♡⠀domesticity bundle, got a light three-pack.
warning: pure fluff and domestic life. nanami. sukuna. choso.
Cute rows of boxes. Jellies and sauces separated by size. Each grain in its own glass jar with a dark label.
You almost laugh when Kento, so careful, drops the bamboo lid of the rice jar and bends too quickly, hitting his head on the shelf. A low curse escapes with his usual calm, and he fixes everything back in place like he didn’t hurt himself.
𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜 is methodical, organized — but clumsy in a way that makes you want to squish the irritated face he does while rubbing his forehead.
You get close to your brown rice hero, squeezing his handsome cheeks between your warm hands.
“Next time, worry about yourself before caring for a simple lid.”
Nanami’s brows arch, but anything he could say about the morning arrangement disappears when you blow softly and kiss the little red mark on his forehead. It’s okay to let the routine wait — just for a little, it won’t hurt.
The loft’s usually untouched kitchen is alive with the scent of garlic and spices, making your hungry stomach twist and demand attention. With 𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗔 distracted by the seasonings, you try to steal a confit carrot — only to have your fingers swatted away with a dish towel.
Before you can scorch his ears with bratty complaints, he slides a deep plate across the industrial counter. You clap your hands at the presentation, though you poke at the rice with suspicion. What should have been creamy and truffled is somehow both burned and undercooked — a paradox of disaster — and your muttered suspicion of culinary poisoning comes out almost instinctively.
Ryomen, dressed in his new expensive leather apron, scoops up a spoonful and offers it, insisting nothing could be worse than the junk food you usually live on. That’s the only reason he’s even in cooking class: to make sure you eat properly. He tries to look impatient, indifferent — but you can see the way his red eyes shine with anticipation at every slow chew you make.
“Hmmm…” He leans in, ears pricked, while you draw it out on purpose, a sly smile playing at your lips. “It could be better.”
“Fine. Don’t eat then.” He growls, his offended expression absolutely priceless.
You laugh, but amusement quickly turns into a warning growl as he dares to pull your plate away like a king reclaiming tribute. No way in hell. That sticky rice and dry chicken are yours, end of story.
The smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon fills the apartment. Bathed in the bluish glow of the TV, 𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗢 glides through the shadows, his favorite mug — the one with the chipped llama on the rim — held between his fingers.
“Here’s a house special…” he mutters with a lazy corner smile, sliding in behind you; he likes it this way, your back pressed to his chest, letting him soak in your warmth and savor every slow breath.
“So, what exactly did your supervisor say again?” he asks, eyes fixed on the Asian romance drama you love to watch in your free time.
“Oh! Right!” you fidget, sipping the creamy treat with a happy sigh before continuing. “That delegating all the team’s reports to me is reasonable! Can you believe it? That’s his job, not mine.” Your huff is followed by a big, pouting whine.
“He deserves to bite his tongue while chewing, that’s what he deserves,” he declares, completely serious about it. Choso may have intended to help you plot a few karmic curses against that lazy jerk, but right now, all he can manage is stealing the little drop of chocolate from the corner of your soft mouth.
Across the city, your supervisor’s ear burns with the mental curses Kamo sends his way. Here, you’re in the arms of the only oppa that truly matters.
Synopsis: Toji, the TA, won't bump up your latest essay a couple marks, not with just some begging at least, so you try a different method:
good ol' pussy persuasion
Warnings: toji art by @/youKa.i on insta, smut, porn with a lil plot, nerd!toji, a couple years older than reader but both students, reader harasses him but don't save him he's right where he wants to be, some comedy aspect, college au, non curse au, f!reader, blowjob under the desk, unethical behaviour, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, briefest choking, sex against the window, pússy inspection, belly bulging, overstimulation, spitting, a little fisting I guess or almost, Toji's poor so this is canon compliant jkjk, creampie and unprotected sex, brief pussyjob, size kink/difference, hidden sex, not proofread
Word Count: 10.7k
“For the last time,” he drawls, “I’m not bumping you up a grade.”
You groan, pushing your legs to catch up to him faster.
“Come on, I need this. I’m not asking you to break the rules. All I want is for you to reread my essay and find extra marks, which you will!”
Toji Fushiguro is a tough nut to crack, though he doesn’t look it — one glance at him and one would think he’s a laidback TA. He’s the exact opposite; he takes his job a little too seriously.
For days now, you’d been hounding him, pleading with him and degrading yourself all for him to ‘remark’ your last paper and ‘coincidentally’ find a few extra marks that would push you to the top performing spot you’d been eyeing since forever. Each time you rushed into his office, waited for him after his classes, and followed him to his apartment, he’d shrugged you off with the same ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’ look in his eyes.
Rounding the corner, his long legs making no accommodations for your shorter ones, he says, “No. If you wanted better results, you should have put in a better performance. Surely you’re smart enough to work out that that’s how life works.”
Hands grab his arm, yanking back with all your strength only to be dragged along with him and his burly body. Your heels scrape along the floor. People stare. You don’t care. “Don’t be an asshole. You know my essay was good. It was really good. Just give it a read. A proper one, and not the rushed job you do because you’re overworked and underpaid.”
He stops.
Your face bumps into this back, forehead nearly bruised by the hardness.
His brows rise above his glasses as he fixes you a look. “Kid, your essay was good — decent introduction, clear structure, sufficient evidence — but it’s not good enough for the extra marks to push you into the top band. Your closing argument fell flat ‘cause of your wishy-washy writing style, you didn’t adequately humour the counter arguments and undermine them to strengthen your thesis, and, worst of all, you misspelt ‘complement.’”
A frown graces your features.
“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”
“No. With an I, it’s to flatter someone. With an E, it’s to enhance, pair well, or complete another thing.” Toji explains rather robotically, eyes still dead and voice monotone. “For example, if I said you’re a pretty girl, that’s a compliment. And if I said, your essay goes well with the trashcan over there, that’s a statement that suggests the two complement each other. See the difference?”
He’s already stalking off again, hands in his pockets, huge stature unwilling to accommodate the people walking down the hallway.
You break into a jog, panting embarrassingly by the time you reach him. “Dude, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’re basically friends. Can’t you do your best pal a solid?”
Toji glances down at you. He pushes a door open, holding it a second longer than he needed to. You follow behind him. Somewhat amused, he replies, “We know each other because we’re on the same course, not by choice. And I don’t know what you mean by the whole ‘we’ve gone through a lot together’ thing — the most dramatic thing we’ve faced is when the projector didn’t work and we had to go into a different hall. And we’re definitely not friends.”
Well, fuck, you’re running out of rope.
“Then, let’s officially be friends,” you offer, elbowing him gently. “If you ever need help, buddy, I’ll always have your back.” Then, in an act of complete desperation, you begin shakily singing, “You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. When the road looks tough ahead—”
A heavy hand shoves you away by your head. You stumble into a bulletin board.
“Enough,” he gruffs. “My day’s already fucked because the prof lost his papers and wants to blame me. I don’t need to lose my hearing on top of that.”
Your head flits around. “Did you guys see that?” People give you weird looks. “He just shoved me. The TA just shoved me. We need to protest his violent behaviour by demanding he remarks our papers. Who’s with me?”
Everyone walks past without another look at you.
Toji, on the other hand, lifts his glasses and runs a hand down his face. Muttering something under his breath, he pushes a door open and holds out a hand before you can mindlessly follow. “It’s the men’s bathroom. Tell me you’re not shameless and stupid enough to come in here.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
His eye twitches.
As though an idea comes to him, he straightens ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take a dump; you’ll be waiting a while.”
“That’s okay — I have no more classes so take your time but make sure you don’t stay sitting down longer than you need to,” you tell him, smiling innocently and standing aside to let a guy walk out, ignoring the freaked out face he makes at you. “You can get hemorrhoids."
He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.”
That seems to be as much of you he can tolerate because he walks in without another word to you. Opposite the door, you lean against the wall, whistling and coming up with alternative lines you can pull on him.
God, he’s so stubborn.
It’s not like giving you the marks docks his pay or lowers the professor’s opinion of him. He’s clearly just being an ass.
If he wasn’t such a good TA, a genuinely intelligent man, you would have gone above his head and asked for the prof’s personal assessment. But no, he has to be knowledgeable, a helpful source of information when you’re lost, someone who seems to know everything about any topic, who knows the exact pages of a textbook you should read to further your understanding, and who’s never declined a meeting for clarification on something you wrote.
For years now, you two have had a friendship-like relationship, often sharing snacks and exchanging brief words before or after lectures and classes, despite what he says.
Everyone gets along with him, though you’ve never actually seen him hang out with friends or go to parties. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Word on the street is he works part time in a couple different places. Some say so he can afford drugs, some for tuition.
The rumours never interested you, apart from any that mused about his love life, which seems to be nonexistent except for the many girls who hit on him. Not that you’re especially interested.
It’s just fun to be in the know.
Who knows how long has passed since he went in there. Your phone says fifteen minutes. Is that a normal amount of time for someone to be taking a dump?
Hesitantly, you push the door open and yell out, “Fushiguro? You doing okay? Is it stuck? For a couple extra marks, I’ll give you a hand.”
No one replies.
Brows furrowing, you bend down, looking through the stalls. No feet. What the hell?
Ahead, a window is ajar. Big enough for a man to squeeze through. Well isn’t that convenient? The kind of convenient that exists only in fiction.
Aggrieved and feeling bamboozled, you stomp back to your dorm room, slamming the door, jumping face down on the bed and screaming into the pillows. You’d feel better if you knew he had a grudge on you, if you bumped into him the first day and spilled his coffee all over himself and he’d never forgotten it. Instead, he’s just like that: does things by the book, does his job well, and achieves the best grades with ease.
Naturally, he’d become the professor’s assistant, a coveted position that seemed like it was made for him from the very beginning, and made your life a living hell because he won’t ever make concessions for you.
Sure, you shouldn’t ask him to, but it’s not like you’re asking for much. You’re generally a high performing student — punctual, hard working, ambitious — but you had one bad day which resulted in one bad essay and it lowered your average and now the internship you’d been eyeing could be snatched from your hands in a blink of an eye.
“It’s just not fair,” you cry out to your teddy bear. “It’s three marks. Three! Would it kill him to reread my essay and find those three marks?”
Mr. Teddy stares back at you and says, “He’s a grumpy man. Don’t take it personally.”
You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.
“Teddy…you’re right. He is a grumpy man, a TA with broad shoulders, yummy arms, and thick thighs with a bubble butt, but a man nonetheless. If he won’t pull favours for me, student to student, maybe he’ll pull favours for me man to woman.”
The plushie falls to the bed as you stand, staring at yourself in the mirror and formulating a plan.
With that you decide to seek him out the next day, sporting a new outfit and a different attitude.
.
.
.
“Hi.”
“Fuck off.”
The cafeteria’s busy. It always is. It’s loud enough that most people wouldn’t even hear the exchange — chairs banging on tile, trays clattering, someone laughing too loudly at a table nearby.
Toji’s hunched slightly over a bowl of udon noodles, chopsticks moving lazily as he slurps them down. Some sports clip plays on his phone, propped against his dented metal water bottle. Commentators yell about something you don’t understand. His sleeves are pushed up over his forearms, revealing ropey muscle and the faint silvery line of an old scar running across his wrist.
An old hoodie hangs off his shoulders over a plain white T-shirt. Distressed jeans, worn sneakers. He’s too big for the plastic chair, long legs spread under the table. When he saw you approach, his feet had hooked onto the chair legs, forcing you to fight to remove it from his clutches so you could take a seat.
So damn rude.
His glasses have fogged slightly from the steam of the noodles.
He doesn’t look up. But he knows it’s you. You can tell by the way his mouth tightens for half a second before he goes back to eating.
You snatch his phone away. His green eyes flick up, annoyed. You smile, arms pushing your breasts together so they spill over your tight top. Toji’s gaze doesn’t waver. He continues to stare at you like you’re a pest.
“You can’t take no for an answer?” he asks though it’s not a question at all. “Might want to retake the consent course.”
Manicured fingers walk up his bare forearm before scratching down from his elbow. His skin is warm. Light dusting of hair tickling your fingertips. “Oh, Toj, have I ever told you how handsome you are? Because you really are. You’re so damn hot I can hardly focus on the lectures.”
He snorts, still eating his noodles and still refusing to look at your cleavage. “That’ll explain why you’re missing marks.”
Jaw dropping, you force yourself to recover quickly. A heeled foot brushes against his calf, sliding his jeans up. You bat your lashes, sultrily saying, “The only thing I’m missing is your cock in me, big boy.”
Toji meets your eyes again. His scarred lips twitch. “I don’t need to tell you that was bad, do I?”
You cringe, foot dropping and whole body slumping back into the chair. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.” Then you sit up, handing him his phone, and asks, “Are the noodles good? I’ve never had them.”
Phone pocketed, he shrugs. “They’re just the cheapest deal on the menu. Growing girl like you should get something more filling.”
The menu’s extensive, and the only thing sticking out to you is the chicken burger and chicken tenders meal deal. It seems to be especially popular today but you’re not sure you can finish the whole thing.
“Hey, if I get the Meal Super Cluck Blaster, will you share it with me? I’ve got dinner plans later so I don’t want to fill up.”
That finally gets a reaction. Toji leans back a little and gives you a slow once-over. Tight top. Lacy bra peeking up. Glossy lips. More jewellery than usual. His eyebrow lifts. “That why you’re dressed like a hooker?” he asks lazily. “Hot date?”
“Nah,” you reply, waving him off. “Wore this for yo— Wait.” You lean forward, staring at him wide eyed. “Are you jealous? Are you in love with me already? Because for extra marks, I’ll cancel my dinner plans and promise myself to you for all eternity.”
Toji rolls his eyes. “Go get something to eat; you sound insane.”
You hop up. “Okay, but stay there, alright? Take my burger because I only want the tenders. Oh, and will you share a pot of cheesecake with me? I’m lactose-intolerant but I really want cheesecake right now.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He’s still here when you come back.
As soon as you hand him the wrapped up burger, he scarfs it down the way big men do, like they haven’t eaten in days. You push him the tenders too. You’d actually gotten a double serving of everything so you have your own portion of tenders and he gets to eat another burger. There’s no way a man his size could survive on udon noodles.
“Also, let’s not act like you didn’t leave me hanging outside the men’s bathroom yesterday,” you bring up after sipping your juice. “Can’t believe you left through the bathroom window just so you could get away from me.”
“I didn’t,” he says, mouth full and adjusting his glasses.
You frown, dipping a piece of chicken in hot honey. “No, you definitely did. I peeked and there were no feet in any of the stalls. Unless you’re telling me you can grow invisible.”
“Just lifted my legs when I heard you come in, which I knew your crazy ass would do, so I could finally leave in peace. Didn’t think it’d take you fifteen minutes though.”
A laugh escapes you. “You were waiting me out? Does that sound like the mature thing to do? Jeez, you need to act your age.”
Toji’s eyes meet yours. Your smile falters for the briefest second. “I’m not that much older than you,” he reminds you. “Only by two years.”
“And yet you call me kid or kiddo,” you retort, clearing your throat. Have his eyes always been that green and deep? And is his voice usually that husky and masculine? Because you could have sworn guys your age don’t sound like that.
He shrugs again, second burger finished in a blink of an eye. “Never hurts to remind yourself.”
“Remind yourself what?”
The legs of his chair screech as he pushes it back. He stands, picking up his tray, and answers, “Forget about it. Enjoy your dinner plans. And I’m taking the cheesecake — no one wants a gassy date.”
“Wait,” you call out before he can turn away. “My marks?”
A pat on the head ruffles your hair.
“Still a no, kid.”
.
.
.
“What if I suck your dick?”
Toji lifts his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got a ton of papers to grade for another class; I don’t have time for you.”
The door shuts behind you. His office is bare, not a single decoration littering the place, not a plant nor a picture.
His office is exactly how you remember it — disappointingly, aggressively empty. The walls are a dull institutional beige that makes the overhead fluorescent light feel even harsher. No posters. No photos. Not even a sad little plant struggling for life in the corner.
Just a desk. A filing cabinet. Two chairs that look like they were stolen from a waiting room. It’s the kind of office someone occupies temporarily, like he expects to leave at any moment and doesn’t see the point in settling in.
Leaning against the desk anyway, your fingers drum lazily along the edge.
You’ve been here before: once to argue about a paper he’d shredded with red ink, once because you’d missed an exam and needed him to sign a form, and once because you’d sworn you heard him swearing loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.
You grip his shoulder, squeezing as you scan the fat stack of papers on his desk — the prof’s particular about handwritten essays. There’s so much to read through; you do not want to be him.
“God,” you mutter, flipping through a few pages of the stack. “There’s like fifty here.”
“Seventy-two,” Toji corrects without looking up. His handwriting is sharp and aggressive, red ink slashing through entire paragraphs like he’s committing academic murder. You wince in sympathy for whoever wrote the paper currently being dismantled.
“Good thing you can multitask, can’t you? I’ll suck your dick under the desk, you grade papers, and you bump me up a grade. Easy.”
He shrugs you off, hulking body hunched over and pen scratching on the papers, leaving harsh circles and comments like, ‘what the hell does this mean?’ and ‘you can’t just say perchance.’
Toji gruffs, “I’m serious. Take your jokes elsewhere.”
Nah, you think to yourself.
With a massive struggle against his weight, you yank his chair back, wheeling him a distance from the desk and clambering under before he can fill the space again. He makes some noise above you but you pay him no mind. Your hands rest on his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, marvelling at the density, at the strength you find in them.
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” His foot nudges your knee. “Get the fuck out. I’ll cropdust you if I have to.”
You call his bluff by clutching his clothed cock. He jolts, grunting. Laughing softly, you muse, “You say all that but you have a semi already — did my proposition get you hard, Toji?”
You’re rubbing his hard on, trying not to get flustered by how big he feels, and how fat the girth is. Of course he’s big. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’s a big man so naturally the proportions will match up.
“Suck my dick, don’t suck my dick, it doesn’t matter,” he says, sighing and probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting those marks.”
He thinks that’ll stave you off because he knows you’re whoring yourself out for a grade. What he doesn’t know is that your stupid little brain’s already forgotten about all of that the moment you felt his cock. Now all you can think about is how you’ll have to stretch your lips nice and wide to take him in, and even then, even when your throat is lax and loose, you won’t be able to take him to the base.
Toji grunts again, peering down at you. “You mouthing at my dick? Did’ya not hear what I said?”
Like you’ve been possessed, you press kisses to where his tip is, humming around it. “I heard, but your dick’s saying other things to me, and I know which I prefer to listen to.”
“My dick’s not marking your paper, so get the fuck up,” he growls.
“Don’t wanna.”
“You’re fucking killing me here.”
A heavy hand bundles your hair up, pulling but you fight against it, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints. His boxers have a hole, and yet you only find it endearing. Freeing his cock so it bounces up and smacks your cheek, it leaves a wet mark on your skin.
Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin.
Oh fuck, he really is big.
With nothing between you and his dick, you can see him in all his glory in the partial shadow of under his desk — long, thick, flushed red, already shiny at the slit, veiny as hell, hairs at the base wild and unruly, with weighty balls to match. You’ve never seen anything better.
Tongue out, you lick him from base to tip, prodding at his frenulum.
“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth.
You moan wantonly, already addicted to the salt on his kin, to the texture of his veins, to the softness of his cockhead. “Toji, you’re so big. I don’t think this’ll fit inside me.”
The thing throbs, bobbing. A droplet oozes out and you quickly lick it up. The hand that was pulling your hair has grown slack, simply resting on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping the wood.
Voice hoarse, he mutters, “If anyone can make it fit, it’ll be your stubborn ass.”
Your eyes meet his from under the desk, mischief sparkling in them you’re sure. His cock throbs again. “I thought you had papers to mark, Fushiguro. Maybe you should get on that, no?”
A calloused thumb presses down on your lips, shushing you. It slides down, bringing your bottom lip down with it, before releasing it so it’ll bounce back in place. That same thumb holds your jaw open, hand guiding your mouth to his tip. You know what he wants. You also know that he knows that you both know that you won this time.
Wide as you can, you take as much of his length as possible. You don’t get much further than a third of the way, full beyond belief and overwhelmed by just how much of him there still is. Your nails dig into his thighs.
“If this is supposed to convince me to give you extra marks, then you’re failing real hard, doll,” he notes, gripping the base. “Can barely fit the head, can you?”
He’s acting like it’s your fault he’s so big.
Challenged, you loosen your throat to take him an inch deeper. You gag around the length. Toji curses under his breath. “Careful,” he mutters. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
You ignore him in favour of shallowly bobbing, sucking and licking what you can, as though he’s a lollipop. It’s actually kinda fun.
The familiar sound of pen scratching on paper and paper rubbing on paper echoes in the relatively quiet office. Only the wet sounds of your mouth sucking his cockhead pierces the silence.
Growing more and more used to his size, you flick your tongue around the head, letting your hands wrap around the rest of him, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth. Occasionally, he makes a couple breathy noises — low grunts when your tongue laps up his tip, gravelly groans when you hollow your cheek to suck, and rough exhales through his nose when you grip his balls, massaging them, thumb rubbing the seam.
It becomes easier to forget why you were here in the first place; you’re just blowing him for your own entertainment now, wanting something to occupy your throat.
Then, he asks, as though he’s making casual conversation, “How was the date?”
“Hmm?”
Toji rolls his eyes. “The date,” he repeats. “How was it? He pay for the meal? Open doors, see you to your door, kiss you goodnight and shit?”
Your lips stretch into a smile. You release him with a pop! “I didn’t go on a date,” you tell him. “My friends hosted a housewarming party because they moved in together. I had a great time, thanks for asking.”
Is he pleased? Unaffected? Genuinely just making conversation? Hard to tell, except for the pushing of his hand, urging you back to his dick, and taking him further inside your throat, till his tip bumps the back of the gummy walls.
“Good,” he exhales out, thighs flexing around your body. “That’s real good.”
“My blowjob skills or that I had a great time?” you ask, words muffled and barely understandable.
“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”
A knock on the door has you both stiffening. Toji glares down at you and whispers, “It’s the prof. Do not make a sound.”
He didn’t need to tell you that — you’re well aware that if you get caught, you’ll both face disciplinary action, and will likely be kicked out of the university. That’s worse than not getting the internship.
The office falls quiet so suddenly you can hear the ticking of the wall clock. Toji’s hand tightens briefly against the desk as the knock comes again. “Come in,” he calls, voice steady.
The door opens before he even finishes the word.
“Ah, Fushiguro, there you are,” the professor says, stepping inside with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d left already.”
From your position under the desk, you can only see shoes. Polished leather. Slow steps across the floor. You don’t slide his cock out of your throat, lest it makes a sloppy noise that’ll give you both away. So you breathe through your nose, being very, very quiet.
“No, I was just finishing up some grading,” Toji replies, cool as a cucumber.
His tone is annoyingly normal. Completely unbothered. He’s really convincing. Has he done this before? Is this a normal occurrence? Do a lot of girls offer to blow him for better marks, and does he take them up on it? Are you the one exception to his generosity?
“Good, good.” Papers shuffle. A chair creaks as the professor sits across from the desk. “I actually wanted to ask about the research methods essays.”
Of course he did.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
Toji shifts slightly above you — just enough that the movement brushes your shoulder — and then he leans back in his chair. “Yeah?” he says.
“I noticed something odd in the submissions this year,” the professor continues. “Half the class seems to misunderstand the section on sampling bias.”
He hums thoughtfully. “You mean where they’re supposed to explain the limitations of convenience sampling?”
“Exactly.”
A sheet of paper slides across the desk.
“You see this one here—”
From below, you hear Toji pick it up.
“—they describe the method correctly, but their conclusion contradicts their own analysis.”
There’s a pause whilst the TA reads. You stare at the underside of the desk and try not to shift your knees. God, this is like torture. Having a cock lodged in your throat and not being able to do anything with it is hell. Above the desk, they’re chatting away, talking about your fellow students, with the professor none the wiser that one such student’s under the desk.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “They’re treating correlation like it proves causation.”
“Precisely!” the professor says, sounding delighted. “It’s surprisingly common.” Another pause. You hear a pen tap the desk twice. “I was thinking next year we might restructure the lecture slightly,” the professor continues. “Maybe introduce a short case study before the assignment.”
“Could work,” Toji replies. “Give them something concrete, tangible, to analyse.”
Your legs are starting to cramp. Your lips tighten around his hot cock. Toji brushes your hair back from your face, a quiet act to show he hasn’t forgotten about you. The professor keeps talking, completely unaware.
“Also,” he says, shuffling more papers, “the literature review sections were stronger this year.”
“Mm.”
“I suspect the workshop helped.”
Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.
“You handled that well, by the way,” the professor adds. “The students seem to respond to your feedback.”
This is way too boring, you decide. In an act you might end up regretting for the rest of your life, your offended tongue prods his tip where he’s still leaking salty precum.
He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood.
The professor asks him if he’s alright, and Toji replies, “Fine. Sorry. Just had a cramp.”
A triumphant smile pulls at your lips, which is quickly wiped away by the sudden pinch at your cheek. You wince, unable to smack him in retaliation.
A sigh fills the room. “I fear you work too hard, Fushiguro. You ought to take a break here and there. Do something fun and wild, or whatever it is people your age do nowadays.”
“I am having fun,” Toji says, hand coming back to rest on your head, growing heavier and heavier until you’re forced to take him inside your mouth, deeper and deeper. “In my own way.”
He’s filling you up more than he was before, now more insistent, no longer so passive. You’re struggling to take him but he’s not letting up. Fuck, you’re soaked between the legs. Who knew you had an oral fixation?
“Well, good,” the professor says. He pushes his chair back. Your heart jumps in joy. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know those papers won’t mark themselves. Boy do I not envy you.” He laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too, Professor.”
Footsteps move toward the door. The handle turns. The door opens. Closes. Silence. Two seconds pass.
Then Toji peers down, licking his scarred lips, and mutters under his breath, “You needy fucking girl. Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t resist not being a pain my fucking ass. If you want cock so badly, then here you go.”
His hips thrust up, hand keeping you in place. Your eyes fly open, throat stretching to take all of him in. Oh, he was as pent up, as frustrated, as you were. The force in which he’s rutting inside your throat displays that nice and clear.
“You’ll do anything for a good grade, won’t you? Even debase yourself like this. God, you drive me crazy.”
You gag around his cock but he doesn’t pay any mind to that. No, Toji’s just rutting inside your mouth over and over again, grunting louder and louder now.
Meanwhile, your hand seeks out the heat between your legs. You grind against the heel of your palm, moaning around his length. The vibration has his balls tightening up.
“Fuck!”
Hot cum bursts inside, coating the walls of your throat and your tongue.
Toji leans back in his chair, which creaks. You pull him out, coughing at the salty burn. Damn, even his loads are big. It’s like a cream puff exploded inside your mouth.
Hands carry you up, sitting you on his thigh. One rubs your back in circles, the other wipes away the tears at your eyes, licking at the wetness he’s collected on his thumb. “You good, kid?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“Yeah,” you respond, voice hoarse and not fooling anyone. “I’m good.”
You take a sip of his water from his water bottle, not caring about the fact that you’re drinking from where he had been, and if he cared that your mouth which had been sucking on his dick and cum is on his cup, he didn’t say.
He sighs, tucking himself back in and says, “Come by my place tonight. Hand me your essay again and I’ll reread it. But I’m not making any promises about finding extra marks, alright? It’s just a second chance, and the only one you’ll get.”
Dopily, you smile at him. “Throat game that good, huh?”
His lips twitch. He shoves you away, smacking your ass as you walk away.
“I’ll text you the time and place. Don’t be late.”
Nodding, you head for the door, not leaving however till you ask, “Should I wear matching underwear, or is this a strictly keep your clothes on meeting?”
“Fuck off before I regret it.”
“Lacy thong it is!”
.
.
.
“Should I spread my legs now or do you want me to fluff you first?”
Toji’s deadpan face meets you when he opens the door. He sighs as though he’s regretting this already. Regardless, he lets you in.
You can tell he showered recently — there’s the scent of cheap soap lingering on his skin and his hair is still a little damp.
His apartment is nice and clean, which surprises you somewhat. Most guys your age tend to be messy. But you should have known the TA would be neat and organised.
“I’m serious,” you begin, snuggling up to his side and batting your lashes up at him, “what position do you want me? I’m not the most flexible but I’m not too bad.”
Shaking you off, he pushes you in the direction of the living room where the coffee table is covered with carefully laid out papers he no doubt carried from campus to continue working on. “Go sit down, you horny gremlin. Make some room for your essay and let’s get this over with.”
You do as he says, folding your legs so you can sit by the coffee table on the rug. You take the essay out of your bag, shoving all the others to the side. With a frown, you ask, “So we’re really not fucking?”
He folds himself down too, sitting beside you, knee brushing yours. “I don’t solicit sex in exchange for academic favours. Dunno why you’re so surprised by that — can’t recall having done anything to make you think otherwise.”
“Well, you did give in after I blew you, so…”
“I was gonna offer before you did all that,” he informs you, snorting. “Just never promised to give you the marks.”
Toji adjusts his glasses, taking your papers and starting his reassessment of it. His lips purses, brows furrows, and he stares at the thing like it could tell him the answers to the universe. That or it’s so bad he just can’t fathom what you were thinking.
“Second paragraph, third line, why the hell is it so convoluted?” he asks, voice returning to that grumpy tone you’re more than familiar with now.
It’s the latter, it would seem. He really meant business. You shaved and everything for nothing. What a shame.
Leaning over, you rest your head on his big bicep, and, with a pout, reply, “I thought it sounded smart; I was pretty proud of that line actually.”
“No, doll,” Toji says, sighing. “The simpler the better. Don’t purposefully complicate your syntax. Only do what’s necessary to get the point across. If I, an expert in this topic, can barely understand what you mean, how is the ordinary person supposed to?”
“Yeah, okay. Simple is better, I get it.”
He continues reading, red pen in hand and making annotations as he goes. Meanwhile, you’re worming your way into his lap: one hand resting on his thigh at first, then a leg thrown over his. He notices what you’re doing — there’s no way he doesn’t know — but he doesn’t put up a fight. Eventually, you’re sitting in his lap, his chin resting on your head, and his arms caging you in.
Toji’s warm. He’s comfy to rest on despite all the muscles. Closer now, his soapy scent envelops you. It goes straight to your head. You find yourself squirming.
“Keep still,” he reprimands, underlining a phrase twice for emphasis. “You can’t just use jargon if you’re not going to explain it. It’s bad practice.”
“Got it.” Fiddling with his spare hand, running your fingers down his and over his palm, you ask, “Are academics supposed to have calluses?”
“They bother you or something?”
“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”
He hums. “I do odd jobs here and there, some more manual than others so yeah I built up some calluses.” Without missing a beat, he pivots the topic. “Tell me again what the difference is between compliment and complement.”
You bring that hand up to your breast, imploring him to grope your tits as you reply, “With an I is to praise someone or something, and with an e is to say something matches well with another.”
A moan escapes your lips when he squeezes in approval. Toji mutters, “Good girl. Guess you do listen to me.” Thumb brushing your hardened nipple through the thin material of your top, you squirm in his lap. His lips move against the top of your head. “No bra?”
“I figured you were going to take it off me anyway so I didn’t bother,” you say, still pressing his hand to your tit, riding the motions of every grope and flick of your nipple.
Another hum.
Slowly, you guide that hand down lower. He must know what you’re doing, where you want it to end up, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand or put up any resistance; he’s curious to see how far you’re willing to go. And you’re curious to see how much restraint he has, how long he can hold out before his façade of nonchalance breaks and he’s fucking up inside you.
You tease yourself, and him, first — his fingers, with your guidance, tease your bare thighs, following the hem of your tight skirt. Growing breathless, you ask, “What kind of odd jobs do you do?”
Toji’s calluses tickle the sensitive skin in your inner thighs just right. He’s still marking your paper, occasionally fact-checking your ideas and his theories in a textbook on the table. Amused, he retorts, “You curious about me, doll?”
“Hmm, I want to know exactly whose cock will be stretching me out in a minute.”
He snorts, patting your clothed pussy. You jolt with every impact. “I tutor on the side. Fix up some cars in the garage in town. I’m a physical trainer for three clients at the local gym too. And when I’m low on money, I sell risqué pictures of myself. That disgust you?”
All while he answers, Toji’s blunt nails scrape your slit through your panties. He’s not applying much pressure at all, if any, and yet every skim, every travel up and down has goosebumps rising on your skin.
“N-no,” you answer quickly. “I think that’s really cool. If I had a body like yours, I’d take pictures all the time too.”
His laughter rumbles in his chest. An odd sense of pride warms your own. He says, “Your body’s more than good enough to sell too, you know. Don’t act like you don’t know guys give you double takes all the time, or that your ass could stop traffic.”
Giggling, you lean back, gazing up at him with a smile. “Do you stare at my ass sometimes, Toji?”
God, you’re soaked. You can tell, though you’re not embarrassed whatsoever. If anything, you’re just itching for him to pull your panties to the side and touch you skin to skin, to plunge inside your pussy and make a mess out of you.
“Tell me where you can, and should, insert a semi-colon in paragraph six, and I’ll give you an honest answer.”
He nudges you with his chin. “Go on. Quit thinking with your pussy and give me the right answer.” A little aggrieved, you sit up straight, holding his wrist to keep his hand between your legs. Your eyes scan the section. Tentatively, you point to a full stop on the second line. Toji shakes his head and smacks your clothed pussy again. “Try again, and don’t guess.”
“Here,” you snarl, feeling way past pent up. “Now give me my reward.”
Toji huffs. “Semi-colons help for varying sentence structures. It’s in the little ways you can convey your points compellingly. Don’t underutilise the right punctuations.”
“Yeah, yeah, smarty pants. Rub my clit and answer my question already.”
Cool air brushes against your swollen, glistening lips. You sigh when his warm hand covers the entire slit barely a second later. His middle fingers are instantly coated in your wetness. He groans. “Fuck, doll, you’re dripping.” Toji doesn’t give you a moment to respond to that; his fingers rub at your throbbing clit in tight circles, drawing it out of his hood. You moan, back arching.
Finally, he answers, “I stare at your ass all the fucking time after I glare at the losers whose eyes wander from their laptop screens . I’m a big, fucking hypocrite — that what you wanna hear?”
“Fuck yes!”
Rustling of paper reaches your ears. Then two hands are on you: one furiously rubbing the bundle of nerves and the other gripping your throat. He squeezes threateningly. Your vision spots, jaw dropping. “Look at you, all desperate to have my cock inside you. And for what? For a couple marks? You’re not ashamed?”
Your ass is grinding back on his boner, sandwiching the hard thing between your cheeks as your own answer. How could you be ashamed when he wants you so bad too?
“I’m horny! Are you gonna fuck me or not?”
In a split second, you find your world spinning. Your back falls on something hard. You’re staring up at the ceiling, papers scattered beneath you. Rough hands tug you down by your thighs. When you peer down, Toji’s staring up at you from between your lips.
“Yeah, I’m fucking you. You already knew I was gonna. You gonna let me taste your pussy first?” A challenging brow quirks up, like he’s waiting for you to push him away.
Instead, your legs hook over his shoulders, ankles crossed. You grin at him.
Panties pulled to the side, his fingers spread your pussy for him. Those eyes scan every inch. He releases a shaky breath, cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even your pussy’s pretty. Fucking gorgeous.” Running a hand through his hair, he says, “You’re always such a pain, aren’t you?”
“I can’t help that every part of me’s pretty,” you reply, twirling your hair.
“Shut up and play with your tits — I like a show with my dinner.” Toji spits a fat dollop right on your clit. It slides down your slit but before it can disappear in the crevice of your ass, his tongue is collecting it and shoving it inside your cunt.
You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”
In spite of his aggressive tone, you pull down your top, letting your tits bounce out. Those eyes follow every jiggle. “Good girl,” he rasps. “Squeeze them for me nice and hard. Good. Real fucking good.”
His glasses are foggy now with your own humidity, rattling with every movement. He’s eating your pussy out like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything better, like he’s going to make sure not a single trace of you can be found in his apartment after he’s done with you.
Growling, he spread your thighs wider. “Course you’ve got a sweet pussy,” he says, brows furrowing in what appears to be anger. “Course it’s sweeter than that fucking cheesecake. Course I’ll be craving you till I die.”
Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging for purchase. “Ngh, Toji, my clit…suck my clit!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Those scarred lips, the very ones you’ve stared at more times than you can count, wrap around your clit, sucking hard the way you did when you were blowing him under the desk. Electricity sparks inside, sending tremors up from your lower belly to your tits to the very tips of your fingers. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.”
Filthy squelches are being wrung out of you, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, addicted to how responsive your body is to him.
Two fingers worm their way through your pulsing hole, basking in the rough textures of your entrance, stretching your gummy walls on their way to curling against that spot that has you oozing more cum out.
“You’re fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re gonna struggle taking all of me later.” Then he barks a laugh, spare hand pressing down on your belly where the pressure builds up. Your toes curl. “A better man would take pity on you, go slow or wait another day, but I’ve already had my tongue inside your cunt so I’ll spare you the gentleman act.”
More fingers shove in, ignoring the screech that you let out. You’ve never had more than two and yet all four of his thicker, longer fingers are inside pushing your walls to their very limits.
Despite that, he remarks, entertained by the shock on your face which he studies through his glasses, “Suck it up, buttercup — my cock’s thicker than this, you know that.”
You do.
It’s all you’ve been thinking about all day. Hours after, your jaw’s still stretched out, sore and creaking after the workout you put it through. The thought of having something even thicker, longer than his four fingers has you growing dizzy, head handing over the coffee table.
“Yeah, my cock can’t wait to feel you too,” Toji says, not to you but to your pussy which is squelching lewdly and loudly. “Had to resist jerking my dick raw all day so you better make it good for me.”
Is it seconds later, or minutes, maybe hours, when you cum?
How ever long it is no one can deny it’s the strongest orgasm of your life.
Your entire body trembles, spasming beyond control. Are you screaming or silently moaning? Are your eyes shut or have you gone blind? And is he still pistoning his fingers inside you, damn near pushing all of his hand in?
“Stop,” you cry out. “No more, please!”
Mercifully, he yanks his hand out. Unfortunately, it leaves you feeling so empty you immediately crave the feeling of his hand gripping you from inside.
Lips and chin glistening, he kisses both inner thighs, which tremble.
Toji gathers you with one arm, showing off his strength as he carries you off the table and to the glass door which leads out to the balcony. It’s dark out and all you can see are the lights of people’s rooms in the apartment across. There are families lounging, dogs sleeping, TV’s blaring.
Behind you, you hear the rustling of his shirt as he throws it off carelessly. Bare skin grazes your own soon after his hands make quick work of the clothes you’re still wearing. In a flash, you’re naked. He bends down to pick up your fallen panties, inhaling the gusset deeply. Your legs cross tightly at the deeply satisfied groan he lets out.
“Next office hour,” he starts, lazily spreading your pussy lips and smearing your juices around so he can listen to the squelches and keep your squirming, “you better leave your panties with me. Consider it payment.”
You laugh. “Sure.”
Groggily, you try to keep your head up, wondering what you’re doing by the window, still a little out of it. A hand clutches your jaw, aiding you.
“I’m gonna fuck you against this window,” he announces, leaving no room for arguments. “You want those extra marks? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock like a champ.”
Ass gyrating back against the hot, heavy thing still confined in sweatpants, you wonder, “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”
He lets go of you. You have to catch yourself by pressing your palms to the cold glass. Toji drags your hips back, foot kicking your legs apart. His cock plops onto your ass, scalding. “No, I have a ‘get my time’s worth from shameless women who waste my time with demands for better grades by humiliating them’ kink.”
“Sounds long. We should get that shortened,” you drawl.
His cockhead slides through your pussy, coating itself in your wetness. The fat thing bumps against your clit. You shudder.
Satisfied with your natural lubrication, he prods your entrance. “Yeah, we should. Let’s call it, Shut The Fuck Up And Take It.”
Then he enters you in one go.
You scream.
The window fogs up with your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.
You’re taking so much of his length so quickly that it should be painful. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of pain, not one you didn’t like at least — only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled up is resonating.
Toji grunts. “Almost had to fist this cunt and you’re -hah fuck- still too tight.”
Pummelling his cock in, his hips don’t pause for a second. You gasp for breath, palms slipping and sliding on the condensation that’s built up on the glass. It’s like you can feel him in your lungs, so impossibly deep, so hot, so intimidating.
“God, it should be a crime to have a body like this,” he says, hands groping every part of your flesh he can reach. He slaps your ass to watch it jiggle for him. He’s an ass man, that much is clear.
The force of his thrusting has you pushed closer to the glass, so close now that almost your entire front is flush with the surface. The coldness grazes your nipples. You moan.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
He tugs you back to him, body sliding down the glass till your ass is jutted out. Toji carries your hips up so you can reach him, but it means your toes are only brushing the floor. You cling to the glass door as much as you can. Through the glossy haze, you see the marks you left on the glass, from the oils and sweat on your skin. You see the outline of your tits, all round and fat, the handprints you left and the smearing of them all over the place because you couldn’t grapple with one position to have them in.
Are people watching? Are you flashing a poor old man, are you reigniting a sexual appetite in a pitiful divorcee, making a housewife jealous, creating fantasies for some guy your age? Are people rubbing one out to the flashes of ecstasy on your face, to the swaying of your tits, to the rippling of your ass?
Toji’s fingers creep under you, furiously teasing your clit. You whine. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”
“Go on, gorgeous,” he rasps. “Lemme feel you cum around my cock. Make my dreams come true.”
Two fingers gather the cream that’s formed a ring at his base. He draws three letters on the glass for you to stare at. It spells out c u m.
God, he’s dirty.
Another orgasm ripples through you. Your thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Toji!”
He growls out, hands tightening their grip on your hips, threatening to bruise, “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum early.”
Without waiting for you to come down from your high, he flips you around. Your back thuds against the door. His cock reenters you in a clean, easy slide, cunt beyond soaked and stretched out. Your arms and legs wrap around him.
Those glasses of him have fogged up so thickly now that they fail to serve their purpose. Toji takes it off with one hand, sliding it onto your head, like a headband keeping your face clear of your hair. “Don’t let them fall,” he orders. “They break and you won’t be getting that internship.”
And his lips?
They smack against yours.
He kisses you, all tongue and teeth and drool dripping down chins, like he’s been waiting weeks, months, perhaps years to do that. And you kiss him back just the same.
Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches.
“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”
“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”
The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this.
Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.
Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”
Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”
His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain.
“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts.
You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”
“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”
“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”
Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”
He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows.
Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!
Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you.
Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button.
“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”
“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear.
Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”
His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours.
When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream.
“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after.
Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans.
He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs.
Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy.
Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them.
“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”
Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”
“Thanks!” you chirp.
“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”
.
.
.
“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”
Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.
“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”
That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.
Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.
After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official.
In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together.
A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by.
“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.
Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”
“Mmm.”
“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”
You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”
“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words.
In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.
“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”
The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.
Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?
“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”
Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”
The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”
You go still, this time for a different reason.
Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”
The bastard’s trying to distract you…
“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”
Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?
Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you.
“Don’t mention it, Professor.”
The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants.
He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.”
Your jaw drops.
Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.”
“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.”
The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again.
“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.”
Your heart?
Drops to the fucking floor.
Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.
Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—
Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”
“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”
Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense.
Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”
“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good.
Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.
Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.
“You sneaky piece of shit!”
He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.
Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”
“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”
“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.
“Whore,” he fires back.
Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.
“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.
What better way to practice anatomy than to go to a muscle cafe? Well, you can think of atleast two reasons...
notes. art creds goes to the lovely kinori on x ! made for my sweet @sukunamatat4, hope you enjoy my angel <3
pairing. fushiguro toji x reader x ryomen sukuna
word count. . . 7.5k
c/w. nsfw. fem reader & anatomy. non-curse au. muscle cafe setting. obligatory porn with plot tag. threesome, mmf. toji & sukuna are VERY competitive. they're jackasses but nice jackasses. swearing. semi-public relations (breakroom). visiting paris. oral (both fem & m receiving), eating box from the back, fingering, manhandling, spitting, dp (at the same time), "stretching out", overstim, full nelson, unprotected piv, pull-out method, p talking. slight tojikuna/sukuji. getting caught, gojo cameo.
If the pearly gates were physical, you'd be standing in front of them right now.
The overpowering smell of sweet desserts and even fruitier drinks, all served by the biggest, buffest men that Tokyo had to offer. Each server dressed in shirts so thin the material might have well been transparent, muscles oiled just enough to glisten and sparkle beneath pink and gold coloured bulbs.
Heaven.
You’re stuck lingering at the entrance as the long line dwindles shorter and shorter, clutching a physiology textbook in one arm and your bag strap in the other. Trying to calculate the odds that you’d be focused all while listening to people squeak and squeal inside.
Letting yourself drift into a daydream to pass the time, picturing yourself finally passing one of your anatomy tests rather than the big red flunking grade that currently slashed itself over the top header. Thankfully, your professor gave you one last chance to try and make up the grade, and with the deadline a day away, you swore to focus and actually attempt to study.
“Helloooo?” a voice sing-songs, cutting through your imagination and bringing you back to reality where a pale hand waves in front of your face, an equally frosty complexion tipping his head directly into your line of sight.
And oh. my. god.
This had to be heaven— and an angel was standing right in front of you.
The prettiest man you’d ever seen smiling at you like he wasn’t fit to pose for the cover of any top model magazine. All long limbs and wide smiles, muscled arms fitted into a pastel blue turtleneck. Pretty pink lips pursing as he watches your reaction with wide crystalline eyes, white lashes fanning out like a doe.
You wonder if he’s as sweet as the desserts.
“Huh?”
He grins. Mischief glinting in his eyes, like he knew the effect he had on you. “I asked you a question: do you want a booth, or a regular seat?”
Blinking, you shrug. “A booth, if possible.”
Nodding, your white-haired dreamboat turns to grab a menu from the rack at the counter, giving you a brief second to peek at his physique again. Ogling him and his chest, briefly noticing the nametag pinned to his left breast.
Satoru.
Of course a cute guy would have a cute name.
Satoru steps back towards you, hoisting the menu to his elbow and motioning you to follow with his other hand. “C’mon, this way,” he directs, one palm open at your side, weaving and navigating with the expertise of someone who was obviously familiar with the busy terrain. “It’s a little busy today, sorry.”
“No worries, I understand,” you try to offer, nodding in understanding. Attempting to not trip over yourself when he smiles in your direction. “Are you going to be my server?”
He laughs at that, leaving you a little confused for a second before he adds on, “I wish, but no. I’m up at the front desk today. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they take extra good care of you.”
You hum, fiddling with the corner of the textbook. Let him set the menu down on the empty booth table before sliding into one side of it, dropping your things in their respective places.
Embarrassingly stuttering over your words, you nod again. “O-okay. Sounds good.”
Satoru flashes one last customer-service smile at you, though it doesn’t exactly resemble the politeness he seemed to be trying to emanate. It was a little sly, deceitful in the way a wolf could be when luring a sheep directly into the pack den.
“Don’t worry, the guys’ll love you,” he assures. Giving you a two-finger salute before disappearing back towards his seat at the front counter.
Settling in your seat, you finally set the textbook on the top of the table and flip it open to the page you dog-eared previously. Skimming over the paragraphs until you found where you were struggling before, thumbing open your notebook and uncapping your pen to take notes.
Beginning to scrawl in quick, jagged handwriting: the rectus abdominis muscles are crossed by three fibrounds bands…
You don’t know how long you write. Finally getting into a rhythm of reading and annotating on your own sheet, looking between each bracket of information and studying the diagrams of muscle filaments and their placements over sheaths and cartilage.
A shadow falls over your textbook, cutting the light from above. Lifting your head, you meet the eyes of the most handsome man you think you’ve ever seen— tan skin, sharp jawline, full lips bisected at the left side by a thin scar.
And those eyes. Shades of emerald and jade narrowing down at you as you stare up at him, black hair chopped just above his eyebrows and framing his ears. Adam’s apple bobbing before he finally speaks in such a deep voice that you can’t help but tremble a little.
What? It’s not like you were exactly experienced when it came to talking to guys in this caliber of good-looking.
Especially not the kind that would blatantly flex every muscle in their arms and chest when your gaze just so happened to trail down, down, down over and over like a compass seeking north.
“My name’s Toji, I’ll be your server,” he greets. Yet again tensing his bicep against the rolled fabric of his cotton t-shirt, thin black fabric tightening over the cords of muscle. “Do you still need time to look over the menu?”
You blink. Try to swallow the spit that’s pooled beneath your tongue. Jerking your focus from his very-handsome face to instead glance at the menu, then back at him.
Forcing your focus on anything but the way the corners of his lips twitch in amusement when you lick your lips at the sight of him again.
“Umm, I’ve never been here before,” you trail off, squirming a little under his attention. “Can I just get what you usually get instead?”
His brow raises. Echoing your words, “What I usually get?”
You chew your bottom lip. “Well, yeah. Like something to drink.”
Was that a weird request? You didn’t think so, but the way he was staring at you—
“Alright, then,” Toji shrugs. “Just don’t say you hate it.”
Turning away, he leaves you there for a few minutes. You peek towards the employee entrance to the kitchen just to see him leaning up against the open door, arms crossed as he talks to someone obscured by the other door.
Would it be tacky to leave your number on a napkin when you leave?
Deliberating over your future choice rather than trying to cram in a couple extra minutes of studying, hardly noticing his return until he set down a paper cup that was definitely not from here.
Oh well. Sniffing at the contents, it smells pleasantly enough. Even if it ended up being poison, atleast you wouldn’t have to end up taking the exam and potentially flunking it again.
“Order up,” he hums, leaning forward to peer at your textbook again. Curiously questioning, “Whatcha studying for?”
Lifting the cup, you swallow a sip and subsequently cough as it goes down the wrong pipe, cheeks flushing hot as you clear your throat. “Anatomy for a test I flunked,” you answer. Tittering, “I was hoping I’d be able to reference some of the employees here, but it’s a little distracting.”
Suddenly a little self-conscious, you peek up at him. Looking between his emerald eyes for a hint on his perception of you.
Did he think you were weird? Sure, you were okay with being labelled a geek— hell, most days you took pride in the title— but now? When you might have the chance of getting a hot guy's number if you played your cards right?
Being single was starting to get a little lonely. Who would blame you if you tried to change that?
Toji, despite your worries, seems to take your answer with newfound interest. Casually nodding as he speaks up again. “Cool. I actually studied kinesiology in college, so I could try to help you out, if you want. No pressure.”
Cute and smart?
Jackpot!
You nod, maybe a little more eagerly than intended. But he doesn’t seem to mind.
Instead letting himself leaaannn over the edge of the table, large palms splayed flat against the dark wood. The cords of his deltoids flex just beneath the hem of the shirt, close enough now that you could distinctly make out the citrus and sandalwood notes of his cologne beneath the tang of a long shift.
He reads your notes quickly, plump lower lip caught between his teeth before he lets it snap free. Reaching up and out, he taps a blunt finger over your notes.
“You should make acronyms to remember the proper names better,” Toji advises, glancing at your expression before looking back to the spiral-bound pages. “Helped me out a little, atleast. Been a while since I was in school though, so I dunno if they’re teachin’ different things now.”
Before you can respond, a tattooed arm loops over Toji’s shoulder, your server’s form crowded closer to you as a taller, bulkier man sidles his way in.
“Don’t tell me you’re holding out on the Employee of the Month now, Fushiguro,” the second man drawls, finally stepping into sight. His grin is all teeth, charming and predatory in the way he oozes easy confidence.
Pretty pink dyed hair tussled into a wild arrangement that barely concealed the dark roots returning, jawline blunt and eyes crinkling at the corners. Studs pierced into the lobes of his ears and thin bars prodding between the curved shells. Tattoos loop around his wrists, forearms, biceps and more, disappearing beneath the hem of an equally thin t-shirt, reappearing again along the sharper edges of his jaw and cheekbones.
The kind of ink that’d turn most businesses away for fear of criminal activity.
The kind that was oh so affectionately titled a ‘career killer.’
It certainly didn’t kill the mood. If anything, your thighs squeezed together, gaze rovering down his front before refocusing back up to their faces.
What were the odds of a business having three hot employees?
Twenty-three percent?
Less, probably.
Toji, however, doesn’t find the intrusion pleasant. Turning his scarred lips down into a scowl as he levels his gaze at his colleague. “Man, fuck you. She’s in my section, not yours.”
His colleague only snickers. “Gojo sent me over here. Said you might need help ‘lessening your load’ since you seemed a little overworked. Don’t worry, I can take care of her plenty— show her all the ropes, teach her alllll different kinds of muscles.”
And judging from the way Toji’s chest puffs up, that seemed to be a sore spot between the two of them. With wide eyes, you watch as the two of them face off, muscles flexing and knuckles popping in silent competition.
It was like watching the Discovery Channel all over again. You could practically hear the narrator droning on in the back of your mind about pack dynamics, the fights for dominance between alphas, the consequences if neither won or stood down…
“Um, excuse me,” you finally chirp, voice wavering a little. Eyes growing wider when both heads whipped towards you as if suddenly reminded that you were right there listening to them. Both sets of irises are dark and wild with challenge.
Swallowing, you regret speaking up for a moment. Subtly kicking yourself in the ankle beneath the table to spur yourself to continue.
“Maybe you both could help me study?” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Did you really just say that aloud? Trying to amend it quickly, “Sorry, I just thought that it might be better to learn if there’s multiple examples and techniques.”
Maybe the world would swallow you whole if you were lucky enough.
The duo looks at you. Then to each other. Then back to you.
The second man recovers first. “Shit, yeah?”
“No, she didn’t mean it like that,” Toji cuts in. Glaring at his colleague, shifting his shoulder just enough that you could finally peek at the namebadge stuck to the other’s hidden pectoral.
Sukuna.
Fuck it. What were the odds you’d get an opportunity like this again?
You insist with a nod. “But I do, though.”
Sukuna blinks. Toji blinks. Both look at you like you’ve descended from the heavens.
“Yeah?” Toji murmurs. Lids lowering halfway as he puts his focus on you. “Shit.”
“Told you,” Sukuna pridefully hums. He knocks his head back, chin tipping towards a beaded curtain that presumably hid the employee hallway. “Knew I liked you. C’mon, pretty girl. Old man’s gotta pick his jaw up from the floor, it’ll take a minute.”
An offer you don’t dare question, instead picking up your things and cradling them in your arms as you slide yourself from the center of the booth to the end, following after the duo towards the back. Letting them guide you down a second hallway that splits off from the first, watching as Toji shoulders open a door and checks for residents before opening it fully to let you and Sukuna in.
Mere seconds after you cross the threshold, Toji’s letting the door swing and thump Sukuna’s shoulder as he walks in behind you, choosing to fit his palms on either side of your hips and walk you back towards the breakroom table. A gesture that would’ve been faintly sweet if it weren’t for the absolute heat smoldering in his irises.
Letting him crowd you up against it before your hands fly to his chest, positively quivering when Toji leans low enough to speak next to your ear. “Well? Go ahead and start studying, doll. Got a perfect model right here f’you.”
Cheeks warming, you’re stammering out, “O-okay.” Lifting your hands up to slip beneath his shirt, forcing your focus to the man in front of you rather than the one over his shoulder who was making a show of locking the door. “Like this?”
When your palms make contact with his abdomen, two things happen. One, Toji hisses at the brush of clammy skin against his infernally-heated flesh. Two, his hips jut forward, and you let out the loudest gasp possible.
Not because he had a set of abs so perfect hidden beneath his shirt that it should’ve been a crime— even though he did— but because the thick line of his crotch bumped against your lower belly. Erection so firm and prominent that the single brush of contact had you nearly squealing and wrenching your hands off of him.
“Whatever you want,” Toji murmurs, the low rumble of his voice catching your breath. He drags the tip of his nose across the crown of your head, dragging in the scent of your shampoo by the lungful. “Ain’t gonna bite if you want to go lower, though.”
Sukuna snorts behind him, but doesn’t say anything. Just leans up against the wall and watches as you continue to explore without correction.
Toji turns his head to look over his shoulder, frowning. Reaching back behind his head and tugging his shirt up and off, revealing the sculpted torso of someone who very clearly enjoyed laborious hours at the gym.
And fuck if you aren’t totally drinking it in. Even the finest marble statues didn’t portray the potential of man that Toji so easily did— bulging pectorals with tanned nipples faintly erect from the air conditioning, biceps filled out and flexed taut, prominent veins zig-zagging up and down and down from the crook of his elbow to the heel of his palms.
Those abs, though… a perfect eight-pack ladder stacked and ridged to perfection, three thin veins crawling up towards his navel from just beneath the band of his bottoms. A prominent v-line cutting off where he pushes the waistband down just enough to show off the small dusting of coarse black hair that peeked out.
Mindlessly letting your palms descend until the tips of your fingers barely brush the pubis bone. Whispering more to yourself than him, “It’s… impressive.”
Toji chuckles, abs flexing. “Just impressive?”
You lift your eyes to his. Swallowing the saliva that pooled beneath your tongue. “You’ve got a really nice definition.”
Toji hums above you, clearly pleased. Raising his voice just loud enough that Sukuna would hear from across the room, “Hear that, jackass? She said I’ve got a really nice definition.”
Said man crosses the room and peels his own shirt from his torso without thought, shouldering Toji aside and taking his place in front of you. Pulling you from where you half-sat on the edge of the table to put you right in front of him.
“Nah, she just hasn’t seen real strength yet,” Sukuna growls. Wrapping one massive hand around your wrist to guide you to touch the plush bulk of his pectoral. Close enough now that when he leans forward you can clearly see the dark carmine hues of his irises twinkle. “Too busy fuckin’ around with wimps.”
You take the chance to survey him. Where Toji was all definition and meticulously built with precise cuts and edges, Sukuna was bulky and broad. Muscles thicker and less defined like he was mid bulking season permanently, pectorals bulging with the quality of a perfectly firm pillow.
The tattoos formerly covered by his shirt span down and cut jagged lines over the twin loops hooking through dusty-rose coloured nipples, beginning again along his sides until they cut off just above the ridge of his jeans. Trimmed above the belt rather than letting it grow as wild as his hair was.
“See, brat? Tell him I’ve got a better physique,” Sukuna frowns. Competitive.
“Man, why don’t you fuck off somewhere?” Toji grunts, reaching around you to swat at the other man with an open palm. Turning you back to face him and pulling you into his chest, face buried between his pecs. “Nobody wants to see your fat ass around here anyways.”
“Says the broke guy who sneaks cakes out the back door—”
You pry yourself from Toji’s chest, cheeks flaming hot as you interrupt. “You’re both really fit, isn’t that good enough?”
Their eyes turn to you, brows furrowed in the same expression. Like you’d just failed the most obvious test known to man despite both of them wanting a different answer.
Oops.
Toji presses closer, sandwiching you firmly between them. One large hand raised up to cup your jaw with false sweetness, guiding your face upwards to look at him and solely him. Suddenly so sweet that you’re sure he’s leading you into a trap.
“You’re supposed to be the smart one, aren’t you?” Toji drawls. Thumbpad smearing your plush lower lip down and letting it pop free. “C’monn, use that pretty brain and tell us who you think is really better.”
You chew at your lip. “Well… you have a really great insertion in your obliques,” Toji hums at that, already approving. Your hands shift to trail over his abdomen, all while Sukuna crowds behind you. “And a prominent Adonis belt.”
Sukuna’s deeper voice rumbles behind you. “Bet mine feels better, though. Go ahead and tell ‘em.”
Toji’s eyes lift to look at the man behind you. Staring each other down over your head.
Offering in favor of balancing the scales again, “Mmh, Sukuna does have a pretty defined serratus anterior.”
Which pleases Sukuna far more than you thought possible. “See, Fushiguro? She likes my serra-tits.”
“She said serratus, moron.”
Toji crowds in closer. Sukuna matches the action. Stuck between them, you truly question whether it’d be possible to suffocate with what little space you had between the two hulks of muscle.
Oh well. If this was the way you died, you’d die happy.
Faintly listening to Sukuna’s retort, “I’ll show you some serra-tits—”
And Toji’s correction, “Serratus—”
Before finally cutting in once more. “Can you two ease off or something?”
Their jaws click shut so fast you think you can hear the audible snap.
Toji’s hand flexes before he drops it to your hip, finally regarding you again as he drops his verdant gaze back down to yours— eyes flitting between both of yours to catalogue the flush that’s ridden high on your cheeks and the slight expansion of your pupils.
“How about this,” Toji’s voice lowers, rumbling as he leans lower down towards you. His breath fans out across your lips, the slight tang of cigarettes sweetened by a fruitier dessert he must’ve had sometime during his shift. “We’ll stop fighting if you can tell us who you want to kiss more. Me, or him?”
“O-oh?” You blink. A subtle shiver runs up your spine, sparks tingling outwards at the very prospect. Noticing how close Toji was, close enough to see the faint flecks of gold and darker green surrounding his expanded pupils.
Lowering your eyes just enough to glance at his lips, imagining the plush skin pushing against yours. Wondering how the scar would feel across yours, whether it’d be soft or rough. Deciding in an instant, “You.”
“Atta girl,” Toji grins. He drops his head towards yours, one hand lifting to cradle the back of your neck, meeting you in an absolutely filthy kiss from the start. His tongue swipes over your lips in a quick request for more, immediately met when your mouth parts to accept him.
Pitifully moaning into his mouth when his other hand holds firm on your hip, pulling you close to him. Breasts pillowing against his chest as he gulps you down, nipping and tugging at your lower lip, practically feasting on you.
Parting reluctantly with a wet smack when air becomes a necessity, a string of spit clinging between your tongues until it snaps with a wet pah! and spatters against your chin.
Toji doesn’t back off. Instead, his eyes flick above your head where his neglected colleague stands. Speaking to you without tearing his eyes from Sukuna. “Tell ‘Kuna bye-bye, baby. Toji’ll take care of you all by himself.”
Sukuna snorts, looming in behind you until his chest presses to your back. You’re suddenly aware of a certain man’s arousal tented against your ass, rubbing discreetly with every shift of his hips.
“Naw— tell Jiji here you don’t want me to leave,” Sukuna rumbles, the smile obvious in his voice. His large, broad hands loop around you, just barely shy of hovering the cups of your bra. His head lowers next to yours, the crooked bridge of his nose bumping against your cheekbone. “Go ahead and tell him how bad you want a real man to touch you.”
“Man, fuck you—”
Cutting in once again, as if wrangling toddlers rather than grown men nearly double your size, “Can’t you both just get along for ten seconds?”
For once, the two don’t argue. Almost synchronized as they chirp, “Yes ma’am.”
Toji’s hands adjust where they’d been holding you first, fisting your shirt and tugging it over your head in a quick swipe, tossing it elsewhere. Sukuna’s hands quickly replace it, tugging down the cups of your bra and holding your breasts himself, kneading them and flicking his thumbs over your nipples.
Gasping softly, you crane to reconnect the kiss with Toji, hands reaching to fist his shirt and cling to him. He meets you with unerring force, tongue shoved against yours once more, groaning at the second taste of you.
Sukuna’s grip shifts on your breasts as he lowers one to the hip untouched by Toji, dragging you back against him, grinding the length of his erection over your ass in passes. The button of his jeans catches, earning a grunt and shaky breath that fans over the curve of your shoulder.
“Have you done this before?” Toji mumbles into your mouth, easing back just enough to pepper smaller kisses over the corners of your mouth. “Two at once.”
Your lashes flutter. “No, but I want to.”
“Yeah?” Sukuna cuts in. Practically humping himself against your ass this whole time, his breath comes out shakier. “Dirty girl— gonna haft’a prep you first, then.”
You hardly get a word in before the thump behind you signals Sukuna’s dropped to his knees, your head turning to peer over your shoulder to watch as the massive man peels your waistband back and tugs your bottoms down until they pool at your ankles.
Shifting your posture to let him spread your legs apart and arch forward, Toji lifts your gaze back to his. Keeping your attention on him as Sukuna pulls the cotton of your panties aside, your cheeks flushing hot when the loud shhhhlick! sounds as the fabric sticks to your pussyfolds.
“Goddamn, she’s soaked,” Sukuna voices behind you, voice thick and warm with arousal. Groaning as his thumbs spread you open from behind, fanning his hot breath over your sensitive folds. Dragging in an audible sniiiiiifff so loud that it sounds almost animalistic. “Fuck, perfect goddamn pussy. Gotta have a taste.”
His mouth descends on you with an absolutely feral growl— the first drag of his wet tongue presses in, wagging side to side to smear between your pussylips and flick at your clit. Pulling back to prod along your entrance and push into your slit just enough to tease.
No wonder this place was popular, if this is the service that was given. Hardly even thinking of themselves when you stood between them, putting you first.
How many men had you been with that did that?
A big fat zero.
“Fuh-fuckk,” you moan into Toji’s mouth, rocking back against Sukuna’s face. Every flick and press catching the beads of arousal that seeped from your spread cunt. “Feels so good.”
Your hands travel over the firm space of Toji’s abdomen, slipping back beneath the edge of his waistband and tugging it down, forehead dropping to his sternum. He helps you pry his boxers down, pausing when you do.
Locking on the sight of his cock as he pulls it from its confines, your jaw drops. Easily seven or eight inches long, if not more, a few freckles scattered over the shaft. Two thin veins crawling up the shaft and disappearing beneath the bulbous head.
“Oh my god,” you blurt. Barely giving Toji a second to question what you meant before you’re reaching forward to take it in both hands and spitting onto it.
Toji twitches at your sudden touch, one hand threading in your head. “Fuck, woman, slow down.”
Your thumb spreads the pre-cum leaking from the head over the shaft, pumping him with rapt attention, hardly registering his warning. Extending your arms to follow him when Toji takes a slight step back.
“Wanna—” he starts, cut off when you immediately bend further and spit a wad of saliva over the crown of him, hissing at the sudden warmth of your mouth as you take him in your throat. “Shit, doll–”
Toji’s hips snap up in an instinctual thrust, cock head slapping against the back of your throat and triggering your gag reflex, grunting an apology as his hands gather your hair from your face. Sukuna pops from your cunt and groans, not even bothering to wipe your slick from where it coated the expanse of his lower face.
“Tight ass throat,” Toji rumbles, keeping your hair from your face as you bob up and down his cock. Circling his hips to smear himself ‘round and ‘round your throat. “Yeahh, just like that. Tha’ssit.”
Breathing through your nose, you dip forward, nose burying into the coarse hair at his base, the obscene gluck-gluck-gluck of your throat around Toji’s cock filling the room with Sukuna’s slurps.
If the cafe was heaven, then this breakroom had to be the paradise beyond.
Sukuna’s thumbs ease back from spreading your pussylips to pop into his mouth, sucking your taste off them, then release them again to smear over your slick again and gather more, treating your arousal like creamy dessert.
Slipping the rounded edges of his fingertips between your folds and trailing over your slit, wetting his digits with you. “Gonna haft’a stretch you out a little bit so you can take both of us, okay?”
You hum around Toji’s cock, an answer that Sukuna takes without question. Pushing two thick fingers in and groaning when your pussy squelches at the intrusion before letting his digits in, pulsing as he pumps slowly.
“Shit, y’hear that, Fushiguro?” Sukuna groans, claret eyes locked on your pussy. Twisting his fingers within you and working your cunt like an extension of himself. Curling his fingertips against your plush walls and pumping you on his hand like a puppet. “Even when her mouth’s full she’s still so damn vocal.”
Your throat squeezes around Toji’s cock, moans muffled as you rock back onto Sukuna’s knuckles.
“Mhmm, I hear her,” Toji mumbles, keeping his eyes on you rather than his colleague. “You must like us a whole lot, huh? Practically dripping just from a couple kisses and some head.”
Sure, you weren’t a virgin by any extent, but none of your exes had ever been so damn good at this. Much less having two guys taking care of you— this shit was practically a fantasy you thought could never happen.
Toji’s palm gently pats against your cheek, drawing your eyes up to him. “What, you can’t focus on both of us at the same time?”
Sukuna answers for you. “N’aw, she’s too busy gushing around my fingers like a little whore. Bet she’s never been fucked right before— haven’t you, brat?”
You can’t help but moan. Shake your head side to side, which pushes Toji’s cock further down your throat before he hisses and eases back, popping free from your lips with a lewd, wet smack.
“Bet not,” Toji replies. Both having a conversation in your stead where your words had obviously failed somewhere between Toji’s cock slapping against your cheek and Sukuna’s fingers twisting in your cunt. “Probably only fucked around with wimps before, poor girl.”
Sukuna’s echo coos behind you. “Poor girl.”
Thick knuckles prod at your folds as a third finger enters, curling and twisting right against your g-spot. Without warning, your body shivers, choking out a gasp at the last second before an orgasm washes over you.
Release splashes out onto Sukuna’s nose as he dives to lap at your cunt while his fingers work you through the waves, rolling his consonants over your clit until the vibrations twinge at your sensitive bud.
Toji’s hand slips over yours on his cock, pulling you off of him to instead step back towards the edge of the table, barely sitting on the edge, his feet still planted on the floor. Long fingers wrapping around his shaft as he pumps himself, watching you watch him.
“You still want this, right?” he questions, gauging your reaction. The corners of his lips turn up when you nod, suddenly a little shy. Heat crawling up your cheekbones and the tips of your ears. “C’mere.”
Sukuna’s fingers slip free from your cunt, slurping your juices from his skin. “Of course she does,” his hand pats the plush of your ass, prodding you forward. “Go get ‘em, girl. Climb up.”
Urged forward, you halt in front of Toji, accepting the quick peck he gives you before finally climbing into Toji’s lap, your knees settle on either side of his thighs with his help, straddling him as he stands his cock beneath you, sliding it between your pussylips.
Your hands plant on his chest, palms splayed flat. “Hi.”
Toji chuckles. “Hi, pretty girl. Ready?”
“Mhmm.”
“Ah-ah,” Sukuna hums behind you, stepping up to press himself to your back again. Unzipping his own pants and pushing them down to use your slick as lube on his own cock. “She’s gotta say it out loud.”
Immediately, you’re following through with his condition. “Mmmhmmm. I’m ready for both.”
“Both?” Toji echoes, scarred lips splitting into a wide grin. The head of his cock just barely pushes at your slit, stretching your lips around him with a gentle burn. “Greedy, huh? Who would’ve thought.”
“I knew it from the beginning,” Sukuna chimes in. “Goody little two-shoes like her comes in here to ‘study,’ only to end up ogling all the muscles,” he tuts. “Dirty, dirty girl.”
Toji feeds the crown of his cock into you finally, bumping his hips up until you take the hint to let your thighs relax and slide yourself down his shaft, inner walls moulding around him. Your lips part, letting out a soft, shaky gasp as the spit and slick from Sukuna’s earlier attention eases the glide to an easy task.
“Fuck,” Toji curses, his hands coming to your thighs to keep you close, letting you rock yourself onto him until the burn softened. Trying to mask his own moan by talking. “I oughta keep you around, huh? Look at you, pretty eyes all glazed over already. You sure you can take both of us?”
Toji cuts you short the moment you open your mouth. Planting his feet into the floor and driving his hips up until you mewled and clenched around him, falling forward onto his chest.
“O-ohhh fuck..”
Sukuna clicks his tongue. “He’s not that good,” he grumbles. “I could be better, baby. Let you learn what a real virile man feels like, eh?”
Toji snorts, more focused on you than his colleague. Fucking up into you at a proper pace now, rolling your hips into him with every upstroke until you were settling into a comfortable rhythm.
Scarred lips pulling into a grin as he hums, “He’s just jealous— small dick and all that. Meathead has to use protein shakes, can’t stand that I’m all natural.”
“Tell that to the dick pump you jerk twice a goddamn day,” Sukuna grunts. One massive arm snakes under your thigh and yanks it high, hoisting you half off Toji’s lap in a single impatient motion. Sukuna’s thick cock immediately presses up in the space, sliding along the slick underside where Toji’s already splits you open.
He nudges the bridge of his nose firmly against the shell of your ear, breath warm against sweat-clammy skin. “Are you sure you want us at the same time? It’ll be a stretch.”
“Mmmhm,” you affirm once more, softer this time. Their constant check-ins, as gruff-voiced as they were, settle something anxious in your chest. “I’m sure.”
“If you say so.”
The blunt crown of him wedges right against your already-strained entrance, pushing where Toji stretches you thin. He rocks forward in short, testing strokes, teeth gritting in focus until the head of him finally pops past the first ring of resistance. Their shafts slide and drag against each other, Toji slowing to a gentle rock just to keep your walls as lax as possible.
“Should’a stretched this little cunt more,” Sukuna mutters against your neck, rolling his hips forward again. The fat head finally pops past your tight ring of resistance, white-hot pain spearing through and immediately melting to pleasure when Toji’s thumb drops to your clit and rubs the nub comfortingly. “Shiiiit… there we go. Atta fuckin’ girl. Taking two cocks like a pro.”
Toji groans low in his throat, head falling back. Rutting himself deeper into you as if trying to compete to see who could reach the deepest. Imprinting himself into your walls and grinding his base against your pussylips.
Scarred lips parting as Toji grunts, “Hold onto her.”
This time, Sukuna doesn’t argue. He simply slips his other arm beneath your thigh, hooking both elbows at the backs of your knees and lifting you until you’re squeezing around both of them to keep them inside, back pressed to his chest as he carries you.
A standing full nelson.
The kind of position you could only dream of being in, only ever enjoying through the occasional smut you’d read late at night and fantasize about. Now made reality by not one but two of the finest men you’d ever had the pleasure of being sandwiched between.
Toji tilts his head forward to spit between your bodies, a thick rope of saliva landing hot between your pressed bodies. It drips slowly down the seam where you're stretched around them both, pooling at your entrance before he thumbs your swollen clit and works it in messy circles until your walls flutter and soften just enough that Sukuna can sink another inch deeper.
“Fuckin’ tight,” Sukuna hisses. Your inner muscles ripple involuntarily around the dual intrusion, and Toji’s cock twitches hard against his in response, the friction dragging a shared groan from both men.
Toji’s hand comes up to cradle your jaw, rough thumb brushing your lower lip as he looks at you. The calloused pad catches briefly on soft skin before he leans in, scarred lips dragging against yours as he kisses you. His tongue pushes past your lips, swirling without the intensity from earlier, distracting you while Sukuna’s thrusts grow deeper and deeper, the wet sounds filling the room.
You melt between them instantly, whimpering into Toji’s mouth, a soft ah!-ah!-ah! escaping as Toji rocks in time with Sukuna’s thrusts. Hands flying to hold onto something, landing on Toji’s biceps. Your fingers barely span half the thick circumference of his muscles, nails leaving pale crescents on his skin.
Sukuna’s laugh rumbles against your back. “Whipped already, Ji? Never seen you so soft.”
Toji pulls back with a wet schlick, lips and chin shining with spit. Jade eyes flicking up to meet mauve irises over your shoulder. “Try not to sound so jealous, Kuna. Ain’t a good look on you.”
Sukuna snorts. “Please, I’m the one puttin’ in the work here,” he punctuates it with a shallow thrust, dragging the crown of his cock along Toji’s cock and your walls, grinning when your head falls back against his shoulder. “Greedy fuckin’ girl knows who can stuff her best.”
“Bullshit,” Toji’s hips roll, dragging the fat head of his cock along the front wall of your cunt, right along the spot that makes your toes curl. Your whole body jerks, thighs trembling as a broken moan tears from you.
“Fuuuck, please—”
“See?” Toji grins, smug. “She doesn’t beg when it’s you fuckin’ her.”
Sukuna grunts. “Cute. Real fuckin’ cute.”
Without warning, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in a brutal stroke that sends your nails skittering over Toji’s chest for support, clawing his pectorals. The sudden force shoves you down onto both of them at the same time.
“How about we ask her then?” Sukuna’s hips smack against your ass, driving back and forth without pause now. Arms tightening their hold on your thighs until he’s purposefully bouncing you up and down them. “Whaddya say, brat? Go on, tell Jiji here who’s fuckin’ this pussy right. Tell him.”
You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone words. Mewling shamelessly, “Kuna, ah-ah-ah!”
Toji’s eyes narrow. “Wrong.”
He surges up, crashing his mouth against yours again. This kiss isn’t the sweet thing from earlier, but a mess of tongue, his hand prying your jaw open to spit directly into your open maw.
“Toji, fuck—” you gasp, spittle smearing over your lips.
Barely able to swallow the wad before Sukuna’s biting at your jaw, getting you to turn your head in surprise and catch your mouth with his. Both fight to kiss you at the same time, Toji on one side and Sukuna on the other.
Teeth clacking and tongues swirling and circling each other as much as they kiss you. Caught between them, your walls cinch tight, gleefully helpless while they fight each other through you.
Then it happens.
Toji’s tongue slips past yours at the same time Sukuna’s does, colliding in a hot, aggressive mash of forces. They don’t even blink at the change, fucking into you with reckless abandon while they make out with each other and you all at once.
Their cocks twitch inside you at the same moment, thickening even more as they grind against each other. The wet plap-plap-plap of Sukuna’s hips against yours while Toji’s pelvis grinds into your clit. Cockheads kissing deep enough that you swear you feel them bullying over your cervix walls with each skitter of sparks up your spine.
Your pussy clamps tight around them, breaking from the kiss as your head falls back against Sukuna’s shoulder, the knot in your lower belly drawing tight before snapping apart for your second orgasm of the night. Gushing around them in a slick flood, your release spattering against the two men.
Walls fluttering around them in aftershocks that don’t seem to have an end in sight.
“Fuck, yeah,” Toji groans against Sukuna’s mouth. Feet planting as he starts fucking up into you in earnest, deep strokes that make his heavy balls slap wetly against your soaked folds, drenched in your release.
Sukuna matches him instantly, brutal tempo syncing without a word. He slams in the exact moment Toji withdraws, ensuring there’s never a second where you’re not stuffed with one of them. The alternating rhythm turns savage fast—two cocks seesawing through your overstuffed heat, chasing their own edges.
Your head lolls, lips separated as involuntary moans escape you. Sukuna’s arms flex and shift, prying your trembling thighs even wider apart until the stretch borders on obscene, your pussy on full view for the other man. The new angle gives Toji access to thumb over your clit again, pressing and rolling it, then delivering sharp little slaps to the swollen, oversensitive pearl that make your body arch against Sukuna’s hold.
“Fuh-fuck!” you gasp. Locking onto the filthy sight as both men crane to meet each other over your shoulder, reconnecting in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, spit stringing thick between their lips when they part again. “Oh my god, that’s so hot.”
You shove Toji’s hand side, replacing it with your own smaller fingers. Swirling slippery circles over your clit at the mere sight of them, wantonly moaning when Sukuna’s teeth bite into your shoulder to muffle his moan.
Pre-cum swabs your insides as Toji’s hips stutter first, the rhythm stuttering as they near their peaks. One big hand clamps down on your hip, yanking you down onto him harder as he bounces you selfishly along his length, grinding deep.
Toji’s lips find yours once more as you open your mouth to speak again, letting out the most sinful moan the second you reconnect. Whimpering rawly when his cock thickens and jerks hard, barely managing a single word before he’s pulling out and twisting his fist over the head.
“Fuck- god, m’gonna cum,” he pants, pumping the shaft just below the crown as the first rope of milky cum erupts, splattering hot across your mound, your lower belly, even catching the underside of your breasts in a messy streak. “Shiiiit, look at you.”
Sukuna’s hips snap forward into you, rutting up with animalistic pacing, chasing the way your walls squeeze around him. “Kuna, please—”
“I know, baby, I know,” he grunts behind you, grip faltering as he adjusts his hold, straining to keep upright as his balls draw up tight and tingle. “Go ahead and let go for us, just one more time. I know you’ve got it in you.”
Your lower lip catches between your teeth as a third orgasm floods your heat, cunt barely dribbling slick around his cock. Barely coming down from the high as Sukuna grunts to maneuver your limp, trembling body to Toji’s waiting lap.
His cock slips free with a wet pop, leaving you clenching around nothing through the aftershocks. Sukuna catches himself in his fist, stroking through the last erratic jerks as thick, clear ropes spill over his knuckles and drip to the floor in heavy splats against the cold tile.
“Fuuuuuck,” he drags out, groaning. Letting his head fall forward to rest onto your shoulder, the mop of pink-dyed hair sticking to your skin as his chest heaves in time with yours and Toji’s. “Goddamn, girl.”
Breathing heavy, the three of you bask in the humid afterglow, bodies pressed close as the sweat and cum starts to stick. Toji’s hands, much gentler now, slide up your sides, one cupping your chin to guide your face back up to his.
He mumbles something slurred and soft against your lips, half-words lost in the lazy drag of his mouth as he kisses you again. Humming into each other, eyes fluttering shut to just enjoy the contact.
Only to break apart again as the breakroom door rattles and clicks open, the lock from earlier apparently non-functional as the white-haired cashier from earlier steps inside without looking up from his phone. “I’m going on my break, one of you need to actually work and take over the front—”
Satoru’s impossibly blue eyes lift up to take in the sight, immediately widening as both men tighten their arms around you.
Pupils blowing wide and pale lips splitting into a pervish grin. “Well, damn. Got room for one more?”
ʚɞ comments & reblogs appreciated!
more like this.
♡⠀domesticity bundle, got a light three-pack.
warning: pure fluff and domestic life. nanami. sukuna. choso.
Cute rows of boxes. Jellies and sauces separated by size. Each grain in its own glass jar with a dark label.
You almost laugh when Kento, so careful, drops the bamboo lid of the rice jar and bends too quickly, hitting his head on the shelf. A low curse escapes with his usual calm, and he fixes everything back in place like he didn’t hurt himself.
𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜 is methodical, organized — but clumsy in a way that makes you want to squish the irritated face he does while rubbing his forehead.
You get close to your brown rice hero, squeezing his handsome cheeks between your warm hands.
“Next time, worry about yourself before caring for a simple lid.”
Nanami’s brows arch, but anything he could say about the morning arrangement disappears when you blow softly and kiss the little red mark on his forehead. It’s okay to let the routine wait — just for a little, it won’t hurt.
The loft’s usually untouched kitchen is alive with the scent of garlic and spices, making your hungry stomach twist and demand attention. With 𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗔 distracted by the seasonings, you try to steal a confit carrot — only to have your fingers swatted away with a dish towel.
Before you can scorch his ears with bratty complaints, he slides a deep plate across the industrial counter. You clap your hands at the presentation, though you poke at the rice with suspicion. What should have been creamy and truffled is somehow both burned and undercooked — a paradox of disaster — and your muttered suspicion of culinary poisoning comes out almost instinctively.
Ryomen, dressed in his new expensive leather apron, scoops up a spoonful and offers it, insisting nothing could be worse than the junk food you usually live on. That’s the only reason he’s even in cooking class: to make sure you eat properly. He tries to look impatient, indifferent — but you can see the way his red eyes shine with anticipation at every slow chew you make.
“Hmmm…” He leans in, ears pricked, while you draw it out on purpose, a sly smile playing at your lips. “It could be better.”
“Fine. Don’t eat then.” He growls, his offended expression absolutely priceless.
You laugh, but amusement quickly turns into a warning growl as he dares to pull your plate away like a king reclaiming tribute. No way in hell. That sticky rice and dry chicken are yours, end of story.
The smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon fills the apartment. Bathed in the bluish glow of the TV, 𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗢 glides through the shadows, his favorite mug — the one with the chipped llama on the rim — held between his fingers.
“Here’s a house special…” he mutters with a lazy corner smile, sliding in behind you; he likes it this way, your back pressed to his chest, letting him soak in your warmth and savor every slow breath.
“So, what exactly did your supervisor say again?” he asks, eyes fixed on the Asian romance drama you love to watch in your free time.
“Oh! Right!” you fidget, sipping the creamy treat with a happy sigh before continuing. “That delegating all the team’s reports to me is reasonable! Can you believe it? That’s his job, not mine.” Your huff is followed by a big, pouting whine.
“He deserves to bite his tongue while chewing, that’s what he deserves,” he declares, completely serious about it. Choso may have intended to help you plot a few karmic curses against that lazy jerk, but right now, all he can manage is stealing the little drop of chocolate from the corner of your soft mouth.
Across the city, your supervisor’s ear burns with the mental curses Kamo sends his way. Here, you’re in the arms of the only oppa that truly matters.
sae - he’s brutally honest, but not unkind. sae won’t fake a moan to spare your feelings. he’ll just sigh, rest his hand on your head and mutter “no, not like that… slower. you’re not trying to kill me.” he’s not mad. he just refuses to accept anything less than perfection. he’ll literally guide your head with precise little pushes, correcting every mistake until you’re good enough to make him lose composure.
aiku - he’s soft about it, laughing under his breath and telling you how cute you are even when you’re doing it wrong. “babe, you’re trying so hard, it’s adorable… but lemme show you something, yeah?” he’ll sit back, talk you through every motion, praising you with little hums and filthy compliments every time you improve. honestly? he’s more turned on by your eagerness to please than by the skill itself.
shidou - oh he lives for this. bad head is his favorite excuse to be a menace. he’ll coo down at you with mock pity. “awww, my dumb little slut doesn’t know what she’s doing?” then force your head down hard and fuck your throat raw. it’s not about teaching. it’s about ruining you until you’re sobbing, mascara running and still drooling around his cock. he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.
kaiser - he acts exasperated, but really? he’s into it. “ugh, are you seriously this bad?” followed by a sharp grin. he’ll give you pointers with a cocky tone, alternating between praise and insults just to watch you get flustered. kaiser’s the type to hold his phone up like he’s recording. “for review purposes later, yeah?” …just to make you shy. eventually, he’ll take over and show you how it’s done, because of course he thinks no one does it better than him.
♡⠀a tiny frown from Choso, and you’re already claimed.
warning: mdni, smut. jealous choso kamo. p in v.
You’ve never seen Choso so defiant.
Your sweet, rosy-cheeked boyfriend, usually all soft fucks and tender smiles, is relentless — buried so deep inside you your legs nearly give out and your lungs can’t catch enough air.
“Say it again. Who do you belong to?” His voice is firm, holding perfectly still, torturing you by letting every vein throb against your soaked walls.
“I… I need—”
“Wrong answer, sweetheart.”
He slides out, leaving you empty and disoriented, waiting patiently for your cooperation. And knowing your stubborn bastard, you realize he’ll keep this up all night if you don’t give him what he wants.
“Jealous Choso Kamo! I belong to you! Now fuck me already, dammit!” you snap, your face twisted in a mix of bad temper and raw lust.
He can’t help but laugh. How is he supposed to play the villain when you’re there — flushed and pouty like some angry little Smurf — just because he refuses to fuck you properly? Pressing a soft kiss to your perfumed nape, Choso sinks back into your needy cunt with a wet slap. The piercing at the head of his cock brushes that perfect spot inside you, your body sagging against the door as he anchors you tight, fingers digging into your hips like a worshipful artist.
“The next time another guy flirts with you… a whole week without sex,” he hums against your back, buried in you to the hilt.
You open your mouth to fire off some biting retort, but all that comes out are broken moans as he fucks you hard — like he’s trying to replace even the air in your lungs. You’re his. Period. No fucking way he’s letting the molecules in your body be tainted by some other idiot’s oxygen.
♡⠀i just love how kind and contemplative he can be aaa.
warning: fluff, sotf. sanji, your devoted and adoring husband
Sanji adores everything you do.
It’s no euphemism. He lights up every time your precious hands create something.
He radiates like the sun when he sees your misshapen sculptures from your clay modeling class, praising every detail as if they were masterpieces.
Even when you’re arranging the flowers in the beautiful vase on the dining table, he watches in contemplative silence, memorizing the way your gentle fingers adjust the lilies he brought you just last night.
Not a single meal of yours goes unnoticed — no matter how crunchy the scrambled eggs are, or if the orange cake turned out a little too salty. He devours every bite with the same delight.
And when your lovely hands weave through his golden hair, tugging at braids that will surely take hours to undo, it’s over — only surrender and a tender purr.
Hey, man, c'mere. Listen. Get in real close, this is important.
You're gonna make stuff again. You're gonna make stuff you're proud of. You're gonna make stuff you're excited to share. You're going to feel that overwhelming drive to create, not just the frantic I want to want to you're stuck in now. You're going to have awesome ideas, and you're going to make them into reality. You're going to create again. You're still an artist. You're still a writer. You're still home to the same passion you had before. You'll find it again. It's not gone. It's just resting. Let it rest. You're going to make stuff again. I promise.
So why the hell is Sukuna trapped between your thighs?
He was supposed to devour you, drain your luscious energy until nothing was left — instead, he’s sliding between your thighs, his sticky cock slapping against your entrance only to slip back because of that damn barrier you imposed.
The day you crossed the Tori gate of his temple, wrapped like a gift in a silk shiromuko embroidered with silver thread, the profane youkai felt hunger gnaw at him at the sight of your pretty little cheeks flushed pink — your dewy face glowing with fragile determination as you climbed step by step; he wanted to hunt you down slowly, just to watch you break.
When you stepped into the hall lit by flickering red candles smelling of frankincense, the ancient cursed scroll gleamed with its crimson seal at the top of the altar. That enchanted parchment kept him under tedious control, breathing life into the prosperous village below in exchange for semiannual offerings. You, a girl with pure, delicious energy, were the prey this time… one that had arrived perfumed, her expression so beautiful, braver than the hundreds who trembled so badly they could barely reach the door.
Your precious and delicate hands moved over the white tsuru feather, its sharpened tip stained with dry blood, pricking your finger, about to seal your fate. Crimson drops splattered across the paper, and Sukuna’s shadows lunged at you, growling like starving dogs. He loomed over your body but couldn’t touch you. His claws sank into the tome — his favorite contract ruined with filthy runes and clauses about consent before accessing your vital essence.
The trees shook with the growls that tore from Ryomen’s throat. He was ensnared by you, hungry and feeding off your hands since that damned day. You wandered around his temple radiating that vibrant energy, mocking him, stopping him from claiming what rightfully belonged to him. Never before had a mere offering been so insolent, and he was tearing through scrolls night and day, trying to break your terms.
On top of that, you dragged him on pathetic strolls, cooked things with disgustingly sweet smells, and smiled slyly as if you had any right to remain alive. The man prowled between the pillars, splintering beams of wood every time he felt the fragile, magnificent pulse in your neck; he liked the heat of your breath, and it drove him mad.
The moment your benevolence granted him a taste of satisfaction, Sukuna couldn’t stop at just two bites of your sweet essence. No. He kissed your mouth, tongue and teeth branding those insolent pink lips. Then he carved possession into your soft skin, claws etching crimson streaks, fangs declaring his primal claim.
You were his. One way or another, you should look the part.
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t go further than what you allowed. It didn’t matter that the contract burned him and the barrier shoved him back like an insect. He was obsessed with making you pay, the blunt head of his cock grinding mercilessly against your swollen clit.
You should’ve been writhing more than him, drowning in sweet laments, but instead you were sprawled on the warm silk futon with a feline smile — the gods would mock him if they saw him there, when it was clear you were the predator and he the prey.
“Mhmm—Insolent little thing!” he growled low, hands gripping your soft hips, testing limits, searching for breaches — any fucking breach.
Sukuna’s simmering frustration translated into the firm pressure between your thighs, your weeping cunt glistening with pearls dripping from the fat head of his burning length. Every thrust, every slide of hot flesh against your inviting entrance… was a reminder of what he couldn’t take — and of how much you enjoyed watching him wrestle with himself.
Your breath mingled with his, short and ragged, while sharp-clawed fingers traced your lush curves, marking his territory. You felt every twitch, every hesitation, every tense muscle. He was so close to losing control, but the magical barrier kept him caged, feeding his hunger in equal measure to your provocation.
Letting out a muffled laugh, low and almost imperceptible, just to infuriate him further, you arched slightly, easing the grind of his pelvis against yours. Sukuna snarled, jaw locking, Adam’s apple bobbing in sync with the restless roll of his hips.
Head tilted, crimson eyes brimming with irritation and need, he hissed in a voice soaked with sweet venom:
“You will… pay… I’ll devour you…”
In solemn reply, your soft mouth parted in a small, needy moan. That was all it took for the creature to snap, rutting so hard against your sensitive flesh that the obscene echo filled the entire temple. The scene carved a deep, delicious pleasure inside you; a beast tamed by his own greed sweetened your lips more than honey ever could.
The next day, the following offering climbed the same steps you had months ago, but this time, Sukuna refused. His fleeting, frustrated promises of vengeance rattled the treetops until their leaves cascaded to the ground, but you remained, untouchable and triumphant within the temple, while the offering was dismissed and sent back to the village, utterly rejected.
That was all it took to rewrite fate: you stayed, offering nothing more than the faintest hint of response, keeping him bound completely — ravenous, irate, and wholly dependent on you.
One day the hunter, the next the prey, as the wise ones always said.
The one who opens the lid of your favorite jar of jam effortlessly, with that little satisfied smile, just for being useful to his girl.
This enormous man walks slowly so you never have to rush — keeping pace with you is his favorite kind of honor. Broad back, sculpted thighs, the fabric of his tailored pants stretching over every narrow movement in a way that demands a whole new definition of sin.
Since your gentle giant arrived, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to change a lightbulb, and you no longer remember how to carry shopping bags. He does it all with one arm, because he needs the other free to hold your hip with soft firmness, always keeping you on the safe side of the street — taking care of you is the rule he treasures most, yes.
And screw it if you’re getting spoiled too much; those big, warm hands pressed against your soft curves are everything you want — oh, God bless every inch of vein pulsing from his tender torso to his thick, like a Michelangelo masterpiece, crafted with intimate details made exclusively for you. In any case, you know the weight never bothers him. Not the bags, and certainly not you in his arms. Not when he lifts you up every single day, breathless, against the wall, plunging so deep that the air burns in your lungs and the sound of your melting moans no longer even makes sense because you think you can’t take any more.
That’s when he uses his voice — fuck, that deep, dragged-out timbre, the one that’s so good at commanding — and says, “please, darling… just a little more for me,” in that cowardly way that makes your perfect little pussy cry again. It’s fine, it’s fine. Nothing like a heap of needy praise that always stumbles over your name to fuck you for the fourth time, not caring about the sweaty, sticky mess dripping with every obscenely slow thrust.
No problem filling you up until you overflow with hot, creamy cum, either. You know it — your 6’0” love will take you to the shower and pamper you with bubbles, just to nestle you against his chest and make you purr like a kitten even after you fall asleep.
I’d love N2, please — maybe a dominant but soft Loki, dangerous without going overboard 😏 I’ll leave it in your talented hands! thank you in advance 💖
Promp: "Open your mouth for me"
Rating: R
Promp Series: HERE
‘’gods- you’re such a brute sometimes!” you yelled, not even waiting for the door to finish being swung closed and secretly hoped it would hit your boyfriend in the process.
‘’you’re the one who was flirting with him!” Loki exclaimed, the sound of his palm being slammed against wood indicated he had caught the door and finished closing it behind him.
‘’for the last time, I. was. not. flirting! You are way to jealous with these types of things,’’ you shook your head, ditching your heels by the couch and heading towards the kitchen to hunt down your bottle of wine.
‘’Oh stuff it- you’re the one lingering your hands where they shouldn’t be.’’ Loki scoffed, crossing his arms over his tight button down and leaning himself right in the door way while you paused at the fridge.
‘’what did you say?” you demanded, releasing your grip on the fridge handle to fully turn to face his narrowing eyes.
‘’I saw the way you were-‘’
‘’the first part.’’ You snapped, crossed your arms, unconsciously making your breasts pillow even more in your bra to where Loki’s eye contact flickered ever so slightly.
‘’stuff. It.’’
You glared back at him, fighting the urge to tell him to F off before you turned and went back to sticking your head in the fridge. ‘’pick a hole then.’’ You snapped, sarcasm dripping off your voice while you desperately hunted your wine bottle in the back and snatching it with to much of an urgency.
You pulled your head out and shut the fridge, immediately jumping back to see Loki looming right where the door had him perfectly hidden. His breathing was slow and heavy, nails digging into his palms while they stayed at his side. He looked down his nose at you, jaw tight but what really brought your attention was his rock-hard erection.
‘’your mouth.’’
You blinked a few times, the angry crease between your brows disappearing immediately while your eyes flew back up to him with confusion. He was pissed, you were pissed.. and he wanted sex? Come to think of it, you felt your own nagging problem begin to pulse in that one spot between your legs. Who was winning here?
You hardly realized the bottle slipping out of your fingers before Loki had it set down on the counter next to you without even breaking eye contact. He was much taller, intimidation always on his side while you desperately tried to still look mad. Curse him for being hot.. perhaps it was the powerful, controlling dynamic you enjoyed whenever he brought his frustrations in the bedroom.
He always took you seriously, he really did.. but you couldn’t help but notice most past arguments have been easily washed away or forgotten due to the fact that you found each other extremely hot when it came to being.. well.. hot and bothered. Quite the adverse way of kissing and making up.. but you were sure this time Loki was furious- so the fact that he was skipping right to the ‘good’ part had you surprised.
You flinched out of surprise, feeling his slender hands rest on your bare shoulders with the slightest bit of force to indicated he wanted you kneeling. Right here, right now. He hid it well, but the tenseness in his jaw and concentrated stare were indicators that he felt bad for what happened.. for what was said.. you both needed this distraction.
‘’open your mouth for me..’’ he whispered, his voice raspy and lustful while he now watched you through half lidded eyes.
Curse him.. curse this beautiful man.. his hand brushed his fingertips against your skin until they had made their way up to tangle themselves in your hair. His hand merely rested, seeming like he would use this perfect leverage to shove you down but made no moves to. He wanted you willing. His other hand was now at his bulge, trying to adjust himself but not yet reaching for the zipper until he was sure you would participate..
And damn right you were.
Your dress was short enough that when you sank down to your knees, the cold tile floor met your skin. Your eyes stayed with his, your pupils having blown wide with desire while your lips parted ever so slightly in anticipation. Your dainty hands now rested against his thighs, squeezing ever so slightly to greet the firm muscle before they began gliding against the fabric towards where his hand was.
Still a tiny bit mad, the least you could do was let out a little bit of brat energy and shoved his hand aside so your own could take over where his bulge was. Loki’s hand still in your hair gave you the smallest grip of warning but you soothed it quick by beginning to undo his belt. It didn’t take long- especially from your daily practice- for his cock to be pulled out and stroked eagerly by your hands.
Loki’s head fell back, letting out a deep breath and a shudder with the feeling of your soft hands slowly pumping him. you always were able to make him melt and seeing him like this always soothed your hackles as well. Already feeling your mouth begin to salivate, you gave his tip a kitten lick and resisted the urge to smile when you heard his breath hitch.
Before you could really think about further tease or test, his hips suddenly moved forward to where his tip pressed insistently against your lips. He pressed on, forcing you to lean back so the back of your head came to rest against the drawers behind you and even then, he kept pushing until you had no choice but to open up for him.
With a moan, you shivered around him when he gripped your hair and kept you still so he could push his cock in until it was barely reaching the back of your throat- stopping on purpose to let you at least have a little adjustment time. Your tongue pressed up against him, teasing still while his cock sat in your mouth- heavy and hard. Hearing him take a breath, you knew he was trying to maintain some of his control while he pushed a bit more of himself until he then was reaching the back of your throat, making you twitch just a tad with sensitivity.
If you could take all of him, you would- the god merely just had an abundance to give to where your hands needed to take over the rest of him and go back to stroking. What you did have in your mouth, however, you wasted no time in beginning to suck and lick while your head moved forward and back. Loki’s grip in your hair indicated you weren’t going to be able to stop yourself and he’d take over in a heart beat if you dared take a pause.
You didn’t mind.
The both of you tended to get controlling, safe words and motions ready if need be and to be honest, it was hot when he was using force. Now and again, you would slow your rhythm just enough to feel that frustrated grip in your locks that would pull you back to choke on his cock before he’d let you take over once more. Your tears turned him on, even if they were natural when he went in a tad bit far for your throat to squeeze him.
‘’and what a glorious hole to pick.. gods you take me so well..’’ Loki growled out, his eyes taking turns to flutter up and regain his control before they would drop down to watch you.
To be honest, he was the one to start this ‘smart mouth, he said she said thing’, but you weren’t going to argue if it earned you a hot result. Even now you stared up at him with wet eyes while he kept rocking his hips to fuck your face- having taken the reins a while ago when you could tell he was getting close.
His hand kept a good grip in your hair and while he continued to thrust, your hands had all but abandoned his crotch to grip onto the fabric of his pants, shaking and moaning against him. your vibrations merely spurred him on to go a tad bit faster and at some point your eyes had to squeeze shut to be able to take it.
‘’eyes on me pet.. I want to see the look on your face when I coat that beautiful mouth of yours..’’ he whispered, his voice husky while his free hand lay flat against the wall in front of him to support his weight and balance. His thrusts never paused, now and again he would move in a circler motion but while keeping the same speed.
One of your hands couldn’t help but creep down to between your legs, grateful for the easy access your dress provided where you began easing some of your own arousal that grew with how he was using you.
‘’ah ah ah- that is my job darling. you may wait your turn.’’ He warned, noticing your hand before, with a whine, you removed and went back to gripping his thighs and pants. ‘’I know your wants darling.. what you crave.. just where do you think I’ll be going next after you’ve drank me down?” he cooed, the very thought of burying himself between your legs making him chase his orgasm with a faster pace before suddenly you felt him bursting in your mouth.
He came faster than usual- you’d dare think he might have been secretly aroused mid argument on the way here- but also he had let go a bit of his control tonight. Your throat was sore while he continued to rock into your mouth, making sure to keep it plugged so that you take every drop he had to give before he pushed in all the way one more time and stilled.
You shivered at the taste of him, wishing most could be enjoyed on your tongue than straight to your stomach. The soft hair at his pelvis tickled your nose while his hand kept you up against him and you whined when his cock twitched now and again in your throat. You moved when he would move, so you watched him enjoy and come down from his high before his hand left the wall to come down and stroke your tear covered cheek.
‘’you look so beautiful like this darling.. I have half the mind to keep you this way..’’ he grinned, his voice breathy while your legs squeezed together.
He finally pulled out of your mouth and released your hair, letting you fall back onto your rump and rest your back against the drawer now in front of him. a gentle smile came to your lips of your own second-hand satisfaction and he kneeled down in front of you to share his smile.
‘’I don’t even remember what we were arguing about..’’ you quietly laughed and your hands reached down to rest on his shoulders.
‘’it was probably my doing darling,.. I apologize.’’ He said gently and his hands moved to wrap around you and pull you up onto your feet, holding you against his chest. ‘’I should have never said what I said..’’ he sighed, regret in his voice while he rested his chin on top of your head while his hand rubbed your back.
‘’I’m not apposed to it though, you can ‘stuff it’ anytime you like.’’ You teased, feeling him chuckle against you before he kissed the top of your head.
‘’you might come to regret allowing ‘anytime I’d like’ darling.’’ He smirked before his hands found your hips, turning you swiftly before you were lifted to lay down upon the kitchen island in the center of the room.
You let out a squeak, feeling the cold marble meet your exposed skin before it was soon forgotten when you felt the warmth and softness of Loki’s cheeks brushing up against the inside of your thighs under your dress. Propping yourself onto your elbows, your cheeks came to a blush when you found him leaning forward and spread your legs apart to give him access- his mouth just merely an inch away from your pantie-less (upon request) center.
‘’I don’t mind; you exhaust me in the best ways possible.’’ You teased, biting your bottom lip eagerly when his eyes flicked to yours mischievously and pushed your dress up.
‘’then allow me to make things up to you in the best ways possible as well.’’ He smirked before he dipped his head down and gave you the world’s best apology.
Note: sooo for those who checked out my "possible fic idea (pick a hole!)" post.. not sure if you wanted a tag or not so.. imma just put you here *sweats*
jacobvanloon
vaporwave
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
blakekathryn
