pro mma fighter—passing the torch to his protege and running his own mma school. he was done with fame, he just wanted to go back to normal.
“alright. interviews over, no more questions.” toji got up from his spot and the reporter got up as well, trying to get him to stay. “where are you going?” the recorder was still on, catching his last words.
“going to see my wife.”
as he entered the psychiatric facility, he pushed his wedding band on and navigated his way towards her room, where he saw her waiting on her twin bed—a book in her hand. his eyes softened, she still looked pretty like always. he stepped in the room and she perked up.
“is this my husband?” she asked, trying to remember and he nodded, sitting down next to her on the bed. he pulled out the photo album and showed her pictures from before; her past life before everything changed.
you stood in front of one of the most notorious mma gyms in the world. this gym housed some of the biggest names in mma including the infamous toji fushiguro. toji was a household name not only in japan but the world. he had a reputation for being a ruthless fighter with an arrogant attitude. he also just so happened to be your new boss. you had no idea how you landed a job as his assistant, but nevertheless, you were grateful for the opportunity.
the muffled sounds of grunts and rattling punching bags made your stomach turn. you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nerves before entering the gym. the muffled sounds were now loud and clear as you stepped inside. you looked around to see a bunch of fighters sparring on blood stained mats. the gym suddenly went quiet as the door slammed behind you, causing all the fighters to stop and stare at you. you recognized a couple of them as satoru gojo and choso kamo. they both smiled at you, which made you feel slightly more comfortable.
“ah there she is” a voice boomed. you turned to see an older man walking towards you with a smile on his face. it was shiu, toji’s manager and the man that gave you this job. you watched as the fighters exchanged confused looks before looking back at you. they were obviously wondering why this random girl was standing in the middle of the gym.
“follow me. toji’s in the locker room,” shiu stated before ushering you towards the back of the gym. you followed closely behind him. your heart began to beat faster as you neared the locker room. you wondered if toji was really as scary and mean as people say he is. as soon as you stepped into the room, the fighter looked at you with sharp green eyes. toji’s eyes shot daggers into you before he turned his attention back to the hand he was wrapping.
“who’s this?” he asked in an annoyed tone, not even bothering to look up from what he was doing. you were taken aback by his demeanor. he could’ve easily asked you who you were, but he chose to completely dismiss you.
“this is y/n, your new assistant. try not to scare this one off,” shiu explained. before you could process shiu’s response, toji scoffed loudly.
the tall man paced, shaking his head in disbelief. you stood frozen unsure if you should say anything. however, it was painfully obvious toji was not thrilled to have you there.
“how many times have i told you that i don’t need a fucking assistant?” his harsh tone made your hair stand up. you knew toji had a reputation for being rude, but you didn’t realize he would be such a dick.
“i don’t care. i’m your manager, so what i say goes. you run me ragged as it is. i’m not going to continue to be your errand runner on top of that, so get over it,” shiu retorted before leaving the room.
the locker room grew uncomfortably quiet as you stared at toji. the look of absolute disdain was prevalent on his face. you waited for him to say something, but he remained silent. he left you no choice but to break the silence yourself.
“um, hi, mr. fushiguro. it’s an honor to be-“
“grab my bag,” toji cut you off. he brushed passed you out of the locker room. you were left stunned by his rudeness. you hoisted the bag over your shoulder and followed him out to the practice mats. you set his bag down on the bench beside you as you watched toji spar with gojo. toji bounced on his toes swiftly dodging every jab sent by gojo. it was incredible how such a large man was able to move so quickly. no wonder he was the best fighter in the world.
“fucking ow, dude” gojo shouted, pulling you out of your thoughts. the coaches swarmed gojo as he fell to the ground wincing. toji rolled his eyes and walked over to you.
“water” he demanded, reaching a hand out to you. ‘fucking dick’ you thought to yourself before handing him his water bottle. you were already getting sick of his attitude, but you had no choice but to suck it up. the money was too good, and you had bills to pay.
“i thought you guys were just supposed to be sparring. why did you hit him so hard?” you asked, trying to make conversation.
“we are,” toji replied bluntly not answering your question. you were surprised you got a reply at all. he tossed the water bottle back at you before stepping back onto the mat.
“toji, what the fuck were you thinking? satoru has a fight coming up. why the fuck would you make contact with him like that?” gojo’s coach shouted.
“you think his opponent isn’t gonna hit him? i was just getting him ready for his fight…not babying him like the rest of you do,” toji scoffed, stepping up to him.
“you’re done for today. go home,” shiu intervened before things got carried away.
toji grabbed his bag and stormed out of the gym. you ran after him unsure of what to do in this situation.
“don’t follow me,” he spat before getting in his car.
he sped off, leaving you alone and confused on the curb. you walked back inside to see a group of trainers now huddled around gojo. through the bodies, you could see a dark purple bruise forming on his pale torso.
“why are you still here?” shiu asked, stepping in front of you.
“toji told me not to follow him and left before i could say anything,” you responded quietly. shiu shook his head and scoffed. this was just great. toji was going to get you fired because he left without you.
“he’s such an asshole. i apologize for his behavior. i guess you can go home for the day,” he sighed. it seemed like he was more defeated than you in this whole situation. you wondered how many past assistants didn’t make it through their first day because of toji. but, if there was one thing about you, it was that you are a spiteful person. toji wasn’t going to scare you off so easily. if anything, his attitude made you want to stick around even more just to piss him off.
as the weeks went on, toji's next big match neared. his opponent was ryomen sukuna. the pair had the biggest rivalry in the mma. toji was the one, who dethroned sukuna and stripped him of his world champion title, so this fight was going to be their big rematch. he was constantly training…oh and still being a dick to you. his demands and attitude only seemed to get worse the closer his match got. but, you had started to develop a thick skin. you were used to it by now, which surprised everyone including toji.
“y/n, water,” toji demanded as he took a break from sparring.
“you know a please would be nice every once in awhile,” you said, handing him his bottle.
the fighter rolled his eyes at you before taking a drink. he still wasn’t talking to you much besides barking orders, but at least he was calling you by your name. before you knew it, the training day was over. everyone had gone home except for you. toji had a press conference the following day for his fight against sukuna, so you had to do some social media prep as well as finish some extra work shiu had given you.
you were totally absorbed in your work until you heard the door to gym open and close. no one else was supposed to be here. you quietly got up from your desk and walked into the practice area. you couldn’t see anything besides a large dark figure, who was breathing heavily.
“hello?” you called out before turning on the lights. as the gym illuminated, you could make out the figure’s face. it was toji, but his eye was black and his lip was bleeding.
“oh my god! what happened?” you asked, rushing over to him. you pulled his hood away from his face, so you could get a better look at his injuries. you turned his face gently towards you, earning a soft wince from him. his green eyes avoided your gaze as he remained silent. you grabbed his hand and led him to the trainer’s room, so you could clean up the cuts on his face. he sat on one of the table as you grabbed some alcohol and gauzes.
“so are you gonna tell me happened?” you asked with your back still turned towards toji.
he remained silent. he hadn’t made a peep since he stumbled into the gym. it was really starting to get on your nerves. it was like talking to a brick wall. you had been working for him for three months at this point, and you still had yet to have an actual conversation with him. his attitude towards you had you second guessing everything you did. you didn’t know why he hated you so much, or if he even cared enough about you to hate you. but, you just couldn’t take it anymore.
“what the fuck is your deal?” you spat, turning around to face him. his face remained blank as he stared at you. that stupid stare made your blood boil, “i have done absolutely nothing to you yet you treat me like shit if you choose to acknowledge my existence at all. because if you’re not barking orders at me, you act like i don’t exist. now, you come stumbling into the gym battered and bruised without explanation, and you can’t even answer a simple question when i’m just trying to help you.”
toji’s eyes widened in shock as you continued to yell at him. no one had ever talked to him that way. once you noticed the change in his expression, your words trailed off. this was the most emotion you had seen from him. now suddenly, you were conscious of what you were doing. silence lingered in the air once more before toji opened his mouth to speak.
“i’m sorry…” he muttered.
your ears must’ve been mistaking you. there is no way he just apologized to you.
“i have a reason for acting the way i do,” he continued, “my parents abused me when i was kid. nothing i ever did was good enough for them no matter how much i tried to get their approval. my dad would knock me around and remind me that i would always be a failure to him while my mom turned a blind eye to his abuse. my upbringing taught me that i can only rely on myself. it turned me into a cold-blooded fighter, who never let anyone ever get close to him.”
“i didn’t know that…but why take it out on me?” you asked.
“every assistant i’ve had before quit after their first day. they always claimed i was too harsh and scary. part of me wanted it that way. i didn’t need anyone doing stuff for me because sooner of later it would get personal, and that scared the shit out of me. you were different. you never showed an ounce of fear towards me, so i tried my best to drive you away because i was scared of having someone actually care about me for once,” toji explained.
you let his words settle around the both of you. everything started to make sense to you because it was true you never found toji scary. you could always tell there was a part of him that didn’t want to act that way. you knew there had to be more to him, and now you know that there is.
“you know if you ever took the time to get to know me, you would’ve known we are more similar than we seem,” you said, looking at him. he gave you confused look. how could the two of you have stuff in common? there was no way. “i don’t have the best relationship with my parents either…in fact, i haven’t talked to them since i turned 18 and moved out of their house. my dad was a drunk, who liked to take his anger out on me, and my mom did nothing to stop it. they both hated me and wished nothing but the worst for me. much like you, i always tried to seek their approval to no avail. so when you continued to shut me out, it made me feel like a kid again. i was scared that i would never get your approval. it made me feel like i would never be able to do anything right in my life just like my parents had told me so many times.”
toji couldn’t believe it. he felt so much guilt for the way he treated you. he was honestly shocked you put up with his behavior at all. if he was in your shoes, he would’ve left a long time ago.
“so why did you stick around?”
“because i wasn’t going to let my parents be right,” you smirked at him, earning a small chuckle from toji, “enough with the sad backstory stuff…are you going to tell me what the hell happened to you?”
“sukuna’s team jumped me…fucking asshole. dude knows he can’t win in a fair match up, so he pulls this shit,” toji explained.
“can’t you tell someone and get him in trouble or something?”
“i’d much rather beat his ass again,” toji said smugly.
you rolled your eyes playfully at him. men are such simple creatures always trying to assert dominance over each other. you poured some alcohol on the gauze and dabbed it lightly on his bloody lip. he hissed in response, jerking away from your touch.
“it’s not that bad, you big baby,” you giggled.
he flashed a wide smile at you. his gaze was so much softer now. the cold and mean fighter persona was slowly falling, and the real toji was coming out. you finished cleaning him up before giving him an ice pack for his eye.
“thank you, y/n. i really appreciate it,” toji said. the sincerity was evident in his voice. it sort of took you by surprise. you couldn’t believe toji of all people was capable of doing such a thing.
“don’t mention it,” you smiled back.
toji ended up keeping you company for the rest of the night while you finished your work. he insisted you use his favorite pictures of himself in the promo poster for the fight. you noticed him sneaking glances at you while you worked away. you would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy having his attention for once, but you would never admit that.
the next day, toji actually smiled at you when you got to the gym. shiu gave you a confused look to which you just shrugged your shoulders. you set your things down in the office and started to help shiu prepare for the press conference. before you knew it, reporters and journalists flooded the gym. you watched toji answer questions bluntly of course. he hated doing these things, so he made them as miserable for the journalists as they were for him. it was amusing to watch.
“toji, how do you plan on taking ryomen sukuna down this time?” a journalist asked, obviously trying to start some pre-match beef between the two fighters.
“exactly how i did the first time,” toji deadpanned .
“can you expand on that?”
“nope.”
you tried to stifle a laugh, but your quiet giggle didn’t escape toji’s ears. he glanced in your direction before looking away with the slightest smirk on his face.
“what did you do to him? i’ve never seen him smile especially not at you,” shiu whispered.
“well i had enough of his attitude and beat him up obviously,” you replied, gesturing to toji, who’s black eye was almost swollen shut at this point.
after what felt like forever, the press conference was over. you understood now why toji hated those things so much. you were exhausted and all you did was sit there, but nevertheless you had to help clean everything up. you were folding up chairs when toji walked over to you.
“you know if i would’ve known cleaning was a part of my job description, i would not have applied,” you joked.
“well, you have to make yourself useful somehow,” toji smirked. the scar on the corner of his lips stretching as he did so.
“i liked it better when you didn’t talk to me.”
“yeah yeah whatever. i’ll help you, whiny ass.”
toji took the folding chair out of your hands and added it to the five he was already holding. such a show off. you continued to hand toji chairs while he carried them to the supply room. toji’s demeanor was so much different now. the way he talked and acted towards you was so much softer. he would act shy if you caught him staring at you by looking away quickly or how he always came to find you during his breaks. but, your demeanor was different too. you always looked forward to the shared glances or the goofy smile he would give you after he was done sparring. in that moment, everything seemed to click. you were falling for toji.
“hey so i wanted to ask if you would be able to come to my house after we’re done here?” toji asked, putting away the final chair. you tried to hide your shock at such an abrupt question. that could be taken so many different ways, but how did he mean it?
“i meant like to help me with something,” he followed up after noticing your hesitation.
“oh yeah right! i mean that is what you pay me for,” you laughed, trying to play it off.
“you can ride with me if you want,” he offered, “you know i just figured it would be easier that way.”
“yeah that’s fine with me,” you smiled as you followed him to his car.
the ride to his apartment or pent house rather was comfortably quiet. you were just enjoying each other’s company, but you could tell something was on toji’s mind. maybe it had to do with what he needed help with, but you figured you would find out sooner or later.
you stepped into his enormous pent house, wondering how one person could occupy such a large space. the interior was dark, but the large floor to ceiling window let plenty of light in.
“wow, this place is huge,” you stated still in awe.
toji chuckled and took off his jacket, throwing it on the back of the couch. you were still looking around, so you hadn’t realized he had left the room. you only noticed when you heard two pair of footsteps echoing through the living room. you turned to see toji and a small boy standing beside him. the boy almost looked like an exact copy of toji.
“y/n meet my son, megumi,” toji said. a hint of nervousness noticeable in his voice. you were shocked to learn toji had a kid. he never talked about him. the realization hit a moment later. if toji could hide having a kid, he could definitely be secretly married or dating someone. the thought alone made your stomach turn as a pang of jealousy hit you. yet, you had no choice but to push those thoughts aside. as of right now, you were just his assistant nothing more.
“hi, megumi. it’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, crouching down to the boy’s level. megumi looked away shyly and hid behind his dad’s leg. you couldn’t help but giggle at his cuteness.
“don’t be rude, megs. say hi back,” toji encouraged, ruffling his hair, “she doesn’t bite.”
megumi hesitantly stepped out from behind toji and greeted you. his little voice made your heart melt.
“so i’m guessing he’s what you needed help with?,” you said, hoping to get a little more context.
“yeah my nanny just quit, so i need help taking care of him when i have practice and matches,” toji explained.
“well, i have absolutely no issue looking after this cutie,” you smiled down at megumi, who was still hiding behind toji, “i didn’t know you had a kid, though.”
“thank you. i’m sorry for just springing this on you. i try to keep him out of the limelight as much as possible. i want to give him the most normal childhood i can.”
“that’s really sweet of you, but it’s no issue really.”
over the course of the evening, megumi started to break out of his shell. he was incredibly blunt little boy to no surprise with a dad like toji, but he was so sweet like him too. you also learned his mom wasn’t really in the picture, which made your heart hurt for megumi, but it was nice to know toji was single. while the two of you sat on the ground, megumi climbed into your lap and continued playing like nothing. you looked over at toji who was just as surprised as you.
“looks like you two are getting along just fine,” toji chuckled. all the nerves he had about the two of you meeting were now forgotten. he didn’t know why he was so worried in the first place. you were one of the sweetest, most genuine people he’s ever met.
“well duh. he’s my little buddy. isn’t that right, megs?” the boy nodded his head and continued playing with his toys. you and toji looked at each other and smiled softly, realizing this was healing the both of you in a way.
toji’s fight with sukuna was getting closer by the day, which meant toji spent more time at the gym. this also meant you had to watch megumi more often not that you minded. the two of you mostly hung out in your office but would sit and watch toji spar from time to time. it was incredible to see megumi’s eye light up as he watched his dad.
“y/n, i want do that,” he smiled, pointing at his dad, who dodged choso’s attack before kicking the pad on his side.
“daddy’s pretty cool, isn’t he?” you asked. megumi nodded his head enthusiastically before dragging you over to one of the practice mats. you put on a pair of striking pads on your hands before crouching in front of megumi. he wasted no time punching away at them. you exaggerated his strength by falling over a couple of times, but the smile on his face was more than worth it.
toji took a break from training, looking over at you and megumi. he watched as his son punched the pads on your hands and you toppling over before telling megumi how strong he is. he couldn’t help a smile from breaking out on his face. it was the first time he realized that he was catching feelings. how could he not? you gave him a second chance when he didn’t deserve one and now you’re helping him in more way than he could think of. it wasn’t even because it was your job to help. you were simply helping him because you wanted to. he realized how much he looked forward to your presence everyday. he felt an unfamiliar comfort whenever you were around.
“little man wore himself out,” toji said as he carried a sleeping megumi into his pent house. you smiled, looking at how peaceful he was.
“he had a long day of training,” you giggled, “you know he told me he wants to be just like you.”
toji smiled to himself but didn’t say anything. he was afraid that if he tried to speak he would end up crying. those words were all he’s ever wanted to hear. he had his son’s approval, and that meant the world to him. he carefully put megumi to bed while you made yourself comfortable in the living room.
“i’m gonna take a shower. be right back,” toji said, peeking his head around the corner.
“i’ll be here,” you replied, turning on the tv.
you were so absorbed in your show that you hadn’t heard toji walk into the room. your heart nearly stopped when he plopped down next to you on the couch.
“oh my god! you scared…me,” your words trailed off to see toji half naked beside you. your eyes trailed down his bare chest, noticing every bruise and scar left from his previous fights. his happy trail peeked out of his waistband ever so slightly…his bulge extremely noticeable underneath his gray sweats.
“uh huh, you must be so scared,” he teased, waiting for your eyes to meet his. your eyes snapped up as your cheeks turned a dark crimson. your brain felt like it was short circuiting trying to think of a witty comeback, but you were too flustered. a smirk formed on toji’s lips, realizing the affect he was having on you. “you act like you’ve never seen a shirtless dude…you a virgin or something?”
in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and die. your body was on fire as his question repeated in your head. the air felt heavy with tension. toji’s gaze burned into you while he awaited your response.
“i’m not…i just don’t have a lot of experience” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.
“want to change that?” toji asked, placing a hand large hand on your thigh. you searched for even the smallest ounce of flippancy in his face, but he was dead serious.
“but what about megumi? he might wake up.”
“you’ll have to try and be quiet.”
you nodded as toji moved closer to you. his green eyes stared deep into yours. your heartbeat quickened as he closed the distance between the two of you. butterflies erupted in your stomach when his lips connected with yours. you leaned into the kiss, following toji’s lead. you couldn’t believe this was happening. your once ridged body began to relax as toji deepened the kiss, running his tongue along your bottom lip. you granted him entry, allowing your tongues to fight for dominance. toji overpowered you like it was nothing. the heat between your thighs only grew as he pressed you back into the couch, so he was hovering over you. with one of his hands, he spread your legs enough for his knee to fit snuggly between them. his knee pressed up against your clothed clit with the slightest amount of pressure. your body twitched at the sensation, bucking your hips against him.
“someone’s eager,” toji teased, breaking away from your lips. in any other situation, you would’ve told him to shut up, but he was right…no use in denying that now.
“how long have you been waiting for this?” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck.
“awhile,” you moaned, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck. toji smirked against your skin before attacking your lips once more. your bodies moved in unison. need evident in your movements.
“then let’s move this along…i can’t keep you waiting any longer,” toji reached a hand between your bodies before pulling your shirt over your head. he let out a satisfied hum, seeing that you weren’t wearing a bra. this made you completely aware of how you were on full display for him. your arm instinctively covered your bare torso. with a quickness, toji pulled your arms away from your body, so he could take in your figure.
“you don’t need to hide from me, princess. you are absolutely stunning,” he hummed, licking his lips. his sweet words made your thighs squeeze around his leg. his hands ran slowly up your sides, send a chill down your spine. he stopped once he landed on your boobs. he kneaded them between his rough palms before placing one in his mouth. his tongue swirled around your nipple. you moaned at the sensation, arching your back into his touch.
toji slipped a hand down between your legs. his fingers ran along your clothed heat, feeling how you had already soaked through your leggings. his cock twitched as you throbbed against his touch. his leaking precum formed a small dark spot on the crotch of his sweats. it took everything in him not to shove his dick in you already.
“you’re so wet for me, baby…i want to taste you. is that okay?” toji asked softly, looking up at you. you nodded not trusting yourself to speak. you lifted your ass, so he could pull off your bottoms. he lowered himself between your legs now eye level with your dripping cunt. he cautiously licked a single line up your slit. he looked up at you to make sure it was okay for him to continue. you gave him a little nod just wanting to feel his tongue against you again. that was all he needed. his tongue explored your wet folds before finding your clit. he sucked and nipped at it like he was starved man eating food for the first time.
“oh fuck,” you moaned. his sweet words made your thighs squeeze around his leg. his hands ran slowly up your sides, send a chill down your spine. he stopped once he landed on your boobs. he kneaded them between his rough palms before placing one in his mouth. his tongue swirled around your nipple. you moaned at the sensation, arching your back into his touch.
toji slipped a hand down between your legs. his fingers ran along your clothed heat, feeling how you had already soaked through your leggings. his cock twitched as you throbbed against his touch. his leaking precum formed a small dark spot on the crotch of his sweats. it took everything in him not to shove his dick in you already.
“you’re so wet for me, baby…i want to taste you. is that okay?” toji asked softly, looking up at you. you nodded not trusting yourself to speak. you lifted your ass, so he could pull off your bottoms. he lowered himself between your legs now eye level with your dripping cunt. he cautiously licked a single line up your slit. he looked up at you to make sure it was okay for him to continue. you gave him a little nod just wanting to feel his tongue against you again. that was all he needed. his tongue explored your wet folds before finding your clit. he sucked and nipped at it like he was starved man eating food for the first time.
“oh fuck,” you his sweet words made your thighs squeeze around his leg. his hands ran slowly up your sides, send a chill down your spine. he stopped once he landed on your boobs. he kneaded them between his rough palms before placing one in his mouth. his tongue swirled around your nipple. you moaned at the sensation, arching your back into his touch.
toji slipped a hand down between your legs. his fingers ran along your clothed heat, feeling how you had already soaked through your leggings. his cock twitched as you throbbed against his touch. his leaking precum formed a small dark spot on the crotch of his sweats. it took everything in him not to shove his dick in you already.
“you’re so wet for me, baby…i want to taste you. is that okay?” toji asked softly, looking up at you. you nodded not trusting yourself to speak. you lifted your ass, so he could pull off your bottoms. he lowered himself between your legs now eye level with your dripping cunt. he cautiously licked a single line up your slit. he looked up at you to make sure it was okay for him to continue. you gave him a little nod just wanting to feel his tongue against you again. that was all he needed. his tongue explored your wet folds before finding your clit. he sucked and nipped at it like he was starved man eating food for the first time.
“oh fuck,” you moaned. your fingers tangled in his dark hair, tugging at it. the tension caused toji to moan against you, which sent vibration through your core. you thought the pleasure couldn’t get any more intense until he pushed a finger inside of you. his long finger curled and rubbed against your spot. the stimulation was almost too much to bare. you felt like your body was on fire with lust as you felt your high approaching. your walls clenched around toji’s finger as he messily eat your pussy.
“toji…i…i…i’m gonna cum,” you stuttered. your mind was getting fuzzy as pleasure coarsed through your veins. toji gripped his hands around your thighs pulling you into him. you rolled your hips against his tongue as you rode out your high. he lapped up your juices before coming up for air. you were still coming down when toji stood up and quickly pulled off his sweats. his fully erect dick sprung free. a string of precum falling from his tip. his dick was so much bigger than you could’ve imagined. your mouth watered as you sat up. the only thing you wanted was to make toji feel as good as he made you feel. you reached out to wrap a hand around his dick, but he held your wrist to stop you.
“as much as i want to feel your soft lips around my cock, i need be inside that sweet pussy of yours before i fucking cum,” he grunted, stroking himself a couple of times before lining himself up with your entrance. he ran the tip along your drench fold, mixing your juice and his precum together down his shaft. he hissed as he pushed his tip inside of you. your walls instinctively gripped around his cock as he slowly pushed more of his length inside of you. he gave you only a moment to adjust before thrusting all the way into you. his tip brushed up on your cervix, causing you to yelp. your cunt was being stretched in every way possible.
“so full,” you whimpered, clawing at his arms.
“but it feels so good. doesn’t it, princess?” he gritted through his teeth as he pulled your hips to meet his thrusts.
you hummed in response. your brain felt like mush only being able to focus on toji bullying your pussy. a ball of tension started to form in your lower stomach again.
“cmon use your words, baby,” he cooed only to plow into you faster.
“feels so good,” you whined.
this only encouraged toji to go harder on you. his hips relentlessly snapped into you as he placed one of your legs over his shoulder. this new angle allowed him to hit your sweet spot with every thrust. you gasped and moaned not being able to take much more. the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room. it wasn’t long before you felt toji twitch inside of you.
“i’m getting close, princess…you think you can cum for me one more time,” toji moaned, trying his best hold himself together.
you couldn’t even give him a response before he pushed down on your lower stomach. you felt every vein and curve of his dick as he plowed into you. without warning, the ball of tension popped as you came on toji’s dick. he tried to his best to help you ride out your high, but he couldn’t take anymore. he pulled out of you, jerking himself off before releasing onto your stomach. his body shivered as he came down from his climax. you both caught your breath before looking at each other. toji’s hair was stuck to his forehead, and his chest glistened with sweat. a pink blush dusted his cheeks. he looked so beautiful in this state.
“here let me clean you up,” he said softly while putting his sweats back on. he went to the kitchen and ran a rag under some warm water. he gently wiped your tummy as you stared at him sweetly.
“thank you,” you whispered with a smile. he smiled back before helping you get dressed again.
“it’s late. you can sleep over if you would like,” toji offered. of course, you accepted the invitation. you tried to stand up, so you could follow toji to his room, but your legs gave up on you.
“sorry about that,” toji chuckled, scooping you and carrying you to his bedroom.
after the hookup, your relationship remained the same. there was no weird or awkward tension, which was something you worried about. it had only happened that once, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. every time you looked at him, all you could think of was him on top of you. you would be lying if you said your feelings hadn’t gotten worse after you had sex. but, everything was so perfect. you didn’t want to risk ruining it by confessing. little did you know toji was feeling the exact same way. neither of you dared to bring up that night not out of embarrassment but out of fear of ruining such a good thing.
but one night, everything changed.
toji had asked you to megumi for the night. he said that he had a business dinner to attend that night. it made sense since his fight with sukuna was only a few weeks away now. you were making dinner for megs when your phone started buzzing incessantly. you had a bunch of notifications from twitter, so you opened the app to see what the hell was going on. toji was trending, which is never a good thing. you clicked the tag on to be met with a bunch of news accounts posting articles with headlines like “MMA Star Toji Fushiguro spotted having a romantic evening with Ryomen Sukuna’s ex Yuki Tsukumo amidst their big rematch”. you could feel your heart shatter into a million pieces. so many thoughts ran through your head. why didn’t he tell you he had a girlfriend? did he pretend to be nice to you and make you feel special just you could become his babysitter? you felt so stupid. you trusted him…let him see you in ways no one has before. but were you even allowed to be upset? after all, you were just his assistant.
“y/n? why crying?” megumi asked. you hadn’t realized tears were streaming down your cheeks.
“no reason, buddy. are you ready for dinner?,” you sniffled, trying your best to put on a smile for him.
megumi nodded as you picked him up, tickling his tummy as you did so. he giggled and kicked feet while you carried him to his chair. you watched him eat. you were planning to eat with him, but the thought of toji being with another woman ruined your appetite. once megs was done, you cleaned him up and got him ready for bed. toji came home not long after you put megumi down.
“how was he?” toji asked seemingly avoiding your gaze. he knew you knew about the headlines. all you wanted was for him to look at you and tell you the truth, but he didn’t. you weren’t entitled to the truth, but you felt like you deserved it.
“he was amazing per usual…” you trailed off, “i’m going to be heading home now.”
you grabbed your bag and headed for the door. slipping on your shoes, you opened the door.
“y/n, wait,” toji called out. a small part of you hoped he would tell you the headlines were fake...just some to help to help ease the pain. you turned to look at him, but his eyes still avoided yours. you hated it.
“could you use the back entrance? there’s a lot of paps out front?” you nodded, trying your best to hold back more tears at least until you were out of his sight.
as much as you hoped things would stay the same, they didn’t. toji was back to being cold and avoidant. it’s like all those months of trying to get him to open up to you never happened. the sweet, goofy toji that you had just gotten to know disappeared as quickly as he came. you didn’t have the energy to try and get him back. if toji wanted things to go back to how they were because he got a girlfriend, then who were you to interfere with that? it would be one thing if you just had to deal with him at the gym, but yuki started coming around more and more often. it killed you to see her hang onto toji and making him smile like you used to. luckily, you didn’t have to deal with it for much longer. you decided once his fight with sukuna is over that you weren’t going to continue being his assistant. you had found another job at a coffee shop. sure the money wasn’t as good, but you couldn’t continue to put yourself through this misery. you just needed to get away from toji and try to forget he ever existed.
today was the today. toji was finally having his rematch with sukuna, which meant it was your last day dealing with his bullshit. the arena rumbled with screams as toji made his entrance. he paid no mind to the cameras shoved in his face. he was completely focused. yuki, shiu, and the rest of his team followed behind him with you being at the very back not that you cared. you took your seat in the front row as toji entered the ring. he bounced on the balls of his feet, shuffling around the ring before joining sukuna in the center. the two bumped fists as the referee begun the round. toji wasted no time throwing blows at sukuna, who barely dodged each swing. you could see the pure determination in toji’s eyes right before he landed a left hook straight the sukuna’s jaw. the crowd cheered, watching sukuna stumble backwards.
“go toji! that’s my man!” yuki screeched. you rolled your eyes at her obnoxiousness. the bell rang to signify the end of round one. toji went to his corner, where he reconvened with shiu and his team. he glanced at you for a moment, looking away once you realized your eyes were already on him. he needed to know that he still had attention despite his behavior.
as each round passed, you could tell toji was getting more and more pissed off. he wanted this fight to be over more you did. the last round started. it was now or nothing. you were on the edge of your seat…you still wanted him to win. sukuna landed a solid kick to toji’s head, causing toji to go down. you covered your eyes and turned away. in all the times you had watched toji fight, you had never seen him go down like that. you braced yourself for the worst until you heard the crowd chanting his name. you looked at the ring to see him putting sukuna in a chokehold. sukuna struggled to break free, but toji was not letting up. despite his best efforts, he ended up tapping out. the referee handed toji the championship belt before raising his arm to deem him the winner.
as toji exited the ring, his eyes were solely on you. he started to walk towards you, but yuki ran in front of you into his arms. she kissed face, making a big show for the cameras. you still tried to make your way to him, so you could congratulate him on his win, but journalists and paparazzi shoved past you to get pictures and interviews from the couple. he gave you sad look before you turned to leave.
you went to the gym to clean out your office. you preferred to get it over with while no one was around especially not toji. while you were cleaning out the drawers of your desk, you found some pictures megumi had drawn for you. you teared a bit at the sight of them. leaving megumi was going to be the hardest part of this whole thing.
“i thought i might find you here,” a voice called out from the doorway. you look up to see toji leaning against the doorframe.
“yeah…congratulations by the way,” you said quietly, wiping your tears.
“thank you. look there is something i need to tell you,” he replied before taking a look around the room, “ wait, why is all your stuff gone?”
“because i’m leaving, toji. you won’t have to pretend to like me anymore.”
“what? i never pretended to like you. i opened up to you and told you things about myself that no one else knows. hell, i brought you around my kid.”
“yeah so you could have a babysitter while you went out with yuki…i’m not stupid, toji. that’s why you wanted me around. that’s why you got me to trust you enough to let you in my pants. actually maybe i am stupid for trusting you after you treated me like shit in the first place,” you seethed, shoving stuff in your bag before pushing past him.
“the whole relationship with yuki was a publicity stunt…” toji blurted out. you turned to look at him in disbelief. there’s no way you heard him correctly. “none of it was real…that’s what i came here to tell you. well, it was one of the things i wanted to tell you.”
“and you didn’t feel the need to tell me? you think i came to your house everyday and help out with megumi because i had to? i did that shit because i care about YOU! i put up with the yuki shit because of YOU! because i liked you and just wanted to see you happy, but you couldn’t give less of a shit,” you shouted, tears now streaming down your face. toji was completely dumbfounded…you had just admitted for feelings for him.
“you like me?” he muttered. guilt dripped from his words. he knew he was hurting, but he didn’t know how bad it was. you just scoffed and headed towards to the door again. “i like you too…”
you stopped in your tracks. did he really just say that? after all the shit he put you through, he picked now of all times to confess. he knew he should’ve done it months ago even before you two slept together. if he had, he would’ve never had to be in that stupid fake relationship. he could be celebrating his win with you and megumi in peace instead of at a lavish party. for a moment, you thought about giving into him…fuck you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and kiss him, but you weren’t going to let him make a fool out of you again.
“you really think i would fall for that?” you scoffed.
“y/n, i would rather never fight again than let you walk through that door.” you had never seen toji look so serious before. you stared at him, waiting to see if he would falter, but he didn’t.
“do you really mean that?” you asked, taking a step towards him.
“i’ve never meant anything more in my life. will you please stay here with me?,” he smiled, grabbing your hands. he pulled you close to him so your chest was touching his. his green eyes searched yours, hoping you would believe him.
“fine, i’ll stay, not as your assistant but as your girlfriend,” you giggled as you pressed your lips to his.
SYNOPSIS: you’re megumi’s best friend first, but you can’t help also being his dad’s biggest mma fan
PAIRING — mma!toji fushiguro x uni!reader
CONTENT — MDNI, angst, NSFW, filthy, age gap, nsfw, thigh riding, pet names, MAJOR spit kink, virginity loss, corruption kink, spanking, cheating, daddy kink, pussy slapping, cunninglingus, creampie, unprotected, dacriphilia,
A/N — end of fic for informational + donation links 🍉
you were just a girl. and being a girl you obviously fangirled over silly things.
it varied really. you fangirled over one piece, aot, video game characters, film characters, peaky blinders, game of thrones, k-dramas, and of course sports. you had silly crushes on soccer players, but the one athlete who truly dominated your heart was the best mma fighter of all time and that was none other than, Toji Fushiguro.
“megumiiii!” you run over to the boy, throwing yourself on his back making him stumble, just as yuuji came, also jumping on megumi.
nobara was running as well with her shopping bags and boba before gasping for air by the time she reached the doorstep of the fushiguro household.
“we missed you!” yuuji whines. the three of you decided to pay megumi a visit after his weeklong absence due to his cold.
“get off me.” he grunts.
“it’s okay! we don’t care that you’re sick!” you dramatically cry out, yuuji crying as well as you kiss megumi’s cheek—
“It’s not because I’m sick, but because you idiots are heavy!” megumi shoves you and yuuji as he stumbles back. his vein was throbbing on his forehead, only making the three of you bark with laughter.
“y/n, and I will cook for you!” nobara was already shoving her way inside as you trailed after. taking over the fushiguro kitchen as yuuji dragged megumi back inside, crashing in the living room. everyone making themselves at home, as if they’ve lived here for years. megumi didn’t say anything. only commenting about not burning their hands again, because the truth is megumi missed them too.
snuggling into the blanket, yuuji played the new game megumi had bought. nobara had maki on speaker as she tried to give instructions on the new curry recipe. while you lounged on the counter scrolling through your phone—
“smells good.” the deep voice sent shivers down your spine. you glanced up to see the man you fantasized about, before even meeting megumi. you’d known megumi since your first year at university. but it wasn’t until you made a joke about how him and the mma fighter have the same last name did everything click.
“ya, he’s my dad.” your fate was sealed. you could never ever ever have sex with your idol, because he was your best friends dad.
how the heavens have cursed you.
but that didn’t stop you from always trailing behind the man. smiling brightly, rambling about your classes, telling him about how the professor hates you but loves megumi. you’re happy he never noticed the way your cheeks would sting every time you’d speak to him, or when he’d look at you, or when he’d pat your head, or when he’d-
“nobara is about to burn it though,” you mutter, behind your hand, toji looking over at nobara who’s sweating bullets as she tries to figure out how long she should be cooking this.
“so you’re not doing anything?” he muses, your lips part.
“I was! she just doesn’t need help right now,” you retort, sitting up, but toji’s hand lands on your head, beckoning you to follow him. “I need help moving some things.” a furious heat rushed up your body, the feeling of being needed by him sent you spiraling.
“oh okay!” you immediately perk, bouncing off the seat as you follow toji. his lips turning when he sees you trailing so quickly behind him like a cute puppy.
“why’re you throwing this stuff?” you frown seeing the boxes stacked in the basement.
“not throwing it, I’m moving it to the gym.”
“oh, good,” you smile, bending down to lift the boxes—
“woah, sweetheart.” your skin burns as toji pressed a hand to your waist. “I just need your help holding the door and opening the trunk.”
his chuckle made your cheeks warm. “I’ll still help!” you turn back around, but toji stops you with a sigh.
“fine, grab these,” he hands you a single framed picture, and nudges forward to get the door. you were ready to complain before you noticed the photo in your hands. “door.”
“sir, this is like the best photo ever! this is the original one right!?” you suddenly gush holding the door open. toji hums, carrying three stacked boxes as he walks out of the basement, heading out to the driveway.
“this was when you beat Kenjaku in a knockout and finally won your first title!” your eyes were fixated on the photo as you rambled on and on about how you’ve never seen the real thing, and how you remember your dad flipping a table out of how excited he was.
toji sat the boxes on the ground, turning to look at you.
“how long have you been a fan?” he was curious. i mean he trains yuuji after he opened his gym, ready to retire in a year, but the rest of megumi’s friends were never as interested in him as you were.
“since this fight,” you beam, finally looking up. your heart thumps at the look he’s giving you. “you’re just cool,” you mutter in embarrassment, cheeks flushed beyond measure. you lean into the trunk, sliding the framed photo carefully. your sweater riding up as you stretch your arms…
tojis eyes trail down to the bare skin, his pupils dilating at the sight.
“what’s this?”
his thumb suddenly caresses the skin of your hip making you jump. turning sharply, toji looks at the mark that peaks out of your pants.
“oh, i got a tattoo,” you lean against the trunk, lifting your shirt a bit. the tattoo was an olive branch that started from just outside your hip, and with your finger you motioned over your pants where it ended, the inside of your thigh.
“I didn’t know you liked tattoos,” he mutters, still brushing the top of the tattoo. your ears were burning, his hands were so big, you liked how rough his thumb was against your soft skin.
“don’t tell anyone,” you lower your voice, motioning toji to glance up at you as you talk behind your hand, as if someone were actually here. it was endearing. “but kyo was afraid of getting one himself, so he begged me to get one with him.” he clenched his jaw.
kyo…the low-life scum that megumi always had the pleasure of telling him about, mainly about how he was dirt compared to you. how you deserve better. how nobara hates him to death. and yet you’ve now been dating for almost two full semesters.
toji’s voice dropped. “so he forced you?”
“no!” you shook your head, almost breaking into a laugh. “as if anyone can force me to do anything.” you wave off the older man, still laughing as you head back to the basement.
toji hadn’t noticed how warm his cheeks were until you walked way. swearing under his breath he picked up the boxes shoving them in the truck. what was it about you?!
“yuuji you keep dropping your shoulder after you kick!” you whine, leaning over the ring as you watch yuuji spar toji.
“I’m not!”
“you are!”
“am not!” yuuji receives a blow to his dropped shoulder, toji finally hitting it on the nail that yes, you were right.
“told you,” you mutter, yuuji huffs, glaring over his shoulder at you.
“stop picking on him, y/n.” toji unwraps his gloves, noticing the way your eyes avert.
“how about you spar him, since you’re so good,” yuuji spits, his cheeks flushed and slightly out of breath.
“no, we have to go. we’ve been here long enough,” kyo groans from his position on the bench. he came to pick you up, but you told him to wait, wanting to see how much yuuji has improved. it was also the second time toji has met him. the moment kyo stepped into the gym, he was on his phone, only leaning down for you to peck his cheek before you came rushing back to the ring. arrogant prick, thought toji.
“five more minutes,” you reply, pulling your sweater off as you rush into the ring. you bounce up to toji grabbing yuuji’s gloves who almost laughs at kyo’s irritated expression.
“you ever spar before?” toji helps you put the gloves on. your lips part—
“she has!” yuuji interrupts, before you can lie.
“just a little martial arts,” you frown at yuuji, who grins even wider.
“nah, she’s like a black belt in Jujutsu—“
“taekwondo,” you correct with a spit.
“either way, don’t hold back on her!” yuuji cackles, sticking his tongue out as you move to lunge at him, but toji wraps an arm around your waist pulling you back to him. he notices kyo glance with a raised brow, his hand was splayed on your stomach, gently calming you. your cheeks flush, as you hum. toji pulls away, side-eyeing kyo briefly, turning his attention back to you.
“okay okay, let’s see what you got,” toji fixes the helmet on your head, before stepping back. you pound your fists together eyes glinting as toji immediately sees what you’re trying to do. he does his signature start, pounding his fists twice, creating a booming clap with each one.
“okay,” you smile, getting into your start. your hands are up by your face, blocking off your body as you stand to the side instead of squared off in the middle.
“FIGHT!” yuuji shouts, you immediately shift inside, throwing your leg up to catch the top of his helmet.
“whew!” toji brushes the kick off with a whistle, a grin spreading across his lips. “not bad.” he fixes his hands up. “keep going, sweetheart.”
you’re smiling too bright. cheeks flaming as you rush in for another kick. you completely lost track of time as you sparred the renowned fighter. he easily blocked or dodged your kicks, his fists were light taps as he got you a couple times. nothing compared to the harder blows he gave yuuji. he obviously held back, but he still entertained the living hell out of you. fueling your blood as you went harder, and with a little luck, and toji getting distracted by the sweat trickling down your full bouncing chest, you landed kick to his stomach.
“oh shit.” you mutter.
“oh shit!” yuuji repeats stunned. megumi and nobara sit up noticing the sudden silence.
“ohhhhhhhhhh fuck yeahhh!” you scream, jumping up and down as you toss the helmet off and yuuji joins you as you celebrate the tiny victory that felt like the most incredible win in the world!
toji is cackling, rolling his eyes as he takes his gear off. megumi quirks a curious brow when he notices the way toji’s looking at you.
“settle down,” he pats your head. his expressions shifts once you glance up at him, your pretty lips all wet as you heaved, sweat rolling down the tops of your smooth tits. his green eyes glance away, clearing his throat, a sting spreading across his face. “next time you can spar yuuji.”
your face brightens as you turn to your friend. nobara was already leaning into the ring as she started laughing, recording her entire bit. “y/n will definitely beat your ass!!”
“as if!” the three of you start arguing, until after a moment you look up.
“where’d kyo go?” the bench was empty, your bag laying there by itself.
“left awhile ago,” megumi answers. toji glances over, noticing the way your cute brows pinched together, clearly upset.
“cmere, lemme give you some pointers,” toji calls you over. your feet carrying you easily. the three friends huddle around as they do their work. nobara occasionally glancing up to see you sitting on the mat as toji casually sat in front of you.
“y/n is the only person that can get mr. fushiguro talking.” Yuuji looks up after nobara’s comment. humming in agreement.
“ya he said the funniest joke ever when y/n asked for one yesterday. Damn what was the joke again?” yuuji taps his chin thinking as megumi looks over, his father seemed deep in conversation. it wasn’t like you were rambling, no. you were listening attentively. engaging with small encouraging nods as toji spoke. your lips would part as you gave the most animated reactions, clearly enjoying his company on a different level.
interesting.
toji had weaknesses. the first being money. if his manager and megumi weren’t handling it then his bank accounts would be empty in a flash. his second weakness was definitely a need to eavesdrop, especially when you were over.
“no, i told him no,” your words were quiet. you and nobara sat in the living room while yuuji and megumi went to pick up some snacks from the store.
“thought you said you were ready?” she questioned.
“i am, but like…he’s like…” your voice trails off, burying your face into the cushion.
nobara groans with you, hitting the top of your head with light slaps. “you’re so confusing. if you don’t wanna have sex with him just break it off. he’s a dick anyways.”
“you don’t understand.” you whine. “i wanna do it, im ready, but whenever he starts—“ a glass crashes to the floor. startling the two girls as they glance to see toji picking up the broken cup.
“mr.fushiguro what are your thoughts on kyo?” nobara suddenly belts. your head snaps to her, eyes wide. what kind of question?!
“he’s arrogant,” toji cleans the spilled beer. “a prick, and doesn’t respect anyone other than himself—“
“how would you know?” you cut him off. toji looks up.
“cmon he’s just saying what everyone else has been. you said it yourself,” nobara is desperate. she wants you to finally acknowledge how fucking crappy your boyfriend is, if you can even call him that.
“ive only ever heard shit things about him. and you don’t deserve that. that’s all I’m gonna say,” toji excuses himself. he was pissed. pissed about how upset you got when he made a comment. you never spoke that way to him. nor did you cut him off and vise versa…
however later that night, he hears a small creak on the steps. looking over his shoulder he see you coming up the steps into his second living space on the estate. he was watching his own movie with a beer resting on his side.
“don’t you have a fight?” you mutter, coming over to the man. “you shouldn’t be drinking that.” the light from the screen shines against your exposed skin as you walk in front of the man, taking a sit beside him on the couch. you’ve done this a couple times. usually when everyone has fallen asleep and you’re still wide awake, you’ll lounge with toji watching his shows until you also knocked out. but this time felt different. you sat closer. your head was bowed to your chest as you fiddled with the ends of your boy shorts.
“i treat myself to one every couple weeks,” he answers, taking another sip, his eyes locked on the tv. “they all asleep?” you hum.
toji enjoyed silence. especially at night. but this silence was somehow eating at him. he was aware of your little glances, the way you suddenly shift and move. he needed you to talk—
“next time, don’t say anything about kyo…” you mutter, it was so soft, he could barely hear it. but he did. and it irked him.
“so I shouldn’t say the truth?”
your eyes glare up at him, a scowl forming on your lips. “no you shouldn’t.” you snap. “it’s none of your business.”
“you were in my house. so that makes it my business.” toji meets your glare. his jaw looked sharper against the flickering lights, his collarbones peaked from his white t-shirt, his hair tousled over his eyes accentuating how fucking attractive he is.
“well…that’s not fair,” your legs come up, burying your face in it. your heart was beating so fast, your body heating up. you just wanted to be close to him. you couldn’t cross that line, you couldn’t! but toji’s hand slide up and down your back.
“okay…I’m sorry.”
his words sent a certain warmth spreading deep into your core. you didn’t answer, but toji still pulled you into his side as he stroked your hair, letting you rest your head on his chest. he heard your sniffles, but was silent. but then your small hand started playing with the one on his lap.
his felt his heart jump.
you pressed his hand against your damp cheek, leaning into it.
“what is it?” his voice was so soft, like honey as he gently turned your face up. your lips were open as you stare up at the beautiful man. eyes glossed over. “stop crying.” he sighs, making more tears slip down your adorable cheeks. “awe sweetheart.”
toji leans down, holding your face, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. you should be satisfied with that! but you wanted another one, your eyes were dilated and filled with unshed tears as you hummed so quietly that only toji could hear. he understands you, understands the way your eyes linger.
“don’t cry,” he kisses your temple, then your eyes, feeling the salty tears coat his lips. your chest was filled with water as you let out small quiet sniffs, fists clenching his shirt, still begging for more. “babygirl,” he sighs, his face lowered. brushing his lips so close to yours. you can feel his breath.
then, out of nowhere, he presses a kiss to your lips.
your heart stops. he pulls away your tears still flowing. his heart aches at the expression on your face. it was like he completely shattered your heart. but you still held onto him, burying yourself closer to his side, ultimately falling asleep to his strokes.
the next morning you woke up beside nobara tucked under the blanket. you buried your face even deeper, ignoring nobara’s comments about it being the first time you don’t kick her in your sleep.
if toji was expecting not to see you because of what happened, he was very wrong. you still came to watch yuuji practice in the gym, you still lounged around the fushiguro household, you even joked with toji as if nothing was wrong. toji was happy you were doing okay. but he felt his stomach churn when megumi mentioned.
“ya supposedly they got into it yesterday.” toji closes the fridge, turning to look at his son sitting at the counter eating. by they he means you and your dick faced “boyfriend”.
“what about?” megumi glanced up, toji noting the look. “you’re the one that brought it up.”
megumi swallows his food. “something about never being alone together. so they started arguing at todo’s place and he ditched her. now she’s giving him the silent treatment, but last night they got into another fight in the car. nobara and maki came rushing out to—“
“did he lay his hands on her?” toji suddenly starts up. not realizing his complete attention is on the kid. megumi quirks a brow, shaking his head.
“no, but…” he swallows again. “everyone’s telling her to break up with him. there’s zero redeeming qualities about the guy. he treats her like shit. flirts with every other girl when she’s not around. I don’t know why she’s still with him.”
toji didn’t know why he cared so much. why he’d carefully guide any conversation he had with his son to you. wondering how you’re doing, checking in on something megumi had told him last week. megumi wasn’t an idiot, but toji couldn’t even realize what he was doing to know how to not do it. especially when megumi stated.
“you never ask how nobara is doing.” the weight of the statement sent the room into a momentary silence. the only thing that could be heard was the characters talking on the tv in the distance.
when toji failed to respond it left the two simmering in silence.
but toji couldn’t help the small jitters that filled his stomach when he heard the familiar footsteps late at night. of course he knew you were over, and of course he made a show downstairs grabbing a drink to show that he’s staying up. all he had to do was wait an hour until time the rest fell asleep, to enjoy your company alone.
“did i miss anything?” you slid onto the couch, curling up as you hugged the pillow. toji briefly explained the last episode, before sinking back into silence. toji didn’t mind the silence, but he also knew that usually during these nights you both would talk for hours. but he knew this time was different. his eyes focused on the screen. but he could feel your eyes on him. drinking in his beautiful face, his sharp jawline, his damp hair. everything about him was perfection in your eyes. you knew it was forbidden which made it more exhilarating.
he liked when your eyes were on him. he also hated the small victory that lit his being when he reclined even more, spreading his legs wider and opening his arm up. an invitation.
you gently slid closer, cuddling up to his side. he was always so warm, a personal heater, and you were happy to be wearing shorts and a loose tshirt, smiling to yourself. you couldn’t help but lean closer, blushing at his natural scent mixed with the forest body wash.
“you smell good,” you mutter, making the older man chuckle lightly.
“thanks, sweetheart.” he rests back, settling in again, arm tightening around you.
your heart was pounding, lips parted as you glance up. his neck gave easy access, but you had to bite your lip. your legs closed tight, your thoughts swirling in your head causing your body to react to things he’s never done to you! yet, you also have a mouth that seems to act on its own too…
“do you hate me?”
toji’s brows shot up. “why would I hate you?”
your ears sting, burying your face in his chest. toji sighs, pulling you even closer, his hand gently tracing small strips up and down your arm. an odd occurrence followed, one that surprised him, but nonetheless he did.
“i like your company. spending time with you isn’t so bad.” the truth that slipped his lips was something he hadn’t done in awhile. he spoke to you often, that’s correct, but talking about his feelings, that took something more. however, his stomach churned when he felt your body tense. turning his head, he glances down.
staring right at him are your big doe eyes filled with unshed tears, your soft wet lips trembling gently. his heart skipped a beat. “what’s wrong?!”
“nothing.” your ears sting, immediately covering your face. you sniffle, desperately trying to collect yourself. toji chuckles, landing a hand on your head. the rough treatment immediately softens, coaxing you to slowly pull your hands away.
“are you embarrassed?” his voice was so deep, which didn’t help your flustered state. his hand slides to the back of your head once you look up at him again. his half lidded eyes made your cheeks flush. the shadows that highlighted his features, his own lips parting showing you his tongue as he licked his lips. his body heat making you sweat. he was definitely not from this earth. “you’re so cute.”
your breath hitched. did you say that? no, that was definitely him. your throat is dry as he gently massages the flesh of your thigh. he laughs again. “don’t pretend like you don’t know. is that why you’re always crying in front of me?” he knows that isn’t why, but still. “batting your big eyes at me.”
“i…” your cheeks flush a deeper crimson. he smiles in victory. hes left you speechless.
“that’s my weakness.”
“girls crying?” you mutter, upset.
he massages your thigh, leaning further down, giving you no escape from his eyes. “seeing you cry.” you mouth went dry. “are you embarrassed?”
“no.”
he licks his lips. “good.” he smiles. “you don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”
you can smell his musk more clearly, clouding your senses, but still mutter. “same to you.”
he smiles again, but this time it’s more tender. “whys that?”
“i like it when you’re being yourself.” your words are even sweeter than your voice, causing a light flush to spread across the man’s cheeks. “you’re really funny…and I like when you’re having a good time. it makes me happy.”
his eyes grew bigger. heart beating faster.
“what?” you’re looking at his shocked expression, ready to throw yourself out the window for embarrassing yourself—
“nothing.” he tilts his head, eyes softening. “i missed your voice.”
idiot! who says that. you try to look away, but he’s so close, your eyes can’t help but dart around like a lost puppy. “whatever.”
“you were quiet this whole time, but now you’re saying such adorable things.” he lightens the air when you bite your cheek. “i like hearing you talk too.”
“really?” you mutter.
“it’s nice.” your finger lazily twirls around the hem of his shirt. “you like it when i say you’re nice?” you nod. he clicks his tongue. “i wanna hear you.”
“yes.”
“good girl.” he coos, massaging your thigh with his big hand, crawling it further between your legs, having noticed earlier how much you were keeping them closed. you whimper so softly when he squeezes the inside, your skin so soft in his rough palm. “you like that I’m praising you or touching you right now?”
what’s going on? why is he acting like this? he laughs again! “cmon…you come here at night and pretend to be all quiet.”
your jaw is weak, staring at him.
“is it because i kissed you?”
your breath catches.
he leans closer, hand falling deep between your legs, grabbing your inner thigh, your warmth spreading from his hand all the way to his pants, feeling his bulge start to lift his sweats up. ah how much he liked that feeling. when you’d make him feel his heart beat a little faster.
“do you want another kiss?”
you nod your head immediately, hair falling down in eagerness. he waits, raising a teasing brow.
“i want you to kiss me.”
“good girl,” he leans even closer, the small space between you felt like hours instead of seconds. the tension building as you felt his breath fan across your wet lips.
as if he could feel your staggered breath, he leaned forward. his lips curl up watching your eyes flutter just before he meets your lips.
it felt different then your first kiss. he was much more confident, and so were you. so warm and wet. he kisses your bottom lip, caressing it with his tongue and holding your thigh, his eyes half-lidded as he watches your features contort in pleasure.
his hand travels a little higher, continuing his slow caresses, smiling even more when he pulls away, noticing your leaning further in awaiting some more.
“eager, now.”
you hum, shamelessly. sending a wave of blood rushing into his hard-on. he captures your lips again, biting down on your lip, a silent punishment for getting him so worked up. but the gasp you let out gives him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, caressing your tongue with his. your hand falls on his wrist, the way he’s squeezing your soft flesh has your panties completely soaked, and the only thing running through your dizzy head is the thought of his long rough fingers playing with your pussy.
toji pulls away again, this time to catch his breath, your tongue hanging out and your hazzy eyes had him smiling. “you like it?” he kisses your tongue. “you taste good.” he licks your tongue. “want more?” he pulls away just a bit once you let out a little moan. he doesn’t know how far he’s pushing it, but when he carefully tilts your chin, thumb stroking your bottom lip before pulling it down, you suddenly felt a rush of hot white heat.
his tongue came out to spit into your mouth.
and his cock almost burst at the moan that escapes the back of your throat.
you lean forward, kissing him again, your hand holding his wrist as you press his hand to your cheek, desperate for more attention.
toji pulls away, your lips part, but a gasp escapes when your back hits the cushion. laying across the couch, he leans down between your legs, resuming the makeout session. it was wet and messy, all thoughts thrown away as you both got lost in the others lips. the longer it went on the more toji started pushing the very big red line that’s he’s been slowly crossing.
with caution, he slowly began to lower his hips, closer to your open legs. his tongue playing with yours had him grabbing the cushion beside you, finally pressing his bulge right against your clothed cunt.
your jaw dropped. pussy tightening as he gives another cautious role of his hips. you can feel him so clearly, the sweatpants and your shorts weren’t doing much as he rolled his hips again and again. blood flooding your cheeks as you felt the outline of his cock. he was big. the stimulation on your clit had you gasping quietly. tongue falling out for more of his wet kisses. he swore very quietly, only enough for you to hear as you bucked your hips up. your legs came up to the back of his thigh, then up his torso as he continued to rub himself between your legs.
a wet patch slowly began to emerge between your grey shorts and his white ones. he was getting himself worked up, and your little gasps and moans were enough for him to start to lose all control.
his fingers slid between your bodies, playing with the waistband of your shorts, creeping a hand into the front, his head spinning as he watched your pretty lashes bat up at him, tongue sticking out awaiting his fingers to touch the place you were so needy for.
“dad?”
time stopped.
toji immediately froze as you tensed up, eyes staring up at toji in horror. the slow steps up the staircase, gave toji enough time to pull away, cursing at the wet patch between your legs, then noting his own. he tosses a blanket over you, as he grabbed another blanket throwing it over his lap.
“pretend to sleep.” he shot at you, even though you were still overwhelmed by the sudden shift, you listened. closing your eyes.
reaching the top of the stairs, Megumi shuffled lazily towards the couch, rubbing his stomach under his shirt.
“dad.” toji looks over his shoulder, grunting a response. “need your phone.”
toji holds his phone up. megumi comes closer, taking it, that’s when he notices the second person in the room. “y/n?” toji shushes him immediately.
“she’s sleeping.”
“why here?” that’s when you and toji both realize that not everyone knew you came up here when everyone fell asleep. it almost felt like some dirty secret getting revealed now.
“she couldn’t sleep, I don’t know,” toji shrugs. “why do you need my phone?” he pretends like megumi can’t read him, even though toji never questions megumi for wanting his phone.
“can’t find my phone.” Megumi gives one last look between you and toji before heading down stairs, his dad’s phone in his hand calling himself. once his feet disappear, you’re sitting up, but toji presses a hand to your thigh.
“he’ll come back up.”
the room falls into silence. your eyes looking over at toji who’s attention is now back on the tv. his cheeks still slightly pink, especially with your attention focused on him.
you can’t help but mutter. “should I go?”
“if you want.”
“do you want me to stay?”
“i don’t care.”
your throat bops. suddenly feeling horribly uncomfortable. was this a mistake. should you ask if it was a mistake? but if he says yes, then you’ll definitely cry.
“is kyo coming tomorrow?” he’s never called your boyfriend by his real name, nor has he ever bring him up in conversation with you.
“why are you talking about him?”
“he’s your boyfriend, am i not allowed?” he’s still not looking at you.
“like you care.”
“you’re right. I don’t.” he tilts his head, so clearly agitated. you don’t know how to respond. you don’t think he’s ever spoken to you with such edge.
you disobey him and sit up, your eyes swirling with confusion, and the second your hand lands on his, everything melts.
your hand was so warm on top of his. his eyes met yours as you peer up at him. not only is he a man, but he’s older too, so why is he acting like a jealous fucking teen?
“I’m sorry.” you words feel like absolute heartbreak. a pit of ugly guilt rages deep inside him, especially when he doesn’t respond, allowing you to stand, wrapping the blanket around you, leaving him.
megumi is startled when you suddenly appear at the bottom of the steps. he screws his eyes in the dark, were you crying? but you mask it with a fake yawn, rubbing your eyes as you fall beside nobara, burying the comforter over your nose.
“your dad is so boring.” you mumble, unconvincingly.
“are you ready?” yuuji nervously leans over megumi as they all huddled around the fighter as he sat on the bench. “are you hydrated? should i get more water? are you angry? the dude was yapping a lot before the match! he’s definitely talking shit about you right now, I can only guess what he’s saying—probably saying how you’re getting old and your punches are slower than snails!—“
“yuuji!” nobara elbows him. maki is coordinating with shiu, as toji continues sitting in silence, wrapping his hands.
“it’ll be great.”
toji feels his heart beat. glancing at you as you kneel in front of him. a soft smile on your lips as if last night had never happened. it was toji’s final match of his career. all of his son’s idiot friends were huddled in the locker room. but you also were here.
you were dressed all pretty, he had to suppress his thoughts when you came running into the locker room, afraid of being late. your hair so fluffy as your skirt danced around your thighs. you rarely wear skirts, he thought. your tight long sleeved shirt had his eyes zeroing in on how well it hugged your pretty tits. his cheeks ran hot as he remembered the way he rolled his hips up between your legs, the hot pulsing of your clothed pussy. fuck he regrets not slipping a hand up your shirt and squeezing your tit—
“how are you feeling?” your eyes fell soft. holding no animosity in them as you gently reached out to help him hold his gloves as he continued wrapping it around.
toji felt a burst inside his stomach, the good kind.
“ya you’ve got it! we’ve trained a lot!” yuuji is ready to interrupt some more before megumi grabs the back of his collar, holding him back. all because he saw the softness in his fathers gaze. his once pinched angry expression, was tender and gentle as you spoke to him. the conversation wasn’t in whispers, but it felt intimate. nobara looks over, also noticing megumi’s lingering eyes.
nobara wasn’t an idiot. at least not in the love department. she always knew, I mean she also found megumi’s dad hot as fuck. but finding someone attractive is different than the look you were giving him. like he held the entire world in his hands. it was definitely a look she’s never seen you give kyo. how didn’t she notice this before?!
“thanks, kid,” toji pats your head, tenderly. the aggressiveness of it, absent. he didn’t ruffle your hair, but the weight atop your head sent a fury of emotions swirling inside you. he ignored the brief moment of hurt that flashed across your face when he called you kid.
you glance up when he takes his hand away. his cheeks flush.
“anytime.” your smile was a puncture to his heart. no words came to his mind, so instead he brushed your hair, his thumb unconsciously caressing your cheek. your eyes swam with need, begging him for anything, but his hand drops. standing up and moving past you, following shiu’s directions.
kyo was already waiting at the vip seats. the rest of you joining once the lights began to dim for the athletes entrances. you were still in an argument with kyo, but he still held your hand when you sat beside him, his lips pressing to your cheek sweetly, smiling when you hum in acknowledgment, but it’s all thrown out the window once toji steps into the cage.
the arena immediately shifts, his energy resonates throughout the entire stadium.
this was your second time seeing toji’s match in person. however, knowing this was his last fight meant something different. yuuji was screaming his lungs out, as was nobara. toji was up against some young prodigy nicknamed ‘the honored one’, also known as gojo satoru.
your cheeks filled with blood as you screamed for toji’s victory. flinching and looking away when gojo sent a violent blow straight to his ribs. kyo glanced at the tremble in your eyes, brows creasing as you clutched your chest, as if grabbing at your heart. his jaw snapped.
“y/n, let’s go,” he suddenly stood, grabbing your arm.
“what?” you stumble, surprised by the aggressive pull. nobara and megumi looking over at the commotion. immediately stepping in to hold you back.
“what’re you doing?!” you struggle, wincing when his grip tightens on your wrist. the fight in the cage was getting more intense, but the grip kyo had on you made your stomach churn. his eyes filled with rage as he glared at you. “get…off—nobara,” you call to her, realizing that his grip really is tight.
“fuck off, kyo! megumi,” she looks over her shoulder but megumi is already gripping kyo’s wrist, making him loosens his grip on you. the scene was insignificant compared to the fight in the stadium, but being close to the cage, it caught toji’s attention.
his expression darkened, blocking gojo kick, as he immediately spun, hitting gojo right in the ribs knocking him back. toji glanced again to see you back in your seat clapping and cheering. what happened? were you okay—
“eyes here old man!” the white haired kid cackles. itching a sore spot in toji.
“what’s happened I can’t look anymore!” Yuuji cries covering his eyes as you clutch his collar, shaking him like crazy as you scream. nobara is biting her nails as megumi winces. gojo landed another violent hit straight to toji’s already bleeding eyebrow.
“stop it, he’s gonna win!” you cry, heart pounding and gaze fixed on toji. your lips trembling as toji stumbles. somehow, you feel butterflies breakout the second toji glanced briefly in your direction. you don’t know if he’s looking at the group or you, but still, you couldn’t help yourself from smiling, putting two thumbs up encouragingly. even though you were scared seeing him bleed so much, you couldn’t describe the amount of confidence you had in his victory.
the stupid smile almost had toji scoffing in amusement. you really are adorable.
so when toji’s name rings out throughout the entire stadium as the victor, your screams were deafening. yuuji crying from happiness as nobara shakes megumi and you’re…you’re completely in tears. choking with joy as you all scramble into the cage to congratulate the victor. however just when you’re about to reach him, a bunch of press speakers and cameras block your path.
nevertheless, the afterparty at the gym was enough time to celebrate the winner. everyone was there. drinks and music blasting as you all congratulate the man.
you were babbling to toji, your lips curling once he pats your head affectionately. answering your unending questions as he continued talking. it came easy to him, having you listen to him.
“I told you this story already?” he realizes midway.
“it’s okay, i like hearing you talk,” you smile tenderly, triggering a deep flush on his cheeks, something that’s become more and more familiar. clearing his throat, he pets your head, so you wouldn’t catch his expression.
“y/n.”
your heart drops, turning to see kyo. “we need to talk.” he glared past you at toji, who raised a brow, testing him back. you set aside your drink, apologizing to toji.
a hand stopped you.
“break up with him.”
his thumb caressed your wrist gently. but his words only did the opposite. your expression reminded him of the day he told you his feelings about kyo. why did you look at him like that?
“he’s a dick…you deserve better.”
your jaw clenched, the ground occupying your pretty eyes, toji waited for you to think. but when glanced back up, he inhaled sharply, your lips wet as a few tears lined your waterline.
“I’ll never have better.”
you rip your arm away, turning on your heel. he watches you exit the gym, meeting kyo outside. he can’t describe the ugly twist that he felt deep in his gut. he drank some more, and some more, until he realized that getting drunk was nothing and that he’d rather head home. he didn’t want to think about it, or about his feelings, none of it. his gaze fixed on the tv as he waited for sleep to take him.
unfortunately the rest of the kids were black out drunk. so toji had to hear the commotion downstairs as they crashed into things and yuuji’s whispering was more like yelling. after a couple of minutes it was finally silence again, except for his show…
“what’d I say about sneaking around?”
toji heard the creaking. recognizing your soft footsteps the moment you stepped up the staircase, clearly trying to conceal your presence.
“thought you were sleeping…” your voice was meek, as you stare at the back of his head. your heart thumping loudly once you saw his arm raise lazily, two fingers motioning you forward.
of course, you obeyed. sucking in some air to calm your nerves as you round the couch, slowly. toji watched your bowed head, that’s when he heard the quiet sniffles. his brow pinched high as he sat straight.
“did something happen?” he was on alert.
you don’t respond. only feeling your cheeks flush and heart clench, why is he so concerned?
“did the prick lay his hands on you,sweetheart?”
sweetheart….he really picks his moments, you scoff. “he didn’t.”
he settles back. but you raise your head, tears sprinkling out like beautiful jewels.
“why did you ask me to break up with him?” you hiccup. toji is left speechless. why was he so mesmerized by your emotions. his pretty girl, crying so vulnerably. “answer me!”
“I don’t know.”
he cringed. it was evident you disliked that answer.
you bit your cheek, grasping at your megumi’s shirt. you felt your cheeks run hot, lips wet as you spoke. toji could read your lips before he heard the words. his stomach churning in disgust.
“he wants to have sex with me.” your face is burning, but you don’t care anymore. “kyo has been begging me. we’ve kissed me, he’s sucked my tits. I’ve given him handjobs. but he wants to have sex with me now.”
his jaw was locked, veins straining his arms and neck. “I don’t like knowing that shit.” his voice was deep sending even more nerves down your throat.
but you don’t care anymore. you swallow thickly. toji didn’t know if he was prepared to hear about your sexual relationship with that shithead. knowing he laid his dirty hands on you, kissed your pretty lips, played with your full beautiful tits that he loved to stare at. his blood was boiling.
“toji,” your lip trembles. cheeks hot knowing this is the first time you’re calling him by his first name. toji also noticed, especially as you inched closer. your tears still full in your eyes, making his chest swell, unable to tear his gaze away from you. “I don’t want him touching me anymore.”
his arms instinctively reach out, and pull you onto his lap. his arm circling your back as he cups your neck with the other. “i only want you.”
“fuck.” his lips crash into yours.
your hands instinctively go to his hair as he licks your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open, pushing his tongue to meet yours. you felt your stomach explode, eyes filing with tears as you kissed him back passionately. cheeks stinging as he caressed his wet tongue against yours, groaning as you arched into him. his rough hands pulling your hips forward, groaning as you slide against his bulge. you gasp, pulling away for a second, but his lips move to your neck, licking a strip up to your ear.
“be a good girl, start rocking on me.” your body shivered, humming as you started rolling your hips down on his hard bulge. “just like that. feel good?” he nips at your skin, helping your pace as you hum softly. the cotten shorts you wore slide with each grind making toji feel more clearly the heat radiating from your pussy.
“you can’t cry like that. it messes with my head.”
you moan gently as you feel his hands slide up under your shirt. eager to listen, you helped him pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. your cheeks aflame the second he saw your bare chest. you liked it so much, his attention all on you. you wanted him to touch you so badly. a deep groan resounded from the back of his throat .
“you know how many times I’ve imagined seeing these,” he grabs a handful of your tit, licking his lips at the weight in his palm. you watch him lean forward, tongue sticking out to run from the underside, licking a long tantalizing strip up, pressing down when he got to your nipple.
“i thought i was seeing things,” you moan gently, hand tugging on his black locks. “i didn’t know if you were staring at them.”
“how could i not? you made it pretty hard,” he drools on your nipple, your eyes dilating at the lewd sight. “dreamed about sucking these pretty tits. you purposely wore flimsy bras in the gym so I can see them bounce?” your cheeks flush as you pout looking away. he groans again, more frustrated. “you let that asshole touch you like this?” you whine when he bites meanly down on your nipple, tongue swirling to ease the pain before he does it again, his other hand helping you rock a little quicker, your shorts sliding to the side, as your pink panties come into view. completely wet as you whine.
“only a few times,” you mutter.
“few times.”
“he’s my boyfriend—ah!” you cry louder, the bite he gave much harsher, tears trickling out. you feel pathetic as you cry just from the stimulation of your tits, toji was growing more annoyed.
“you didn’t break up with him?” your lips part, grasping his hair, whining when he pulls away, looking up at you. you were lost, your lips hanging open as you stare down at the man.
“i—“
something strange surged inside him as he quickly went back to your lips, cutting off any response. his body hugging you closer to his chest as he slid your shorts and panties to the side, a low groan slipping once he felt your arousal coat his fingers. “your pussy’s crying too,” he coos.
“finger me, please, please,” you gasp, whining even more as he circled your cute little clit. his senses running haywire the more you begged.
“you’re so needy.” he groans, pinching your clit making you cry. “has he fingered you? shoved your cute cunt with his disgusting fingers?”
“mmm….he has,” you cry out feeling toji shove two fingers inside you without warning. his teeth biting down on your nipple as you tremble all over. “i like it….like it….” you moan, jaw dropping as he abused your pussy, stretching it out with his fingers, only to curl them right on your squishy part, grinning at the shocked expression that flashed across your face.
“he make you cum?” toji grunts, glancing down at the arousal that slide down his palm, licking his lips.
“he did….made me cum…” your words only fueled a dormant emotion that he thought he’d never feel again. jealousy.
toji curled his fingers, biting your lips as he sent you over the edge. your entire body shook, clinging onto him as you came with a shocked gasp. tears sliding down your hazzy eyes. “toji…mmm…” your soft little voice resounded in his ear as you pressed your cheek to his shoulder still shaking. however, toji only gave you a moments rest, before he was lifting you with him.
“I’m not done.”
your body hit the unfamiliar bed, your eyes briefly glancing around you as your vision cleared. It was a spacious master bedroom, your eyes catching the minimalist dark furniture, and the large balcony windows briefly open. “”ah!”
your hips jumped, legs closing around his hand after feeling the harsh slap to your pussy. you glared up at him.
“ow!” you cry, pouting once toji kneeled on the bed, shoving your legs open.
“i was talking to you and you weren’t listening.” he rubs your pussy again, his expression was sinister, dark…fuck he was so hot. your cheeks went pink when he aggressively pulled your shorts and panties off, spreading your folds apart. “you’re telling me…” his jaw locks. “the prick saw your pussy?”
you bit your cheek, nodding your head. a wave of arousal rushed down to your pussy once toji dropped his head back, groaning in frustration. his hand coming up, laying another harsh slap to your pussy.
“i answered you!” you cry, holding his wrist, not admitting to him how turned on this was making you.
“well I’m pissed,” he huffs, giving another slap, now getting a moan out of you.
“why are you pissed?” you cry, another slap making your hips buck. his eyes no longer shined green, but instead were encompassed by a dark black shadow.
“because he touched you.”
“so?”
“so, it’s annoying. he’s not allowed too.”
“and whys that?”
“because you’re mine.”
toji was heaving. his nails having dug into your knees, only now realizing his words. your reaction absolutely priceless. the stunned expression and wide eyes sent his heart racing.
“fuck, don’t look at me like that.”
his tongue licks your lips, groaning as he felt your tongue meet his, a satisfied whimpering slipping from the back of your throat. your hips bucking as your own nails racked through his hair. his fully clothed body made you even more turned on, bucking your hips up as he began to grind down on your pussy.
“can you eat me out?” you mutter, rocking your hips up. toji chuckles, sliding down your body as he licked and kissed your nipples, licking down your tummy, as he sucked a dark bruise on your pelvis. your cheeks flush, your fantasies slowly unfolding before your eyes. toji brings your hand to his hair, looking directly into your eyes as he licks a bold strip up your pussy.
his own eyes roll back, groaning as your arousal floods his tastebuds. he takes another lick, swirling his tongue deeper between your folds, playing with your pussyhole, purposely avoiding your bud.
“tojiii,” you whine, tugging his hair. he grunts. “you’re being mean.”
“I’m being mean?” he smirks, parting from your wet folds. “because I’m not kissing your little clit.”
you nod, flustered. “but it’s all swollen and pink, I don’t wanna hurt you.” he feigns concern, making you look away, ears hot.
“you won’t hurt me.”
he didn’t know if it was the combination of your voice and that expression that made him nearly cum in his pants, but he broke.
your back arched off the bed as he sucked your clit harshly into his mouth. the sudden stimulation had you crying, your hand coming up to your mouth as the other held his dark locks with a vicious grip. it was a pleasant surprise to toji, though he fantasized about his son’s close friend being shy and somewhat of a prude, he was practically drooling seeing you so aggressive and needy with him.
encouraging you to tug his hair, he lapped your clit, biting down whenever he felt you loosen your grip in his hair. fuck, this was definitely a kink. his arms wrapped around your thighs, lifting your hips up onto his lap as he bent his back eating you out. you’ve never seen anything like it.
the dark bruise on his eye, the cut on his nose, the cracked knuckles gripping your flesh….your eyes rolled back as he pulled out, spitting a big wet glob right on your clit, his jaw aching, but seeing the way you twitched, and tugged his head back, he felt how drenched his boxers were.
“toji…keep…going,” you pant, your grip doesn’t loosen, which was enough for him to continue. the knot inside your core, starting to tighten more and more, edging you closer as he slurped your arousal, the lewd sounds, clouding your senses as he pulled your hips higher to his face, your heels pressing on his shoulder blades as you bite your hand, the broken cries and aggressive tug had toji moaning into you.
“gonna cum… ‘m…hngh close…” your voice cracks, eyes rolling back as toji feels your body tense. his tongue flattening on your clit, sucking your bundle.
your eyes widen, suddenly loosening your grip as you push your palm on his forehead trying to push him away.
“toj-m-move I-i—“ you were gasping, moans choking your words as you shiver. toji aggressively hugs your thighs, keeping your body still against his face.
“if you don’t cum on my face, then don’t ever think about doing this again.”
it was a lie. but you didn’t need to know that. you cried, eyes filling with tears as your legs began to shake uncontrollably.
“b-but tojii…”
you bury your face in your arm, which he notices right away, biting down on your clit. your back lifts as you squeal.
“hands off.”
you shake your head, so toji unwraps an arm to grab both your wrists, holding them down against your tummy as he sucks your clit between his teeth, the sounds of his mouth had you crying immediately punching the coil as your hips stutter up and a drawn squeal comes from the back of your throat as a wave of relief washes over you, releasing a flow of pleasure…. hitting toji.
“shit.” he utters, jerking back when he feels the splash hit his face. your wrist wiggles in his grip as you gasp. “fuck…” his groan is low as he slaps your pussy, making a bigger mess as you continue to release a stuttered flow.
“mess—ahnghh-“ you cry, not even able to finish your sentence.
“ya its fucking messy,” he chuckles, “and hot.” his eyes darken as he latches his lips back on your pussy, drinking your arousal with more pleasure than he can bear, eyes closing briefly as you cry a little louder. “that’s it. ngh all over my face, puppy.” he’s panting, “ya good girl.”
toji doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so attractive. the twist in your face, the drool coming from your lips, the tears filling your eyes, your tits high up in the air, all from his mouth. he’s so sloppy, circling your overstimulated clit as you shake and stutter, quiet sobs slipping out.
finally, he lets go with a wet pop. your pussy clenching in spasms as you gasp. tears blocking your vision until you feel the relief of your hands being free, rubbing your eyes lazily, leaving your hands over your face.
“why did you do that?” you sniffle.
“are you embarrassed?”
you’re quiet.
“have you ever squirted on that shithead?” your legs rest on either side of his torso as he lazily strokes your thighs and hips. large hands soothing you.
your fingers split apart as you look at toji. his eyes immediately finding yours, softening a bit at the dried tears.
“we’ve only ever kissed.”
silence. his face drops.
“what….”
your stomach twists when you see his brows start to come together, looking at you more sternly. his grip tightens around your hips, your body cringing, as he slowly realizes what you’d just done.
“you lied to me?”
“i extended the truth.”
he laughs. “that’s an understatement. so he’s never touched you? your tits—“
“that wasn’t a lie.”
“so you admit you were lying.”
“no!” your hands fall, staring back. that’s when you really clock in on the state he’s in. his face wet with your arousal, shirt also being victim to your pleasure, his hair was a mess, not realizing how much tugging you’d done till now. his arms bulging as he held your hips. and his cheeks were so pink!
is he mad? the longer he stares the more you feel blood rushing up to your face. “the part about kissing, playing with my tits, and um handjobs, was for real….everything after that….no.”
you’re looking away now. biting your cheek nervously, because yes, he’s older and definitely much scarier when he’s all serious.
“are you mad?” you mutter.
his hands travel up your torso, thumb caressing the warm skin, making you more nervous.
“mad…” he repeats, like he’s thinking it over. you glance back at him, lips parting.
he takes the invitation, kissing you deeply. you hum in surprise, tasting yourself immediately which sends your body burning again. he presses himself over you, trapping your arms between your chests, his lips part, your tongue coming out making him grin. “you knew how much I hated that douche and used it against me.”
you flush, licking your lips as he continues to stare down at you, much closer now. “i wasn’t sure if it was gonna work.”
“well it did.”
he kisses your cheek, dipping closer to your ear to whisper a gentle. “at least, now I know I’m the only one that’s seen you like this.” he licks your ear to conclude, sending a shiver up your spine. his arm sliding up your thigh, moving down to grab your ass, kneading the flesh, before laying a slap. a yelp slips in surprise. “you like making me loose my cool?”
he slaps your ass again, your head shaking as you manage to free your arms, trying to hold his shoulders, just for a harsher slap to send your hips bucking up, pressing into his shirt. “getting my dick hard just for your little games.”
you’re not even trying to hide your moans anymore. each slap sending another wave of pleasure down to pool in your pussy.
“my puppy likes being all dirty,” he growls, biting your lips as he holds your body off the bed, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs crossed behind his back as he rocks his cock into you, kissing you so passionately it’s making you dizzy again. this time when he pulls away, the string of spit connecting you guys has you loosing all cool, all to utter the silly command.
“spit in my mouth.”
toji freezes.
you’re staring up at him, with big dumb eyes. lips open softly. now he’s the one that’s blushing. his cheeks bright red as he stares at you.
“fuck me.” he drops you on the bed, unwrapping your arms, as he sits up. your heart is beating rapidly, frozen because now you’re scared you’ve done the wrong thing. was that it? is he gonna leave—no he’ll kick you out—
“since when did you start acting like a little virgin, who wants to get her pussy ruined?” he snaps. his voice deeper than before. your eyes wide when you see him stripping his shirt, your lips closing as you see his muscles flex, then his beautiful abs right in front of you. the bruises from todays match looked painful, especially the one on his ribs, remembering the harsh blow his opponent had given him. but your mind is swept away when his biceps flex, leaning forward, hand holding your face tight, he tilts your face up. “open wide.”
you feel like cumming just from his command. but you submit immediately, opening your mouth, tongue hanging loosely as you blush, waiting for him because he makes you wait, just enough for him to capture this image before him. his son’s pretty little friend, sticking her tongue out for him, her pussy hot and messy, and her tits covered in his spit. and it was all for him.
he leans forward, gathering a nice amount in his mouth, lining himself over you. he stays a distance away.
you’re panting like a cute puppy, desperate for any attention. drool slipped down your chin, as he felt it roll down his wrist.
you’ll be the death of him.
he spits.
the low groan was deep seeing your entire body shake as his heavy spit lands on your tongue. your hips bucking as you roll his spit in your mouth, whining so audibly in pleasure.
“swall—“
you already do. your body suddenly rehydrating like that was the first drink you’ve had in days.
“what a dirty fucking pup,” he grabs your jaw again, crashing his lips on yours. you whine, flushing at how loud he’s kissing you. it was so messy, and sloppy, your hands holding his wrist as he moved your jaw up, deepening the kiss, tongue pushing inside your mouth as more spit collected between your battling tongues.
“can you fuck me now?” you push away, panting in his mouth as you try to slide your heel into his waistband from behind.
a sudden thrill takes over your body at the deadly smirk he gives you. laughing into your lips. “you’re not shy are you?”
“you’ve already made me squirt,” you look away. “that was embarrassing.”
toji doesn’t laugh, his eyes boring into your face, making your skin warm. “I’m jealous.”
“huh?”
“I’m jealous that you can give me something so special.” your cheeks heat up, you can tell by his eyes that he was being serious. “I want you to give me more.” he dips his head, kissing your chin, moving down to your neck. his lips trail down to the tops of your tits, kissing his way down, distracting you as his thumbs hook under his sweats and boxers, pulling it down.
your head is tipped to the side, letting out sighs of pleasure.
“mmm, toji,” you squeak, hips jumping when you feel his two fingers inside your pussy.
“fuck, you’re too tight,” he mutters more to himself. that’s when you realize what he means. he’s sitting between your legs completely naked. you feel your breath catch when you follow the dark hairs of his happy trail all way down to the well-groomed but still hairy base of his thick cock. fuckk. your mind cannot wrap around how big he is. it was shiny which meant he’d already stroked his pre-cum around, now it was hanging between his large thighs, too heavy to stand fully erect. you couldn’t stop the drool from slipping out.
kyo’s didn’t look like that.
“No kidding.” toji meets your puzzled eyes. you’d just said that out loud? and now he has the most shit-eating grin ever.
toji pushes a third finger inside, making your jaw drop, reaching out for him. “it okay princess, I’ll make it fit.” your eyes kept falling down to the monster between his legs, your head going cloudy just thinking about it how that’ll be possible.
“want it now… put it inside me.”
toji clicks his tongue, still fingering you, his brows pinched in concentration. his tip was an angry red, leaking even more.
“you’re too tight. haven’t fucked a virgin in awhile.”
“it’s fine. I just…” you whined bucking your hips to the rhythm of his skilled fingers. “just want your d-dick inside me, please. please.”
toji slaps your pussy. hard. “stop being a fucking brat.”
you bite your lip only to start whining again as you keep eyeing his heavy hanging cock his tip drooling making your pussy tighten around his thirsting fingers. his dark pubes made your pussy cream even more. “toji.” you draw out his name. he meets your gaze, clearly frustrated, but suddenly you give him that annoying look. the one where your eyes get all big, dumb, and wide, and you bat your lashes up at him, your lips all wet and pouty. his jaw clenched. you could even see the vein on his jawline, only making you more needy. it was the same look you would innocently give him when he’d scold you about walking home alone at night.
“can’t even let me open you up,” he slaps your pussy. “crying like a whiny little brat.”
“please.” tears swell up, gently making your eyes sparkle.
he rolls his neck. “you’re killing me, sweetheart.” your hands reach for him, making him click his tongue as he grabs his base, pumping his cock harsher than you’d expect. your lips fall open, salivating at the sight. your mind remembering all his matches, how every hit he threw looked like he was breaking cement in half. you swallow thickly, eyes glancing up to see toji’s flushed cheeks as he jerks himself off. his eyes staring at how close your pussy is to his dick.
your stomach twists, a stupid feeling swelling in your belly as you become jealous of his hand.
“in me. toji toji—“
“I needa teach you a fucking lesson about patience,” he grabs your face, immediately seeing how dilated your pupils are, as you lean up, meeting his lips. you were fucking adorable, the desperation made him twitch even more. he couldn’t remember the last time he’s leaked this much pre-cum where it looked like he basically came already. “gonna take it slow.” he utters, rubbing his tip between your folds, collecting all the messy slick.
you moan into his mouth, soft little sighs as he continues his teasing actions, your fingers brushing his nape as you lick his bottom lip waiting….waiting. when his tip catches onto your clit, you let out a quiet cry. “to…jj…stop playing with me…”
“it’s all swollen though,” he coos, smiling when you flush, humming with him. “was I too mean on your poor clit?” you shake your head quickly. “want me to fuck y’r pussy now?”
“mhm, inside please, want it deep,” you add to his lewd words, making him chuckle. you always were a talker, but he’s still surprised how fucking dirty your mouth is. the same one that was always so polite with him, even if you guys did joke around, you always called him sir.
“eh, is that right?”
you nod, biting your lip, blushing when you hear him groan. he slides his tip down to your hole. your heart pounding a little faster, a small pit of fear dawning on you watching toji’s broad figure hover over you. his entire form covering you as he gently pushes his engorged cock head into your awaiting entrance.
you suck in sharply, gasping at the unknown feeling as he gives you your first real stretch, neck craning as your nails dig into his shoulder and nape.
“relax, sweetheart,” his hand runs up and down your thigh, squeezing your sweaty skin. as he runs a hand up your stomach letting you take some deep breaths. his jaw is clenched, biting down as he feels your vice grip on his cock, absolutely suffocating him. “fuck baby, y’r too tense, deep breaths.” he chokes out.
“o..okay.” you’re trembling. trying to take a deep breath, but it felt so weird, your pussy could feel his fat tip. his eyes fall to your scrunched up face. the only thing on your mind was simply. toji’s inside me. toji’s inside me. megumi’s dad is inside me! the chanting had you going dumb and unintentionally doing the worst thing you could do to a man struggling to hold his patience: you clenched around him.
“fuck baby!”
toji’s growl had your stomach tightening, squeezing him even harder as your back arched. “breathe baby!”
“i am,” your face is warm and sweaty. “help…it hurts.”
toji freezes, staring into your big doe eyes. his heart melts, cupping your cheek as he speaks gently.
“don’t cry,” he coos, “i’ll take care of it,” he strokes your cheek as you sniffle, nodding. “I’ll handle it.” you suddenly gasp feeling a familiar stimulation. his thumb swirling around your swollen clit making you whine in pleasure, he groans feeling your body start to relax a bit more. giving his cock some relief.
“just like that, good girl, shit,” he coos feeling you clench around him from the praise. “we’re not done yet sweetheart.”
“mmm, okay.” you’re so cute, but he sees the mischief in your eyes, that’s when he feels you start to rock your hips up. “want it all.”
“slowly.” he says sternly.
he pushes a little more, leaning back when you begin to act up again, his hand falling down on your pussy making you giggle in pleasure, his tongue peaks out to lick his teeth.
“don’t start acting like a spoiled brat again.”
“I’m not,” you whine, tongue coming out as you continue rocking your hips up. his stomach clenches, eyes falling over your sweaty figure. your tits bouncing with each buck. it would be so easy to slam into you right now. have your pretty lips cry out as he took your virginity so meanly.
“what a pretty girl,” he runs his hand up under your tits. smiling when you arch up for him. he continues to push his cock deeper inside you, your moans shifting into a quiet cry. “never had a pussy this tight. ya ever put anything inside?” you shake your head.
“no,” you blush, biting your lip trying to decide if you should say what you wanted.
“spit it out.”
“i wanted you to be the first person to touch me down there.”
you whine feeling his big cock twitch inside you. he’s pulling out, sliding back in getting your slick to run down his cock.
“ ‘s that right?” he lifts.
“mhm, didn’t wanna finger myself either.”
“so you only played with your little clit?” you nod.
“you’re so cute.”
your cheeks sting, opening your mouth to respond, but the stretch started to sting. he was going too slow.
your hands lift off your chest to reach for his shoulders. “too slow.”
“watch it,” he meets you lower, your hands running around his shoulders as you pant so softly at his agonizing pace. slowly stretching out your little pussy hole. “you’re gonna regret your words in a sec.”
“fuck me,” you command. the snappy voice making his jaw tick. you’re a fucking handful, and now seeing how much of an attitude you catch when you’re horny made him even more turned on.
“baby.” he warns.
“cmon, please please.”
his patience fucking breaks.
your breath catches when his arms are grabbing your thighs, pulling you forward so easily, immediately slamming his entire length inside you.
a strangled cry rips from your throat. gasping as he pulls out again and slams his burning cock deep inside you hitting your cervix and leaving it in there so you can feel just how full he’s making you.
“is that what you wanted? fuck!” his cheeks are red as he groans from the drag of his cock. you were absolutely suffocating him. his eyes glancing down at the blood mixing with the creamy base of his cock. his dark pubes all wet and sticky as the slick covered your thighs as well.
“g-goo…d…” you’re in tears, gasping as he slams his cock slow and hard. letting you feel him, every curve and vein of his cock. your mind going hazzy as you look up at his sweaty face, holding one leg under his arm as the other runs up your pelvis, pressing down on your stomach.
“feel that baby?”
you moan loudly when he presses on the bulge his cock was making. you nod, eyes looking up at him with hearts. his own chest beating rapidly, cock twitching as you clench around him.
“who’s making you feel good?”
“you are.” your hands fall to hold his on your tummy. “toji’s inside me.”
“that’s right, baby.” he groans again, thrusting into you again, and again. your gasps and cries making him start to lose his cool.
he leans back on his knees lifting you up easily, sitting you on his lap, his arm caging both your arms behind your back as his mouth immediately latched on to your tits, suckling on them as they hung right in his face.
“toji!”
he smiles, biting harshly on the buds as he held you close to his chest and started fucking up into you. the squelching of your sexes had you whining and crying. drool falling down your lips as he sucked bruises on your gasping tits.
“tell me how much you like getting fucked dumb.”
“I-i love it!” you cry, arms bound behind you only helping you arch closer to his chest as he held your wrists tight.
“you love?” he laughs loudly. “you came up to me because you knew I’d fuck this virgin cunt raw if I saw you, that right?”
“yes!” you’re definitely gone. “always thinking about you, sir!” his lips suck a harsh tug making your eyes roll back at the stimulation.
“what would that dumb head of yours think about?”
“a-about angh hngh your hands…” you break into moan when he slaps your ass at your hesitation. “and I thought about your dick.”
not surprising, but it still makes him grin widely.
“thought about how y-youd fuck me, and how you’d taste.” you whimper as his finger circles your little rim from behind. teasing you as he slows down each thrust so it was slow and sensual, wanting to catch every word.
“was your head always filled with sex when we talked?” he laughed. “poor virgin.”
“it was filled before we talked too. i love it…” your head forward, tongue sticking out as you press your head to his. “you’re perfect sir.”
he groans loudly. opening his mouth as you spit so generously. his arm caged your body tight as he started fucking you fast and hard, so unbearably rough you we’re seeing stars.
“big…ahh. toji,” your tongue hangs out as he goes harder. his eyes clenching as he feels his own orgasm starting to edge closer.
“tell me what you want baby,” he pants.
“p-put me….in a mating press.”
he snorts, loudly. “and how does my princess know that.”
you whine, feeling his cock nuzzle inside you again. “tw-twitter.”
toji laughs, freeing your arms to lay your back on the mattress. he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulder as he leans over you. his big toned thighs press under your ass as he spreads his legs apart, sinking his cock deeper into you. “this what you want.” his voice shakes, only feeling your grip tighten around him again. “baby.”
“s-sorry.” you’re panting, his face was so close to you as he calmed his mind, fuck he needed to cum the second his pushed his tip inside you. he hadn’t realized how long it’s been. but he was going to take care of you first. your eyes rolled back as he pulled back, slamming his hips back in, he easily started picking up the pace, this position was all he needed to lose all sense.
“fuck, taking me all like a good fucking girl.” you clench. “like that baby?”
you moan in response, tits bouncing between you as he pushes down you so you can feel more of his weight. your pussy clenching and twitching around him. the lewd sounds of his cock fucking into you were loud. the slick, his thighs clapping into your ass in a relentlessly fast pace.
your tongue hangs out immediately making him lean down to lick your tongue. a moan coming out of him as you responded. you’ve never had an experience to compare this too, but was it supposed to be this messy? you couldn’t care. it was so hot. his big body handling every single part of you, he controlled the pace, the kissing, the touching—you loved it.
his fingers were digging into your thighs and his mouth was letting out so much spit that had you bucking and squirming drinking from his lips until you started crying. the sounds of your pussy producing more arousal had toji going faster.
“you’re gonna squirt all over me.” his command had you panting and moaning, tongue lulling out like a puppy. “got it puppy?” you flush.
“messy….big-“ your words were so scrambled, but he didn’t care. his pace was going faster, his biceps flexing around your thighs. oh how you wished this was being recorded, suddenly desperate to see his back muscles straining and moving as he was fucking you fast and hard. that sudden image in your head was enough to have your head falling back, eyes fluttering with tears as your orgasm crashes.
“fuckk fuck puppy,” his eyes are dilating as he looks down to see you gushing around his fat cock. the sounds of your pussy spraying as he continues to fuck more out of you has his ears ringing and stomach clenching.
you cried his name as he continued to pump his dick in and out, the clear liquid sprayed his thighs and the bed.
“that’s it, ah fuck , ungh fuck, fuck—“ toji was so vocal, grunting and moaning with how much you were squirting it seemed endless.
you were drooling, eyes crossed, vision white as pleasure consumed you. toji knew you lost all brain capacity when you began uttering the repeated sound of his name followed by little babbles of “want your cum.”
“you want my cum?” toji grins, showing his teeth as his thursts turned sloppy, losing his cool at your blessed out face.
“fill me up.”
fuck, toji really hated you. his hand grabbed your jaw, his thumb hooking inside your mouth, your tongue falling out. “telling me to fill this nasty pussy up wit’ my cum?” toji tsked feeling you clench at his words. “you don’t deserve it, being a brat the entire time.”
your drool coated his thumb as it ran down his wrist. along with your tears filling your eyes at his rejection. your hips bucked as you whined. “want it. want your cummy.”
cummy? if it was under any other circumstance the man definitely would have cringed, but you were absolutely fucked dumb, and hearing you slur your words had his whole body running hot.
“you’re not on the pill.” toji bites, jaw clenching as you licked and drooled on his tongue, eyes filled with tears.
“i am!”
his eyes sunk ten times darker. you were making him lose all sanity.
“shit.” his head dropped, hand grabbing the back of your knees, his entire body pressing down as he leans up, fucking his cock deep until you were absolutely knocked. the sight of his cock bullying your virgin pussy was making his head dizzy. your clit all puffy was like a magnet, drawing his thumb to fall on it in harsh circles. your body jerked, crying as you gripped the sheets.
“fhuck my pretty girl, squirting all over daddy’s cock.” your pussy clenched. “ya? like daddy’s cock filling you up?” his jaw clenched as your tongue peaking out shaking with each vicious thrust.
“daddy,” you repeat, head empty. “fill me up.”
you moan together. he was completely under your spell. his eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.
“never had this pussy filled, have you?” his thrusts are sloppy, his jaw clenched. “tell me why you deserve it?”
“g-good girl hngh!” your face was so cute, his laugh masking his groans.
“good girl eh?
you cry, nodding your head. “please!”
“who do you belong too?”
“you!”
“who?”
“t-toji…” your eyes are crossing, pretty tits shaking as his entire weight drives each thrust. the thought of his heavy cum filled balls bursting inside you…you tighten around him, his jaw clenching.
“who makes ya feel good?”
“you do, daddy!” his cock is twitching, abs clenched as he forbids himself from giving in just yet. the edging making his mind heated and the pleasure longer.
“no more boyfriend,” he pressed your knees down a little harder, almost suffocating you in this mating press. “you’re mine.”
“yesyes—“ the mindless chanting had his head spinning. the built up adrenaline from the match consuming his veins as he fucked out every last bit of it. your precious little body was the most generous outlet. his cock was so unbelievably painful, his moans were getting a little more vocal until finally he gave one final thrust until the first large burst of his cum painted your gummy walls. your mind went white, forgetting if you were even orgasming or not as you felt his cum gush inside you. his moans were unlike anything you’ve ever heard. so deep and strained. his body covered in sweat, muscles flexing as he shook with each thrust, filling you up until the cum started overflowing and coming out. he was stuttering above you, body shaking as he felt the most pleasure release him.
you were completely spent.
your vision was hazy as you drifted out.
“babygirl.”
you felt the gentle hand stroking your cheek as he leaned over you, his lips softly meeting yours. you sigh, opening your mouth automatically, inviting his tongue so you could suck on it, his thumb brushing your warm cheek as the other stroked your side, your legs lazily around his hips.
“you okay?” he pulled his lips away. “I wasn’t too hard?” he was still out of breath, which made you blush.
you shake your head. “not too hard. felt good. your cum is all warm inside.”
“ya?” he smirks, rubbing your thigh as he leans back. your pussy lips parting, all sticky as he watches his cum still seeping out. “you look so pretty like this.” his hand traces the olive branch tattoo on your thigh. “with my cum inside you.” he slowly bends down pressing a kiss to your sternum, your nails lightly scratch his nape, earning a satisfied hum. “do guys usually cum this much?”
toji blushes, lifting his head to look at you. “no, that’s why mine is more special.” he smiles, making you flush. “i mean it.” your lips part, but he looks back up, eyes meeting. “no shitty ass boyfriend.” you swallow.
“are you gonna be my boyfriend then?”
“yes.”
“you can’t just tell me what to do and—“ your breath catches, heart suddenly beating a lil faster, hyper aware of his long gaze. “what?”
“you said you’re mine. so that’s that.” toji moves up, just inches from your face as he watches every dart of your eyes, every breath that comes out…his lip tugs up. “you were only dating him because you didn’t have me.” your eyes look away.
“that’s that.” you repeat softly. your face is burning, an urge crawling up inside you. he wanted to be with you. he wanted to be with you….toji…wanted to be with you, but, “megumi.”
toji brushes your cheek. “don’t think about that. okay?” he kisses your warm cheek.
“okay.” he sits up fully now, gently dropping your legs. his face shifts slightly, his hand falling on the dark bruise on his ribs.
“does it hurt?”
his lips part to reassure you, but you lean over, laying your small soft hand on his ribs. “I’m sorry i asked you to go harder.” your lips meet his bruised skin, knowing it was a childish thing to kiss a bruise as if it was medicine. but toji’s face went bright red. his stomach fluttering as he stared down at you. your eyelashes so soft…
“don’t apologize, baby.”
your gaze meets, and he watches your eyes squint up as you smile. your thumb softly caressing the skin, sitting up. “but I’m sorry.” you tilt your head, giving a little pout. he raises a brow, his hands falling on your hips as you begin wrapping your arms over his shoulders, kneeling between his legs. “i was being a brat.” he knew exactly what you were doing. the playful glint in your eyes, the little teasing you only do with him.
“taking accountability?” he tilts his chin up, meeting your pout with a tilt of his own.
“mhm, i learn quick.” you smile. “did i work you hard? it’s okay we can go slower next time.” his jaw locks.
“oh ya?”
“mhm, it’s okay t-o-j-i, we’ll go at your pace.”
“you fucking minx.” he grabs a handful of your ass, pinching it. “you could barely take it.”
you squeal. “nuh-uh, you were trying not to bust a nut when you went inside me.” you squeal at the harsh slap.
“you’re a fucking talker ya know that.”
“you like it though.” you cry out a laugh as he grabs your face squeezing your cheeks to prevent you from yapping.
“making fun of an old man for controlling himself around a pretty little virgin. i would’ve hurt you, sweetheart, if i went too hard from the start. would’ve had you crying.” his eyes glanced over your face.
“i was crying already.”
he smiles. “that’s the good crying, baby.” he licks his lips. “would never actually hurt you intentionally.”
your stomach is bursting with butterflies. toji has always been kind to you and the others. he always kept his circle close, which really meant you were his own. but you didn’t expect such raw emotions from him. megumi rarely mentioned his long deceased mother, but when he did, it was always followed by how much toji had loved her.
the words slipped out before you could think. the green eyes suddenly grew lighter as his face went still.
“you’re a good man, toji.”
the warmth from his body spread to your cheeks as his arms loosened just slightly. not that he was pulling away, but that he was taking in your words. both of you so vulnerable at this moment, completely naked for everything to see, it felt more intimate than when he had his dick driving so deep inside you, giving you waves of his cum because this time his eyes grew softer, and his smile was as delicate as a dandelion.
“kiss me.”
you did.
you could feel the smile in his kiss. his lips wet, but soft. he was holding your chin, pulling away, his breath fanning your face.
“you’re an angel.”
your cheeks set on fire. lips breaking into a shy smile making him laugh.
“wanna shower?” you only nod, burying your face in his neck, clearly still embarrassed from his words, he laughs at your reaction, petting your head as he coos. “my little angel is embarrassed now.”
“am i your baby, sweetheart, puppy, or angel?” you mumble into his neck. “it’s too many.”
“is it too many, should i just stick with your name then?” he says your name. your body reacts, burying your face deeper into his neck. he barks out, laughing. “that’s your name, princess.”
princess now?! “shut up! you’re so doing this on purpose.”
“I’m just talking to you, puppy.” this fucking dick! you huff pulling away, you knew you looked flustered so you pushed his face away from you, not caring that he was wincing from touching his bruised eyebrow. “ow pup.”
you stumble off the bed, wobbling just so briefly before standing up straight. “puppy is a degrading one!”
“you came hard when I called you that. opened your mouth so wide—“
“ahhh shut up shut up shut up!” you cover your ears as you speed walk across the large master room to the bathroom. toji immediately jumps off the bed, scaring you. your eyes widen as he chases after you, making you squeal running faster.
“cmon, don’t act shy now. you were a pretty dirty angel when i had you stuffed full.” he grabs your wrists pulling them away from your ears. you shake your head. “stop it no, no—no bedroom talk when it’s not happening. what happens during sex stays in sex.”
“so ‘puppy’ is your sex name then. what if i want a little kiss?” you pause. “my mouth is so wet.” your eyes lock on his lips seeing him purposely collect the spit around. your body reacting immediately, stepping forward, as you lean up to meet his lips. “cmon puppy, open up.” your lips part, his pride swelling seeing you submit so fucking easily. his thumb comes up, pinching your nipple making your eyes flutter and moan drop your jaw. he spits directly into your mouth. “sex name?”
“shut up.” you lick your lips. cheeks hot as you turn your head. “are we gonna shower?”
he smiles.
next thing you know, you’re leaning against his arm, hugging it close as his other arm is slotted between you, fingers thrusting inside with such force, talking so dirty in your ear as you let out broken moans.
“you like getting finger-fucked by your friends dad, huh?”
your chopped moans had you drooling on his arm. eyes fully rolled back. “like daddy stretching this cute pussy?” your only replies were moans.
“come for daddy.”
“cu-cum-anghh.” your legs shake, knees giving out as you cum hard. he easily wraps a strong arm around you, holding you up.
you couldn’t wrap your mind on how you were even able to cum again, but when toji laid you under his bed covers, pulling you to his chest. you could feel the long night weigh your body down. “are you actually okay?”
your hand lays on his chest, fingers brushing his bruises.
“just tired.” he sighs, pulling you closer, an ease consuming his body the closer you pressed yourself to him. the comfort your touch brought was unlike anything. the memories of his past no longer a feeling of constant grief and sorrow.
you leaned closer, burying your face in his neck snuggling close. your lips meeting his warm skin as he sighs, arm wrapped around you.
“I’m scared megumi is gonna hate me,” you softly whisper. no clue why you were ruining this moment, but your anxiety was still creeping back in.
his eyes are closed as he answers. “because we fucked?”
“because i fucked his dad.”
“does he have a crush on you?”
“no!” toji laughs, turning his head to look at you.
“i said it’ll be okay.” his arm pulls you close, leaning his forehead to yours. your body growing warm. “do you trust me?”
“I do.”
“then go to sleep.”
and you do.
little did you know poor megumi was a little more sober than the rest and when he couldn’t find his phone in the middle of the night, he decided to go up and fetch his dad’s phone. was it because he was tired that he wasn’t picking up on the slight gasps and cries until he slid the door just an inch all for him to witness the millisecond of his dad’s bare ass drilling— SLAM
megumi was frozen. the door immediately shut. he didn’t want to decipher what he’d witnessed but why did your voice have to be so recognizable! Sadly the poor boy had to run away with hands covering his ears, only to run into a shocked nobara standing by the stairs.
“Is that y/n!!?” megumi ran covering the the girl’s mouth.
“shhhhh!”
in other words it wasn’t a big shock when you were all having breakfast and yuuji decides to speak.
“so are you like megumi’s mom now or?”
you choke on your cereal as megumi coughs violently. toji was still upstairs. your face was on fire. you couldn’t lift your head.
“look what you did, idiot!” nobara elbows yuuji hard. then your bottom lip shook, and worse a tear slipped. they all froze completely. you don’t cry easily. you don’t!
“please don’t hate me, m-megumi…” your eyes filled with more tears. you really are an idiot, you knew what would happen if you ever crossed that line. but…toji was different. your heart ached without him, and it swelled whenever he looked your way. when you were upset you wanted to see him, when you were anxious you wanted him to rest his hand on your head. when you didn’t want to talk, you wanted to hear him talk….he was different. but he’s also…
“your dad.” you swallow your tears, sucking it up. but when you decided to lift your head, megumi’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, pressing you tight.
“it’s fine.”
your mouth was dry, eyes wide, but you buried your face in his shoulder as he hugged you—which he never does—and calmed you down.
“you’re not mad?” you wipe your face as he pulls away.
megumi lets out a heavy sigh. “i knew this would happen.” everyone raises a brow. “all he does is ask about you, what’s y/n doing? where is she? did she finish her work? is she coming today? on and on and on—“ megumi groans. “at least now I don’t have to be a middle man.”
your cheeks stung. nobara couldn’t help but giggle, she’s never seen you so flustered. kyoi sure as hell never made you feel like that.
“what else has he said?” you bite your cheek.
“he told me he likes sparring you!” yuuji chimes in. your cheeks run red, remembering what he told you last night.
it did take some getting used to. toji randomly coming over and wrapping an arm around your shoulder was fine, but when he’d lean down and kiss you deep, megumi couldn’t help his gagging. do that was a no. but other than the slight pda (on toji’s part) it was all the same. except for something only megumi noticed, which was how much happier his dad looked.
he couldn’t explain how oddly perfect the relationship was. you fit him perfectly and him to you. so megumi bared his teeth at the awkwardness, and went about his weird life.
ALL EYES ON RAFAH!!
ALL EYES ON RAFAH!!!
I’m attaching some informational links and will also add some donation links!!
STAY INFORMED! STAY ACTIVE! This is not a war, this is a GENOCIDE!
info: link // link // link // link // link // link
treshold , did you just call her baby , crying , who the fuck did this to you , ex , after you left , After you left ii , handsy , that ring is fake , hurt and crying , someone yells at you , can't pay rent , daddy how are babies made.
drabbles,
dad!toji his kid beats someone up , dad!toji swear word , dad!gojo twins , baby daddy!sukuna co-parenting , sukuna ladder , dad!toji monopoly.
sukuna’s clingy (he prefers the term “possessive”) even as he sleeps
i feel like sukuna sleeps holding you like you’re a hostage that’s going to wake up in the middle of the night and run away.
he’s the big spoon of course and he’s molded around your body like a puzzle piece. chest pressed seamlessly to your backside, one arm hooked around your neck in a loving? soft chokehold, the other curled over your waist, palm splayed over the natural plush of your tummy. your thighs up in fetal position between his, legs intertwined, feet touching, literally the whole nine yards. entirely unaware or uncaring of his size, but definitely aware of yours. hunched over you like a dragon protecting its glimmering mountain of gold and treasure.
and it’s that kind of embrace that seems uncomfortable or suffocating from the outside-looking-in, but it’s actually the best sleep you’ve gotten in years and the only way you can sleep now. it’s the kind that has you snoring when you never snore. the kind that has you waking up looking like a skrunkly cat after a good nap.
his steady heartbeat thrumming against your back and counting sheep for you, your chin tucked in his inner elbow as you drool all over it, head effortlessly perched at just the right angle on his meaty bicep instead of that flat and lifeless pillow that gives you a crick in your neck. your body grounded with the comforting weight of his heavy arm strewn over it, the gentle heat of his thumb stroking on your lower abdomen, the pressure you usually carry in your lower back gone because your legs are elevated due to the beefy mass that’s under them. it’s like he’s your custom made body pillow.
and if you need to pee in the middle the night you’ll have to smack his arm to get him to unfurl his tired limbs with a grunt because he sleeps like he’s dead. he’ll follow you there even when you tell him to stay in bed, heavy feet dragging behind you across the cool vinyl, one sock missing and his loose sleep pants hanging off his hips.
“hurry up, m’cold.” he’ll rub his eyes and grumble groggily as if you forced him to come with you.
he’s just standing in the dark bathroom with his arms crossed, eyes drifting back to a close while he sways like he’s on a ship. then he’s glaring at the doorframe with the most adorable, sleepy scowl on his face after he stumbles into it on accident, like someone put it there just to spite him. that is until he deems it worthy enough to lean on, a loud yawn blooming from the drowsy, messy-haired giant who’s patiently waiting to crawl back into bed with you.
pairing. trueform && heian-era sukuna x wife!reader
summary. being the wife of ryōmen sukuna, the undisputed king of curses, is a wild feat in itself, and yet you still you find yourself at a standstill with the staff of his shrine of all things to worry about. kimono’s are left strewn and unkept across your chambers, snarky smirks whisper and persist, and insubordinate glares are now practically drilled in your routine. they all detest you, and you have no fucking clue why. but, you're sure as hell going to find out—with or without your husband's help.
warnings. NSFW/MDNI, explicit sexual content, smut, light angst, fluff, mild gore and violence, dismemberment, jealousy, yorozu mention, canon-typical violence, misogyny, heian period, rough sex, overstimulation, anal fingering, vaginal fingering, choking, degradation, pussy slapping, some bdsm elements, spitting, sukuna is a little shit, but he’s also a pretty good husband, sukuna's extra mouths, 8.1k words. (repost) art
Cold.
Cold is what you wake up to. The shoji panel doors to your chambers are pulled wide open like some grand entryway sometime around dawn and a draft spiraling in, sharp and passionless. The biting chill nips at your skin, a wave of goosebumps pebbling over you, leaving your teeth to chatter and shoulders to shiver. You grit your teeth, curling yourself into the woven quilt resting on your shoulders, padding over the tatami mat to slide the door shut. The iron charcoal brazier has long gone cold, no coals gone replaced or tended to. You do what you must, sifting the coals and allowing the warmth to reach your hands after sometime, bent beside the small contraption.
You know why the door was slid open, and the brazier left neglected. You may be placid, but what you are not is a moron.
Before the sun kissed the horizon, Sukuna’s attendants got him ready for the day like routine. Bringing in a fresh set of clothes to your shared chambers, strips of human flesh awaiting him in the dining area for breakfast. The same before you got here, and after the matrimony. And in these very chambers do they leave a sloppy mess for you to deal with, along with a sideways glance to a brazier they’ll abandon. Clothes strewn across the floor, chests popped open and spilling with silks, partition still propped open.
All for you to deal with. The wife of the King of Curses.
“Impudent, bare-faced aides,” you mutter, expression caving inwards. And oh, do you realize how much you’re starting to sound like your husband.
It was only your first season here, and you’d been made a pushover. Initially, you hadn’t thought too much on it. They’d been contemptuous when you were simply the lowly courtesan that Ryomen Sukuna brought to his shrine to fuck on occasion.
Not a soul in these walls had reckoned that Ryomen Sukuna would ever take on a wife, much less you, so you welcomed the transition with grace.
You’d dressed yourself, bathed yourself, on occasion offering a hand in the kitchen to the faint servants even when your husband sneered at your docility. You had taken their adverseness as unfamiliarity, hoping that with time the tensions would ease up as they’d gotten to know you and slowly come around. But it hadn’t, they hadn’t welcomed you. If anything, the mistreatment only mounted.
And their abuse can only go so far, a woman pushed to her wits end.
Propping your chest open, you dress yourself in your kimono and paint your lips red. A fierce look contrasting the serenity coloring your face than you are used to.
Your husband is out hunting. His mount galloping through the mountains as he crosses either dwellers or game, bringing back whatever he can by mid-afternoon. This winter has been rather harsh, so it isn’t uncommon for him to unleash his blaze across an unsuspecting village and bring home treasures.
That gives you enough time to set things right, and if all else fails, you’ll at least avoid your husbands taunts while he basks in your humiliation. It seems you’ve married a cruel bastard. He’d lounge on his chair and guffaw at the thought of you standing up for yourself and failing.
Additionally, he’s resided with these people long before he’d come to know you, so who knows if he’ll take their side in such an accusation.
No, this is something you want to fix yourself.
—
“I have come to fetch you, My Lady. Is there assistance you require?”
With your posture ramrod straight, you pace the length of the serving room in the east wing of the shrine. Ages ago, it was built for guests, though Sukuna hosts nothing of the sort. It is simply ornamentation now, left to collect dust and wither.
“These zabutons. They have been eaten away by moths,” you express, tone level. “Replace them at once.”
Tsumigi, one of Sukuna’s attendants, dips her head, arms slipped into the sleeves of her kimono. “I see, My Lady. But it seems that Master Sukuna asked to keep this room untouched.”
Your gaze meets hers over your shoulder, lips thinned. You can hear the smirk playing in her tone. “And I am ordering you to find replacements. Do you dare to defy me?”
By now, you would have expected her to give in. Toss aside the harsh theatrics, and obey her lady. But instead, she meets your gaze with a grin.
“If it is to satisfy Master Sukuna, then yes.”
She excuses herself as you seethe, your eye twitching in disdain.
This is going to be harder than you thought. But you musn’t give up. This is as much your home as it is there’s, and you tend to see this through.
—
You arrive in the dining room for breakfast—the scent of steamed rice and dashi stock broth wafting into your nose and blossoming a hunger deep in your gut. For the most part, your breakfasts are uneventful, though they can be rather lonely.
You drum your fingers across the low table you’re seated at on a cushion, taking a sip of your steeped tea and allowing it to diffuse through your frayed nerves.
A new plan. One that will assert your authority over the attendants…
Or, you can gain their favor.
Both routes are rather humiliating. Attempting to mirror your husbands attitudes, or grovel as what he despises. You can picture his mocking of you crystal clear.
The soft taps of your fingers increase, sounding into the mahogany finish, cogs and wheels churning in your mind.
The vapor from your untouched and lively miso soup curls upwards, soft tendrils billowing up before dissipating.
Your gaze thins on a partition across the room, mindlessly studying the decorative flora.
Appeasement or authority.
You turn it over a countless number of times, chalking up half-witted plans, mentally cursing yourself out. It shouldn’t be this hard, seeing as you’d scavenged around half of your life for scraps before joining a brothel once you’d come of age.
Though you find yourself at a standstill with the people who call this place home.
And it is unbelievably infuriating.
Snap!
Suddenly, your chopsticks break in half in your hand, small fractures of splintered wood flinging across the table and littering the clean surface.
You mutter curses as a small girl finds her way to your side, deeply bowing her head and attempting to atone.
“I apologize, My Lady. Is the food not up to your standards?”
You find yourself stilling at her soft tone. Huh. Her sincerity is refreshing.
“Uh, no. It seems I am lacking an appetite this morning, but I can assure you that the food is plenty flavorful every other morning.”
You give her a half hearted smile as she wipes the table with a rag that was tucked into her apron. It seems she is part of the kitchen staff.
A groove hooks between your eyebrows. “I’m sorry, it seems that I do not recognize you. What is your name?” you offer her a tilt of your head, the corners of your lips twitching upwards when she nearly topples over her feet and straightens beside you.
“Furi, My Lady.”
You chuckle, soft, your eyes forming crows feet from how fitting her name is.
振り. A shake. A tremble.
A fall.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Furi. Now, tell me. Why is it that I have yet to come across you? After all, we share these walls,” you express, a genuine yet perplexed smile creasing your cheeks.
She lifts her gaze from the hem of her kimono, reddened ears and hazel eyes locking with yours. “It is a long story, but I am the chef, My Lady.”
Your eyebrows lift in intrigue. “So you say? A girl this young with such a knack for cuisine,” you smirk, lifting a spoon to dip it into the miso soup. You bring it back to your mouth and feel yourself slacken, your tensed up muscles unkinking. A sigh of relief puffs from your lips, lashes nearly dusting shut.
“You are too kind, My Lady.”
There is a beat of silence where she retreats to her previous spot, off in the corner. She makes herself undetectable, like how you didn’t notice her while your breakfast was served. The new sets of chopsticks find their way to your hands, before you begin working away at your steamed rice.
“If I may,” Furi starts again, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder see her. “Is everything alright, My Lady?”
“Why wouldn’t they be?” you lie through a bite, globs of chewed rice sliding down your throat.
She hesitates, swaying where she stands. “The last thing I would want to do is overstep and upset you… but you seem quite… untuned as of late. Are you sure nothing is out of the sort?”
This young girl is quite attentive, though the intention of her actions escape you. Does she really seek to console you? Are you questioning her sincerity as it’s been so long since you felt something of that likeness?
You place your chopsticks down, turning to face her. You’ve met young girls like her during your time at the brothel—innocent yet capturing a word of compassion. Naturally, you would beckon her to come sit beside you, however you do not want to offend not scare her. So you speak to her from where you sit.
“How long have you been living her, Furi?”
“Just over two years now, My Lady.”
You nod, inwardly noting this information. She’s been here quite some time, and you’re wondering if she’s pissed someone off for being secluded to the kitchen but out of your sight.
“And what can you tell me of this shrine?”
She sways again, her feet doing a sort of dance beneath the flounce of her skirt. She’s nervous.
“There is no one here to punish you. You may speak freely,” you offer, eyeing as she smooths out the creases of outfit.
She is still reluctant, so you hope the silence will prompt her to speak. Swiftly, it does.
“Though I am confined to the kitchen, I am not without notice,” she begins, swallowing thickly and avoiding eye contact while she twists her hands between each other. “I see the way the attendants treat you.”
Her directness makes you falter, your mouth parting to say something but words fail you. What exactly are you supposed to say? Defend your tormentors? Complain about their aggression?
“I see,” you resort to acknowledgment, biting the inside of your cheek. “For a moment, I believed it was all in my head.” The chuckle that leaves you is dry, coating the inside of your throat like raw honey. Thick, uncomfortable.
“I apologize for it. On their behalf, you have done nothing to deserve such treatment,” she hastens her words, eyes widening as she watches you carefully. “However, a bit of context might prove beneficial.”
Context?
You cock your head to the side at her cryptic words, watching as she takes a tentative step forward.
“Well, then. Do tell,” you say, clearing your throat ad adjusting your posture. “It seems I am always outside of some long running, cruel joke.”
Furi glances past her shoulder, eyes squinting when she sees a shadow pass the parchment of the sliding doors. “Not here. Not now. I will tell you everything I know in due time,” she affirms, biting the inside of her cheek.
There are far too many attendants lurking nearby, and not enough time as the allotted duration for breakfast is already coming to an end.
“Very well. I hope to speak to you soon,” you reckon, returning to your cold rice and stale tea.
Furi bows and dismisses herself, and another attendant steps into the room to replace her.
It is Tsumigi yet again, a frequent contender to your misery. Her cheeks are flushed as if she’d been outside in the relentless cold tending to something, the hem of her skirt riding up and tucked into her sock awkwardly.
Bowing, she greets you and offers to clean the table, a snarl playing at her face. Most likely, the attendants are aware of your humiliation that unfolded in the serving room just an hour ago.
Gathering your bearings, you get to your feet, smothering a huff, and step past Tsumigi.
Wordlessly, you dismiss yourself before you offer her any more gossip for tea time.
—
The next few days, you find yourself in a bleak routine. Each morning grows colder, Sukuna’s place beside you empty every morning as he tends to foreign affairs. Scorching villages or plaguing the capital. Doing whatever he does to satisfy his insatiable hungers as the lands grow fallow.
It doesn’t help that you have to tend to the brazier on your own through the night as winter harshens, but you’ve endured worse.
Furi doesn’t serves you breakfast personally, that day she spoke to you serving as a fluke. The attendants seemed to be understaffed and placed the catering on the chef. But it comes to your attention that Tsumigi was busy with her stableboy that clarifying morning, the whispers of gossip curling through the shrine walls easier to pick up on as you attempt to make yourself as imperceptible as Furi.
Tsumigi is making a ridicule of you, and for why? You cannot come to fathom. The two of you barely exchange words aside from repulsing pleasantries.
It is late one night when Sukuna is bathing after coming home soaked in sweat and caked in dirt when you linger towards the kitchen.
You discover Furi hunched over a large pot, dipping her finger in to taste a broth that makes your stomach growl despite having dinner a mere few hours before.
“It smells wonderful,” you offer, tugging your obi loosely over your yukata after quickly throwing it on.
She nearly jumps out of her skin, setting her ladle down and bowing her head. “M-My Lady… I wasn’t expecting you at this hour,” she mutters, folding her hands into her kimono.
You close the proximity, leaning over to get a whiff of tomorrow’s lunch. “It seems you weren’t expecting me at all,” you press, lifting an eyebrow giving her a slow appraisal. “Is something of the matter? I have been waiting to speak with you.”
It wouldn’t be far-fetched for this young girl to avoid you after telling you such secrets, regretting every letting you in or offering clarification.
Furi cringes, her brunette bangs falling over her forehead. “I believe that one of the attendants might have been privy to our conversation.”
Your careless grin drops. “Is that so?”
She nods, again with her swaying.
You sigh, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Are you safe? Have the attendants been mistreating you in anyway?”
Weakly, she shrugs. “Not any more than they already have.”
You deflate at her words. Her situation doesn’t seem much better than yours, except she doesn’t have a title to protect her. You endure passivity, while she very well may endure aggression. “I sincerely apologize, Furi. It was not my intention to get you tangled up in my troubles, but it seems that we have a lot to discuss.”
The attendants, besides the ones tending to Sukuna in the bath, have retired to their quarters, leaving the kitchen open for the two of you. Nabbing a stool, you rest beside her while she makes you a cup of tea and tends to her broth.
“There was a woman before you,” she starts, a look painting her face as if she wants to bite her tone off, “just three change of the seasons ago. With bushy eyebrows and hair as long as a yōkai and believed her nudity to be a pastime.”
An ache blooms behind your ribs, but you bite it down. It’d be foolish to think that you were Sukuna’s first anything, seeing as your occupation before this marriage had been as a courtesan.
Still, it hurts.
You smother a sigh but it escapes you.
A pang to dwell upon for another time.
You nod for her to continue.
“She was incredibly beautiful, a sorcerer just the same. A daughter of the Fugiwara clan with a technique to their standard. But…” she cocks her head to the side, as if reliving her memories in real time. “Master Sukuna spared no interest in her. He simply tolerated her. Her slaughter meant a headache in the capital that he had no patience to deal with.”
The broth simmers on a low kindled heat, the sound of ash sparking and wood shifting.
“She was wildly obsessed with Master Sukuna, clinging to his side and attempting to seduce him at every corner. He pried off her pawing hands when they grew too grabby, and, unsuccessfully, I tried to warn her. Her attitudes were dangerous, and she believed she formed a friendship with me when I wanted to avoid the spilling of blood across these tatami mats.”
Ah. Benevolence had been her fall from grace.
“The attendants here had quickly grown tired of her, irritated that her mood swings affected the Master’s, which in turn made their livelihoods all the more difficult.”
You drop your head, a sigh wound of stress tricking from your lips. “And they took their grievances out on you…”
Furi nods carefully, tending to the flickering flames beneath the pot.
“… and what they’re doing now is all the same. I am just another disposable woman they’ve come to reject.”
She doesn’t confirm your words, but her silence says enough. “There is more, My Lady.”
You find yourself tapping your bare foot against the cold flooring.
“One morning, she had challenged him to a fight, expressing her undying love and desire to be the individual to take his last breath.”
Her words, thick with distress, slam into you.
It is very clear how the result of the fight came out, seeing as Sukuna still breathes and she is nowhere to be found.
Your blood roars in your ears, your foot now at a bouncing cadence on the floor. You drown out her next words, but catch bits and pieces of it. It seems that following the slaughter of his past admirer, the capital had unleashed an outcry. Sukuna had no interest in hazing the capital as it brought him a plethora of benefits, but it was inevitable. The result of the achingly long war had been catastrophic—hundreds and thousands of men slaughtered by his hand before he stalked into the capital with the head of their general. The shrine itself reaped the consequences, attendants beheaded for a single misstep and food running scarce as hunting had been replaced with frequent battles.
It is a possibility that a battle near the capital had been when he’d first spotted you in your pleasure house.
“Furi, I must thank you,” you confess, running your fingers through your hair and getting to your feet. Move, you need to move. “There is plenty that I must do now, so I will dismiss myself. But make it known, I will not let this insubordination and blustery ravage on.”
You lean forward, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. Your heart clenches at the thought of this young girl enduring such harassment without a single shoulder to lean on.
“Leave it to me. I shall mend the divide that splinters the shrine.”
Furi’s tense expression melts away into something of relief, and you want to commit this image to memory to ensure you see this through.
“However, before I go, I have one last thing to ask of you.”
“Anything, My Lady.”
You release a strained breath.
“The name of this woman. What was it?”
—
You leave Furi in the kitchen, your bare feet slapping against the narrow corridors. The sconces adorning the walls flicker, flames licking at each other and casting your shadow long and obtuse across the ground.
Once you realize you’ve reached your husbands chambers, you realize how much time has passed between dinner and the present.
He will be curious as to where you’d gone off to. Often times, he grows restless in your absence.
You sigh. In all of the time you’d known Sukuna, he’d been vexingly talented at reading you and picking up on your mannerisms. You only pray that he is exhausted from his eventful day to spend his time analyzing you.
Though it seems you are woefully ignorant of just how energetic your husband tends to be, the sight you open his chambers to jarring.
He’s in nothing but his pale sirwal, his lower pair of arms crossed behind his back while he presses himself to the floor, and back up. His upper pair of arms flex, palms splayed on the ground, hands massive enough to curl around your throat and then some.
Push-ups.
Realistically, there has to be a way to maintain such a massive physique, so it isn’t outlandish that he works out. But still, you find yourself caught off guard. Innocent as ever, but heat still manages to fist low in your loins. Your gaze trails the length of his corded forearms, veins bulging across his biceps, deltoids rippling through effort.
Not the first instance to cross your mind, but you’d find immense pleasure in biting his arms.
You are well aware that he has sensed your presence ever since you found yourself in the kitchen up until you were standing outside his chamber doors, so he doesn’t flinch when you gawk at him from just a few feet away.
“Where did you run off to?” he presses through a grunt, lowering himself where his chin nearly brushes the straw mat.
Straight to the point.
“I was hungry, there were some fruits left in the kitchen,” you lie, steeling your nerves and praying you don’t betray yourself.
He continues his repetition, though he finally slides his attention upwards towards you. Deep pools of blood red assess you, his brow line furrowing in thought. “We had dinner merely an hour ago. Do not tell me you are with child and stuffing yourself for two.”
You splutter, shaking your hands, a nervous chuckle leaving you. “N-no, My Lord. Nothing of the sort.”
He finishes his workout, before standing to his feet and rolling his shoulders back, looking everything but convinced. “That title from your lips disgusts me and you know it. Do not address me as such again,” he mutters in mild irritation, padding over to the door and peeling his socks off.
You deflate, wanting to slap yourself for how easily you squirm under his scrutinizing attention. But, you cannot tell Sukuna of your current situation. There are a number of ways it could go once it is in his orbit, and you want to avoid majority of them.
Untying your obi, you toss it on the top of your chest before making your way towards the bed when a pair of heavy arms snake around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest.
“It seems that my efforts have gone to waste,” Sukuna mutters, the lower pair of his hands settling on your waist while the others work their way towards your breasts. Melting, you toss your head back against his torso, lashes dusting shut. He leans forward, sniffing the plush of your cheeks, of your lips. He has a thing for your scent, an admission you were privy to when he had you squirming beneath him. “This womb isn’t swollen with my heir.”
Weakly, you giggle through the butterflies, scrunching your nose. “We have yet to discuss such matters,” you deflect, reaching a hand up to grab a fistful of his silky, salmon-colored hair. “Take this up with me another time.”
Sukuna cocks his head thoughtfully, then spins you around and tosses you over his shoulder with terrifying ease. “Foolish woman. You think I do not see how you gawk at the stable hands son, how you beam with such idiocy at the thought of carrying your own?” He lands a harsh slap against your ass, punching a squeal out of your throat, before tossing you onto the bed.
“Speaking in circles. Tch. We might as well practice tonight,” he prompts, fingers curling around the waistband of his sirwal before dropping it, leaving only his loincloth.
Two heavy cocks straining against the too-small fabric. Two cocks you’ve felt slipping down your tongue, dragging inside your cunt, stretching your ass—.
You shake away the dizzy feeling mounting you, all splayed out with your parted yukata, your bare form his to feast his gaze upon. And he does so unabashedly, canines clicking as four crimson slits rest heavy on your lips, your breasts, dancing down your navel, to your spread legs pooling with arousal.
You wonder if he’s looked at her this way.
Inwardly, you cringe. You shouldn’t be thinking of her when you’re about to be taken by him.
The mouth rending his stomach grins with earnest, drool coating its lips in a sheer shine. The tongue hangs out limply, desperate for a taste of your sex.
“Come,” he mutters, two arms folded across his chest with the other two propped at his hips. His voice, impossibly deep and raspy, sends heat prickling over your skin, coupled with a flush that suits you.
You crawl to him, slowly and allowing your hips to sway freely beneath your yukata, not once tearing your gaze from his hardened stare. His pectoral muscles shift, a muscle in his jaw pulsing like he’s holding back from pouncing at you.
You come to a slow before him, lifting off of your haunches and kneeling. Your eyeline barely meets his chest, allowing you to bask in the immense size difference between the both of you.
Sukuna chuckles low, running his tattooed tongue over his teeth. “You have always been a bad liar.”
You feel your heart dip behind your ribs.
“Excuse me?”
His lower pair of hands come down to grab your wrists, holding them up beside your head. He leans forward, face mere inches from yours, his warm and iron-laced breath fanning over your lips. “Your breath smells the same as it did during dinner. I didn’t take my wife for a cheat,” he grunts, upper lip peeling back in disgust to bare his teeth. It’s true, there are no remnants of citrus or sweetness hanging from your lips. “Now tell me. What affairs were you tending to between dinner and now?”
Unbearably, your pulse quickens.
You twist in his grip, but his fingers only tighten, nearly bruising your skin. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grit out.
The seams of his mouth curl upwards, before he’s closing the distance between his cheek and yours, rubbing them against each other. His facial crest, the texture like roughened and cracked tree bark, digs into your flesh and you bite back a curse. “My wife, stubborn and obstinate as always,” he grumbles into your ear before catching your lobe with his teeth. You hiss, casting a cheek away from his cruelty, before one of his hands fly towards your chin and connects your lips.
Betraying yourself, you hum into the kiss, your spine arching backwards as he folds you impossibly. His tongue, heavy and slick, presses down on your own and strokes it reverently. Hands—everywhere—begin to tug your yukata off and discard it, before something wet laps at your pebbled nipples.
You pull away, sliding your gaze down to your wet areola, Sukuna’s stomach mouth desperate for a taste of you. You peer back up to your husband, something perverse and frantic coiling between your silky folds. “W-we’ve never…”
Never used the stomach mouth in bed, is what you were going to say. Though you won’t lie and say you haven’t thought of it.
Sukuna’s nostrils flare, lower pair of eyes focused on your saliva-slick lips while the upper pair glower at you, releasing the unrelenting grip from your wrists. “Afraid? The brat wants to take it slow and easy, huh?” he taunts, head cocked to an angle.
You scoff, arms falling by your side. “Nothing of the sort.” Your coital acts through the last couple of seasons have been raw, and debauched—Sukuna lapping the blood of his freshest kill from your navel before devouring your sex, to taking you with both cocks, your obscene noises loud enough for the entire shrine to bear witness to.
So, no. Slow and easy wouldn’t make much sense seeing how he handles you with those four hands of his.
“Then quiet that fucking mouth of yours,” he scowls, before he’s on you again.
Teeth crashing, saliva swapping, noses bumping.
Hungry. So fucking hungry.
And angry. What Sukuna does not tolerate, especially from his betrothed, is deceit.
The tongue mouth laps at your tits, occasionally tweaking an erect bud between it’s teeth and tugging just to earn a whimper from you, your maw parting open for Sukuna to gag you on his tongue. Writhing and squirming in his grasp, you attempt to tamp down the pleasure darting down your spine, nearly leaking your essence onto the sheets, but it is inevitable. You surrender to his touch like a sinner seeking repentance.
Two hands cradle your face while the other two knead the flesh of your ass like dough, squeezing and groping. His stomach tongue slathers spit across your chest, and you mewl through the sensitivity, hips rocking and thighs rubbing together for friction.
“That desperate, huh?” your husband mutters against your lips, and in your urgency, you nod quickly. The two hands cradling your head shift—one to grip the back of your neck and face your gaze upwards to meet his, and the other drags down between the valley of your breasts, down your navel, until he’s sliding the meaty digit across your swollen clit.
You jolt at the contact, but much movement isn’t possible as he keeps you place at the nape and the waist.
“Is this amusing?” he quizzes, unfurling to his full height and staring at your nude form down the bridge of his crooked nose. “Running circles around your husband like some charlatan.”
Cruel bastard.
“I-I am not—.”
“I can feel your pulse jumping under my thumb,” he snaps, leaning into your face with a snarl. “Have these walls kept you bored in my absence?”
You frown, a muscle in your jaw ticking. “Something like that.”
He clicks his tongue at your vague reply, clearly unimpressed. “Tch. Still as cryptic as ever.”
Quickly, his open palm slaps sharply against your clit, before two fingers push past the ring of resistance in your cunt and stretch you open. A mouth forms on his palm, a drooling mess, lapping at your hood and prying apart your silky folds.
“Looks like I’ll just have to coax it out of you.”
As if the brazier has been finally warmed, coals tended to and sifted, the heat in the room mounts as he splits you on his hand. Calloused digits from decades of labor and torment drag down your gummy walls, all while the open maw on his palm collects your juices and nibbles at your clit.
He doesn’t stop open-mouth kissing you. He barely allows you to come up for air, tamping down your noises with his mouth. Your breasts are aching and wet, the nubs perky and sensitive from the continuous stimulation.
His towering form pushes you down onto the sheets, slotting his massive body between your legs. The stretch is painful, but you curl your legs around his waist and dig your ankles into the divots on the small of his back.
“You’re a pretty little thing, bird,” he mutters against your lips, his wrist picking up a brutal cadence as his fingers reach places that make you whine and tense. “It’s a shame you’re a fool.”
His words carry a heat behind them, adamant on undoing you to figure out what you're keeping from him. He knows you may be anserine, but you're not an utter idiot, so the sin you’d committed and are keeping from him cannot be too great.
Still, he will have his fun breaking you.
It’d been a bit of time since he’d had his hands on you—sorely exhausted from the long days and even longer nights, reserved to his chambers once he returns from the bathing house over the last couple of weeks—so the stimulation has you huffing and puffing. Clit woefully sensitive, mounds on your chest sore, and a heat fisted low in your gut that only Sukuna has managed to unspool compared to the men you’ve been with back at the brothel. Pathetically, you claw at his chest, pushing to slow his brutal pace, scissoring motions inside your cunt and stretching your walls wide. After all, you’ll need to accommodate his girth in time.
“Oi. Paws off,” he complains disgruntled, lower pair of eyes widening. One hand finds both of yours, pinning them down above your head while he laughs sardonically.
And oh, how he enjoys such a debauched sight. Your bare form, flushed and wet and squirming beneath him while he taunts you. Whittles you down to some hapless mutt.
He works you through your first orgasm, finger pads repeatedly swiping over that tender spot and feeling the plush muscle jump. A strangled moan is punched out of you, legs trembling over his thighs and stomach caving inwards. Your cunt squeezes his two digits like a snare, sucking him in as you buck your hips into his palm.
But the King of Curses does not stop there, no. Giving your cunt a few slaps, he works his two fingers back in while his other hand finds your puckering hole. You freeze up, muscles spasming as you lock eyes with him, slick finger coated in your arousal rubbing over the entrance.
“B-both?”
“The idiocy of you,” he scoffs, one of his upper hands gripping your cheeks to squish them together. You pout, lower lip jutting out, before you feel the burning stretch. A finger, pushing into your ass. “I’ve no patience for stupid questions.”
He peers down, a glob of spit trickling from his lips pelting your cunt. It sloshes with your juices, before you feel the slick wetness cascade down to your asshole.
“M-my god!” you squeal, back arching up off of the mattress, now being speared from both holes. The curl and flex of his fingers as he finds all those sensitive spots is hypnotizing, drool leaking from the seam of your lips, eyes rolling back into your skull until all you see is black.
“Not my name,” he sneers, pressing another inch deeper while you wriggle.
Another orgasm. And another. And another.
You’ve made a wet, sloppy mess across his sheets, completely unaware of how many blissful peaks he’s worked you over and through, each more mind-numbing than the last. Your ears ring dully, eyes glossing over with a thing gossamer of wet luster. When you meet his pumps, he praises you, kissing the bevel of your jaw. When you sob and squirm against him, he clicks his tongue and gazes at you with blown pupils and a look of pity.
Your form is perspired, covered in a thick coat of sweat and cum, nearly breathless as you huff and puff. Nothing coherent leaves your lips, arousal stuffing the ridges of your brain like cotton.
Fucked dumb by his fingers.
“N-no more, ‘Kuna,” you mumble out, your holes aching and still stretched open. How he has not cramped in his fingers is beyond you.
The raspy chuckle from your husband is enough evidence that he’s nearly at his wits end—hefty cocks hard against the fabric of his loincloth, brushing against the inside of your quivering thigh. But one thing about Ryomen Sukuna is that he will never yield first, even if it’s dragging him up a wall. “The dove is spent, hm?” he cooes, the side of his lip curling upwards. “I can stop anytime. Just tell me the truth and I can release you from this exertion.”
You muffle a whine into his pillow, wrists aching from where he keeps them pinned above your head. “It is n-nothing, Sukuna.”
His eye twitches, before his wrists starts to pick up a speed and you squeal. “Okay, okay! …I visited the c-chef in the kitchen.”
His eyebrows dart inwards. “The scrawny girl? What for?”
“Release me first.” you mumble, Sukuna’s fingers nearly brushing against your womb.
Your scowl has mirth swirling in those thinned crimson irises. “Do not think that you are in the position to make demands.”
A beat passes before you puff air from your nose. The sooner you tell him, the sooner he’ll release you and you can figure out a plan for Tsumigi and the other attendants. “Fine. Why didn’t you tell me about Yorozu?”
His smile falters for a moment, nearly imperceptible, before he releases your hold and peels away from you. Fingers slip from your holes and you collapse in exhaustion, keeping your eyes trained on your husbands rolling shoulders. He’s silent for a few moments, while he finds his discarded kimono and slides his arms through them. “It is insignificant. Besides you.” He waves a dismissive hand, bare feet padding over to a chest propped open.
That does nothing to soothe the ache unfurling around your heart and squeezing the organ. “If it is so “besides me,” then I do not understand why I had to be kept in the dark.”
He chuckles, searching for his pipe. Two of his fingers rub together, kindling a flame he uses to smoke the pipe. “Former lovers are trivial. You are my wife while she was just some,” he inhales, smoke billowing in his lungs. “Whore I kept around for my affairs.”
“She was in love with you and you murdered her. This wasn’t some fucking concubine.”
He stirs, folding his lower pair of arms over his chest. The silence has you feeling filthy, the cum between your lungs a sticky mess.
Sukuna pads over to the low table, a bowl of nuts awaiting him. He sits down, legs folded beneath him, mildly entertained while he stares bleakly at you. He pops a nut into his mouth, then smokes his pipe. Casual, insouciant.
You attempt to smother a groan but it escapes you, lifting from the bed to get dressed. You slip your yukata on, then tie your obi across your waist. “If nothing but silence is what you offer me, then I shall retire to my chambers.”
The silence is deafening while you adorn yourself.
“Name.” Sukuna suddenly grumbles from the dark corner, moonlight filtering through the drapes distorting him in the shadows. He looks menacing, like the beast he is.
“What?” you blurt out, fixing your hair and attempting to look semi-normal before you enter the halls. Who knows what’s waiting out there, if your disheveled image will be even more fuel to gossip?
“I want a fucking name. Who told you of Yorozu? Was it that chef girl?”
You roll your eyes, before you parrot his words right back to him with a pinched smirk over your shoulder. “It is insignificant. Besides you.”
You don’t know how, but in the blink of an eye, Sukuna closes the proximity between the two of you. One hand curls around your throat before he’s pushing you against a wall, his face contorting in utter disdain and disgust. He regards you like a slab of meat to be devoured come morning.
“What I tell you, and what I keep from you is up to my discretion. Mine,” he snarls, fingers tightening around your throat. Not choking, just firm. Keeping you in place. “What I won’t tolerate are attendants that poke and prod into my history then blab to my wife. Now…” the corner of his lip twitches upwards, as if he is enjoying this. “Name.”
Your husband is a sadist.
You hold his gaze, inexorable, unwilling to yield to his cruelty. “She told me you didn’t love her.”
“She’s got something right,” Sukuna jeers, another hand coming to tilt your chin up. Yet, something in his gaze almost… softens. The sharp edges of his russet eyes melting away, curled and mocking smirk sliding into something else. “The only time I’d felt anything for her was when I’d slashed her in the chest, and then ate her for dinner.”
You freeze, feeling your heart cinch.
“And what reason do I have to lie?” he adds on, head tilting when his lower pair of eyes slide down to your lips, then to the door. “There is a shrine I have to look after. Her presence threatened it.”
Your fingers twitch at your side, not quite sure what to do with his seemingly genuine confession.
He clears his throat, returning his gaze to you. Now, he regards you like something delicate. “If she had meant anything to me, wouldn’t you think she’d still be with us, bird?”
Ryomen Sukuna truly has no reason to lie to you.
He can bed anyone he wants. Yet, instead of keeping you as some concubine, he chose to seal this relationship with matrimony. With titles. With an unspoken promise.
He chose to be with you.
You don’t address the suffocating tension between the two of you. You heart slamming against your ribcage and a lump nestling into your throat, dropping your gaze. “Furi, the chef. She is not at fault, Ryomen.”
Your husband eyes you, waiting for you to continue.
Coughing the lump in your throat away, you fidget with your kimono, chin still held up. “The attendants have been… undutiful,” you settle on that word, not quite sure how to tread upon the unfamiliar territory.
You wait for his reaction, but he just continues to watch you. Like a predator studying its prey.
“Clothing left a mess, glares across the halls, insubordination,” you emphasize the last word in disdain. “I have been left to deal with their ostracization in your absence, Sukuna. Furi only told me why they may feel this disdain towards me.”
You bite the inside of your cheek.
“She’s been the only friend I have.”
Sukuna’s grip loosens on your chin and throat, his expression settling into something you’ve seen when his advisors approach him. Before he mounts his horse and heads into battle.
Something hungry for war, for a need to unleash his fiery wrath.
“I need names. Or shall I just turn this fucking shrine upside down and start anew?” he chuckles maniacally in sheer rage, padding towards the door.
Fuck.
Leaping forward, you grab his wrist and halt him, eyes staring up at him and practically pleading. “Sukuna! Wait, before you do something rash—.”
“When they insult you, they insult me,” he growls, shoulders rippling with effort and you know that all he sees is red.
It seems you misjudged him. Ryomen Sukuna would go to the ends of the earths for you. To hell and back.
“Sukuna, just— give me a moment,” you emphasize, nearly begging him back inside the chambers. Fire radiates off of him in shudders, like he’s prepared to set this shrine ablaze for you.
Scorned, he stares at you for a few moments before stepping back inside, arms folded over his chest. “So this is what you were so fucking adamant on keeping from me? What, was your pride threatened?” It almost seems laughable to him, you of all people worried about humiliation.
You married a beast at the end of the day.
Dejectedly, you sigh, orbs darting between Sukuna’s left and right ones. “I… I didn’t think,” you nibble on your lip. “I was worried you would take their side.”
Ryomen Sukuna practically gawks at you now, before a huff of humored air jumps from his chest. “What?”
You toss your head back, running your hands through your hair. “Tsumigi, she’s one of your oldest servants. How am I supposed to complain to you about her when I’ve barely been here half the year?”
Another laugh tumbles from him. “You must be the asinine person I’ve come across.”
“Enough of the jokes, Sukuna, I—.”
You freeze.
Sukuna’s lips are on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. His tongue swiping against your lower lip and tugging on the plump skin.
Not soft, but rough. Possessive.
You don’t know how long it takes for him to pull back. Slightly breathless, pupils that were pinpricks a moment ago now saucer wide.
“You. I chose you, brat,” he huffs, large palms splayed on the side of your head and digging into your scalp. “That Tsuragi servant means absolutely nothing to me.”
“Tsumigi,” you correct, but he ignores you.
“When I had decided that marriage was the best option for this… relationship, I was also ready to call this place your home. And being the wife of the King of Curses…” he snarls, hooking a thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. You can’t bite down the whimper that resonates from you. “… means your word matters just as much as mine here.”
Despite yourself, your lip trembles, warmth unfurling over your skin.
Hearing the rare affection in his words makes you wonder why you ever doubted him in the first place.
He tugs his thumb out from between your lips, swiping your cheek, head cocked to the side while his four eyes appraise you in the moonlight.
“This… I must mend myself, Sukuna,” you whisper, form leaning in towards him, into his heat.
He chuckles, all raspy and taunting. “It is not yours to fix, you foolish bird. A disobedient, mouthy whore is not someone I will allow to reside within the shrine walls.” A beat. “Unless it’s you.”
You giggle, a hand coming down to smack his chest, but he catches it with a sly grin. “No, really. I have to make an impression on them. Make them remember who they respond to.”
His four eyes search for dubiety, before he retires. “My, my. It seems that my influence here is rubbing off on you,” he points out, a hand finding the small of your back and pulling you flush against him.
You feel his two hardened cocks, needy and begging for your attention, press into your abdomen.
He leans down, his coppery and nutty breath fanning over the crown of your ear.
“And I must say… jealousy does not suit you, sweetheart.”
—
The days that follow, you keep your head held up high.
Sukuna returns to his daily retreats, but ensures that he will cleave whoever missteps dare you speak up. If he hears of it, whether or not you like it, he’ll be feasting on an attendant for dinner.
But you, you find your cadence.
You accompany Furi in the mornings, legs dangling off of a large stool while she chats your ear off, broth and meat lilting in the air, all tantalizing. She’s been promoted to head of the kitchen, meaning all servants must answer to her.
Most do not reject it, heads bowed in genuine reverence and tones amicable.
Tsumigi has been demoted from kitchen staff to the stables—where her stable hand lover can see her scooping up horse excrement's. It isn’t long that you here that he has moved returned to his wife at home, and she has grown cold and bitter.
It isn’t perfect, but your actions against Tsumigi have other attendants treating you kinder. In turn, they learn what kind of person you are.
Cordial, organized, timely.
A friend to most.
You simply have to wait for everyone to fall into step.
Sukuna grows irritated easier than before, more and more missteps he’d scowl at resulting in a severed limb he could gnaw on.
You do what you can to placate him, but he’s kept an ear open for who has mistreated you. The so-called gossip he rejects keeps him well-informed as to who he needs to split open.
And not long after, you come back from the forest to find Tsumigi’s decapitated head held up by your husband like some trophy.
A ghastly sight.
Your husband— the cruel, detestable bastard.
One that would kill and haze the entire world for you.
One that ensures your safety, and your comfort in the place you can now safely call home.
He may not be a picture perfect companion seeing as he refers to himself as a king and finds pleasure in your soreness, but one thing he won’t allow is some measly human being to cross you.
Free food, a fresh kill, and a happy wife he gets to come home to at night.
synopsis: You die completely at random and wake up in the manhwa you were reading… as the villainous wife of the Duke of the North, no less. The same woman who spent the last six months giving her husband the cold shoulder, ruining their marriage, and basically speedrunning her own execution.
Now you have exactly one job: fix this disaster of a relationship before your husband decides to finish what the original plot started.
a\n: longest fic i’ve written so far. nearly lost my mind, almost scrapped it entirely, questioned every life choice that led me here, but somehow, against all odds… it’s done. so glad its over LOL
You died while reading a manhwa.
One moment you were curled up in bed at 3 a.m., a blanket pulled up to your chin, the only light in your dark room coming from your phone screen. Your eyes were glued to the latest chapter of The Duke’s Black Heart, thumb hovering over the final panel as frustration and reluctant longing twisted in your chest. The illustration was breathtakingly brutal: Duke Ryomen Sukuna standing tall amid swirling snow, pink hair tousled by the wind, crimson eyes empty of mercy, black tattoos stark against his skin as he looked down at the broken body of his wife.
The page loaded one last time. The panel filled your screen. Then your vision blurred, the room spun violently, and everything went black. No pain. No final breath. Just sudden, heavy nothing.
And then you woke up somewhere else.
Cold air rushes into your lungs, sharp and biting. Your eyes flutter open slowly, lashes feeling unusually heavy. You’re lying in a massive four-poster bed, the canopy above you made of thick crimson velvet that drapes down like heavy curtains. The silk sheets beneath you are cool and slippery against your skin in a way that feels far too expensive, far too unfamiliar. Thick blankets weighted with fur press down on your body, carrying a faint scent of woodsmoke and aged iron. Your limbs feel wrong — too slender, too delicate. When you lift your hands, they are smaller, with smooth palms and perfectly manicured nails that catch the dim morning light filtering through tall, frost-laced windows.
You push yourself up into a sitting position. The silk nightgown slips off one shoulder. A large, ornately framed mirror stands across the room, reflecting the lavish bedchamber: dark wood furniture, heavy tapestries on the walls, a fireplace crackling faintly in the corner. You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting cold stone that sends a shiver racing up your spine.
You turn toward the mirror.
The face staring back at you is not your own. It is strikingly beautiful in a refined, aristocratic way that feels both alien and intimidating.
You have transmigrated.
You are now the villainess.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna’s wife of exactly six months.
The realization slams into you like ice water. Memories that don’t belong to you flood your mind in vivid, unrelenting flashes. The forced marriage ceremony under the Emperor’s decree. The wedding night where her body had lain stiff and unresponsive beneath his, silent tears tracking down her cheeks as she called him a beast under her breath and swore she would never allow him to touch her again. Six agonizing months of total, deliberate silence: never speaking a single word directly to him, never sharing his table, never sharing his bed. Only curt notes passed through servants, hidden schemes whispered to outsiders, and a cold, hateful distance that grew sharper every day. Sukuna’s contempt had hardened into something lethal.
In the original story, he kills her. Publicly. Brutally. Before the year is out — dragging her into the courtyard and ending her life with the same large, scarred hands you’ve fantasized about for months.
And now I’m her.
Your breath catches sharply in your throat. Panic explodes in your chest, tight and suffocating. Your hands fly up to press against your sternum, feeling the frantic thud of a heart that isn’t supposed to be yours. Cold sweat prickles along your hairline and down your back. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. If I don’t change this right now, he will kill me. I have to win him over — the man I’ve been completely obsessed with — before he decides I’m still that same woman who deserves to die.
The heavy wooden door creaks open. Two maids slip inside, heads bowed low, shoulders hunched like they’re expecting the worst. They carry a tray between them with a pitcher of steaming water, neatly folded linens, and a small bowl of scented oil. Their footsteps are quick but nearly silent on the cold stone floor, as if they’re trying to disturb you as little as possible.
“My Lady,” the older maid says quietly, almost whispering as she carefully sets the tray down on the side table. “We’re here to help you dress. Your usual silks today?”
You swallow and keep your voice soft. “No, not the silks. Something simpler and warmer, please. I’m going down to have breakfast with the Duke in the dining hall.”
The younger maid’s eyes go wide. She almost drops the pitcher, water sloshing dangerously over the rim and dripping onto the floor. “Breakfast… with His Grace?” she blurts, voice cracking with surprise. “In the dining hall?”
The older maid quickly elbows her and forces a nervous smile, though her hands are visibly shaking. “Are you sure, My Lady? He always eats alone. He might not… like it if you show up.”
You nod, sliding your legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor is icy against your bare feet, sending a shiver up your legs. “I’m sure. Please help me get ready.” You pause, then add gently, “And thank you. Both of you.”
The maids go completely still. The younger one stares at you with her mouth slightly open, pitcher forgotten in her hands. The older one blinks rapidly, her hands freezing mid-air above the tray. They exchange a wide-eyed, startled glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word. The silence stretches for a long, awkward moment, thick with confusion and unease.
Finally, the older maid clears her throat. “Of course, My Lady. Right away.”
They hesitate for another heartbeat, still stealing uncertain glances at you, before hurrying into motion. Their hands are a little clumsier than usual as they help you out of the nightgown and into a heavy charcoal gown with long sleeves. The soft wool feels warm and comforting against the chill in the air. While they brush out your hair and pin it up in a simple style, they keep darting quick, nervous looks at your reflection in the mirror. The younger maid’s fingers tremble slightly as she works, and the older one’s breathing is a touch too shallow.
They finish dressing you in tense, heavy silence. Once they step back, you thank them again. They both bow deeply, still visibly unsettled, and you step out into the torch-lit corridor. Servants you pass press themselves flat against the walls, whispering frantically the moment your back is turned. Your heart hammers louder with every step toward the grand dining hall.
The massive double doors swing open with a low creak.
There he is.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna sits alone at the head of the long oak table. Pale morning light filters through the tall windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. Loose strands of pink hair have escaped their tie and fall across his forehead. His dark tunic stretches tight over broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, the collar open just enough to reveal the edges of intricate black tattoos that swirl across his collarbones and down his arms. Crimson eyes are narrowed in concentration as he cuts into a thick slab of meat with slow, deliberate strokes of his knife. Old scars mark the visible skin of his neck and the backs of his large, calloused hands. He radiates raw, quiet danger — the kind that makes the air feel heavier. This is the man you’ve spent months fantasizing about, the one whose every appearance in the manhwa made your pulse race.
You walk straight to the chair on his right — the seat that has stayed empty for the entire six months of your marriage — and sit down.
His knife stops mid-cut.
The silence is immediate and suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire.
Sukuna’s crimson gaze lifts slowly. It locks onto you with raw disbelief and burning disgust. His jaw clenches, the scar along his cheek tightening. For a long moment he simply stares, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re real or some new form of insult.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is low and rough, laced with irritation.
You swallow hard, hands trembling under the table. You force a small, nervous smile and say softly, “Good morning, husband. I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together for once.”
The words hang in the air.
Sukuna’s expression darkens. He sets the knife down with a sharp clink that echoes through the hall. Slowly he rises to his full height, towering over you — tall, broad-chested, every inch the warlord who has killed without hesitation. The look he gives you is ice-cold.
“You thought it would be nice?” His voice is low, cold, and dripping with contempt. “Six fucking months you couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me… and now you suddenly decide to play house?”
He pushes the chair back with a harsh scrape and rises to his full height, towering over you. His large hand clenches so tightly around the back of the chair that the wood groans in protest.
“Just looking at you ruins my appetite.”
Without another word, he turns sharply on his heel. His cloak snaps behind him like a whip as he stalks out of the hall. The heavy doors slam shut with a deafening boom that echoes through the room and makes the silverware rattle on the table.
You’re left completely alone at the long table, staring at his abandoned plate as the food rapidly cools. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.
This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
But you don’t run. You pick up your fork with still-shaking fingers, take a small bite of the now-lukewarm food, and force yourself to swallow. A heavy, determined weight settles in your stomach alongside the food.
The rest of the morning dragged by in a haze of nervous energy. You moved carefully through the castle, speaking softly to the servants, thanking them for small things, and trying not to overwhelm anyone with your sudden change in behavior. Every time someone flinched or stared too long, your stomach twisted. You knew they were waiting for the old you to snap back into place.
By mid-afternoon the light outside had shifted to a softer gold, and the castle felt a little less oppressive. You decided it was time to try something more direct.
You found one of the kitchen maids and asked her to prepare a simple tray — strong black tea, warm bread, and a few slices of roasted meat. These were the things you remembered him enjoying in the manhwa, the small details you’d clung to while reading late at night. Nothing too elaborate. When the tray was ready, you took it yourself, ignoring the wide-eyed, startled looks from the staff as you carried it down the long corridor toward Sukuna’s private study. Your heart beat faster with every step.
Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to climb out of your throat. Two guards outside the heavy double doors stared at you in open confusion but didn’t stop you. You paused for a second, took a steadying breath, and knocked once.
A gruff “Come in” came from inside.
You pushed the door open and stepped into the study.
The room was exactly the kind of place you’d pictured him in — tall shelves lined with old books and rolled scrolls, a massive oak desk covered in maps and scattered letters, weapons mounted neatly on one wall. A fire burned low in the hearth, filling the air with the faint smell of smoke and polished leather. Sukuna sat behind the desk, quill in hand, pink hair tied back messily with a few loose strands falling forward. He didn’t look up right away, focused on whatever he was writing.
Then his crimson eyes flicked up.
The moment they landed on you holding the tray, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His expression shifted from irritation to pure suspicion in a heartbeat.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, voice low and flat, like he was already tired of whatever game he thought you were playing.
You stepped further inside and carefully set the tray down on the edge of his desk, trying not to let your hands shake too obviously. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything at breakfast,” you said quietly. “So I brought some tea and a few things. It’s nothing fancy. I just thought… maybe you’d be hungry by now.”
Sukuna leaned back in his chair, studying you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite solve. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable. He glanced at the tray, then back at your face.
“You brought me food,” he said slowly, almost like he was testing the words. “You suddenly show up with tea and bread like we’re… what? Friends now?”
He pushed his chair back and stood, circling around the desk with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing right in front of you. He was so tall you had to tilt your head back to look at him. Up close he was even more overwhelming — the heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of leather and steel and something darker, the way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space between you.
You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I know I’ve been terrible to you,” you said, voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to believe me right away. I just… I want to try and do better. That’s all.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out and picked up one of the slices of bread, turning it over in his large hand as if checking it for poison. Then he dropped it back onto the tray with a quiet scoff.
“You want to try,” he repeated, the words laced with disbelief and a sharp edge of mockery. “How convenient. Tell me, wife — what exactly changed overnight? Did someone put you up to this?”
His hand suddenly came up, fingers gripping your chin firmly but not harshly, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. His touch was warm, rough from years of fighting, and the closeness made your pulse spike.
“Or are you just scared I’ll finally do what everyone’s been expecting me to do for months?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
Your breath caught. Being this close to him — feeling the intensity rolling off him in waves — made fear and something far more complicated twist together in your stomach.
“I’m not here to scheme,” you whispered. “I just don’t want things to keep being like this.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy moment. His thumb brushed once over your jaw, almost absentmindedly, before he let go and stepped back.
“Get out,” he said, the words cold but quieter than you expected. “And take your pity tray with you.”
He didn’t move away any further. He stayed standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes — like he was waiting to see whether you would actually leave… or do something else.
You didn’t argue.
You simply picked up the tray with both hands, gave him a small nod, and left the study without another word. The heavy doors clicked shut behind you. The hallway felt longer than usual as you walked back toward your chambers, the tray growing heavier with every step.
Once inside your room, you set the tray down on a side table and closed the door. Then you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
That went badly.
You let out a slow breath, rubbing your hands over your thighs. The memory of Sukuna’s cold stare and dismissive words kept replaying in your head. He hadn’t even touched the food. He’d barely listened.
Of course he didn’t. Months of silence doesn’t just disappear because I brought him tea.
You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the canopy above the bed. The situation felt heavier now. Fixing this relationship was going to be a lot harder than you’d hoped. He clearly still saw you as the same person who had ignored and schemed against him for half a year. And why wouldn’t he?
If you couldn’t turn this around, things were only going to get worse. You didn’t want to think about how the original story ended, but the possibility lingered in the back of your mind anyway.
You sat there for a while, the afternoon light slowly shifting across the room. Eventually you stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the grounds. Your mind kept turning over what to try next. Another small gesture? Giving him more space? Something else entirely?
It was going to take time. A lot of it. And patience you weren’t sure you had.
You sighed quietly and moved away from the window, already thinking about what you could do tomorrow.
The next morning arrived quietly.
You woke earlier than usual, the soft grey light filtering through the tall windows pulling you from a restless sleep. For a few minutes you lay there, staring at the velvet canopy above the bed, thinking about yesterday. The rejections still stung, but you refused to give up after just one bad day.
You got up, washed, and chose a simple but elegant deep-grey gown. After eating a light breakfast alone in your room, you decided on a different approach today. No trays, no forcing your way into his meals. Just quiet presence.
You made your way to the castle’s main library — a spacious, peaceful room lined with tall shelves of books and scrolls. You picked a thick volume on regional history from the shelves and settled into a comfortable chair near the window where the light was good. Not too close to his usual spot, but not hiding either.
About an hour later, the door opened.
Sukuna walked in, still wearing his cloak from whatever business he’d been handling outside. He stopped short when he saw you already there, book open in your lap.
For a brief second his expression flickered with surprise before settling back into that familiar guarded look.
“You’re here too now,” he said, voice flat as he moved toward the large table in the center of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down, spreading some documents in front of him. “Is there anywhere in this castle that’s still mine?”
You closed your book slowly and looked up at him.
“I can leave if you want,” you offered calmly. “I just thought it might be nice to read in here. It’s quiet.”
Sukuna didn’t tell you to go. He leaned back in his chair and studied you for a moment, crimson eyes sharp and assessing.
“You’ve been talking quite a bit these past two days,” he said, tone dry. “More than I’m used to.”
You gave a small, honest shrug. “I know. I’m trying to change that.”
He tapped his fingers once against the table, watching you openly now. “Trying,” he echoed, like he was testing the word. “That’s what you keep saying. But I still don’t know why.”
You hesitated, then answered simply, “Because I don’t like how things have been between us. And I think we could be… better. If we tried.”
Sukuna let out a short, humorless breath and leaned back further, still studying you.
“Better,” he repeated. “That’s a bold claim.” He paused, then added quietly, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not interested in pretending.”
But he didn’t ask you to leave.
You stayed in the library for another hour, reading in silence while he worked across from you. He didn’t speak again, but every so often you caught him glancing in your direction — wary, confused, and just a little unsettled.
It wasn’t much.
But it also wasn’t outright rejection.
You stayed in the library for another hour, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of paper and the soft crackle of the fire. You kept your eyes mostly on your book, though you were barely absorbing the words. Every now and then you felt Sukuna’s gaze on you — heavy, searching, and still full of suspicion.
Eventually, he set his quill down with a quiet tap. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he looked at you directly.
“If you’re serious about wanting to fix things,” he said, voice low and even, “then maybe you should start by actually appearing publicly with me.”
You looked up from your book, surprised. He continued before you could respond.
“There’s a ball tomorrow night at the capital. I’m expected to attend.” He paused, studying your reaction. “Rumors have already reached half the empire that my wife hates me. It would be good to change the public perception a little. At least act like a fucking couple for once.”
The invitation — if it could even be called that — hung in the air. It wasn’t warm or romantic. It was a test, plain and simple.
You closed your book slowly and met his eyes. “I’ll go with you,” you said without hesitation. “If that’s what you want.”
Sukuna watched you for a long moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn’t, something unreadable flickered across his face.
“Good,” he said simply. Then he stood up, gathering some of his documents. “Be ready by evening tomorrow. Don’t make me wait.”
He headed toward the door, cloak shifting over his shoulders. Just before he left, he paused and glanced back at you one last time.
“And try not to embarrass me,” he added, though his tone was less biting than before. Almost… cautious.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet library once again.
You let out a long breath and leaned back in your chair, heart still racing. A public ball. Tomorrow. With Sukuna.
This was a big step — and a dangerous one. You’d have to be careful. Very careful.
But it was also an opportunity. A chance to stand beside him in front of everyone and start showing that you were different.
You stood up, clutching the book to your chest, a mix of nerves and quiet determination settling in your stomach.
Tomorrow it is.
The next day passed in a quiet blur of nerves and preparation.
You spent most of the afternoon trying not to overthink everything, but as evening approached, the anxiety crept in anyway. When the maids finally arrived to help you get ready, they moved around your room with careful, slightly confused energy — still adjusting to this gentler version of their mistress.
You chose a deep crimson gown made of rich, heavy silk that flowed elegantly to the floor. It had long, fitted sleeves and a modestly elegant neckline that showed just enough collarbone to feel refined rather than daring. The maids helped you into it, lacing the back with steady fingers while you stood in front of the large mirror. The fabric felt cool and luxurious against your skin, the color bringing out a quiet intensity you hadn’t expected.
They brushed your hair until it gleamed, working through every tangle with patient strokes. Most of it was pinned up into an elegant style with delicate silver pins, but they left a few soft strands loose to frame your face. One of the maids added a simple but beautiful necklace with a single dark gem that rested just below your collarbone, along with matching earrings. A touch of rose-tinted balm was applied to your lips, and a light dusting of powder to even your complexion.
You stared at your reflection the entire time, heart beating faster. This version of you looked every bit the refined duchess — poised, beautiful, and completely unlike the cold, silent woman the public had come to expect at Sukuna’s side.
“You look beautiful, My Lady,” the older maid said softly as she stepped back, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.
“Thank you,” you replied quietly, smoothing your hands down the front of the gown. Inside, your stomach was in knots. This would be your first real public appearance with Sukuna. Everyone would be watching. Waiting for the usual tension or outright disdain they’d grown used to seeing between the Duke and his wife.
A firm knock sounded at the door.
“He’s ready for you, My Lady,” a servant called from the hallway.
You took one last steadying breath, thanked the maids again, and stepped out.
Sukuna was waiting in the main hall, dressed in formal black with subtle gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. His pink hair was neatly tied back, and the sight of him in full formal attire made your chest tighten. He looked every bit the powerful duke — tall, imposing, and dangerously handsome.
His crimson eyes swept over you slowly, from head to toe. For a moment his expression was unreadable.
“You’re actually coming,” he said, voice low. It wasn’t quite a question.
“I said I would,” you replied simply.
He gave a short nod, then offered his arm. The gesture felt stiff, like he was still testing whether you’d take it or pull away at the last second.
You slipped your hand through his arm without hesitation. His muscles were tense beneath your fingers, but he didn’t pull away.
As you walked together toward the waiting carriage, he spoke again, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear.
“People talk. A lot. If we’re going to do this, at least try to look like you don’t hate being next to me.”
You glanced up at him. “I don’t hate it.”
Sukuna didn’t respond, but his grip on your arm tightened just slightly — not painful, just… firmer. Like he was anchoring himself.
The carriage ride to the capital was quiet, the only sounds being the wheels on the road and the occasional shift of fabric. Sukuna sat across from you, watching the passing scenery with a distant expression. Every so often his gaze would drift back to you, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were really there.
When the carriage finally slowed to a stop outside the grand hall, music and warm light spilled out into the night. You could already hear the murmur of voices and feel the weight of the eyes that would soon be on both of you.
Sukuna stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you down. His palm was warm and steady against yours.
“Ready?” he asked, voice gruff.
You nodded, slipping your hand back into the crook of his arm.
“Then let’s go act like a fucking couple.”
The grand hall glowed under hundreds of crystal chandeliers, casting warm golden light across marble floors and velvet-draped walls. Music from a full orchestra swelled through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and the rustle of silk and satin gowns. The scent of expensive perfumes, fresh flowers, and roasted meats from the banquet tables hung heavy in the room.
The moment you and Sukuna stepped through the tall arched entrance together, the entire atmosphere shifted.
Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A ripple of surprised murmurs spread through the crowd like a wave.
You felt every eye on you. Some were curious, some shocked, many openly calculating. The Duke and Duchess of the North rarely appeared together in public — and when they had in the past, it had always been marked by cold distance and icy silence.
Tonight was different.
Sukuna’s arm was solid beneath your fingers as he guided you forward. His posture was straight and commanding, every inch the powerful Duke Sukuna the empire feared and respected. You stayed close, your hand resting lightly but deliberately on his arm, chin lifted with quiet confidence.
A portly lord with a heavy gold chain and an embroidered waistcoat approached first, bowing deeply.
“Your Grace, Duke Sukuna,” he said smoothly, then turned to you with a slightly wider smile. “And Duchess… what an unexpected pleasure to see you both together this evening.”
Sukuna gave a curt nod. “My wife wished to attend. I saw no reason to refuse her.”
The lord’s eyebrows rose, but he recovered quickly. “How wonderful. The two of you make quite the striking pair tonight. The Duke and Duchess of the North, united at last.”
You offered a polite, gentle smile. “Thank you, my lord. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
Sukuna’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he didn’t pull away. As the lord moved on, more nobles drifted closer, drawn by the unusual sight. You heard the whispers clearly now.
“...the Duke and Duchess actually look civil…”
“I thought she hated him…”
“Look at them. She’s practically standing with him…”
Sukuna kept you close the entire time, one large hand occasionally resting at the small of your back as you moved through the hall. The touch was possessive, almost protective, even if his face remained cool and composed.
Later, when the orchestra struck up a slower, more intimate melody, Sukuna leaned down, his voice low against your ear.
“Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question.
You nodded. He led you onto the polished floor, one broad hand settling firmly on your waist while the other held yours. He moved with surprising grace for someone of his size and power — confident, controlled, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. You followed his lead, hyper-aware of every point of contact: the heat of his palm burning through the silk of your gown, the solid wall of his chest so close to yours, the faint scent of leather and smoke that clung to him.
For a few moments the rest of the room seemed to fade.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the music. His crimson eyes flicked down to meet yours. “People are staring less like they’re waiting for us to start arguing in the middle of the floor.”
You looked up at him, a small genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I told you I wanted to try.”
His grip on your waist tightened just slightly. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your gown, almost absentmindedly.
“Don’t get comfortable,” he said, though there was less bite in his tone than usual. “This doesn’t mean I trust you yet.”
“I know,” you replied softly. “But thank you for giving me the chance anyway.”
Sukuna didn’t answer. But he also didn’t let go of you when the song ended. Instead, he kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you off the floor, staying closer than strictly necessary.
A short while later, a group of older lords approached Sukuna. One of them — a tall man with silver hair and sharp features — gave a respectful bow.
“Your Grace, if we could steal a moment of your time? There are some matters regarding the northern border that require your input.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened for a brief second. He glanced down at you, then back at the lords.
“Fine,” he said curtly. “I won’t be long.”
Before he stepped away, he leaned in close to your ear, voice low. “Stay here. Don’t wander off.”
You nodded. His hand lingered on your waist for one extra second before he pulled away and followed the group toward a quieter side balcony for their discussion.
Suddenly, you were alone.
You stood near the edge of the dance floor, champagne glass in hand, trying to look more relaxed than you felt. The weight of curious stares hadn’t faded. A few noblewomen still whispered behind their fans, and every so often someone would glance your way with open speculation.
A deep, smooth voice spoke from your left.
“Duchess, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction tonight.”
You turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and sharp green eyes watching you with a lazy, confident smile. He was dressed in deep emerald and black, a marquess’s insignia pinned neatly to his lapel.
“Marquess Toji Fushiguro,” he introduced himself with a respectful bow of his head. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you over the years. Though I must say, seeing you here with the Duke tonight is… refreshing.”
His tone was warm and easy, without any obvious scheming edge. You felt yourself relax just a little.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marquess,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve heard your name mentioned before. You handle the eastern trade routes, don’t you?”
Toji’s smile widened, looking genuinely pleased that you knew. “I do. Though I’m surprised you’re familiar with such dull matters. Most duchesses prefer to stay far away from trade talk.”
The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was charming in a straightforward, slightly roguish way — asking light questions about the northern estates, commenting on the music, and even making a dry joke about how stiff most balls tended to be. You found yourself smiling more naturally, the tension in your shoulders easing as you chatted. For the first time that evening, talking to someone felt… comfortable.
Toji tilted his head slightly, green eyes glinting with curiosity. “If I may be bold, Duchess — you seem different tonight than what the rumors suggested. Happier, perhaps?”
You were about to respond when a large, familiar hand suddenly slid around your waist from behind, fingers gripping your hip with clear possessiveness. A warm, solid body pressed against your back, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Sukuna.
His grip tightened, pulling you back against his chest in one smooth motion. The heat of his body seeped through the silk of your gown, and his thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone — a blatant, territorial claim.
Toji’s easy smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, inclining his head respectfully.
“Duke Sukuna,” he greeted calmly. “I was just keeping your wife company while you were occupied.”
Sukuna’s voice was low and dangerous, rumbling against your back. “I can see that.” His hand stayed firmly on your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make a point. “Though I don’t recall asking anyone to entertain my duchess.”
You felt the tension rolling off him in waves. His other arm came around your other side, almost caging you against him in front of the entire hall.
Toji raised an eyebrow, still perfectly civil. “No offense meant, Your Grace. It was an honor speaking with the Duchess.”
Sukuna didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke loud enough for Toji to hear.
“We’re leaving this conversation,” he said flatly. Then, louder, “Come, wife.”
Sukuna didn’t stop walking until he had guided you into a quieter corner of the grand hall, partially shielded by a tall marble pillar and heavy crimson velvet drapes. The music and chatter of the ball felt distant now, muffled. His hand never left your hip. If anything, his grip tightened, fingers digging possessively into the silk of your gown as though he needed the contact to ground himself.
He turned you to face him with surprising care, then backed you gently but firmly against the cool marble pillar. One large hand stayed locked on your waist while the other came up to brace beside your head, effectively caging you in. His body heat enveloped you instantly — warm, solid, and overwhelming. The faint scent of smoke, leather, and something darker clung to him, making your pulse stutter.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said, voice low and rough, almost a growl. His crimson eyes burned down into yours with unmistakable intensity. “Laughing with him like the two of you were old friends. Did you forget you’re here with me tonight?”
The jealousy in his tone was unmistakable — sharp, dark, and barely leashed.
You kept your voice calm, though your heart was racing. “We were only talking. He was civil. Nothing more.”
Sukuna’s jaw clenched visibly. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles over the curve of your hip through the thin silk, a possessive caress that sent heat rushing across your skin.
“Civil,” he repeated, the word laced with pure disdain. “I saw the way he looked at you. The way he smiled at you.”
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, voice dropping into something dangerously intimate. “And here I thought you were trying to mend our relationship. Yet the second I turn my back, you’re chatting and smiling with another man like it means nothing.”
His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against the hard wall of his chest. You could feel the tension coiled in every muscle, the barely restrained frustration rolling off him in waves. One of his fingers slipped just beneath the edge of your gown, brushing bare skin at your hip — a deliberate, claiming touch.
“I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he growled softly, lips brushing your ear. “Especially not with bastards like Toji Fushiguro.”
You swallowed hard, breath shallow. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was just being polite while you were busy.”
Sukuna let out a low, dangerous sound in the back of his throat — half a scoff, half a laugh. His free hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his burning crimson gaze.
“Polite,” he murmured, thumb stroking slowly along your jawline. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you out of here the moment I saw his hand move toward you.”
His eyes dropped to your lips for a long, heavy second. The air between you felt charged, electric, like the tension might snap at any moment. For a heartbeat you thought he might kiss you right there — hard, claiming, in full view of everyone still watching from across the hall.
Instead, he leaned in until his lips ghosted against your ear again.
“Next time someone approaches you while I’m gone,” he said, voice dark and velvet-rough, “you tell them you belong to me. Clearly. Because if I have to remind them myself… I won’t be nearly as polite.”
His fingers flexed on your hip in one final, possessive squeeze — a silent promise — before he slowly stepped back. His hand remained at the small of your back, heavy and unrelenting.
The music swelled again around you.
Sukuna’s expression smoothed into something cooler and more composed for the public eye, but the heat in his eyes stayed locked on you.
“Come,” he said, voice still low. “We’re dancing again. And this time, you’re not leaving my side for the rest of the night.”
Sukuna led you back onto the dance floor without another word, his hand firm on your waist, pulling you closer than strictly proper for a public setting. The orchestra had shifted into a slower, more intimate melody — strings and soft piano weaving through the air. Couples swirled around you, but you barely noticed them. All you could focus on was the heat of Sukuna’s body pressed against yours, the way his fingers splayed possessively across your lower back, and the unmistakable tension radiating from him.
He moved with controlled grace, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. Your bodies were flush together, chest to chest, his thigh occasionally brushing yours as you turned. Every point of contact felt electric.
“You’re quiet now,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “What happened to all that polite conversation you were having with the marquess?”
You tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You told me not to leave your side. I’m listening.”
A low sound rumbled in his chest — not quite a laugh. His hand slid lower on your back, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.
“Good girl,” he said softly, almost mockingly, though the heat in his eyes was anything but. “Keep listening. I don’t want to see you smiling at anyone else like that tonight.”
The jealousy was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way he held you — tighter than necessary, almost like he was daring anyone to try approaching you again.
As you turned under his arm and came back into his embrace, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“He thought he had a chance,” he continued, voice rough. “Like he didn’t know exactly who you belong to.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “Maybe I need to make it clearer.”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. Being this close to him — surrounded by the swirl of music and watching eyes — made everything feel heightened. The scent of him, the solid strength of his body, the barely restrained possessiveness in every touch.
“Sukuna…” you started softly.
He cut you off by pulling you even closer, until there was almost no space left between you. His breath was warm against your temple.
“You wanted to mend things,” he reminded you, tone dark. “Then stop giving other men reasons to think they can talk to my wife like that. Smile at me. Stay close to me.”
The song began to slow, but Sukuna didn’t release you. He kept you locked in his arms even as other couples started drifting apart. His hand slid up your back, fingers tracing your spine through the silk, a silent claim in front of the entire hall.
When the music finally faded, he didn’t let go right away. He stared down at you, crimson eyes heavy with something dangerous and hungry.
“We’re leaving,” he said abruptly, voice low. “I’ve had enough of these people watching us.”
He didn’t wait for your agreement. His hand stayed firmly at the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Nobles parted for him instinctively, eyes wide at the sight of the Duke and Duchess leaving together so early — and so obviously entangled.
The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside. Sukuna kept you close as you waited for the carriage, his arm wrapped around your waist like he still wasn’t ready to stop touching you.
Once inside the carriage, he sat beside you instead of across from you. The door had barely closed before his hand was back on your thigh, gripping possessively through the fabric of your gown.
The carriage started moving, carrying you both back toward the estate through the dark roads. Sukuna’s hand remained on your thigh the entire ride, heavy and warm — a silent reminder of exactly who you belonged to.
By the time it finally rolled to a stop in front of the castle, the moon hung high in the sky. The journey had been quiet, thick with lingering tension. Sukuna hadn’t spoken a word, but his grip on your thigh never loosened.
When the footman opened the door, Sukuna stepped out first and offered you his hand. You took it, letting him help you down onto the stone steps. The cool night air felt refreshing after the stuffy ballroom, but it did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach.
He walked you inside, his hand resting possessively at the small of your back the whole way through the dimly lit halls. Servants bowed and quickly disappeared when they saw you both. The castle felt unusually still.
When you reached the point where the corridors split — one leading to his private wing, the other to yours — Sukuna stopped. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable in the low torchlight.
“You did well tonight,” he admitted grudgingly, staring at you for a long moment before glancing away. “But if I see him — or anyone else — near you again like that…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
Sukuna gave a short nod, almost like he was dismissing you. “Goodnight.”
He turned to leave, heading toward his own chambers.
You stood there for a second, heart pounding, before the words slipped out — soft, shy, and a little nervous.
“Wait…”
Sukuna paused, looking back at you over his shoulder.
You swallowed, cheeks warming as you forced yourself to speak. “You know… we can’t really fix things as a couple if we keep sleeping separately"
The words hung in the air between you. They sounded bolder than you felt.
Sukuna went completely still. For several long seconds he simply stared at you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something darker, more dangerous.
“Is that so?” he said, voice low and rough. He took one step back toward you, then another, until he was standing close again. “You’re asking to sleep in my bed now?”
He tilted his head, studying your face like he was trying to find the trick in your words. His hand came up, fingers lightly brushing your jaw as he looked down at you.
“Careful, wife,” he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You keep pushing like this… I might start thinking you actually mean it.”
His gaze dropped to your mouth for a long second before returning to your eyes. The tension between you crackled again, even stronger than it had been at the ball.
Sukuna didn’t move away. He waited, watching you closely, as if daring you to take it back… or push further.
The silence stretched, heavy and charged. His thumb was still resting against your lower lip, warm and rough, while his crimson eyes searched your face for any sign of deception. You could practically feel the suspicion rolling off him in waves.
Finally, he let out a slow breath, almost a scoff.
“…Fine,” he said, voice low and guarded. “If that’s what you want.”
He stepped back slightly, but his hand stayed on your waist, fingers still gripping you with quiet possessiveness. His expression remained cold, cautious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Don’t expect this to mean anything,” he added, tone flat. “I’m still not convinced you’ve changed. But if you’re so determined to play the part of a real wife… then come.”
He turned and started walking down the corridor toward his private wing, keeping his hand on the small of your back to guide you along with him. The touch was firm — not gentle, but not forceful either. It felt like both an invitation and a test.
The halls were quiet at this hour, lit only by flickering torches. Every step echoed softly. Sukuna didn’t speak again until you reached the heavy wooden doors to his chambers. He pushed them open without hesitation and stepped inside, holding the door for you.
His rooms were large and unmistakably his — dark wood furniture, a massive bed with black silk sheets, a low fire burning in the hearth, weapons and scrolls neatly arranged on shelves. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather.
Sukuna closed the door behind you with a heavy click. He leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with that same calculating stare.
“You wanted this,” he said quietly, almost like he was reminding both of you. “So here we are.”
He pushed off the door and walked further into the room, loosening the ties on his formal tunic as he went. The movement was casual, but you could feel the tension still radiating from him.
“Get comfortable,” he told you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was low, almost seductive, but the suspicion never fully left his eyes.
He didn’t say anything else. He simply waited, watching to see what you would do now that you were truly alone with him in his space.
You stood there for a moment, suddenly very aware of how large his chambers felt and how small you felt inside them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the dark wood and black silk sheets. The air smelled like him — smoke, leather, and something faintly metallic.
You swallowed and moved toward the side of the room where a large wardrobe stood. One of the maids had already brought a few of your things here earlier, as if the servants had anticipated this. You picked out a simple black silk nightgown and hesitated.
Sukuna had turned away slightly, pulling off his formal tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair. The movement revealed the strong lines of his back and the black tattoos swirling across his skin. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell he was still aware of every move you made.
You changed quickly behind the privacy screen in the corner, the silk cool against your skin. When you stepped out, Sukuna was already sitting on the edge of the massive bed, wearing only loose black pants. His pink hair was untied now, falling messily around his face. He looked up when you approached.
For a long second he just stared.
Then he let out a slow breath and patted the space beside him.
“Come here,” he said, voice low.
You walked over and climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. Sukuna watched you the entire time, suspicion still clear in his crimson eyes even as he pulled the covers back for you.
You slipped under the sheets, lying on your back. The silk felt cool and smooth. Sukuna stayed sitting for another moment, then finally lay down beside you. The bed was large, but he took up so much space that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.
He turned onto his side, facing you. One arm rested above his head while the other lay between you, close enough that his fingers almost brushed your arm.
The silence was heavy.
“You’re really here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze traced your face, still guarded. “In my bed.”
He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained cold and watchful.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he said quietly. “If this is another game… I won’t be kind about it.”
Then he shifted closer. Not enough to touch fully, but close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t pull you into his arms. He simply laid there, watching you like he was waiting for you to prove something — or reveal your true intentions.
The fire crackled softly in the background. The weight of his presence beside you made it hard to relax, but you stayed there, heart beating steadily.
Sukuna’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.
“Sleep, wife. We’ll see how long this little performance of yours lasts.”
He didn’t close his eyes right away. He kept watching you in the dim firelight, guarded, suspicious… and just a little intrigued.
Morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, pale and hazy, casting long golden stripes across the dark wooden floor. You woke slowly, cocooned in warmth that felt both foreign and strangely comforting. Sukuna’s arm was draped heavily over your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back, one leg loosely tangled with yours beneath the black silk sheets. His breathing was deep and steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing against you with every inhale.
For a long moment you didn’t move. This was the first time you’d ever woken up beside him — sharing the same bed, the same space, the same air. Your heart beat a little too fast as the reality settled in. The Duke of the North was holding you in his sleep, even if it was only out of habit or unconscious possession.
Sukuna stirred a few minutes later. His arm tightened around your waist for a brief second, pulling you closer on instinct, before his body went still. You felt the exact moment consciousness returned to him — the subtle shift in his breathing, the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly against your back.
He didn’t pull away immediately.
“You’re still here,” he said quietly, voice low and rough with sleep. There was a hint of genuine surprise beneath the words. “Figured you’d sneak back to your own room before I woke up.”
You turned your head slightly on the pillow to look at him. His crimson eyes were half-lidded, messy pink hair falling across his forehead. Up close like this, without the usual cold mask, he looked almost human — though the sharp suspicion in his gaze reminded you he was anything but.
“I told you I wanted this,” you replied softly.
Sukuna let out a slow breath, almost a huff. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you properly. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the silk of your nightgown. The touch was light, but you could feel the weight of his attention — guarded, calculating, searching for any crack in your resolve.
He watched you for a long, heavy moment, suspicion still clear in his expression. The silence between you felt intimate and fragile at the same time. His fingers flexed once against your waist before relaxing again.
“Don’t get too used to this,” he said eventually, tone flat but not cruel. “One night doesn’t fix anything. One night doesn’t make me trust you.”
Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added more quietly, “But… you can stay for breakfast if you want.”
Sukuna rolled away and got out of bed, stretching his powerful arms above his head. The morning light traced every line of muscle and the intricate black tattoos that covered his shoulders, chest, and back. He moved with the casual confidence of someone completely at ease in his own space, yet you could still feel the tension humming beneath his skin.
God, he’s even hotter in person… no wonder I was obsessed.
He grabbed a fresh tunic but didn’t put it on. Instead, he leaned against the wardrobe, watching you in his sheets with that dark, cautious gaze. The fire had burned low, leaving the room quiet and heavy with unspoken tension.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly. “Well?” he asked, voice still rough from sleep. “Are you going to lie there all morning?”
You didn’t make him wait long.
You slipped out of bed, the black silk nightgown clinging lightly to your skin as you moved. The morning air in the chamber felt cooler than the warmth of the sheets you’d just left. Sukuna watched you the entire time from where he leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed over his broad chest, expression unreadable but intense.
“Breakfast will be brought here,” he said simply, voice still rough from sleep. “No need to go to the main hall today.”
A short while later, servants arrived with silver trays. They moved quickly and quietly, setting the table near the tall windows with practiced care — a pot of strong black tea, warm crusty bread, thick slices of roasted meat, fresh berries, and a small dish of honey. The scent of the food filled the room, warm and savory. They kept their eyes lowered, clearly unsettled by the sight of you in the Duke’s private chambers wearing only a nightgown and robe, but they left without a single word.
Sukuna sat down first. You took the seat across from him.
The morning light streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft golden glow across the table and highlighting the sharp angles of his face. It traced the black tattoos visible at the open collar of his tunic and the faint scars on his hands as he picked up his knife. For several long minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and the distant crackle from the hearth.
Finally, Sukuna set his knife down with a quiet click and leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes locking onto you with that familiar guarded intensity.
“So,” he said, voice low and guarded, “what made you change?”
You looked up from your plate, heart skipping a beat. Just died and woke up in the body of the woman you’re supposed to kill. No big deal.
There was no point in holding back anymore.
“I like you,” you said simply, meeting his gaze. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he let out a short, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Bullshit.”
The word landed blunt and cold. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching you with sharp suspicion.
“You expect me to believe that? After months of silence, after treating me like I was beneath you, after making sure everyone knew how much you despised this marriage… you suddenly like me?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “Try again.”
You didn’t look away. Your voice stayed quiet but steady.
“No, really,” you said. “I do. I like you. That’s why I’m trying so hard.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He studied your face like he was searching for the lie, the manipulation, the trick. The silence stretched between you, thick and tense. His fingers tapped once against the edge of the table before he leaned back again, the corner of his mouth curving into a slow, dangerous smirk.
“Okay, little liar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Then prove it to me.”
You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Prove it to you…?” you repeated softly, the words coming out a little breathless.
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, closing some of the distance between you.
“Yes,” he said, voice dropping lower, almost velvet-smooth. “Prove it. You say you like me. You say you want to fix this marriage. So show me.”
His gaze drifted slowly down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. The air between you felt heavier now, warmer. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly against the back of your hand, the touch deceptively gentle.
“You’re in my chambers. In my bed,” he continued, thumb tracing a slow line over your knuckles. “If you’re actually serious… then stop hiding behind pretty words and prove it.”
His touch lingered, possessive but controlled, sending a slow shiver up your arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched your reaction closely, crimson eyes dark with suspicion and something much hotter underneath.
“Prove it, wife,” he said again, voice low and seductive. “I’m right here. Show me how much you like me.”
The breakfast table suddenly felt far too small. The tension had shifted — still laced with his suspicion, but now crackling with slow, deliberate heat as he waited for you to make the next move.
Your pulse thundered under his thumb. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his crimson eyes darkened as they traced your face, your lips, the line of your throat. He wasn’t touching you anywhere else, but it still felt like he had you pinned.
You swallowed, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck.
“…How?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended. “How do you want me to prove it?”
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. He leaned in a little closer across the table, his thumb still stroking lazy circles over your knuckles.
“That’s the fun part,” he murmured. “You figure it out. You’re the one claiming you like me. So show me what that looks like.”
His free hand moved, reaching across to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was almost gentle, but his fingers lingered at the side of your neck, tracing lightly down the column of your throat before pulling away.
“You can start by coming here,” he said, voice low and commanding. He pushed his chair back slightly and patted his thigh once. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Your breath caught. Heart racing, you stood up slowly and rounded the table. The moment you were close enough, Sukuna’s hand caught your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap. He settled you sideways across his thighs, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other rested on your leg, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh.
Up close like this, you could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of his chest against your side, the way his breath brushed your temple.
“Better,” he said, voice rough. His hand slid slowly up your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown. “Now… show me.”
He tilted his head, lips hovering near your jaw.
“Kiss me,” he ordered softly. “Like you mean it. Like you actually want your husband.”
His crimson eyes were locked on yours, still guarded, still waiting for the lie to slip through. But beneath the suspicion, there was clear hunger — dark and patient, daring you to close the distance.
Sukuna’s fingers flexed on your thigh, a silent reminder of his patience running thin.
“Well, wife?” he murmured, voice velvet-rough against your skin. “I’m waiting.”
You didn’t hesitate any longer.
Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started soft — tentative on your end, testing. Sukuna stayed still for half a second, as if surprised you’d actually done it.
Then he took control.
His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you harder against his mouth. The kiss deepened instantly, turning hungry and demanding. His tongue swept past your lips, claiming your mouth with a low growl that vibrated against you. He tasted like black tea and heat, and the way he kissed you was nothing short of possessive — like he was trying to erase every other man who had ever looked at you.
You gasped into his mouth. Sukuna used the opening to tilt your head and kiss you deeper, tongue stroking yours with slow, filthy intent. His other hand gripped your thigh tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you more firmly onto his lap until you were straddling him.
“Better,” he rasped against your lips when he finally pulled back just enough to breathe. His crimson eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “But not enough.”
He kissed you again, harder this time. One hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, palm sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the silk higher and higher until his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear. He didn’t go further yet — just teased, stroking the sensitive skin there while his mouth moved to your jaw, then down to your neck.
“You say you like me,” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Then prove how much.”
He sucked on your skin, hard enough to leave a mark, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you. Sukuna’s grip on your thigh tightened in response, and you felt him growing hard beneath you, the thick length pressing against your core through his pants.
Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. He made a low, approving sound and rocked his hips up once, grinding against you deliberately.
“Touch me,” he ordered, voice rough. “If you’re serious, then fucking touch me.”
You obeyed, sliding your hands under his tunic, palms running over the hard planes of his stomach and the tattoos that covered his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch. Sukuna rewarded you by biting down on your neck again, then soothing the spot with his tongue.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing heavy, eyes burning.
“Keep going,” he said, voice dark and commanding. His hands gripping your ass firmly as he pulled you down harder against his growing erection. “Show me exactly how much you want your husband.”
His hips rolled up deliberately, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your clit in slow, filthy circles. The friction was maddening, heat building fast between you.
You moaned into his mouth. The sound seemed to snap something in him.
He growled low in his throat and rocked you harder against him. “Fuck,” he rasped against your lips, breath hot. “You’re already so wet for me.”
One large hand slipped further under your nightgown, calloused palm dragging up your bare thigh until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your panties. He groaned at the feeling, pressing two thick fingers against your clothed slit and rubbing firmly, spreading your wetness.
“So fucking wet,” he muttered, voice dark and rough. “All this from just sitting on my lap?”
He pushed your panties aside with impatient fingers and dragged two thick digits slowly through your slick folds. The first direct touch made your hips jerk sharply. Pleasure shot through you like lightning — hot, electric, and overwhelming. You were already soaked, embarrassingly wet, and Sukuna could feel it.
He chuckled darkly against your throat, the low vibration sending shivers racing down your spine as he kissed and bit along your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue.
“You’re dripping down my fingers, wife,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “This greedy little cunt is making such a mess already.”
He pushed one thick finger inside you slowly, stretching your tight walls. Your inner muscles clenched hard around the intrusion, hot and silky. The feeling of being filled by him — even just one finger — made your breath hitch. He added a second finger almost immediately, scissoring them lazily while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, relentless circles.
The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the quiet morning room — lewd squelching noises that would have made you blush if you weren’t already trembling with pleasure. Your arousal coated his hand, dripping down his wrist and onto his lap as he worked you open with practiced, unhurried strokes.
You whimpered, hands fisting tightly in the front of his tunic. Sukuna’s free hand yanked the neckline of your nightgown down roughly, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He leaned in and sucked one sensitive nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking roughly over the peak before his teeth grazed it. The sharp sting mixed with pleasure made your back arch, pushing your chest closer to his hungry mouth.
“So fucking sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, voice muffled as he switched to the other nipple, sucking harder. “Look at you. Falling apart just from my fingers like a desperate little whore.”
He curled his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy while his thumb pressed firmer circles on your clit. Your hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier, echoing obscenely in the quiet chamber.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to watch your face, his crimson eyes dark with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice low and rough. “Let me feel how much this supposed ‘liking me’ makes this tight little pussy squeeze around my fingers.”
His fingers curled harder, stroking that sensitive spot relentlessly while his thumb worked your clit faster. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every thrust, every filthy word.
It snapped.
You came hard with a broken moan, walls clenching violently around his thick fingers. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as slick gushed over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist. Pleasure crashed through you in waves, leaving you gasping and trembling.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, still pumping his fingers slowly through your spasms, drawing out every last pulse until you were shaking and oversensitive, whimpering softly.
He finally pulled his fingers free, glistening with your release. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, tongue dragging slowly and deliberately over his skin, savoring your taste.
“Sweet,” he murmured, voice husky and dark. His eyes never left yours.
He lifted you effortlessly and stood, carrying you toward the massive bed. He laid you down on the black silk sheets, hovering over you with that same dark, hungry look.
“Take the nightgown off,” he commanded, already pulling his own tunic over his head, revealing the full expanse of his tattooed, muscled torso. “I want to see all of you.”
His hands moved to his pants, loosening them as he watched you, eyes burning with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Prove how much you actually want me, wife.”
You sat up on the bed, heart hammering against your ribs. Under his burning gaze, you reached for the hem of your nightgown and pulled it up and over your head, letting the silk fall to the floor. The cool air of the chamber brushed over your bare skin, making your nipples tighten instantly.
Sukuna’s eyes raked slowly over your naked body — from your flushed face, down the curve of your breasts, your stomach, and the glistening wetness already coating your inner thighs. He let out a low, rough sound deep in his chest, almost a growl.
“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered, voice thick. “So small. So fucking pretty.”
He shoved his pants the rest of the way down his hips and kicked them aside. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, the veined shaft curving slightly upward. It was meaty — obscenely so — the girth making your mouth go dry. The flushed head was already leaking, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. Even fully hard, it looked almost too big, too heavy, the weight of it making it hang thick and full between his powerful thighs.
You couldn’t help the soft, shaky breath that escaped you.
Sukuna noticed. His smirk was dark and satisfied as he crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping deeply under his much larger frame. He settled between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider apart. The size difference hit you all over again — he was so much bigger than you, his body completely eclipsing yours as he hovered above you.
He gripped his thick cock in one large hand and dragged the heavy head through your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness. The blunt, meaty tip nudged against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch.
“You’re tiny compared to me,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel every inch when I split you open.”
He pushed forward slowly.
The thick head of his cock breached you, stretching your entrance with a slow, burning pressure. You gasped sharply at the sheer girth — he was so thick that your walls had to part around him, fluttering and clenching as he sank deeper. The heavy, meaty weight of his cock filled you inch by inch, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until you were full, so full, your back arching off the bed with a broken moan.
Sukuna groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His balls rested heavy and warm against you.
“Shit,” he breathed against your neck, voice strained. “So fucking tight… this little pussy is sucking me in like it was made for me.”
He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, the way his thick cock throbbed inside you, hot and heavy. Then he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his meaty length along your walls with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked cunt filled the room, slick and filthy.
You whimpered, nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Sukuna… you’re so big—”
He growled at your words, hips snapping harder, driving his thick cock deeper. The drag was exquisite, every vein and ridge rubbing against your most sensitive spots. His size made you feel impossibly full, stretched wide around his girth, the pressure bordering on too much but so, so good.
“Take it,” he rasped, voice dark and possessive. “Take every fucking inch like the good little wife you’re trying to be.”
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy, hungry kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his deep thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against you with every powerful stroke, the wet sounds growing louder as your arousal dripped down his shaft and soaked the sheets beneath you.
You moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back. The size difference made everything more intense — his broad chest crushing your breasts, his muscular thighs spreading you wide, his massive frame completely dominating yours as he fucked you into the mattress.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust and that lingering edge of suspicion.
“Tell me again,” he growled, hips grinding deep, the thick head of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside you. “Tell me how much you like your husband’s cock while I’m ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could barely think through the overwhelming fullness. His cock was so thick it felt like he was splitting you open with every slow, deliberate thrust. The heavy drag of his veined shaft against your walls made your toes curl, pleasure bordering on too much.
“I like it,” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan as he rolled his hips again, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. “I like your cock so much— fuck, Sukuna, you’re so deep…”
A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest. He hooked one of your legs over his arm, spreading you wider, and drove into you harder. The new angle made his thick cock hit even deeper, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against your ass with every powerful thrust. Your juices coated his shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you, the lewd squelching sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. “This greedy little cunt is sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, deep and filthy, while his hips snapped forward harder. The sheer size difference made everything more intense — his broad, muscled body completely covering yours, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucked you with long, punishing strokes.
You whimpered into his mouth, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across his tattooed skin. Sukuna hissed at the sting and rewarded you by pounding into you even harder, the thick head of his cock bullying that sensitive spot inside you over and over.
“Again,” he demanded against your lips, breath hot and ragged. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” you moaned, legs shaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. “It belongs to you— only you—”
“Good girl.”
He sat back on his heels, pulling your hips up with him so your lower back was off the bed. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his thick cock stretching you wide with every brutal thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles while he fucked you senseless.
The wet slap of skin against skin mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts. Your breasts bounced with every powerful snap of his hips, nipples tight and aching. Sukuna’s gaze was locked between your legs, watching hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked pussy again and again, stretching you obscenely around his girth.
“Look at that,” he growled, voice dark. “Taking every inch like you were made for me. So fucking pretty when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”
The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every deep thrust, every swipe of his thumb on your clit. Your thighs trembled violently in his grip.
“Sukuna— I’m gonna—!”
“Cum,” he ordered, hips slamming into you harder. “Cum on your husband’s cock like the desperate little wife you are.”
It hit you like a wave. You came hard with a broken cry, walls clenching violently around his thick length, pulsing and fluttering as slick gushed around him. Your whole body shook, back arching sharply as pleasure tore through you.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck— that’s it. Milk my cock.”
He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you were whimpering and oversensitive. Then, with a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding deep inside you. He kept grinding his hips in slow circles, pushing his release even deeper as he emptied himself completely.
“We’re not done,” he said quietly, a dangerous promise in his tone. “Not even close.”
Sukuna pulled out of you with a wet, filthy sound, your combined release dripping down your thighs. Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you onto your back and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled you into his lap facing away from him, and hooked his powerful arms under your knees, folding you in a full nelson.
Your back pressed flush against his broad, tattooed chest. Your legs were spread obscenely wide, knees pushed up toward your shoulders by his strong arms. The position left you completely helpless — folded in half, pussy exposed and dripping, his thick cock sliding hot and heavy between your slick folds.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled right against your ear, voice feral. “So small and folded up for me. Perfect little fucktoy.”
He thrust up hard, burying his massive cock back inside you in one brutal stroke. The new angle made him feel even thicker, even deeper. You cried out, the sound raw and broken as his meaty length stretched you wide open again, the fat head bullying against your cervix with every thrust.
Sukuna went feral.
He fucked you like an animal — hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped up with powerful force, slamming his thick cock into your soaked pussy over and over. The wet, obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with the lewd squelching of your dripping cunt taking every inch. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal thrust, the impact jolting through your body.
You were cockdrunk almost immediately.
Your mind went hazy, eyes rolling back as pleasure overloaded your senses. All you could do was moan helplessly, body limp in his hold as he used you. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the sheer girth stretching you so wide it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight.
“S-Sukuna— ahh— too deep—” you slurred, voice broken and whiny.
He only fucked you harder, arms locked tight under your knees, keeping you folded and helpless as he pounded into you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his hot breath panting against your ear.
“Take it,” he snarled, voice feral and animalistic. “Take every fucking inch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? My cock ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could only moan incoherently, head lolling back against his shoulder. Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth as he fucked you senseless, his thick cock bullying your insides with every savage thrust. The wet sounds were filthy — your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna suddenly pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He slammed back into you in one brutal thrust, fucking you in deep, punishing doggy style.
“Fuck— yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked. One large hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack, the sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, the sharp crack echoing as he pounded into you from behind.
Your face was pressed into the sheets, ass up, completely at his mercy as he railed you. His thick cock drove so deep you felt it in your stomach, the heavy drag of his veined shaft making your eyes roll back. He smacked your ass again, gripping the soft flesh hard as he used you.
“You’re mine,” he growled, hips snapping forward relentlessly. “This pussy is mine. Say it.”
You could barely speak, mind blank and cockdrunk, but you whimpered obediently between moans, “Yours… it’s yours—”
Sukuna snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the bed creaking violently under the force of his thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with every brutal stroke, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.
He was relentless now — grunting low and animalistic, cursing under his breath as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. He claimed you with deep, punishing strokes, each one driving his thick cock so deep you felt it in your stomach.
“Fuck— this pussy is sucking me in so greedily,” he growled, voice wrecked and animalistic. One hand left your hip and came down hard on your ass again with a loud smack, the sharp sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, gripping the soft, reddened flesh and spreading you wider as he railed you.
Your mind was completely melted. All you could do was moan and whimper into the sheets, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as he pounded into you. His thick, meaty cock stretched you so wide it felt like he was reshaping you from the inside. Every deep, punishing thrust made the fat head kiss your cervix, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through your body.
“S-Sukuna— too much— ahh—!” you slurred, voice broken and whiny, barely coherent anymore.
He laughed darkly, low and breathless, and smacked your ass once more before gripping both cheeks and spreading you obscenely. He watched hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked, fluttering pussy again and again, your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his heavy balls.
“Look at this greedy little hole,” he rasped, hips snapping forward brutally. “Taking my fat cock so well. You’re dripping everywhere, wife. Making such a fucking mess on my sheets.”
He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other braced beside your head. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his heavy cock bullying that perfect spot inside you with every savage thrust. The wet, filthy plap plap plap of his hips slamming into your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his guttural grunts.
You were shaking, thighs trembling violently, another orgasm building fast. Your mind was blank — nothing but the overwhelming stretch, the heat, the relentless drag of his thick veined cock inside you.
Sukuna’s breath was hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” he growled, teeth grazing your shoulder. “This tight little cunt is mine. Say it while you cum on my cock again.”
You could barely form words, but you whimpered obediently between moans, voice slurred and cockdrunk. “Yours— it’s yours— Sukuna— please—!”
He fucked you harder, hips pistoning relentlessly, the heavy slap of his balls against your clit pushing you over the edge. You came with a shattered cry, walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice, pulsing and fluttering as another intense orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his cock, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna groaned loudly, the sound raw and feral. “Good fucking girl—”
He didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm with deep, stuttering thrusts, hips snapping erratically as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful drive, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside you, pulse after heavy pulse filling you until you felt impossibly full, the warmth spreading through your core. He kept grinding slowly, rolling his hips in lazy circles to push every drop deeper, making sure you took all of him.
You could feel it leaking out around his thick cock — warm, sticky, and messy — dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, his massive body pressing you firmly into the mattress. His chest heaved against your back, hot, ragged breaths fanning across the side of your neck. The scent of sweat, sex, and his skin filled the air with every shaky inhale. One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, almost possessively, while the other stayed gripping your hip, fingers digging in like he still wasn’t ready to let go.
“…Not bad,” he muttered, voice hoarse and low against your ear. “For a little liar.”
He finally pulled out slowly, inch by thick inch. A heavy trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your abused, fluttering pussy, warm and obscene as it ran down your inner thighs. Sukuna let out a low, satisfied hum at the sight before he rolled you onto your back and collapsed beside you.
Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around you possessively. His skin was hot and slightly damp with sweat, his heartbeat still racing steadily under your cheek as he held you close.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as he caught his breath.
But he didn’t let go.
a\n: honestly didn't know how to end this but hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
College AU | Love Triangle | Heartbreak | Angst | Protective Hiromi Higuruma | Brooding Choso | Nerd x Shy Reader | First Choice | Happy Ending
Synopsis: When the president of the Kamo fraternity chooses his pride over his heart, he leaves Y/N abandoned in the middle of a crowded gala. Shattered by Choso’s cold rejection, she finds an unexpected sanctuary in the campus library with Higuruma Hiromi—the quiet law student who has always stayed in the shadows.
As Choso realizes the weight of his mistake and tries to claw his way back into her life, he discovers that the "shy nerd" he ignored is now the only one standing in his way. In a clash between a complicated history and a newfound sense of security, Y/N must decide if some bridges are meant to be burned for good.
Word Count: ~2.5k
The fraternity of your college was known for its exclusive parties and an air of untouchable cool that most students spent their entire college careers trying to penetrate. At the center of it all was Choso, the president who ruled the house with a quiet magnetic authority.
Choso wasn't the typical frat president. He was quiet and wore his leadership like a heavy crown. But whenever you walked into the room, that composure cracked. You were the shy girl of their social circle—shy but with a soft smile that made Choso’s heart flutters.
"You're staring again," a voice drawled.
Choso blinked, shifting his gaze away from you, who were currently laughing at something a random girl had said. Yuki Tsukumo was leaning against the doorframe, a smirk playing on her lips. She was bold, loud, and everything you weren't.
"I'm not staring," Choso lied, his voice a low rumble.
"You are. And you’re suffocating her with your silence," Yuki countered, stepping closer. "If you don't tell her, someone else will. Or worse... you'll just keep being the 'big brother' figure until she finds someone who actually acts."
Choso tightened his grip on his red plastic cup. He loved you so much it felt like a physical weight in his chest. But he was terrified, his life was messy, his family was a disaster, and he felt too "dark" for someone as bright and pure as you. In his mind, pushing you away was a form of protection.
The annual "Red & Black" gala was the event of the semester. The house was packed, the air thick with heat and the thumping bass of a playlist that Choso hated.
You arrived looking ethereal. Your dress was simple but elegant, clinging to your curves in a way that made Choso’s throat go dry. You looked at him with those wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for him to finally—finally—say something.
"You look... nice," Choso managed to say.
You beamed, your cheeks flushing. "Thanks, Choso. I was hoping we could maybe... talk later? Away from the noise?"
This was it. The opening. But panic, sharp and cold, flared in Choso’s gut. He saw the way other guys were looking at you. He felt the pressure of his status. She deserves better than a mess like me, he thought.
"I'm actually pretty busy tonight. Maybe another time," he said, his voice colder than he intended.
He saw the light in your eyes dim instantly. It felt like a knife to his ribs, but instead of apologizing, he did the unthinkable. He saw Yuki watching them from the stairs. To prove to himself—and to you—that there was "nothing" between you, he turned his back on you.
"Yuki!" Choso called out, his voice strained. "Let's go upstairs. I need a break from the crowd."
You stood frozen in the middle of the dance floor. You watched them walk up the grand staircase. You waited for Choso to look back, to give you a sign that it was a joke but he didn't. He disappeared into the shadows of the second floor with another woman, leaving you alone in a room full of people.
While the party raged on at the fraternity's house, the campus library was a silent sanctuary.
Higuruma Hiromi sat at his usual desk, surrounded by stacks of Constitutional Law books. He was the "nerd" of the law department—brilliant, precise, and intensely private. His best friend, Kento Nanami, sat opposite him, checking his watch with a frown.
"It is 11:30 PM, Hiromi. The social contract dictates that even law students should sleep occasionally," Nanami said, his voice dry.
"I have a trial simulation on Monday," Higuruma replied, not looking up from his notes. "I can't afford to be unprepared."
"You're not unprepared. You're avoiding the fact that the girl you've been pining over since freshman year is currently at a fraternity party," Nanami pointed out, cleaning his glasses.
Higuruma’s pen stuttered on the paper. You. He knew you were there. He knew you belonged to a world of bright lights and loud music—a world he didn't fit into. He was just the guy who sat three rows behind you in Civics, the guy who sometimes helped you find a source for your essays.
"She’s with Choso," Higuruma said softly. "She’s happy."
"Is she?" Nanami asked, nodding toward the entrance of the library.
Higuruma looked up. The heavy oak doors swung open, and you walked in. But you weren't the glowing girl he had seen earlier that day. Your makeup was slightly smudged, your shoulders were slumped, and your eyes were red. You didn't see them; you just headed for a corner table in the back, looking like your whole world had collapsed.
Higuruma felt a surge of something he rarely felt: anger. Not at you, but at whatever—or whoever—had made you look that way.
"Go," Nanami said, his voice firm. "The trial simulation can wait. This is a matter of justice."
Higuruma stood up, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was shy, yes. He was a nerd, absolutely. But as he watched you bury your face in your hands, he realized that being quiet was no longer an option.
The sun didn't shine the next morning; it glared. For Choso, the light felt like an indictment. He woke up in his room at the fraternity's house, the scent of Yuki’s perfume lingering on his sheets and a hollow, sickening void in his stomach.
He had done it. He had "protected" himself. He had proven he wasn't tied to you. And he felt like he was dying.
He checked his phone. No messages. No missed calls. Usually, you would text him something sweet about the party or ask if he’d made it to bed okay. Silence.
"You look like someone who just lost a court case you didn't even show up for," Yuki remarked, standing in the doorway, fully dressed and looking as sharp as ever. She wasn't fooled by last night. She knew Choso had used her, and she didn't particularly care—but she hated seeing him this pathetic.
"I made a mistake," Choso croaked, rubbing his face.
"No," Yuki said, his tone clinical. "You made a choice. You chose to hurt the one person who actually sees past that 'brooding prince' act of yours. Good luck fixing that."
Choso scrambled out of bed, grabbing his hoodie. He had to find you. He had to tell you it was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment. He had to tell you he loved you. But as he ran toward your dorm, he didn't know that you had spent the night in a much quieter place.
Back in the library, the air was still. You hadn't left. You had fallen asleep at the back table, your head resting on a stack of textbooks.
When you blinked your eyes open and saw a paper cup of steaming coffee and a small, neatly folded sticky note.
“You looked like you were having a nightmare. I thought the caffeine might help fight the monsters. — Hiromi H.”
You looked up, your heart fluttering in a way that wasn't painful for once. A few tables away, Higuruma was still there. He wasn't looking at you; he was intensely focused on a legal brief, but his posture was rigid, as if he were waiting for a reaction.
You gathered your things and walked over to him. Your legs felt heavy, your heart still bruised from Choso’s rejection but Higuruma’s presence felt like a safe harbor.
"Hiromi?" you whispered.
He looked up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was shy—his cheeks turned a faint pink—but he didn't look away.
"Did you stay here all night?" you asked, sitting in the chair Nanami had vacated hours ago.
"I couldn't leave my research," Higuruma lied smoothly, though his tired eyes gave him away. "And... I didn't want you to wake up in a dark room alone."
You felt a lump form in your throat. Choso had left you in a crowded room to go upstairs with another woman. Higuruma had stayed in a silent room just so you wouldn't be lonely.
"Thank you," you said, your voice trembling.
"You don't have to thank me," Higuruma said, his voice gaining a sudden, surprising strength. He took a leap—the kind of initiative he usually reserved for courtroom debates. He reached out and gently tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "You deserve to be someone's first choice. Always."
Three days later, the distance between you and the frat house had become a physical wall. You stopped attending the parties and you blocked Choso’s number. You started eating lunch at the "nerd table" with Higuruma and Nanami.
Choso was losing his mind. He found you outside the Law Building, just as the sun was setting.
"Y/N" he shouted, sprinting toward you.
You stopped, your body tensing. Beside you, Higuruma shifted, stepping slightly in front of you. It wasn't an aggressive move, but it was a clear boundary.
"Choso," you said, your voice devoid of its usual warmth. "What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you. Alone. Please. About that night... it wasn't what you think. I was confused, I—"
"You weren't confused," you interrupted, your eyes filling with tears you refused to let fall. "You were clear. You showed me exactly where I stand in your life. Behind your pride. Behind your reputation. Behind Yuki."
"No! I love you!" Choso stepped forward, his hand reaching out for your arm.
Higuruma’s hand intercepted him.
The "nerd" wasn't as tall as the frat president, and he certainly didn't have the same reputation for violence. But Higuruma’s gaze was like ice—the gaze of a man who dealt in facts and justice.
"She asked you what you wanted," Higuruma said, his voice low and dangerous. "She didn't ask for a confession. And she certainly didn't give you permission to touch her."
"Back off, Law Boy," Choso hissed, his eyes dark with jealousy. "You don't know us. You don't know our history."
"I know the law," Higuruma replied calmly, not backing down an inch. "And I know that history doesn't excuse present cruelty. You had her heart, and you treated it like a trophy you could put on a shelf while you played with others. I, however, see it as the most valuable thing in this university."
You looked at Higuruma—really looked at him. He was brave. He was steady. He was taking a stand for you when Choso had only ever hidden you.
You reached out and took Higuruma’s hand, interlacing your fingers.
"Let's go, Hiromi," you said softly. "I have to study. And I don't want to be late for our dinner."
Choso stood frozen as you walked away. He watched the "nerd" lead his girl—his best friend, his soulmate—away from him. The regret hit him like a physical blow to the chest.
Higuruma wasn't a man of grand, empty gestures. He was a man of precision. He knew you were still fragile, that your heart was healing from the jagged edges of Choso’s betrayal. So, he didn't rush you.
"I know this isn't the 'Frat Row' experience," Higuruma said one evening. You were in his small apartment, the walls lined with heavy law volumes and jazz records. He was cooking a simple dinner—something he had researched meticulously to make sure it was perfect.
"It’s better," you whispered, sitting at his small wooden table. "It’s quiet. I don't feel like I have to perform for anyone here."
Higuruma paused, a wooden spoon in his hand. He looked at you through his glasses, his gaze soft. "You never have to perform for me. I fell in love with the girl who argues with the professor in her head during lectures, not the girl who stands in the corner of a party."
You felt your breath hitch. Choso had always kept you a secret, a "best friend" he could hide in the shadows. Higuruma was putting you center stage in his world.
"Hiromi..." you started, but he stepped closer, his shy exterior melting into a calm, focused intensity.
"I'm not a gambler, you know. I only take cases I know I can win through hard work and truth. I want to win this. I want to be the one you think of when you wake up. Not as a second choice. Not as a rebound. But as the person who actually deserves you."
He leaned in, giving you every chance to turn away. You didn't. When his lips met yours, it wasn't like the fire and chaos of Choso—it was warm, steady, and felt like coming home.
A month later, the university held its annual Winter Ball. Choso was there, dressed in a sharp black suit, looking every bit the Kamo heir. He was there for one reason: to win you back.
He saw you enter. You looked stunning in a deep brown gown. He started toward you, his heart pounding.
"Y/N" he called out.
You turned. But you didn't move toward him. You waited for the man behind you to catch up.
Higuruma appeared, looking strikingly handsome in a well-tailored charcoal suit. He didn't look like a "nerd" anymore; he looked like a man of power and intellect. He didn't flinch when he saw Choso. He simply placed a hand on your waist and nodded.
"Choso," Higuruma said, his voice carrying the weight of a closing argument.
"I just want five minutes," Choso pleaded, his voice breaking. "Please. I’ve changed. I realized everything. I’m done with the frat life, I’m done with Yuki, I’m done with the lies."
You looked at Choso. For the first time, you didn't feel that sharp pang of longing. You only felt a dull sympathy, like looking at a childhood toy you had outgrown.
"The problem, Choso," you said softly, "is that you only realized my value once someone else started appraising it. Hiromi knew what I was worth when I was just a girl sitting alone in the library."
You leaned your head against Higuruma’s shoulder.
"You didn't make a mistake, Choso. You showed me who you were. And I should thank you for that. Because if you hadn't gone upstairs with Yuki, I might have never walked into that library. I might have never found him."
You turned away, leaving Choso standing in the middle of the ballroom. The music was playing, the lights were bright, but for the Kamo heir, everything had gone dark.
Higuruma led you to the dance floor. As you moved to the music, he leaned down and whispered into your ear.
"Case closed?"
You smiled, pulling him closer. "Case closed."
A huge thank you to @alebrasil0101 who requested this! I had so much fun exploring this Law vs Frat dynamic. I hope this meets your expectations! ♡
Likes are really appreciated and reblogs are what keep this blog alive. If you enjoyed this please consider sharing! (っ˘ω˘ς )♡
Law School AU | Ex-Lovers to Rivals | Enemies to Lovers | Workplace Tension | High Stakes | Mutual Obsession | Hate Sex | Slow Burn to Explosive | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Happy Ending
Synopsis: Three years after walking out on Hiromi Higuruma, you find yourself facing him again—this time, across a courtroom. The professional distance you’ve carefully maintained instantly shatters under the weight of your unresolved history. When a volatile trial forces a confrontation, a single invitation leads to his apartment, where the veneer of "counselor" finally gives way to the dangerous, lingering obsession you’ve both been fighting to bury.
Word count : ~3.8k
The fluorescent lights of the university law library always hummed at the exact same frequency—a low, buzzing drone that should have been grating, but for you, it was the rhythm of your life. It was the backdrop to the most intense, brilliant, and frustrating period of your existence. It was the era of Hiromi Higuruma.
You remembered the first time you truly saw him. It wasn't in a lecture hall; it was during a mock trial practice. He had been assigned as your opposing counsel. You were both second-years, hungry, sleep-deprived, and fueled by a terrifying amount of caffeine.
“Your interpretation of the precedent is remarkably creative, Counsel,” he had said, leaning back in his chair, his tie loosened just enough to look disheveled. “If only it were legally sound.”
“And your reliance on the literal text is adorable, Hiromi,” you retorted, slamming your notes onto the table with a grin. “But we aren’t here to read a dictionary. We’re here to win.”
That was the spark. From that day on, you were inseparable. You became the classic law school cliché: the power couple that everyone either envied or avoided. Your relationship wasn't built on movie dates or soft whispers; it was built on a foundation of intellectual sparring, shared ambition, and the thrill of being the only two people in the room who understood exactly how the other’s mind worked.
There was a visceral, addictive quality to his intellect—a sharp, uncompromising edge that he saved exclusively for you.
You spent countless nights in the library, surrounded by towers of textbooks, your fingers brushing against his as you reached for the same case file. You learned the nuances of his moods: the way his jaw tightened when he was frustrated with a logical fallacy, the way his eyes would soften just for a fraction of a second when you finally managed to stump him.
“You’re doing it again,” he murmured one rainy Tuesday, his hand covering yours on the mahogany table.
“Doing what?” you whispered, your heart doing that familiar, traitorous flip in your chest.
“Overthinking the defense. You’re worried about the ethics instead of the outcome. You want to save the world, Y/N. I just want to win.”
“There’s a difference?”
“In this system? Every difference in the world.”
You didn’t know it then, but those words were the blueprint for the canyon that would eventually grow between you.
The pressure began to mount as you entered your final year. Law school was a meat grinder, and you were determined not to be ground down. You stopped taking breaks. You stopped going out for coffee. Your calendar became a battlefield of color-coded blocks, each representing a deadline, an exam, or a networking event.
Hiromi remained the same, yet he was changing. He was becoming more cynical, his early idealism replaced by a cold, sharp-eyed realism that bordered on nihilism. He started taking on cases for pro-bono clinics, getting involved in the gritty, ugly side of the law that most students were too scared to touch.
“You’re burning yourself out,” he said one night in his apartment, his voice thick with a mixture of concern and irritation. You were surrounded by statutes, your eyes burning from lack of sleep. “Come to bed. Forget the essay for one night.”
“I can’t, Hiromi. If I don’t pass this clerkship exam, everything I’ve worked for—everything we’ve talked about—is over.”
“It isn’t,” he said, stepping into your space, his presence momentarily drowning out the stress. “There’s more to life than a firm’s offer letter.”
That was the moment you realized he had stopped seeing your ambition as a shared path and started seeing it as an obstacle to the life he wanted to build.
The argument that ended it all didn't start with a bang. It started with a missed dinner. You had forgotten about an anniversary—or maybe you hadn't forgotten, you had just prioritized a review session. When you finally returned to his place, the lights were dimmed, and the tension was thick enough to choke on.
“I thought we were a team,” he said, not even looking up from his drink.
“We are. I’m just focused on the future, Hiromi! Why can’t you understand that?”
“Because your future doesn’t seem to include me unless I fit into your schedule, Y/N. You’re so obsessed with the law that you’ve become as cold and detached as the statues in the courthouse.”
“And you?” you fired back, your voice trembling with a sudden, violent rage. “You’re so busy playing the martyr for a broken justice system that you’re losing yourself! You judge everyone, including me, as if you’re sitting on a bench you haven’t earned yet.”
The silence that followed was louder than any shout. It was the sound of a bridge burning, beam by beam.
“Maybe that’s the problem,” he said, his voice terrifyingly calm, stripping you of your defenses. “We’re both playing roles. And I think I’m done playing yours.”
“Fine,” you said, the word feeling like glass in your throat. “If this is what you think of me, then there’s nothing left to say.”
You left that night, leaving your books, your pride, and a massive, gaping hole in your chest behind. You went home and threw yourself into your studies with a frantic, desperate energy, using the pain as fuel. You became the lawyer you promised yourself you’d be: sharp, successful, and entirely alone.
You didn't see him for years. You heard rumors, of course—Higuruma, the defense attorney who never lost, the man who treated the courtroom like a personal stage. You buried the memory of him, the memory of those nights in the library, the way his hand felt against your skin, and the way he looked at you before he decided you were just another piece of evidence to be discarded.
You became successful, you became respected, and yet, every time you walked into a courtroom, you were looking for him.
You spent those years convincing yourself that you had made the right choice. You had your career. You had your independence. You had everything except the only person who had ever truly challenged you. And as you stood there, years later, watching him adjust his tie on the opposite side of the courtroom, you realized that the anger hadn't faded at all.
It had just been waiting for an invitation to ignite.
The air in the courtroom was stagnant, thick with the scent of old paper, floor wax, and the metallic tang of mounting adrenaline. You stood at your lectern, your knuckles white as you clutched your files, feeling every muscle in your body coiled tight. Across the aisle, Hiromi looked like a predator in a bespoke suit. His posture was infuriatingly relaxed, his tie perfectly knotted, yet his eyes were tracking every microscopic flicker of your expression with a focus that felt like a physical weight against your skin.
You were mid-sentence, presenting your client’s testimony, your voice steady, professional, and meticulously rehearsed. You were winning, and you could feel the jury leaning in, hooked by your narrative. Then, he interrupted.
“Counselor,” Higuruma said, his voice low, measured, and dangerously calm. He didn’t stand; he simply leaned into his microphone, his gaze locked on yours with an unnerving, heavy stillness that seemed to draw the oxygen right out of the room. “Must we continue with this charade? I find myself wondering if you’re still relying on that same... academic fervor to mask the absence of a truly substantive foundation. It’s almost nostalgic, isn't it? It reminds me of those long, exhaustive nights where you would meticulously construct an entire reality just to ensure you held the final word, regardless of what the evidence actually dictated.”
The courtroom remained perfectly still, the judge narrowing his eyes, sensing an impropriety he couldn't quite name. To the gallery, he was simply a shark of an attorney mocking your legal strategy, calling you a pretentious lawyer who prioritized ego over facts. But to you, the words landed with the precision of a blow to the solar plexus.
"Constructing an entire reality." It wasn't about your legal brief. It was the exact, weaponized phrase he had used three years ago, the night he accused you of prioritizing your career over the life you were living together. He was dissecting your past right in front of the jury, using the sterile language of the law to peel back the layers of your breakup while masquerading as a concerned adversary.
Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that you struggled to hide. You slammed your folder onto the desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the silence.
“My preparation is not a topic for your revisionist history, Mister Higuruma,” you replied, your voice tight, keeping your tone professional for the record while your eyes flashed with a silent, murderous fury. “I suggest you refrain from speculating on my motives and focus on the discovery at hand.”
“Speculating?” He stood up slowly, a dark, dangerous smile playing on his lips, his eyes tracing the line of your jaw with a familiarity that made your skin prickle and your pulse race. “I thought we were merely discussing the integrity of the record. Or is the truth still a variable you’re uncomfortable with?”
The judge hammered his gavel, sensing the volatile, unspoken history vibrating between the two desks.
“Counsel! That is quite enough! If I hear one more personal remark masquerading as legal inquiry, I will hold you both in contempt! This court will take a fifteen-minute recess. Clear the room!”
You didn't wait for your client’s reaction. You gathered your things with shaking hands, your vision blurred by a volatile cocktail of rage and humiliation. You practically ran to the bathroom, throwing open the heavy door and rushing to the sink. You turned the tap on full blast, cupping cold water in your hands and splashing it over your face, trying to scrub the sting of his words out of your skin.
You stared at yourself in the mirror—flushed, wild-eyed, and utterly unraveling. When you turned to grab a paper towel, your breath hitched.
Hiromi was standing in the doorway. He hadn't bothered to knock.
He didn't move to touch you, but his presence alone filled the small room, stripping away the professional veneer of the courtroom. He leaned against the doorframe, his suit jacket discarded somewhere, his tie finally undone, his shirt collar slightly unbuttoned. He looked at you with a terrifying, hollow sort of hunger that suggested the courtroom had merely been the opening act of a much longer, darker performance.
“You look,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate register, “exactly like you did the night you walked out. Angry, defiant, and completely lost.”
“Get out, Mr. Higuruma,” you hissed, backing away until your hips hit the cold ceramic of the vanity. “This is a public restroom, not your personal office. You’ve already ruined the trial; do you want to lose your license, too?”
He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. The air between you felt thick, charged with years of unspoken resentment and suppressed desire. “I’ve missed this, Love,” he murmured, his voice laced with a dark, twisted fondness. “I’ve missed the way you look at me like you want to kill me and kiss me in the same breath. It’s the only time you’re actually being honest with me.”
You tried to push past him, but he caught your wrist, his grip firm, possessive, and electric.
“Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling as the proximity of him threatened to unravel the last of your resolve.
“Meet me at this address,” he said, his other hand pressing a folded, crumpled slip of paper into your palm. His thumb brushed against your pulse, his touch sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated electricity through your arm. “When this circus is finished, stop pretending you have somewhere else to go. Meet me there. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
He let go of your wrist as quickly as he’d grabbed it, leaving the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne hanging in the stale, sterile air. He walked out, leaving you reeling, the paper burning in your hand like a live coal.
When you returned to the courtroom, your mind was a chaotic blur. The recess felt like a lifetime of internal warfare. You stood at your desk, but your focus had evaporated. Every time you looked at the defense table, you saw him—not as a rival, but as the man who had just dismantled your composure with a single, knowing look.
Your next argument was disjointed. You hesitated, your tongue tripping over legal precedents you knew by heart. Higuruma saw the opening. He didn't just counter your points; he pulverized them, using your own distraction as a weapon, weaving in subtle jabs about "stability" and "choices" that only you understood.
“Objection, your Honor,” you stammered, your voice lacking its usual steel.
“Sustained,” the judge snapped, “but only because the defense’s line of questioning is becoming tedious. Counselor, get your act together or I will declare a mistrial.”
You looked at Higuruma and felt the sudden, violent urge to shatter the composure he wore like an impenetrable suit of armor.
You blurted out something you shouldn't have—a desperate, unprofessional accusation about his own ethics that finally snapped the judge's remaining patience.
“That is it!” the judge bellowed, slamming his gavel down. “I will not have this courtroom turned into a domestic squabble. Mistrial! Both of you, get out of my sight before I have you both removed by bailiffs!”
The gallery was a buzz of shocked whispers. You packed your bag with trembling, frantic motions. You didn't look at your client. You didn't look at the judge. You only looked at the door.
The drive to his apartment was a blur, your pulse drumming a frantic, syncopated rhythm against your skin as you replayed the cold, calculated look in his eyes over and over again. The address on the paper pulled at you like a magnet, a relentless command you were too weak to defy.
You kept telling yourself it was a catastrophic idea—that you should go home, pour a glass of wine, and block his number until the end of time—but instead, you found your car idling in front of his house. Stepping out, the walk to his door felt like walking toward the gallows; you were driven by a masochistic need for closure, or perhaps, something far more destructive.
The door swung open immediately, as if he’d been standing on the other side, waiting for the sound. He stood there, his blazer was gone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking like a man who had been counting the seconds since you left the restroom. He didn't say a word. He just stepped back, his eyes dark, sweeping over you with a look of raw, unchecked intent.
You stepped across the threshold, and the door clicked shut behind you, sealing you both in the heavy, pregnant silence of his apartment. The game was over. The trial was behind you. Now, there was only the two of you, the tension of three years of absence, and years of messy, unfinished business.
“You came,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze searching yours with a hunger that made your knees weak.
“I’m only here to tell you how much I despise you,” you countered, your heart hammering against your ribs. Your breath hitched as he closed the distance, backing you into the frame of the living room until the wall stopped your retreat.
He didn't pull away. Instead, he stepped into your space, his thumb pressing firmly against your lower lip. “Then,” he replied, his voice a low, taunting rumble, “you’re going to have a lot to say.”
His arrogance was the final spark. The restraint you’d been holding onto for the last three years snapped. You shoved his chest, putting enough distance between you to regain your footing, and began to pace his living room, your heels clicking sharply against the hardwood like rhythmic, angry punctuation. The words began to spill out of you—a frantic, unvarnished monologue of every secret, every tear, and every resentment you had kept buried since the day you left.
“You think you can just hand me a piece of paper and I’ll come running? You humiliated me in that courtroom, Hiromi! You’ve been using every tactic in the book to try and tear me down since the day I chose my career over our pathetic little ‘us.’ Do you have any idea how much I despise your arrogance? You’re so busy playing the martyr, so busy pretending the law is beneath you while you use it to dissect my life—!”
You were shouting now, your voice echoing off the sterile walls of his apartment, venting years of pent-up professional rivalry and personal heartbreak. He didn't interrupt. He just watched you, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable, until the sheer heat of your own words made you breathless.
“Are you finished?” he asked, his voice deathly quiet.
“No,” you choked out, your chest heaving, “I’m not even close to—”
He didn’t let you finish. He crossed the distance in two strides, his hand clamping around your nape to yank your mouth to his. The collision was brutal; your teeth clicked together, the sharp, metallic tang of blood blooming on your lip. You shoved him back, your palms flat against his chest, panting. You glared at him, eyes wide and defiant, and then, as if an invisible tether snapped, you threw yourself back at him.
You slammed him against the bookshelf, the wood groaning under the impact. A decorative vase shattered somewhere on the floor, but neither of you flinched. You were feral, teeth bared, hands clawing at his blazer until he hoisted you up by your thighs, your legs locking instantly around his waist. He plunged his tongue into your mouth, deep and invasive. You bit down on his bottom lip—hard—until he hissed, pulling back just an inch.
“Still so sharp, aren't you Love?” he growled, his voice vibrating against your skin.
“Eat shit, Hiromi,” you spat, dragging your tongue teasingly along his, then sucking it back into your own mouth, a taunting display of dominance before he pivoted, carrying you into the bedroom.
He tossed you onto the mattress like you were a piece of evidence. You scrambled back, watching him tear his shirt open. His chest, usually hidden behind stiff suits, was pale and corded with lean, roped muscle. His hair, stripped of its judicial perfection, was a dark, tangled mess, and the deep, violet-bruised hollows beneath his eyes spoke of nights spent just as sleepless and miserable as yours.
He caught your ankles, dragging you flat against the sheets. He kissed you with a starving intensity, his lips traveling lower, his hands tearing at your silk blouse. He popped the buttons, the black lace of your bra barely containing your heaving chest. He took one nipple between his teeth, worrying it until you let out a ragged, high-pitched moan that sounded like a surrender. He didn't stop until your skin was mapped with red marks, until he had shucked your pencil skirt and thong, tossing them into the dark corner of the room.
He climbed over you, his fingers working inside you with a ruthless, practiced ease. One digit, then two, stretching you, finding every sensitive nerve you had tried to deny him.
“Still tight,” he rasped, his gaze dropping to meet yours with a cruel, knowing smirk. “Too busy climbing the corporate ladder to let anyone else inside? Or did you just not find anyone capable of handling you?”
You bit his shoulder, drawing a faint line of red with your teeth. “Fuck you. Your arguments are all shit, and your ego is even worse. I hate that I’m here, I hate you, I hate how you—ah, God!”
He moved down, his face disappearing between your legs. He knew every map, every ridge, every secret twitch of your body. When his tongue flicked against your clit, you screamed, your fingers digging into the bedsheets. You tried to ramble more insults, to tell him how much you despised his smug, superior logic, but the words died in your throat, replaced by wet, desperate whimpers. He was relentless, grinding you into the mattress until you shattered, your body convulsing as you flooded his face.
He let out a low, dark laugh, wiping the wetness from his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes burning with a depraved triumph. “Look at you. Such a messy, pathetic girl. You couldn't hold it back for five minutes.”
He didn't wait. He shifted, his body looming over yours as he shoved into you, pinning your wrists above your head in a crushing mating press.
The friction was blistering, a frantic, rhythmic assault that left you breathless. Every time he thrust into you, he hit a nerve that made your vision white out. You were colliding against him, the sounds of your skin slapping together filling the room, punctuated by your frantic, gasping insults. "You're a bastard," you panted, arching into his touch, "an arrogant, self-righteous prick—ah, fuck, right there—don't you dare stop!" He grunted, his hips slamming into yours with more force, his gaze locked onto yours, challenging you to look away as he buried himself to the hilt, over and over, until the room was nothing but the sound of your combined, ragged breathing and the heat of your bodies.
He pushed you over the edge again, his thrusts deepening, his rhythm turning violent until you both peaked in a tangled, sobbing mess of limbs and sweat. He didn't pull away. He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, his weight pinning you to the mattress.
Minutes ticked by in the suffocating silence. He shifted finally, pulling the duvet over both of you, his forehead resting against yours. His hand traced the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing your swollen lip.
“I hate you,” you whispered, your voice wrecked and barely audible.
“I know,” he breathed, his voice thick with a sudden, uncharacteristic vulnerability as he closed his eyes, his grip tightening on your waist. “I love you, you idiot. I’ve loved you since the day you decided to prove me wrong.”
A massive thank you to @zaradiseee for this request! Writing the courtroom tension between these two was such a rush. I really hope you enjoy this one as much as I loved bringing it to life! (✿◠‿◠)
Likes are really appreciated and reblogs are what keep this blog alive. If you enjoyed this please consider sharing! (っ˘ω˘ς )♡
I hate when a man finds out that I like anime and asks me what anime I like because honey, you and I consume this specific piece of media very differently
you like it because of the action sequences and/or powerscaling
I'm either shipping your goats together or am spending my nights thinking about how I'm married to them with two kids
we are so not the same and it's better that you don't know that
I hate when a man finds out that I like anime and asks me what anime I like because honey, you and I consume this specific piece of media very differently
you like it because of the action sequences and/or powerscaling
I'm either shipping your goats together or am spending my nights thinking about how I'm married to them with two kids
we are so not the same and it's better that you don't know that
