Cashew♡

That bi girl 𖦹 he/she/they 𖦹 multifandom!!

[cashewyamini]

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[sweethearticism]

when the kamo clan sent you out for the assassination of 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈, you were warned of a few things.

he was incredibly fast, impossibly strong and fought with an intensity that shook the jujutsu world. a hulking, predatory, yet oddly intelligent freak of a man.

but you didn't expect this.

“mm what're they feedin' ya back at that clan? probably not good dick like this, huh?”

that scarred lip pulled back in a grin. you could barely bite back as a filthy grind on your cervix melted away all your curses. the only talking spluttered from your dripping pussy.

“fuck— fushig— hngh!” your thighs are wedged further up the wall, knees pinned beside your tits as his thrusts turn into a feral hammer.

the bastard leans in, grin sharper, eyes darker. “the name's toji, baby, won't you say it for me?”

his cock snapped into your gummy walls as it trying to engrave it's behemoth of a shape within you. a token for you to take back. ‘I didn't take out fushiguro toji but i sure as hell took him.’

“c'mon dollface, sing for me.”

his large palms squeezed on the backs of your knees and his hips committed to a sweltering rhythm. knocking up until your quivering slit took him all the way and cried around his hilt. all while he ground up into that devastating spot. slowly, roughly, until you left a perfect ring of cream around him.

“t-toj— toji,”

he grinned at your voice crack and bent over you. hooking your leg over his muscles shoulder so his forearm could slam beside your head. “there you go. sing it for me.”

before his wet slaps assaulted your clenching cunt until all you could was pitifully sob and dig your nails down his back. arch into the man you're supposed to be gutting.

but here he is. rearranging in your guts and husking to your ear all smug.

“think you're better suited for this. think you'd make a better whore than assassin, yeah? pretty pussy sure says so.”

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/uzmacchiato. first time writing for toji how'd I do?

[mackhiato]

|| studying (the subject of) you

¬ frat!sukuna x nerd!reader ¬

description -> there wasn't much you and frat boy!sukuna ryomen had in common...except your mutual disdain for partner projects. (un)luckily for the two of you, fate has a way of bringing together the seemingly incompatible. but as the project continues and studying sessions involve less and less studying, you both discover you're learning more about yourselves than the subject matter at hand...

word count -> 14.5k

cw -> yearning || mutual pining || like, medium burn? || eventual smut || drinking || smoking || cursing || mean sukuna (but only if you squint) || side frat!gojo x nerd!reader || jealousy || angst (it's getting serious) || resolved tension and feelings

part eight || part nine || part ten

Sukuna woke up with a pounding headache and a sickness in his stomach that a hangover couldn’t rival. 

He cast a sideways glance at the sunlight peaking through his blinds, a silver of the window visible, showcasing the outside world in a much better mood than he could hope to muster. His clothes from last night lay in the same pile he left them in when he stripped and climbed into bed, too drunk to do anything but lie there and let sleep overtake him. His mouth was dry, tasting of whatever liquor he’d mixed to get him in this state, but all he could remember was the feeling of you against him. 

For one brief, blissful moment, everything felt correct. Months of feelings captured when he let his instincts take over his restraint, taking two steps forward and fully falling into you, pressing his lips against yours in a feverish state. 

And you had responded in kind. He could still feel the way your nails dragged down the nape of his neck, fingers buried in his pinkish locks. He could still hear your body’s response, keening into him as if you two together were natural. His thigh between your leg, sliding in like a piece of a puzzle, your mouth slotted against his, his hands gripping your waist, and you, in the center of it all, so reactive and responsive to his movements.

And just as quickly as it came, it vanished. Fucked up by a drunken decision on a Sunday night that left him waking up in a bed that wasn’t his own with a girl who didn’t deserve to suffer the repercussions of his indecision and insecurity. 

Toji, ever the enabler, accompanied Sukuna and some of their other frat brothers to their favorite dive spot, where the drinks were cheap, and the bartenders poured heavy, especially for customers they knew whose pockets were deep and got deeper the more drinks they had.  Sukuna, by nature, was a favorite customer, only rivaled by Satoru, both of whom had closed shop one too many times.

It was late – too late to be drinking this much on a Sunday night, but Sukuna couldn’t bring himself to care as the bartender poured him another drink from the well. Toji, in a rare occurrence of rationality, cut himself off after the third drink. His eyes flicked over to the entrance of the bar, and they narrowed at what he saw. 

“You’ve got trouble headed your way.”

Sukuna’s head turned, and Uraume’s clipped bob entered his vision. He sighed, ambivalent about her arrival, turning back to his drink. “Whatever.”

“Haven’t you been dodging her texts?”

“Yup.”

Toji stared at him incredulously, shaking his head as he lifted his glass, downing the rest of the drink in one swallow. “You’re ridiculous.” He slid his glass against the bar top and reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a few crumpled ones.

Sukuna side-eyed him. “Where’re you going?”

Toji glanced back at Uraume, who spotted both men at the bar and began to make her way over. “Away from whatever shitstorm of bad decisions you’re about to make.”

Just as quickly as Toji exited, Uraume entered, flicking her hair over her shoulder and ordering two shots. She placed one gingerly in front of Sukuna, saying, “You look like you need this.”

Sukuna was positively sure he didn’t, but couldn’t focus long enough to form a sentence to argue as he wrapped his fingers around the shot, lifting it in cheers and clinking glasses with her before tapping the bottom gently on the bar, tipping his head back to down the clear, burning liquid.

Uraume followed suit, stacking their glasses and looking over at Sukuna. “So. Why’re you here on a Sunday night?”

He scoffed at the attempt at small talk. “Could ask you the same thing.”

Uraume shrugged, her eyes trailing. “Probably the same as you. Looking for a distraction.”

A distraction. That’s exactly what it was. A distraction, and a hazy-headed decision that led to him abandoning Toji at the bar, and waking up in Uraume’s bed, back slick with sweat and regret as she slept soundlessly next to him. 

It was an asshole move, and he knew it. He knew as soon as he left the bar that he would regret it, but it wasn’t enough to get him to stop. He wasn’t sure why. He’d never been one to hesitate. And when it was offered up so casually, who was he to refuse when you and he had nothing tying you together? No loyalties, no pledges of abstinence or celibacy, no titles of girlfriend, boyfriend, or friends with benefits. Until last night, you hadn’t even kissed yet. 

And now? 

Sukuna wasn’t sure if he could even call you a friend.

All you had were close encounters and yearning glances from across rooms, hushed tones and subtle touches that lingered like the smell of your shampoo and the musk of his cologne. Momentary pleasure followed by a week of guilt, plaguing him like whatever sickness you had caught last week.

And just like that, his mind was back on you. You, and your dejected face as you watched the grimace form on his. The way you fought against your lower lip wobbling, your waterline dampening against your will. He wasn’t so bold or full of himself to declare your heart crushed, but he knows he saw something break behind your eyes, and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to repair it. 

He reached for his phone, battery almost empty from last night’s negligence, and saw no response from you. He would’ve been embarrassed by the multiple texts going on unanswered with anyone else, but with you, he couldn’t give a damn. 

sukuna | I know I fucked up but please let me explain.

sukuna | I’m so fucking sorry. 

sukuna | Please let me talk to you.

sukuna | I regret hurting you but I don’t regret kissing you.

Timestamped at two in the morning; all left on delivered. He figured as much, considering how wounded you looked when you left him standing on the patio. He winced at the last text he sent, too drunk to come up with something better, something more soothing, but it wasn’t like it wasn’t true. Considering how hard he was when he felt you pressed up against him, he figured you knew it too.

He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned, feeling ill in more ways than one. It didn’t help that an unwelcome knock and entry of his white-haired friend timed itself so perfectly with his current state. 

Gojo bounded over, propping himself on Sukuna’s bed, irritably chipper. “Well, don’t you look positively sunshiney.”

Sukuna glared at him from beneath his comforter. “Get. Out.”

“Y’know, maybe, if you’d just taken my advice when I gave it to you weeks ago, we wouldn’t be in this situation. But here we are. Feelings, trampled on, numbers, blocked – ”

“She hasn’t blocked me. At least, yet. Semester’s not over, and we’re project partners. She can’t.”

“Oh, I think she has the license to kill you after what you put her through.” Gojo retorted, tone playful, but eyes serious. “You really hurt her last night.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Sukuna snapped, sitting up in his bed, a menacing tone lacing every word. “Get the fuck outta my face. Who are you to tell me that, anyway? Some idiot who’s taken her on one date?”

“Last time I checked, it’s one more than you’ve been on with her.”

Sukuna felt his fist twitch beside him. He only glared in response.

“I don’t know why you’re glowering at me. I’m not the one who fucked up. I’m not the one who wanted to have their cake and eat it too. I’m not the one who – ”

“Yeah, yeah, I got your point, dickhead. I know I fucked up.”

“At least you’re not totally dense.” Gojo eyed him up and down, judgment oozing from his gaze. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”

Sukuna exhaled, casting a sideways glance at his window, still obscured by his curtains, and yet the midday sun persisted, a sliver of light illuminating his room.

“She won’t even talk to me. What am I supposed to do?”

Gojo shrugged. “Dunno, but it better be something good.”

Sukuna’s scowl deepened. “You’ve butt your head in every part of this since the beginning, and now you decide to stop talking?”

“Yeah, I gave both of you my advice and look where that’s got us. Maybe if I shut up, it’ll encourage you two to sit and actually figure out what you both want. Y’know, communicate. Like adults do.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not laughing. You shouldn’t be either. You better come up with something that sweeps her off her feet before she decides I’m clearly the better option.”

“Gojo?”

“Yes?”

“Get the fuck out my room.”

|||

Utahime, Yuki, and Shoko both watched with concerned eyes as you recounted everything they had missed – from the sickness, to him hooking up with Uraume the following day, to the cold shoulder treatment and the kiss on the patio. You watched as their jaws dropped lower and lower, and despite your overwhelming sadness and anger at him, you felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you recounted your shared moment outside the party. 

“He did what?” Utahime leaned forward, flushed at your hushed retelling. “Oh, my God.”

Shoko placed her hand on your shoulder, nodding solemnly. “I am so proud of you. A lesser woman would have folded.”

“But I did fold! The fucking kiss, I – ” You buried your face in your hands. “I shouldn’t have kissed him.”

“Was it good?”

You flushed as Shoko and Utahime admonished Yuki’s question, but you felt heat rise to your cheeks from the answer that immediately popped into your brain. 

It was fucking amazing.

You weren’t totally inexperienced. You had had your fair share of kisses in your lifetime, but none were quite as passionate as what you experienced on the patio that night. 

Last night, after getting ice cream with Satoru and him dropping you off at your apartment, you laid in bed, wide awake, replaying what had transpired between you and Sukuna by the nanosecond, frame by frame. 

His heated gaze. His hands, so big and hungry as they gripped your hips, squeezing, kneading, as if he was trying to fuse your bodies into one. His mouth, setting the pace, insistent, not overpowering, sucking and nipping at your lips so gently, yet wanton lust bled through every breath. His chest pressed against yours, heart beating wildly, the two of you generating enough heat to warm a small village. That warmth pooled at your stomach, sinking lower and lower as you felt him drag your body over his thigh, thick and sinewy with muscle pressed against your core and overwhelming all of your senses, sending your brain into overdrive. 

You felt yourself get flustered thinking about it, and you hated yourself for reacting that way. 

“It doesn’t matter whether the kiss was good or not; what matters is that he hurt her.” Utahime pulled you into her, trying to comfort you as best she could, running a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

You mumbled out an empty thanks. It was nice to have friends who cared so much, but you could barely sort out your own feelings on the matter, let alone what you were going to do to proceed forward. 

It was Saturday morning, and you and Sukuna’s normally scheduled study session had been abandoned, considering last night's events. His unanswered texts and calls weighed heavily on your phone as you contemplated what you should do next. 

sukuna | i regret hurting you but i don’t regret kissing you.

You remember the sick, giddy feeling in your chest when you read that message when you woke up this morning. You wanted to scream, and cry, and berate him for making you feel so small, but you couldn’t help but crave his body on yours again, because as awful as you felt afterward, you didn’t regret it either.

He made you feel dirty, like someone to be used and disposed of – but that damn kiss…

Could it all have really meant nothing? Were you truly that simple, that one kiss could send you weak in the knees, abandoning your morals, what you stood for, ridding you of your self-confidence, for a man you’d only known for three months?

The logistics of it all sent your already reeling mind into a whirlwind. You didn’t understand how feelings could be so compartmentalized, for a guy to be able to kiss someone with that much fervor, knowing their date, who they’d slept with less than a week prior, was standing a couple of hundred feet away from them.

The hypocrisy almost made you want to reach out and apologize to Uraume, who was nothing but kind to you when she made small talk at the bar that night. Neither of you deserved this, but when whatever you and Sukuna have — or had — didn’t even have a label, what would you even apologize for? You knew they weren’t dating; nobody needed to tell you that the resident campus terror didn’t date, but you couldn’t help but feel like you owed her something, if not conciliation for the embarrassment of a night Friday was.

After Utahime, Shoko, and Yuki tired themselves out from their crusade against Sukuna they nobly took on for you, they left you to your own devices, both a blessing and a curse. The more you contemplated, the worse the knot in your stomach tightened.

You looked back on his text with disdain, your frown deepening as you read the messages over again. You shut your phone off, scooped up Miso, then locked yourself in your room, attempting to distract yourself from the horrors of yesterday. As the day went on and throughout the evening, while you tried to study, you kept hearing your phone buzz, and you got so fed up, you tossed it under your pillow, trying to force all your feelings down every time you saw his name pop up on your screen. 

However, the universe seemed insistent on reminding you of everything, as Miso started meowing incessantly, perched in the corner of your room. You tried to ignore her calls for attention, focusing on a student’s paper you had to finish grading this weekend, when her meows started turning to howls, you whipped around, scowling at your cat. “What?” You snapped. “What do you want?”

Her tail curled, and it was then you faltered, seeing what she was sitting on top of. 

Sukuna’s hoodie, still folded in the corner of your room, where you and he both left it the weekend you were sick. 

Your lip twitched, and you locked eyes with Miso, who only blinked innocently in response. You huffed. “Traitor.”

You were restless that night, tossing and turning, and replaying Friday night as if it was a movie being projected overhead, thoughts and feelings too vivid for comfort. You groaned, burying yourself in comforters and pillows, and tried to ignore the heat in your stomach at the thought of his hands on you again. 

The next morning brought about another flurry of texts. The unread messages from Sukuna were piling up, and you knew he realized you were adamant on ignoring him. You scrolled past, determined on not dealing with this problem until you had to, and instead went to see what Satoru had messaged you. 

satoru | you know he’s crashing out right

you | Good. 

you | He should be.

satoru | whew, icy

satoru | i love it

satoru | how long are you gonna ignore him for

you | Optimistically? Forever.

you | Realistically? Until class on Tuesday.

Satoru’s contact bubbled in and out of frame before he called, and you picked up the phone. “What’s up?”

“Just got tired of texting, and I wanted to hear your voice.” You heard a scuffle in the background as Gojo adjusted, then a door shut, presumably as he entered his bedroom. “How ya doin’, angel?”

You sighed. “Definitely better than Friday night. Thank you again for the ice cream.”

“Of course. Had to make sure my favorite girl was doing okay.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re laying it on thick, Satoru. I’m still not gonna sleep with you.”

“But wouldn’t it be such great revenge?” You could almost see Gojo’s maniacal grin through the phone as he joked. “He’d be so mad.”

“Well, he would have no moral high ground to stand on, considering what he did.” You picked at your nails, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear. 

“Yeah, well, he definitely knows he fucked up.”

“Please, he’s only upset that he got caught.” You scoffed, lips downturned into a pout.

“At least you know you mean something to him,” Satoru offered. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you grumbled. “He doesn’t care about me.”

“That’s not true.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Um, do you not remember what happened, or do you need a refresher?”

“Trust me, I remember. I just don’t think someone who ‘doesn’t care about you’ would be blowing up your phone and texting you nonstop for the past few days. I’m surprised he hasn’t broken your door down yet.”

“And how would you know about the texts?” You drawled out.

Gojo deadpanned through the phone. “Angel. I live with him. Trust me, I know.”

In truth, Satoru had never seen the degree of crash-out Sukuna was displaying. If they thought Sukuna’s bad mood a few weeks ago was dreadful, this mood swing sent the pledge class into hiding. When he wasn’t checking his phone every ten minutes, he was scowling at anyone who entered within a five-foot radius. Toji and Gojo were the only two who were able to enter his berth without losing their heads, and even then, Sukuna could only stand their presence for a few minutes before he stormed out, irritated at the knowing glances Toji and Gojo exchanged. On the bright side, probably stemming from the fear and exhaustion he’s seen in pledges’ frames, Gojo has never seen the frat house cleaner. 

A twisted part of you revelled in the fact that Sukuna was as affected as you were. You hummed in satisfaction, to which you heard Gojo chuckle. “Maybe send him a message, just so he knows you're alive. If not for yourself, for my sake. I can’t deal with this tantrum for much longer.”

“I refuse to apologize or be held responsible for the behavior of a man-child.” You sniped. “If he wants to talk to me, he’ll have to beg.”

You heard the smugness in Gojo’s tone. “Careful what you wish for.”

After getting off your call with him, you sat, contemplating his words as you read over your notes in preparation for your lectures on Monday. While you still hadn’t read any of the numerous texts Sukuna had sent, you thought about opening and responding countless times. You were sympathetic to the plight of innocent pledges, but you also knew your anger was justified. It was strange, knowing there was some care Sukuna had for you, even if all his recent actions couldn’t demonstrate it. But you think back to the soup he made, the few ice pops left in the freezer, the lattes that sat ready for every study session, and his stupid hoodie that still sat in the corner of your room. It couldn’t mean nothing, and you knew, deep down, it didn’t. 

But even then, you knew what you wanted. You couldn’t be with someone where the physicality of it all was easy, but the words and actions were too hard. Regardless of your feelings for him, you wanted somebody you wanted you just as much, if not more. Even at your most angry, you didn’t ever seriously consider hooking up with someone else, and not out of some misplaced loyalty to Sukuna – you just couldn’t understand how someone could claim to be so interested in one person and sleep with someone else in such a short time frame. It grated on your nerves how all-consuming your stupid little crush became. It wasn’t like you didn’t have other options, but when Sukuna was right there, with his coral hair that curled slightly when it was damp, and his tattoos that contrasted with his tanned skin, and his frustratingly handsome smile that he only showed when he was feeling vulnerable…how could you be interested in another person?

You knew Sukuna didn’t owe anything to you; the two of you were “just friends”, after all. But he had a way of making you feel like you were someone that mattered to him, someone that he cared for, and someone he potentially wanted more with. For one moment, the kiss made it all feel possible. 

But the platitudes you’ve heard so many times echoed through your head like chants in a temple. If he wanted to, he would. Actions speak louder than words.  Hymns you’ve used more times than you can count in feeble attempts to protect yourself, and look how that turned out.  You would think yourself into a stupor trying to parse his behavior like a psychologist, so you opted to stop thinking about it altogether. You would stop worrying about what would happen when you saw each other on campus, or how you would be civil enough to finish working on your project together. You decided to nip the problem in the bud, to stop this agonizing over a man who sent you into such a spiral. You opened your phone, scrolling past the number of texts he’d sent, and drafted one of your own. 

you | Good evening. I’m texting to let you know that I will be finishing the project on my own time and no longer require your assistance. Your work in certain sections is appreciated and will be acknowledged with your name on the final submission. There is no need to further communicate with me, so at your earliest convenience, please delete my number. Good luck with your future endeavors.

You scanned it one more time before nodding in satisfaction, sending the message, and tossing your phone to the side. Not two minutes later, your phone began to ring.

Sukuna’s contact took over your phone screen, and you watched as the rings ran out, sending him to voicemail. A text pinged at the top of your screen.

sukuna | pick up your damn phone

His call rang again, and this time, you rejected it, sending him straight to voicemail. Not to be deterred, he called again, and you huffed, angrily shooting him another text.

you | Leave me the fuck alone.

you | I’m trying to ignore you. 

sukuna | well you’re doing a great fucking job at that

you | I don’t know who you think you’re texting with that attitude, but it’s certainly not me.

you | Try that again.

sukuna | you’re not finishing this project by yourself

you | Watch me.

you | I’d rather chew glass than have to sit in your presence.

You waited for a text in response, but your messages sat unread. As the sun set on Sunday evening, and you prepared yourself for the long week ahead, you waited for another text from him to pop up on your screen, but nothing ever arrived. It wasn’t until the next morning, when you plopped yourself down in the first lecture of the day, that you opened your computer and saw an email waiting for you:

From: Yaga, Masamichi <[email protected]>

CC: Sukuna, Ryomen <[email protected]>

Re: Issues with Partner Project

To whom it may concern, 

It has come to my attention that there seems to be an inequitable distribution of work amongst this particular partner group. Normally, I would leave disagreements to be settled between students, given you are no longer in kindergarten, but considering the strange, and might I add surprising, nature of the request I received, I felt it necessary to weigh in.

I felt I made it very clear the fair division of work for this project was imperative to earning a passing mark. Regardless of each student’s writing proficiencies and varying levels of engagement in our sessions, it is required that both students’ work be evident in the final submission. Clear evidence of a single student’s handiwork will result in immediate failure for both group members. 

I hope the two of you can reach a consensus quickly, considering the final submission is due in just little over two weeks.

Best of luck, 

Prof. M. Yaga

You blinked. Surely, this could not be in response to the text you sent? 

But as you rechecked your inbox, you saw a post-script email, addressed only to you from Prof. Yaga:

You cannot complete this project by yourself, no matter how much you want to. I am expecting to be able to see your partner’s work evident in this submission. I would hate to fail such a talented student.

You saw red. Your nostrils flared. You felt your fingers twitch over the keys dangerously, and you fought the urge to send the most passive-aggressive email back to Sukuna. Instead, in a blind rage, you snatched your phone off the desk and marched outside the classroom, shoving through the double doors into the quietest part of the campus quad, dialing Sukuna’s number, ready to give him an earful. 

The line had just barely been picked up before you began yelling into the receiver.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you pig-headed, low-life, entitled piece of shit!” You hissed, not caring to police your tone in front of the few students milling about the grassy area. “You told on me? You tattled to our professor? Like a fucking child?” You laughed vindictively, no humor evident in your tone. “Are we in preschool? You can’t deal with the consequences of your own actions, like some spoiled brat? Oh, fuck you.” Your tone was frosted as you repeated yourself, insult after insult spewing from your mouth, built up anger for days now coming out like a geyser. 

Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, Sukuna remained silent, simply listening to your battering and berating of him with the smallest, smug grin on his face. Yeah, he was getting cursed within an inch of his life, and yeah, he could feel your vitriol spewing through his phone’s speakers. He knew your voice was loud enough through the receiver for his surrounding frat brothers, casually lounging on the sofa nearby, to hear your insults and throw worried glances back, wondering if this exchange was bordering on domestic abuse. But judgment be damned, he couldn’t care less. He was just glad to hear you talking to him, saying his name, and acknowledging his existence. The radio silence was eating him alive, and the anger in your tone told him that you still cared – he wouldn’t have known what to do if you were apathetic to it all.

He waited until you had tired yourself out, your heavy breathing coming through the receiver, before he responded. “I’m just trying to make sure I’m carrying my load of the work,” he responded, trying to keep his tone level. He knew that sensing a hint of mirth in his tone meant you would send him packing, and he was already in the dog house for the stunt he pulled last week.

“Oh, sure. You didn’t care about that at all when you suggested I do all the work a few months ago.” You responded snippily.

“That was then. Before I cared about you.”

Your lip twitched. “You mean before you cared about your grade in this class?”

“No, I mean you.” Sukuna ignored the shocked glances his frat brothers sent him, wondering if he was talking about the same person who was just cursing his bloodline for generations to come. “I care about you.”

You fought against the flutter in your chest, a flurried betrayal of wings battering against your ribs. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” Sukuna responded firmly. “I’m gonna prove it to you, I’m serious about you.”

You exhaled. “Yeah, well, good luck with that.” 

“I already fucked it up once. I’m not gonna do it again.”

You frowned, not sure whether to trust his words. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Sukuna hummed. “You’ll see it.”

You twisted your lips, partially stunned for words, partially refusing to say anything else lest you embarrass yourself. Sukuna took the opportunity to fill the silence you created. 

“Do you want to meet in the library later to finish up the conclusion? I’ll be free the rest of the day.”

“I have plans,” you cut out, lying through your teeth.

“Fine. We’ll plan around you. When are you free?”

“Never.”

“Hm. That’s not conducive at all. What about 7:00?”

“I’m going to a seminar called ‘go fuck yourself’.”

“Sounds stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Maybe you should go to a comeback seminar instead, do they have those?”

You scoffed. “Goodbye.” You pulled your phone away from your ear to hang up, but his voice called out before you could hit the end button. 

“The sooner we finish this, the sooner you can stop seeing me.”

You closed your eyes, sighing. You hated when he was right.

“I’ll see you at 7, then?”

“Whatever, fine.”

“See you then.” He hung up the phone, and you stared at the dark screen, apprehension painted across your face. You didn’t have time to be frustrated by his insistence, not when your lecture had started five minutes ago. You grumbled, heading back inside to prepare for class. 

Back at the frat house, Sukuna grabbed a hoodie, tossing it over his shoulder, and snatched his backpack resting on the floor nearby. He heard Gojo call back from the foyer. “Where are you going? You don’t have class until noon.”

Sukuna grunted in response. “Gotta see about a girl.”

He slammed the door on his way out, missing the knowing grin Gojo had on his face. 

|||

Sukuna sat as the population of the library dwindled down to a few straggling students, the mood somber as the lone souls sat scattered across the floors of the library, the mountain of work surrounding them dauntingly high. While the rest of the students’ faces were sullen, Sukuna’s eyebrow ticked up as the clock’s minute hand shifted forward another notch. 

8:09 PM.

No text. No call. 

He would laugh if he weren’t so irritated.

He knew what you were doing. He wasn’t surprised by it either. You were simply calling back to his ignorant actions when you first met – his egregiously late showing to the first study session you had together. One would argue it’s poetic justice, forcing him to taste his own medicine. He’d expected nothing less from you.

What he wasn’t expecting was for you to show up as late as you did in his hoodie.

The shades might’ve been overkill, considering the sky was a deep shade of purplish black by the time you waltzed into the library, finally gracing him with your presence. The large frames covered your face, a difference compared to the glasses you normally wear – he missed the way those sat on your face.

You stalked toward your usual table, and Sukuna bit the inside of his cheek, neglecting to comment on how cute you looked when you attempted to be brooding. You paused as you came across the empty chair sitting beside him. He raised his eyebrow in response. “Nice to see you made your way here. Did you get lost?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you gazed past him, grimacing at the open chair next to him instead of across the table where it normally rested. You walked around his sitting figure, approaching the empty chair from behind and picking it up, trotting both the chair and you around to the other side of the table as Sukuna looked on in bewilderment. The four legs of the chair hit the library’s floor with a resounding thunk, and you plopped yourself down, folding your arms over your chest. He could feel your withering gaze, only concealed by the dark tint of your shades. 

Your head ticked slightly to the side. “Here now. Let’s get this over with.”

Sukuna blew out a breath. He knew you were going to make this difficult, but he wasn’t prepared for how difficult you were going to be. No sense in beating around the bush, especially if this is already how you were acting. “We should talk about last Friday.”

You shook your head. “No.”

“We need to talk about it.”

“We don’t need to do anything but finish this damn project. And if we’re not gonna do that, then you wasted both of our time.”

“Fine. Then I’ll talk, and you can listen.”

“I’m not gonna sit here and listen to the excuses you scrambled to make.” You grabbed your bag, beginning to stand and exit, before you felt Sukuna’s hand grip your forearm. You head whipped back to glare at him, voice low. “Let. Go.”

“Let me explain.” His grip was like a vice, and as his fingers twitched, you could feel the slight, frantic desperation seeping through the pads of his digits. His eyes were still the hard, fire-forged red they usually were, but the centers were warm, as if lightened by the vulnerability he only seemed to be able to show you. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Please.”

The word sounded strange coming from his mouth, like it had been years since he’d uttered it. Your eyes met, his studying your face for signs of flight. You felt your features soften against their will. You hated how an earnest look and a pleading tone from him made you feel so weak and pliable.

You yanked your arm from his grip, dropping your bag and pushing your shades up your face. You folded your arms back across your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together, feigning strength in a moment you felt so little. “Fine. Explain.”

He took in a breath before beginning to talk. “I know I hurt you last week, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t matter, or that it – the kiss, I mean – didn’t mean anything to me, because it did.”

You pursed your lips, not giving him an inch. He scratched the back of his neck and continued. 

“I did hook up with Uraume, and I’m not gonna make excuses for it. It was fucked. I know that. And it was more fucked that I kissed you like that. It wasn’t fair to either of you, but I wouldn’t take it back.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve made that extensively clear.” You took a deep inhale, attempting to regulate your nervous system, now firing on all cylinders. “What does it matter to you anyway? We don’t owe each other anything. We’re not together, and I thought we agreed — ” 

“I swear to God, if you say ‘to be friends’, I’m gonna lose my shit.” He laughed humorlessly, his eyes sparking as his fingers threaded more aggressively through his hair. “Are you serious? I don’t know how much more obvious I can be.” He scoffed before stepping closer to you, his scent invading your senses, your glasses the last line of defense against his proximity. His gaze was too strong, too charged, too heated for you to maintain focus. You shifted down, looking off to the side, but he shook his head. 

“Look at me.”

It was your turn to swallow. Time started to catch like molasses being poured out of a jar. 

“I am looking at you,” you said, your voice reduced to a whisper.

“No,” he shook his head as he reached up toward your face. You instinctively flinched back, but his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the burning look in his eyes as he pulled your shades off, his gaze locking with yours as your neck tilted up to face him. “Look at me when I say this to you.”

You held your breath.

“I don’t wanna be your fucking friend.”

Exhale. Your chest rose and fell as his eyes flicked down to your mouth, slightly parted in surprise as his irises darkened. Flashes of the kiss ran across your mind like film strips in a projector, and you struggled to keep your breathing normal. 

“I want you.”

There it was. Out in the open now, undeniable, irrefutable, resistant to your self-convinced state of denial. You felt your arms squeeze tighter against your sides. “Then why did you – ”

He cut you off. “She asked me weeks ago. And I thought you – I thought it would be best if I back off when it didn’t seem like you were interested.”

He seemed to move impossibly closer as his voice fell to a hush, its deep rumble caressing your spine. 

“You set a boundary, and I wanted to respect that. I tried to. But – ” 

His fingers twitched beside him as he resisted reaching for you again. He blinked, trying not to lose himself in your wide eyes, his pupils slightly blown.

“I don’t think I can anymore.”

Your breath caught. You searched his face and were taken aback at the raw emotion behind his confession. For a moment, it felt like you were back on the balcony, cornered, pressed against a column, every nerve singing, lit on fire by the vigor in his tone and eyes. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you saw his eyes track it, as if he remembered how you tasted that night, the kiss sweet and fiery and intoxicating in ways that clearly left you both craving more. 

Your eyes fought to stay on his, and like he sensed your apprehension, he closed his, letting out a breath of frustration and control, taking a step back and breaking the charged sphere you two had entered. 

“Sorry. That wasn’t – I didn’t mean to say that. Fuck, I mean, I did, but not like that.” He palmed his forehead, his frustration with his own ineptitude that caused him to stumble over his own words. “I didn’t mean to ambush you with that. That’s not why I asked you to come.”

“So why did you ask me to come?” You could hear the exasperation in your tone, weariness pulling at your features as your frown deepened.

His shoulders slouched, mirroring your exhaustion. Such an intimidating figure, reduced to your whims. 

“To apologize. To say sorry to your face.”

“Well, you did that. Mission accomplished.” You twisted your mouth in vain attempts to stop the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

You couldn’t begin to say why you were getting emotional.

A confession, finally, begot by a night defined by drunken actions. Not how you wanted it, not how you planned, and very much not when you needed it to happen.

But was it too little, too late?

“Anything else?”

A pause.

“I needed to see if you’d give me another chance.”

“To do what?” Your facade crumbled with every earnest look he gave, his words like well-aimed arrows piercing your armor.

“Study with you.”

You exhaled shakily. He pressed forward.

“To let you know that I wanna be more than your project partner.”

Your hands flew up to your eyes, not being able to take the intensity of his look. Your fingers pressed into the sockets, as if trying to wipe him from your vision. “Sukuna, what are you doing?” You whispered.

A rhetorical question, asked from a place of denied delusion, your head spinning like you were wondering if the words coming out of his mouth were a figment of your traitorous imagination. 

He continued. “I’m done dancing around this with you. I had to tell you before you decided to never speak to me again.”

“So you’re telling me in the middle of the library?”

“Seemed kinda fitting, don’t you think?”

You shuddered out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “No. Fuck you. You don’t get to make jokes right now.”

“Sorry.” 

There wasn’t a hint of remorse in his tone.

You felt his hands curl around your wrist, hesitant, but tender as they pulled your palms gently down from your face, and you blinked back tears to focus on him.

“I’m not good at this. I haven’t done…this, before, but you make me wanna try. And I know I fucked things up before, but I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance like you did when we first met.” He paused, waiting for any sign of resistance or rejection before continuing. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been told I’m a pretty quick learner.”

This time, your laugh was watery, shock, humor, and disbelief all rolled together in a way that chimed in Sukuna’s ears. “Oh yeah? Who lied to you and said that?”

“Some girl who already called me out of my name, like, four hours ago.”

You shook your head slightly. “You deserved it.”

“Yeah, I did.” He didn’t try to put up a fight. “I’m sorry.”

His thumb caressed your inner palm before he pulled away entirely, shoving his hands into his pockets, afraid he would cross a line too soon after being granted the slightest bit of clemency from you. 

You both already missed each other’s touch. 

He gazed fondly at you while you fondled the slightly worn, frayed sleeves of his hoodie. He cocked his head to the side, gesturing to the table where his notes sat splayed open. “Help me draft the conclusion?”

You paused, thinking of how to respond, wiping your waterline dry from formed tears.

“Sukuna, I can’t give you an answer right now.”

“I’m not expecting you to.”

“I just need time to think. It’s just been, I don’t know, a lot, to say the least.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He’d lost track of the number of times he’d said it to you. More than he probably had throughout his college career, but he didn’t care. He’d say it a thousand times more, as many times as you needed to hear it before you’d believe him. 

“I know it’s late, but…” he trailed off, his head nodding over to the textbooks and readings, lying abandoned on the table, inanimate witnesses to a long-awaited confession. 

You stared at him before nodding, wordlessly following his lead and sitting down, beginning to pull out your laptop. The two of you worked quietly, burning the midnight oil as more students filtered out, and the two of you were left surrounded by the shelves of books and volumes of words left unspoken.

Well into your study session, you purposefully ignored looking at him when you asked your next question. “What would you have done if I refused to come?”

He paused, thinking of his answer. “Before getting on my hands and knees to beg? Maybe threatened to delete everything we worked on thus far.”

“Well, God forbid you do that. I still need to pass.” You raised an eyebrow as you considered his second statement. “So, is hands and knees begging still an option, or…?”

He snorted. “In your dreams, princess. Not since I know that you like me at least a little.”

“Shouldn’t that be more of an incentive? I thought princesses got what they wanted.”

He scratched his chin and looked up at you playfully. “Can’t pull out all the stops here. Week’s barely started. Besides, if you think I’m getting on my knees for you in the middle of the library, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

Your stomach flipped at the prospect of him doing anything else. “Oh, so there’s more?”

“As long as you want there to be.”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t sure how to. And like a clairvoyant, he was already tuned to what you were thinking. 

“I don’t need you to tell me yes or no right now. But, I need to know there’s a chance. That I’m not sitting here, trying to convince you of something you don’t want.”

The silence rested heavy between you as the pads of your fingers pressed along the keys, their clacking puncturing each second as Sukuna waited patiently, hopefully, for an affirmation. 

You were gracious enough to give him one.

“I’m still wearing the hoodie, aren’t I?”

|||

“Is that him?” 

You walked patiently behind the mass of students exiting the classroom. The session passed slowly with anxious students asking as many questions as possible before the onslaught of exam season hit. Unfortunately for you, your partner TA was out sick for the day, meaning you were the only one fielding questions. You were already tired, and had another two classes to go before you could go back home and crawl into bed. You sighed as the mass trickled outside like water dripping from a leaky faucet – agonizingly slow.

“Yeah, I think it is!” A hushed, excited whisper came from the young sophomore standing in front of you, pointing at a figure standing across the hallway and giggling to her friend next to her. “He is so freaking hot.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment. You couldn’t be sure who the girls were talking about, but you were certain it was some senior idiotic student athlete they had no business being interested in. As politely as you could, you began to shimmy past the two girls, rushing to make it to your next class across campus. “Excuse me,” you said, apologizing as you pushed past. 

You picked up your stride, dodging the students strolling through the hallway when your spine stiffened at the sound of your name being called.

Your entire face tightened. Of course, it wasn’t just any idiotic student athlete – it was yours. At least, your project partner.

You registered his voice faster than you wanted to, and your steps faltered before you picked them up again, this time faster than before. You heard the two underclassmen whisper in confusion, wondering why the campus’s notorious rake was chasing after their relatively unassuming TA, and you flushed, trying to escape before the gossip ring suffocated you.

You heard him curse before his footsteps quickened, and before you could protest, he was walking next you, stride by side. “You walk so damn fast,” He gruffed out. 

“Gotta get to class.” You hiked your bag higher on your shoulder, the computers and textbooks feeling like they weighed a thousand pounds. 

His eyes took in your wince of pain at the weight of your bag. He held out his hand. “Let me.”

You balked, your hand tightening on the strap. He rolled his eyes at your apprehension. “Stop being dumb. Give me your bag.”

“I can carry it myself.”

“I don’t doubt that. Give it to me.”

“Once again, I’m fine.” You seethed, shouldering away from him.

“Your arm looks like it’s about to fall off.”

You scoffed. “You calling me weak?”

“Yes.” He took matters into his own hands, snatching the strap off your shoulder against your protests, and hiking it up on his. You had to admit, it was a funny sight to see, Sukuna with your ivory green bag hung over his shoulder, your charms and keychain dangling off it. He adjusted it a couple of times, clearly not expecting it to weigh as much as it did. “Where’s your next class?”

You raised your eyebrow. “You are not about to walk me to my next lecture. Are we fifteen?”

He sucked his teeth. “Well, I have your bag now, so I don’t know how you’ll attend class if I don’t.”

You rolled your tongue along your cheek. “You must be stupid if you think this is gonna make up for what you did.”

“And you must be more stupid if you think this is all I’m doing.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and stalking forward, refusing to face him or let him hear the fact that your heart skipped a beat. “Stupider. The phrase would be stupider.”

“That’s why I gotta keep hanging around you. You make me smarter.”

“That’s the only reason? Because I’m smart?”

He shrugged. “You’re not bad to look at either.”

You were irritated by how cloudy your demeanor was compared to Sukuna’s light, airy nature. He took his steps casually, but also cautiously, aware that you hadn’t totally forgiven him and trying not to push your boundaries too far. It was a delicate balance you both were traipsing between, with him trying to prove his feelings and you pretending not to be interested in his attempts. You knew it, and Sukuna basked in the light at the end of the tunnel – you were giving him a chance, and that was all he needed.

“So, this is your big plan, then?” You said, snark encompassing the curiosity in your tone. “The princess treatment?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it, then sure.” He glanced at you with the smallest smirk on his face, his dimples poking out and accentuating his face. 

“Knew you liked the nickname.”

You exhaled through your nose and faced forward, continuing to walk and deciding you were done speaking with him. 

You both ambled in silence, trekking through the middle of campus and collecting stares along the way. You knew Sukuna was used to the attention he received, but you surely weren’t.

He took in the anxiety on your face. “What?”

“Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Besides being unwillingly escorted to class? Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“Bullshit. It’s all over your face. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just…” you hesitated, eyes flicking between the confused glances and lingering gazes. You pushed your frames up the bridge of your nose, the familiar motion soothing. “People are staring.”

He surveyed the area, onlookers whipping their heads away when they accidentally made eye contact. He scoffed. Pathetic. “Let them.”

“Not scared I’ll ruin your reputation?”

“Don’t really care, princess.”

He said it with such finality that it didn’t leave room for argument.

You bit your lip as you continued to walk. At what point was it cruel to let him do this? To pull him along on a string, to lead him on when you didn’t know if you could commit to him? You weren’t entirely sure what you were waiting on, if it was holding out to hear a magic phrase that could undo the mistakes that were made, or some grand, meaningful romantic gesture that seems to come out of the movies you’ve seen so many times with Shoko and Utahime. But was that not what had happened in the library yesterday? Maybe you were waiting for the hurt to stop feeling so fresh, for the cold delivery of Uraume’s words to stop feeling like it was a dagger, perfectly cut to the shape of your core, slicing through the emotions you had just begun to acknowledge. 

You hadn’t come to a conclusion by the time you reached the building for your next class, the familiarity of your classmates sporting various levels of emotion, from shock to surprise, from approval to downright confusion at Sukuna dropping you off at the front door.

He shouldered your bag off handing it to you by the strap. “I’ve got class at noon, so I can meet you in the caf around 1:30?”

You raised your eyebrow. “Who said I wanted to have lunch with you?”

He exhaled. “Ok. Let me rephrase. I’ll be free at 1:30, and I’d like to have lunch with you. Will you meet me in the caf?”

You waited a beat.

He flicked his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “Please?”

You gave him a small smile. “See? Not so hard. Could do without the attitude, though.”

You took your bag from his hands, and he put his hands in his pockets. “So was that a yes for lunch?”

You shrugged. “If I feel like it.” You threw a wave over your shoulder as you stepped inside your senior seminar class, greeting your peers you’d been working with for the past few months. 

A nice girl, with whom you had been friendly all semester, glanced at you peculiarly. “Were you talking with Sukuna just now?”

You nodded, hoping that would be the end of the questioning.

“Are you guys, like, together?”

You let out a small laugh, opening up your laptop. “He wishes.”

You clicked open your texts to see that your group chat with your girlfriends had new messages to read. 

utahime | sho and i going off campus for lunch today! anyone want to join?

shoko | ramen shop nearby has an awesome lunch special that i wanna check out

yuki | i’d be down

yuki | can i bring cho?

shoko | NO

shoko | your bf cannot come everywhere with us yuki 

yuki | he’ll pay

shoko | …

shoko | ok this time i’ll allow it

Shoko emphasized your name in the chat.

shoko | are you coming or what?

you | I think I have lunch plans

utahime | you think???

shoko | with who?

shoko | who could be more important and interesting than us?

yuki | her boyf

you | Not my boyfriend

yuki | sorry, soon-to-be boyf

shoko | NOT HIM

utahime | i thought we were done with him

yuki | i thought so too

yuki | what could have possibly changed in two days?

shoko | to be fair a lot

shoko | it doesn’t take a long time with these two

To your chagrin, Yuki and Utahime both laughed at Shoko’s message.

you | shut up

you | idk 

you | He said please, I guess

yuki | oh wow, that’s actually a new one for him

utahime | the bar is in hell

yuki | wait i wanna lunch with you guys then

you | It wasn’t exactly an open invite

yuki | does it sound like i care?

yuki | not everyday you get to see sukuna groveling

utahime | wait so you said yes to lunch?

you | Not exactly

utahime | but you didn’t say no either?

you | Correct

shoko | should we unpack that orrrr

you | I’d actually rather not, thanks

With that, you exited the chat, putting your focus back on the lecturer, ignoring the way your stomach grumbled. 

|||

The campus’s cafeteria was alive with bustling students and raucous chatter, under and upperclassmen alike carrying trays of food through the long dining hall, searching for a place of respite to take twenty minutes to fuel themselves for the trek ahead. You weren’t sure how you were gonna find Sukuna in the mass of students, but you didn’t have to worry because his eyes found you first. He called out your name as he walked toward you.

“You came,” he said, slight surprise clear.

“I gotta eat.”

He hummed, following you to the line with a choice meal. You looked over your options and selected something new on the menu. Sukuna frowned as you reached for your order. “That looks like shit.”

“Sukuna! They can hear you.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure they agree with me. It looks like literal ass. Don’t get that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Fine. Then let me suggest. I don’t think you’ll like that one.”

“Well, good thing no one asked you what you were thinking.” You thanked the server as you took your food, heading toward the end of the aisle to pay.

He rolled his eyes at your retort, ordering and dragging his tray of food behind you. Once you got to the cashier to pay, you fumbled for your card, only for Sukuna to extend his, reaching across you to hand it to the worker. “I got it.”

You whipped over to glare at him. “You are not paying for my meal.”

You reached to pull his hand away from the register, but he dodged, shoulder-checking you out of the way and pushing you out of line. “Stop being difficult. It’s just lunch.”

The cashier’s nails clicked against the screen as she took his card, swiping it and handing it back to him. “Not to intrude, but it’s honestly the bare minimum.”

Sukuna looked at you pointedly. “See? Bare minimum.”

You deadpanned, your grip tightening on your tray, and you turned your back on him, pivoting on your heel, looking for a free table to eat at. You set toward one near the edge of the room and set your bag down on the ground nearby with a thunk, with Sukuna following suit, taking the seat next to you. As you sat in the chair, he eyed the distance you put between yourself and him, and with his free hand, he grabbed the support beam underneath your seat, pulling you closer to him, his bicep flexing and the chair making an ugly scraping noise along the linoleum floors. By the time he stopped, you could not only smell the lunch he’d ordered, but him, who smelt of rain and sandalwood and all-around just too damn good for it to be the middle of the day. You stiffened in your seat as your knees brushed each other underneath the table. “You’re in my space,” you grumbled, pulling your tray closer to your body.

“Cope.” He said, already beginning to fork food in his mouth, adamant on not moving any further away.

You fiddled with your utensils, staring down at your meal. “So, are you just gonna follow me around for the rest of the day?”

His shoulders went up and down. “Until you tell me to stop.” He looked up from his plate and locked eyes with you, his gaze serious with a touch of vulnerability. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

You broke your gaze first, staring down at your tray. You gnawed on the inside of your bottom lip, unsure how to answer. 

He chased your eyes, leaning down to find your gaze again. “Do you?”

You landed on the truth. “No,” you mumbled, voice low and soft.

Sukunua felt the tension leave his shoulders, anxiety dissipating off his frame. “Ok. So I’ll keep following you around, and you can keep pretending not to like it.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t like it.”

“Uh huh. Sure, princess.”

You couldn’t protest any further before Gojo and Toji arrive from behind, clapping Sukuna on his back. You saw him visibly tense, clearly irritated by the interruption. “What’s up, lovebirds?” Satoru chided, taking the seat next to you while Toji sat next to Sukuna. 

Sukuna scowled. “What do you want?”

“The team’s wondering why you’re not sitting with them.” Satoru winks at you. “We see why.”

Toji chuckled, thumping Gojo on the back of his head. “Stop flirting with her before he kills you.”

“He won’t kill me. Not as long as she tells him not to.” Gojo’s eyes found yours, humor dancing behind his pupils. “Tell him not to kill me.”

You smirked, tilting your head to the side to look at Sukuna, who was already giving you the deadest stare back. “Don’t,” he gruffed out.

“Please don’t kill him.”

“How about seriously maim or injure?”

“Please don’t do that either.” Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “He’s your friend, y’know.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Gojo groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Ugh, you guys are disgusting. I miss when you hated each other.”

“Says they’re number one, certified wing man.” Toji cajoled, reaching to steal food off Sukuna’s plate, who immediately smacked his hand away aggressively. “You’re just mad she didn’t want you.” 

Gojo had flipped Toij off from across the table when you heard your name called, and you saw Yuki and Choso heading toward your group, their lunches in hand. It was almost as if you could see the dark cloud forming above Sukuna’s head as they dragged chairs up to your table, propping themselves across from you. 

Choso greeted his friends while Yuki said hello to you. She eyed the distance between you and Sukuna and nudged your leg with her foot underneath the table, her eyebrow flicking up, and a repressed smile causing an upturn in her mouth. You shook your head slightly, telling her to disengage.

You felt Sukuna’s eyes on you as you picked over your food. Yuki glanced between you and Sukuna and looked at your full plate of food. “Damn, is the lunch that bad?”

“It’s fine, I’m just not that hungry.” 

As if cued, your stomach grumbled, and you froze in embarrassment, giving her a sheepish grin. 

You felt Sukuna grunt beside you. “Told ya you wouldn’t like that shit.”

“It’s fine,” you insisted. “It could just use a little salt. And pepper. And flavor in general…” 

You trailed off, looking at Yuki bashfully. Sukuna nudged your tray forward away from you and almost imperceptively pushed his between to share. “Don’t eat that shit. Here.” He said, voice swallowed up by the conversation surrounding him. 

“I don’t wanna eat your food.”

“I’m not gonna finish it all anyway.”

A lie. You’ve seen him and his teammates inhale meals like they were professional bodybuilders, calories or recommended portion control be damned. He’d even requested double portions today to load up for a scrimmage later today. He would have finished the entire portion and yours easily. 

You stared at him, and he stared back, unwavering. Finally, you cracked, your hand gingerly reaching out to steal fries off his tray. You murmur a thanks, and he nods, turning back to Toji to join in whatever argument he’d started with Choso and Satoru. 

Whether or not your tablemates saw what just happened, they gave you the grace of ignoring it, but you couldn’t help but be suspicious of the tiny knowing smile on Yuki’s face. 

After the lunch hour was up, you stood to throw away your trash and walked back to the table to see Sukuna already standing with your bag. He looked up at you from his phone and asked where your next move class was. You went to respond before Yuki cut in. 

“Actually, loverboy, I’m gonna steal her away for a bit. I’ve been meaning to catch up with her, but she’s such a busy woman.” She patted you on the shoulder, a gleam in her eye telling you that you knew you were about to face a serious interrogation. 

Sukuna looked ready to protest, but Yuki silenced him with a wave of her hand. “You’re not bound by the hip. You won’t die if you’re separated for a few hours. You’ll be fine.” She snatched up your bag from his hands and held it to your chest. “She’ll catch up with you later.”

Yuki hooked her arm through yours and went to exit the cafeteria, shouting goodbyes to the boys you all left behind. 

As soon as you were out of earshot, Yuki’s arms shoved your side, sending you stumbling off course. “Um, hello? Lunch, carrying your bag? What did I miss?”

You raised your hand to your brow, trying to rub away the stress marks Yuki’s questioning was already forming. “Yuki, please - “

“No matter. I have the perfect place for you guys to hard launch to the rest of campus.”

“We’re not dating,” you mumbled, but Yuki barreled forward. 

“Sig Chi is throwing this Friday! We should definitely go, and I can get you on the list.”

“When has partying ever been the solution to something?”

“It’s always worked out for me,” Yuki shrugged. “But I digress. It’s kinda a joint thing, so most of the guys will be there. It’ll be fun, and it’s themed!”

“Oh joyous.”

Yuki pouted. “You used to be so much fun. What happened?”

“Well, the last time you invited me to a party, I ended the night crying in an ice cream shop.”

“Perf, then we can only go up from here!”

You rolled her eyes at her grating optimism. “What’s the theme?”

“Little White Lies.” You swore, her eyes sparkled as she shared the concept behind it.

“Y’know, for someone who claims to be so loosely associated with Greek life, you sure do love the social events.”

“Yeah, me and every other bitch. Trust me, I’ve seen half of those AGL’s drunk in a frat basement before. Everyone’s a hypocrite, I am just willing to own up to it.” She grabbed your arm, shaking you gently. “So, will you come? Pleeeaaaseeeee?”

You felt your extended eye roll turn into a long blink, and the next thing you knew, your eyesight was impaired by the lack of lighting in the frat house and the contents of your cup which sat drained quicker than you had anticipated. 

It had been a long week, to say the least. Your brain fired back and forth between options, and Sukuna wasn’t making it any easier on your part. The gestures seemed to only get more elaborate, from walking you to class, to showing up early to your seminar with your coffee order in hand, his bedhead still evident and voice still gruff from his body being up before his mind. It almost seemed the more you tried to dig your heels in the ground, the more determined Sukuna seemed to prove himself to you. You struggled with the position you were putting both of you in, but you also knew a sick truth: at any point, you could have told him to stop, and he would have, without hesitation. You never did, and he gave you the grace of not mentioning it.

The end of the semester project came and went, with the brief class presentations of findings showcasing the wide variety of students’ preparation and levels of understanding of the material they studied for weeks. You and Sukuna’s was concise and clean, as to the point like a needle in a sewing kit, topped off with a nod of approval from Prof. Yaga himself. At the end of class, he beckoned the two of you to his desk, staring at your approaching figures over the rims of his glasses. 

He folded his hands as he spoke. “Now, I won’t lie, I was worried about the contents and quality of your work, given the worrying email I received a few weeks prior.”

You braced for impact, but his next words threw you for a loop. 

“But I must admit, you two surprised me.”

You blinked. 

He continued. “Based on my preliminary readings and the presentation you all gave today, it seems like you both have a firm grasp on the material provided, and melded your writing voices and opinions together well to form one coherent sound.”

Sukuna stiffened. “Um, thank you?”

Yaga nodded, glancing between you two, the barest hint of a smile playing at his lips. 

“You work well together.”

You wanted to scream. If only.

The hell you went through this semester, and the hell you were going through this past week alone, was enough to drive you into a deep slumber akin to hibernation, not waking until the promised bright spring day of graduation warmed your face with its rays. You felt the silence between you two as you exited the classroom. You shrugged your back higher as you glanced over at him. The end of the semester, the end of the enforcement of being in each other’s presence, the realization of this potential ending stung like the cold bite of the late November winds, icy and bitter.

You hadn’t anticipated it being so anti-climactic.

“So,” you started. “It sounds like we did well.”

“Yup.”

“I’m glad. I was nervous there for a second.” You chuckled nervously. Why were you nervous? You couldn’t say as you kept talking. “I was worried our third argument was weaker than our first two, but that supporting source you found at the last second really helped bolster it.”

He crinkled his brows, looking sideways at you while keeping your pace with his hands in his pockets. He called out your name, but your words overwhelmed him. 

“I also thought we were gonna need another run through before presenting, but you’re a super solid presenter. I guess that comes with being in the business school, but you spoke really well, and you even added one of the facts that completely slipped my mind. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He called your name again, this time more forcefully. Your lips snapped shut. 

“What are you doing?”

You felt your mouth go dry. He reads you so easily now, so intimately, it’s chilling. 

“Nothing.”

“You’re rambling.”

“No, I’m not.”

He gave you a look. “We did fine. We did better than fine. Yaga’s such a hard ass that the review we got was practically glowing. You know this.”

You stayed silent. 

He asked again. “What’s wrong?”

A million answers ran through your head. A confession, an acceptance, a forgiveness you’d been ready to extend when you heard him apologize in the library, a prideful snark you couldn’t bear to let go of. You didn’t want this, whatever it was, to end. 

But why were you struggling so hard to just say that?

“Are you going to the party tomorrow?”

His eyes stared hard at you. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

A moment passed. You didn’t falter. He sighed softly, letting you get away with it.

“Sure, if you’re going.”

Your last conversation is why you couldn’t help but search for a particular pink head of hair in the crowd. You pulled at your tank top, crudely written words decorating its front in black ink while you rested your head against a wall, Yuki making conversation with a girl you weren’t familiar with. You trailed your eyes lazily over the throngs of people dancing, drinking, and laughing throughout the house. You felt a body slide next to your space against the wall. They took a sip of their drink before casting a sideways smirk at you. “Not your scene?”

You shrugged. “Just bored.”

“Maybe I can change that.” You caught a glance of his side profile, piercings adorning the crest of his ear, his hair cropped close to his head, plastered around his dome, not to be helped by the heat radiating off the bodies that surrounded them. Despite the feverish state of the room, this stranger felt inclined to move even closer to you. You pressed your body against the wall, in hopes its walls would concave and absorb you. 

You let out a puff of air in sardonic laughter. “I doubt that.”

“Yeah? Well, let me get you a drink.”

Your grip tightened over the mouth of the cup. “I’m good, actually.”

“Come on,” he dragged, his face getting closer, the liquor on his breath almost palpable. “It’s just one drink.”

You wrinkled your nose, using your knuckles to press against his chest. “Can you chill?”

His grin was slimy as it grew across his face, his hand locking yours against him, his grip like iron. You tugged your arm away, but his grip only tightened. “Don’t be such a - ”

“Hey.” That dark tone, you’d recognize it anywhere. Both you and the stranger’s heads whipped over to Sukuna, brooding in front of you, eyes cold and hard like concrete. The guys’ grip loosened just enough for you to rip your arm from his grasp. You gave him a disgusted look as you stepped away, Sukuna subtly stepped between, putting more distance between you two as he used his fingers to gently guide you behind him. He glanced down at you, the facade behind his eyes cracking softly as he scanned you over. 

“You ok?” He mumbled. 

You nodded back. “I’m fine.”

The guy’s grating voice chimed back in as he observed you two. “Ah, I see. You’re Sukuna’s new plaything. Heard rumors, but didn’t think it was true.” He took a step back, putting his hands up in signs of surrender. “My bad man, you got it.” He smirked as he eyed you up and down, still walking away.

You scowled as the party’s crowd absorbed him, and you glanced up at Sukuna to see his jaw clenched, a vein in the side of his head popping out. He met your gaze, his eyes serious. “I don’t call you a plaything. He’s just an asshole.”

“I figured.” Your eyes shot down to his thick, tanned arms crossed over his chest, his eyes still scanning to make sure he was truly gone. “When’d you get here?”

He shrugged. “Maybe five minutes ago?”

“Are you drinking?”

“Of course. Just went looking for you first.”

Your heart fluttered as you bit the inside of your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling. You held up your empty cup for him to take. 

“Top me off?”

He rolled his eyes, but took the cup from your hands, mumbling that he’d be right back. 

He gripped the top of your cup as he pushed his way through the swath of bodies, heading to the kitchen to pour you a new drink and himself a triple of whatever he got you. 

This past week consisted of Sukuna putting more effort into you than he had for most of his collegiate career. Early morning wake-ups to be waiting at the door of your classroom before you arrived, late nights walking you back from the library when you crammed for an important exam that had you stressed. A late-night run to the convenience store when you ran out of food for Miso, the suffering through your TA office hours listening to freshmen and sophomores ask the most moronic questions he’d ever heard, just to spend time with you. Snack breaks, coffee runs, and campus lunches sprinkled in between; he had never felt more out of his element. 

And yet, it felt natural. Not like work, and not like a burden, because he wanted to do it, and he wanted to do it for you. 

He slid through the contingent of frat men hovering around the bar area, searching for something sweet but not too strong that you typically get. He grabbed a handle and began to pour when he felt eyes on him. He glanced up, only for his face to fall when he saw who was smirking back at him. He grunted. “Naoya.”

“Ryomen.”

Sukuna went to reach for the nearest mixer, hoping his silence would be the end of the conversation. If he could only be so lucky. 

“Nice girl you got there. She’s pretty. Not your usual type, though.”

Sukuna didn’t respond, instead focusing on eyeing how much was going into your cup. You’d definitely already had some drinks in you, and he wanted to make sure you still had a good time while not getting you sick. 

Naoya continued, unperturbed by his lack of response. “I thought you were fucking that girl on the swim team? The brunette, remember? Didn’t have much to work with, but she gave great head.”

Sukuna set the bottle down with a bit too much force, the glass clanking against the countertop. He clenched his teeth, reaching to pour himself another shot. 

“Or what about that cheerleader? She was a fucking dime, man. Too bad she was ran through. She’s fucked half of my chapter. Can’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.”

Sukuna refrained from mentioning how many girls had the displeasure of sleeping with Naoya by throwing the glass back, immediately reaching to pour another shot. 

Naoya slid a cup over, gesturing for him to pour him one too. Sukuna gave him the dirtiest glance and pulled himself back from spitting in his drink as Naoya’s voice droned on. “Nah, she must not run in any of those circles. I’ve never seen her before.” Naoya side-eyed him, a malicious grin evident. “Clearly, you went out of your way for this one. Had to have someone no one else has touched, right? Nice picking, though. She’s hot. Real nerdy type, and they’re always killers.”

Sukuna slid his drink back with so much force the liquor nearly sloshed from the cup. Naoya wrapped his hands around it, cheering to Sukuna before downing the contents. He shook his head, crumpling the cup and tossing it to the side haphazardly. It was then that Toji strolled into the kitchen, closely followed by Satoru, who immediately took note of the situation and glanced at Sukuna, trying to see if an intervention was needed. He shook his head imperceptively, telling them not to engage. They nodded back, grabbing beers from the fridge and greeting Naoya.

“Hey man, long time no see. Nice party.” Satoru said, ever trying to be the diplomat. He couldn’t figure out what they’d just walked into, but all he knew is Sukuna was maybe two shots away from causing a scene he knew their frat president would be livid about having to deal with. 

Naoya shrugged. “It’s whatever. The pledges are idiots. We lost most the decent crossbids to you, and the ones we got can’t throw for shit.” Naoya cocked his head toward Sukuna, who stared ahead at the wall, attempting to control his temper. “I was telling your pledge master that the girl he brought is hot as fuck. She looks like one of those types that’s all quiet and shit until you start fucking them, then they can’t shut up.”

Toji’s grip tightened around his beer bottle while Gojo’s back stiffened. He glanced between Sukuna and Naoya, the former not seeming to react to the latter’s comment. “Yo, dude, chill with that. You sound crazy.”

“I’m just saying. Let me know when you get bored with that, so I can show her a good time.” Naoya commented, clapping Sukuna on his shoulder. 

Toji chuckled mirthlessly. Gojo sighed. He could hear the discordant snapping of a violin string, the line too far crossed for Sukuna to pull himself back. And here he was, hoping for one drama free night.

Sukuna’s head turned ever so slightly to the side, glaring at Naoya from the corners of his eyes. “What?” His voice was low, barely legible over the sounds of the party, but anger radiating from his tone palpable enough to be felt around the room. 

“Lemme know when you’re done fucking her, so I can take her for a spin after.” Naoya looked at Sukuna’s reaction, his eyes blazing, and added, as if probing. “Unless you haven’t fucked her yet. Nerdy girls probably play hard to get. Typical. Just let me know and I can fuck her first, make it easier for you. Bitches like that need to be broken in, then they’re easy money - ”

To be honest, Sukuna would have been disgusted by Naoya talking about anyone like that. But because it was you, especially because it was you, he let pure, hot instinct take over, not caring about social consequences or fraternal relationships. He was graduating in a semester, and he’d been waiting to do this since he met Naoya during rush three years ago.

He didn’t even realize he’d thrown a punch until the crowd gasped and shouted in shock, Naoya’s hands flying to cover his face, his body staggering but not going down. Sukuna looked down at his own fist, knuckles already pulsing from the impact and starting to bruise. 

Huh, he thought to himself. Must’ve been that last shot. His punches normally were a lot stronger. 

Naoya wailed, blood spurting from his nose as his eyes found Sukuna’s in anger. “Jesus Christ, man, what the fuck was that?”

Sukuna shook out his hand, voice ice cold. “Do everyone a favor, and shut the fuck up and die.”

He stalked out of the kitchen, leaving a fuming Naoya behind with Satoru and Toji closely trailing. 

Gojo shook his head. “Prez is gonna kill you for that.”

“Yeah, well he can go eat shit. Everyone’s been wanting to do that since freshman year.” Sukuna glanced over at Toji as if waiting for a comment. 

Toji only shrugged. “Nice punch. Good swing. Needed more follow through.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. I’m ten shots deep.” He shook his friends on his shoulder, walking back around the house to find you. He stopped when he saw you on the porch with Yuki and Choso, your eyes glancing around as if searching for someone. He felt his cheek twitch before he stepped out into the chilly night, handing you your cup. “Here.”

You took it from his hands, whispering thanks. “What took you so long?”

“Got held up.”

Your face crinkled in confusion before you glanced back down at his hand, slightly smeared with blood. You looked back up, eyes slightly wide. “Is that yours?”

He scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Then whose is it?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

You exhaled, dropping the topic and raising the cup to your lips, taking a long sip. Sukuna’s eyes trailed down your neck, settling on your shirt as his eyes scanned the words on your chest. 

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Is that about me?” 

You smiled into the rim of your cup. “What, this?” You glanced down, tugging the end hem of your white tank, the neckline sliding down, just barely revealing the top of your lacy bra that sat underneath.

I Hate Him. Big, black swoopy letters in the same handwriting he’d been reading all semester. 

“Well, it’s not for Satoru.”

“Thank God for that,” Sukuna came forward, using his fingers and looping them into your belt strap, tugging you close to him. Your hips lurched forward, and the rest of your body followed suit, your wrist curling around your cup, its plastic shell being the only thing that separated your chests. “So,” his voice dropped down to a whisper, caressing your ears and gliding down your neck, encasing you two in an intimate moment, the surrounding party left behind. His thumb crept up, up, up, over the waistband of your jeans, the pad of his finger lighting a trail across your hip, where the tiniest sliver of skin was left exposed. His eyes flashed as he looked at you. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Any other moment, you would have been mortified to be caught in such a position, on the front porch of raging party in the background, but with you three, four, five drinks in, and the guy you’ve liked for weeks, whose mouth and eyes and body you couldn’t get out of your head since you kissed, standing mere inches in front of you, staring you down like you were the only person around clouded your judgement the way his maroon eyes were – to be frank, you couldn’t give a damn.

“Do you want to be forgiven?”

His response was immediate. Firm, but charged, like his words were aimed directly at your heart. “Yes. Please. Forgive me. I’m sorry.”

The grin that stretched along your face was cat-like. “I like when you beg.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it.” His tone went gruff, but the lilt in his smile gave him away, his canines glinting in the soft moonlight. 

His words dissipated, but his grin didn’t fade as he held your gaze, his thumb still gently brushing your hip. His eyes dipped down to your mouth until he dragged them back up again. His voice held a slight rasp as he started to speak. “Can I –  ”

“Yo, we should leave before Naoya finds you,” Toji’s deep voice cut through your moment as he appeared from the front door, bee-lining to his friend standing to the side of the porch. He eyed the distance between you two, and his lips quirked up into a smirk before continuing. “He’s not too happy.”

“Of course, he’s not happy, you broke his fucking nose,” Gojo came out after Toji, reaching to knock the back of Sukuna’s head before he tucked out of the way. 

The warmth of Sukuna’s hand left your side as he reached to push his friends away, and you maneuvered out of the scuffle to tell Yuki you were headed out. 

“But you just got here,” Yuki whined.

“Yeah, and now I’m just leaving.”

She groaned, but stood up. “Ok, let me walk you home.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s chill. Sukuna will.”

Yuki raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Oh, he will?”

“Stop it, it’s not like that.”

“Is it not?” She chided. “It’s ok, I can take a hint. We can debrief another time. But you kiss and make up, or whatever it is that you plan on doing.”

“I don’t plan on doing anything.” You protested.

“Oh, good, it’s much more fun when it’s a spur-of-the-moment type thing.” She nodded. “Do you need a condom?”

“Yuki, I’m walking away now. Good night.”

“Stay safe!” She called back, laughter obscuring her words. 

You walked back over to Sukuna, who leaned against the wall as Gojo and Toji bickered beside him. You sidled up next to him, wrapping your arms around his. He raised his brows in curiosity, but didn’t pull away.

“Walk me home?”

He nodded, barely bothering to say bye to his friends before walking down the steps with you, arms still linked, holding you close as the night air nipped at your exposed skin.

Your walk was largely quiet save for the crunching leaves underfoot and the brush of the wind against the bare tree branches, its bend filling the air with a late night whistle. 

You looked up at Sukuna to already find him gazing at you. “What is it?” He murmured. 

“You broke someone’s nose tonight?”

He sucked his teeth. “He was on some fuck shit. Trust me, he deserved it.”

“Was it that guy from earlier?”

“Doesn’t matter. He was spouting absolute bullshit.”

“About me?”

Sukuna didin’t answer, but his eyes gave him away.

“I hope you don’t get in too much trouble for that.”

“Oh, no, I definitely fucked it up, but I don’t really care. I’d do it again. Probably swing harder, too.” 

You chuckled, a small puff of air coming out from your warm breath. Autumn was well on her way out, and the crisp chill of winter was setting in, finals and the highly anticipated winter semester break looming overhead. You always found it funny how the shifting of the seasons was like the changing of the tides, and how your grasp on something so simple could slip and drop you in something wild and unpredictable. Autumn had shook the ground beneath you, causing your knees to buckle and head to spin, but with winter, and her frosty demeanor and ice below your feet, threatening to crack and cave causing you to slip, you found yourself ready, ready to shift your balance and take on the uncertainty in the storm, armed with a red hoodie that wasn’t yours.

As you approached your door, Sukuna stopped in front of you, the outside light shining through his tousled pink locks. He cleared his throat, somewhat nervously.

“So, about tonight…”

You hummed, telling him to continue.

“I don’t want to pressure you into an answer, and like I said before, whatever you give me, I can accept.”

You cocked your head to the side, a small smile on your face.

“I asked you if you could forgive me.”

You nodded, biting your lip. 

“...Can you?”

You turned to the door, sliding in the key and bumping it open with your hip, looking over your shoulder to face him. 

“Why don’t you come inside and find out?”

a/n: next chapter is pretty much just smut and i promise you will not have to wait a month and a half for it.

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𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑡! 𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑘𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 4

𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 4: 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒, 𝑖 𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑠?

part 1 here part 2 here part 3 here ← previous ⋆˚࿔ next → part 5 coming soon

fem! afab! reader, toxic-ish sukuna, hurt/comfort, sweet! reader, eventual smut, language, mature content, substance use

a/n: i decided to change the format from "headcannon" style to full fic style, so if you notice a difference from the previous parts, that's why. but if you liked the previous style also let me know! enjoy!

Three days.

It had been three days since you spoke to frat! Sukuna, and after that, it's been radio silence.

You obviously didn't expect some grand dinner at an expensive restaurant, for fucks sake, you just met the guy!

But you thought you'd at least get a text.

The first three days were the worst; you doubted whether he was ever even interested. You were stalking his profile multiple times a day, looking for anything that might explain this. You would also meticulously stalk yourself to see if there was maybe a really ugly picture of you, and he decided that was it for him.

But then five days passed, and instead of confusion (and you had to admit, a slight sadness), you were just angry.

"So he stalked me all around campus, then asked for my Instagram, then came up to me, and asked me if I wanted to "give him a chance"!"

"I told you from the start he wasn't being serious," your friend quipped.

"Okay, but what could have possibly changed from that day? He was literally laughing at my jokes!"

"He probably realised it won't be as easy as he thought to get into your pants."

As much as you hoped that wasn't true, your friend had a point. At the end of the day, he really was just a horny frat guy.

So then a week passes, and you're over it. You stop looking through his profile, stop mentioning him to your friends, and stop looking for him in every room you enter.

Just like that, what you thought would be something fun and exciting was over. And plus, you had better things to do.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Frat! Sukuna was spiraling.

He knew it had been too long. For God's sake, he let a week pass, seven whole fucking days.

He wanted to bash his head into a wall and knock some sense into himself.

Every single day, he practiced what he would text you.

"hey, let's grab lunch." No, too casual.

"hello, would you like to get some lunch with me?" Nope, who was he, Nanami?

"your hair smelled really good that day, lunch?" The fuck was wrong with him?

He knew you were probably confused, especially since he was the one who had basically begged for a chance. And now he was ghosting you. Not purposely, of course; he just couldn't shake off his nerves. No woman had ever made him this nervous, and the worst part, he barely knew you.

But he knew if he let this go on any longer, he'd ruin the one chance he got at something good. So he swallowed his ego and knocked on Gojo's door.

Most of Gojo's advice consisted of "just text her dumbass, it's not hard!", but of course, he wouldn't understand. To be fair, Sukuna didn't understand any of this himself. If he told himself a few months ago he would be nervous texting a girl, he could have laughed in his own face.

"What are you so scared of anyway?" Gojo asked, sprawled sideways on his bed.

"I don't know, man, I just-" he stopped himself, he was not about to get vulnerable (a word that made him shudder) with this idiot, "- never mind, I'll figure it out."

"Okay, wait! I'll help. You being this fucking miserable is a problem for all of us," Gojo remarks, probably referring to the lack of Sukuna's contribution to the frat this past week.

Gojo sits up on his bed. "Okay, so what do you want with this girl? Because if it's just a fuck, I'm telling you, man, she is not giving that to you."

"No! Why does everyone keep saying that? I don't care about that," but Gojo lifts a sceptical eyebrow, "with her. With other girls yea sure, but it's different with her."

"And what's so different about her?"

The way she's never missed a lecture, or the way she laughs like she means it instead of performing. Or maybe how she doesn't dress for attention, but to feel good about herself. Her different colored cardigans, her loose, flowy skirts, her hair done differently every day. Perhaps it was the kind smiles she gave her friends, or the enthusiastic waves as she walked around campus. Or maybe in some fucked up way, it was how she didn't seem to care all that much about Sukuna, which is something he wasn't used to. Her attention was something he had to earn.

But he said none of that to Gojo and settled with, "She's sweet."

"She's sweet? That's it?"

Sukuna shrugged, really not wanting to get into this, "Just give me some advice, or I'm leaving."

Gojo runs a hand across his pale hair, "You could just show up to her dorm with food, show her you're sorry for ghosting her, and tell her the truth that you were nervous, girls love that."

"I'm not nervous, dumbass," blatant lie.

"Whatever you say, man, just do something, or someone else will. She seems like the type of girl who gets people's attention without trying. That's dangerous."

Yes, very dangerous. Sukuna's entire being was in danger, all because of a crush.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

A typical Friday afternoon for you meant studying the past week's material. It didn't mean going out and partying and hooking up with strangers.

You were in your favorite sweat suit, a warm cup of tea on your desk, along with notes and everything else you'd need for a night of revising.

You started not that long ago, just getting into your flow, when you hear a knock on your door.

9:30 PM, the clock read, it was too early for your roommate to be back.

You begrudgingly get up, annoyed you had to leave such a comfortable position. You put on your pastel bunny slippers and go to open the door.

The last, and you mean the absolute last thing you expected, was to see Ryomen standing there. He was in sweats and a hoodie (typical, but something he managed to pull off too well), and in one hand was a bag of what you assumed was food, in the other a bag of drinks.

"Hope you weren't busy."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" It came out more aggressively than you wanted, but he deserved that.

He looked embarrassed.

"I know I should have texted you or something-", he started, clearly uncomfortable, "- but I-", he stopped mid-sentence.

"You what? Decided you'd rather mess with another girl?"

"No! I was just-" he looked like he was physically struggling to get his words out, but the borderline livid look on your face made him blurt out the rest, "-I was fucking nervous."

What?

A towering six feet and three inches, shoulders so broad you couldn't see behind him, a man who could control a room by simply being in it, was nervous. Nervous to text you. A girl who kept to herself and her friends, who always had a book in her bag, whether she read it or not, someone who didn't have enough time to think about dating. And yet he was nervous to text you.

For some reason, this made you smile. Did you have Ryomen Sukuna in the palm of your hand? It was time to find out.

But before you could say something smug about it, you realised something," Wait, you remembered where my dorm was?"

At this, he falters.

"I wrote it in my notes," he mumbles.

"You know that's incredibly creepy, right?" you retort.

"Or it just means I wanted to see you again."

You stare at him, very close to shutting the door on his face, until you realize just how hungry you were.

"What's in the bag?" his face visibly lights up when you say that. Strange. His usual stoic demeanor is slowly slipping.

"Fried chicken, but uh- I got veggie noodles in case you don't eat meat, I wasn't sure, but then I didn't know if you liked it spicy or not, so I got both and-," he's rambling. The tops of his ears are turning pink, and he's rambling to you about how he bought six different things because he wasn't sure what you'd like.

"Ryomen," he stops, eyes meeting yours, "Come inside."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Frat! Sukuna was not a weirdo.

He didn't get excited at the prospect of seeing what the inside of your dorm room looked like. He didn't get sweaty palms because a girl invited him in; that's happened countless times before. And he definitely didn't notice a pile of fresh laundry on your couch, with a pretty pink lace bra sitting teasingly on the top.

To be honest, he didn't think you'd let him in; he was entirely prepared to have the door shut on his face.

Your apartment is very you. It's cute and cozy and decorated with trinkets everywhere. You have no overhead lights on, just lamps and fairy lights. It was so different from the frat house, which was usually very loud and very messy.

You lead him to your small, round dining table in the corner of the kitchen, which only has two chairs. Before you sit down, though, you point a finger at his chest, "If you try anything, I will let your entire frat know that you were nervous to see me."

"I-," he truly was at a loss for words, "I won't try anything, I promise, I just wanna eat with you."

"Good."

You take the bags from him and start unpacking the food, your face growing happier and happier with each new food item. You had to give it to him; he knew the way to a girl's heart.

As you settle down in the chair, Sukuna watches you. The way your hair softly falls around your face, or how your delicate and small hands unpack the food. He truly doesn't understand how you already have him under your shoe. If it were any other girl, he might have slowly slid a hand across her waist, led her to the couch for a night of who knows what. But with you, he was fine if he got to spend the next hour just watching you eat the food he got you.

It all felt very strange to him.

"So, are you gonna explain why you ghosted me?"

That breaks him out of his trance. He settles on the chair opposite you, grabbing food of his own.

"I told you already... I didn't know how to talk to you."

This makes you giggle, a sound he wants to savor, one he wants to hear you make again and again, along with a few others.

"I still don't get it, you're not a mega-virgin or something, what about me makes you so nervous?"

No, he definitely wasn't a mega-virgin, he was the opposite of that. He could make girls nervous simply by staring at them.

So what made him so nervous around you? Deep down, he knew. You challenged a part of him no one else had. You made him put down all his desires and schoolboy lust. You didn't give in easily. And slowly, over the past few months, he realized he had started changing his behavior to get a chance to talk to you.

He couldn't admit that to you, though, he'd definitely scare you off.

"You seem sweet," is what he said.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, mouth full of chicken. When you finish swallowing, you still don't say anything.

Eventually, a comfortable rhythm settles between you two. One of eating and talking. Conversation flows from one thing to another — classes, exams coming up, random drama happening on campus, what books you're currently into, how much time he spent in the gym this week. Before you knew it, 3 hours had passed, and the food was long gone. The only thing left to keep you two full were the words being exchanged.

You didn't think he could be such a good listener, but every time you were speaking, he'd watch you with such an intense gaze you'd have to look away.

The conversation finally found a pause when you yawned around 12:30 AM, a soft tiredness coating you. It made you look more real, and Sukuna couldn't help admiring your natural beauty. The way you didn't care that you had no makeup on right now, or that your hair was not done properly.

"My roommate will be back soon," you say.

"Yea, it's late," he says back.

A beat.

"I'll text you."

At this, you smile, "I've realised not to keep my expectations high with you."

He gets up, "I'll make it up to you again next time."

"And who said there would be a next time?"

You walk him to the elevator. You both felt warm and fulfilled, neither of you had a night like this in a long time.

"I promise, I'll text you," he says again.

You smile as he enters the elevator, "Goodnight, Ryomen."

Fuck. Every time you say his name it does some weird shit to his heart, a feeling like it skipping a beat.

"Night."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

Both of you were back in bed, moonlight filtering in through the blinds. It felt so odd that you could feel so comforted around someone so different. It was terrifying, and yet, it made you both smile to yourselves.

You knew to be careful, that all of this could come crashing down, but you couldn't help feel the flicker of hope in your chest.

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

a/n: part 5 soon, be patient! also, i use the em-dash on my OWN, there is no use of ai in any of my work!

TAG LIST CLOSED

masterlist

this is my original work, no ai used. please do not claim as your own. - @maroonskiesfrvr 2026

tagslist:

@emikoshiriyuki @sixeyeskh @leftkryptonitebasement @xmqsworld @ilovepsh @djwendyw1ll1ams @perfectly-myself23 @lilydovale @volcanicnomadlocket @ehcilhc @rodyhareadiiii @angelkissesox @getosuguwife @bitchy-rat-queen @jiyuspassion @suckerforsatoru @dijaahhh @embersashess @hannieest @whatsernamekei @yumiswirl @mayarithemoongoddess @kelesupersecret @forjuyo @volcanicnomadlocket @jazfartz2 @mileenakahnnn @msmarvelknight @sukunash0e @getosuguwife @qwbellao @motel88 @adoremingles @renoamio @ejk31 @hannieest @madisvalid @saintedruins @rizzyjuney609

[sadisticslut666]

Best friends brother and he’s 6’foot 3

cw: explicit, creampie, your best friends older brother toji is so hot and sooo not into you. His little sisters friend? yeah, as if.

The door to the shared bathroom swings open without a knock, and there he is—Toji Fushiguro, your best friend’s older brother, in all his unfairly hot glory.

He freezes for half a second when he sees you standing there completely naked in the middle of the bathroom, phone still in your hand, skin still flushed and dewy from the shower. Your ex’s breakup text is still glowing on the screen.

His green eyes flick down instantly, immediately checking out your exposed wet tits and pussy. You’re standing there completely naked in the middle of his shared bathroom.

“Shit—” you hiss, scrambling for the towel on the counter. In your panic you drop your phone. It clatters across the tile floor, right toward his bare feet. He bends down, picks it up with one large hand, and straightens up while you’re still frantically wrapping the towel around your body, heart hammering.

He glances at the screen as his eyebrow arches slowly, almost mockingly. “‘It’s not you, it’s me. I just think we should see other people.’ Damn,” he reads aloud, voice laced with dry amusement. “That’s rough. Right after you washed your ass for him? That must fuckin’ suck.”

He doesn’t hand the phone back right away. Instead he leans against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest, making his biceps flex under the thin fabric of his shirt. Those green eyes drag over you again, slower this time, like he’s sizing up exactly what just got dumped.

You yank the towel tighter around your chest and glare at him. “Give me my phone back, Toji. And get the fuck out. The door was closed for a reason.”

Toji doesn’t move and instead he leans against the doorframe, taking up way too much space, and tilts his head. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that, princess. Your little boyfriend just dumped you over text and you’re already naked and dripping in my bathroom. Looks like you were about to finger yourself stupid just to forget his sorry ass.” He glances down at the towel, then back at your face, “Bet you were real worked up too. Poor thing.”

Heat floods your face from embarrassment and annoyance. You step forward and snatch the phone from his hand, fingers brushing his roughly. “You’re such an asshole. Not everyone’s dying to throw themselves at you like the desperate sluts you usually fuck. Some of us have standards.”

Toji’s smirk only widens, “Standards? That’s cute. Your ‘standards’ just got dumped by a guy who couldn’t even say it to your face. And now you’re standing here in nothing but a towel, pussy probably still wet.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Real high standards, baby.”

He pushes off the doorframe and takes one lazy step closer, towering over you. The bathroom suddenly feels way too small. “C’mon, we both know that loser wasn’t doing shit for you.”

Your grip tightens on the towel. You refuse to back down, staring straight up at him even as your heart pounds. “Keep dreaming, Toji. I’d rather fuck my ex again than let an arrogant prick like you touch me.”

“That so?” He reaches out, and tugs lightly at the edge of the towel where it’s tucked in above your breasts. You slap his hand away, “Toji, get your slimey dirty hand away from me. I don’t want that shit near me let alone going inside me—,”

Toji’s barking laugh interrupted you, “Oh? You’ve thought about me fuckin’ you?”

Your face burns hotter, shit, you hadn’t meant to say it like that—“I said I’d rather fuck my ex again than let you touch me, you smug bastard,” you snap back, slapping his hand away harder this time when he tries to reach for the towel again. “Don’t twist my words, Toji. Your ego’s already bigger than your dick probably is.”

That only makes him laugh louder, he steps even closer, crowding you back against the sink counter until the edge digs into your lower back. The towel feels flimsy as hell now with him this close.

“Big words for a girl who just got dumped,” he taunts, “And don’t lie—you’ve definitely thought about it. Bet you’ve touched that pretty pussy thinking about me while your weak-ass ex was busy disappointing you.”

He leans down, one hand bracing on the counter beside your hip, effectively trapping you. His breath is warm against your ear as he continues, “What’s the matter, princess?”

You shove at his chest, but the man is built like a damn wall. Your palm meets solid muscle and he doesn’t budge an inch.

“Back the fuck up, Toji,” you hiss, glaring up at him. “You’re not hot enough to act this fucking entitled. Go find one of your desperate little groupies if you want an easy ego boost. I’m not interested in being another one of your sluts, especially not when you’re being this much of a dick about it.”

Toji pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, that signature smirk still plastered on his face as he clicks his tongue again, shaking his head slowly.

“Feisty. I like that. Most girls start stuttering and blushing when I catch them naked. You? You’re telling me my dick’s small and calling me slimy.” He laughs. “Cute. Real cute.”

His gaze drops deliberately to the top of your towel, then lower, like he’s remembering exactly what’s underneath. “Tell you what,” he says, “Since you’re so confident you don’t want me… drop the towel right now and tell me to leave again. Look me in the eye and say you’re not wet as fuck from more than just the shower.”

He straightens up a little, still towering over you, arms crossed as he waits. “Go on then, princess. Prove me wrong.”

Instead of dropping the towel, you tighten it with one hand and shove two fingers hard into his chest. “I’m not one of your brainless little toys. You want me to prove it? Fine. I’m not wet for you. I’m pissed. And if you don’t back the hell up right now, I’ll scream for your sister and tell her exactly what a perverted creep her big brother is.”

For a second his smirk falters before he leans in closer, “Always running that pretty mouth,” he murmurs, eyes narrowed. “You really think I’d give a shit if you told her? She knows what kind of man I am. And you know what? I think you’re lying through your teeth. Because if you weren’t soaked right now, you would’ve kicked me out the second I walked in.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, it’s not like you didn’t want to fuck him. “If we fuck…you’re taking that shit to the grave, you hear me? Don’t fuckin tell, anyone. Deal?”

“Deal.” In one brutal motion he yanks the towel off your body, letting it drop to the floor. Before you can even gasp he grabs you by the waist, lifts you effortlessly, and sets your bare ass on the cold bathroom counter. “Shit—Toji—”

“Shut up.” His mouth moves against yours as one large hand palms your tit roughly, thumb flicking over your already hard nipple while the other slides between your thighs. His thick fingers part your folds and he groans into your mouth the moment he feels how fucking wet you are.

“Fuckin’ liar,” he snarls against your lips, “You’re dripping down my fingers, princess. This pussy’ been wanting a real man, huh?”

You bite his bottom lip hard in retaliation, but it only makes him laugh. Two thick fingers push inside you as his thumb grinds rough circles on your clit. “That’s it,” he taunts, pumping his fingers faster, “Bet your ex never made you feel this good,” he plays with your slick coating his fingers.

“Toji—fuck—you’re such a—”

“Yeah?” He pulls his fingers out suddenly, making you whine at the loss, only to shove his sweatpants down just enough to free his thick, heavy cock. It slaps against your inner thigh, hot and leaking at the tip. He strokes himself once, smirking at the way your eyes widen. “Still think my dick’s small, baby?”

You glare up at him, breathing hard, but your eyes keep flicking down to the thick, veiny cock in his hand. “Shut up and fuck me before I change my mind, asshole,” you snap, spreading your legs wider on the counter in challenge.

“That’s more like it.” He grips your thighs, yanks you to the very edge of the counter, and lines himself up as he pushes the fat head of his cock inside you. “Fuck—so tight,” he groans, “Shit—no wonder you always seemed pissed with him, no fuckin way he was satisfying you.”

You can barely think straight, legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds into you. Every thrust hits deep, making your tits bounce, wet skin slapping against wet skin.

“Harder, you bastard,” you gasp, tugging his hair roughly. “If you’re gonna fuck me, at least do it right.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that.” He pulls out, flips you around so your chest is pressed against the mirror, and slams back in from behind. One hand fists your hair, yanking your head back so you’re forced to watch yourself get fucked in the reflection.

“Look at you,” he growls, hips snapping relentlessly. “Taking my cock so fucking well. Bet you’ll be creaming all over me in no time.”

You’re shaking, moans spilling out uncontrollably as you're about to come, walls clenching around his thick cock as you whimper louder.

Toji fucks you through it, groaning low as your pussy milks him, before he finally buries himself deep and fills you. Then he leans in, lips brushing your ear with a smug, satisfied laugh, “Still think I’m not hot enough, baby?”

a/n: yuhhhhh sex w my best friends older brother I totally do nottttt fantasize about this…heh

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

asshole!sukuna and his soft spot for shy!girlfriend!reader ༊*·˚ (18+)

asshole!sukuna doesn’t fuck with a lot of people. i mean, when you’re a 6’5, 90 kg guy with bold tattoos littering your entire body, you’re not really trying to attract sociable people. still, the borderline loner had a few exceptions, his frat brothers, a select few professors, and you. 

you were the main exception. 

asshole!sukuna met you one day at a fundraising event his frat was hosting, a dollar for a slap. girls would line up in front of a long table and choose a guy to hit, then pay a small donation that went towards the rspca. you and your friends were keen to donate, put some of the guys who’d fucked with their feelings in their place, or however they’d phrased it. you were mostly there for the experience, not too in tune with the whole frat fuckboy lore your friends loved to gossip about. 

when you arrived, you started to feel really bad. all these guys’ cheeks were raw and red, and despite their cocky smiles, it just couldn’t be all that fun. when it came to your turn, you had to choose a guy, and your eyes drifted to asshole!sukuna. he was the biggest there, had only a slightly red cheek, and looked like he could take a hit. 

asshole!sukuna forced a smile when he saw you walk up to him, your head lowered as you shyly handed over a fiver. he accepted with a, “thanks, sweetheart. go ahead.” he leaned down to your level, bracing for impact, but all he felt was a light pat on his stinging cheek. 

“the fuck?” 

“oh, i’m sorry! i tried to go soft, i—” 

“you call that a slap? what, think i can’t handle it?” he scoffs. “slap me again, hun, harder. don’t waste your money.” he leans down again, looking you in the eye to challenge you. 

but again, all that comes is a light tap. 

“oh, for god— it’s a dollar for a slap, not a dollar for a fuckin’ cheek massage.” he huffs, looking over your expression with an irritated scowl, only to catch that hesitant little frown on your face. 

asshole!sukuna can’t help but crack a smile. he’d had about ten girls come and slap the fuck outta him today. they were all old flings desperate to get their get-back, but that was hardly the point. you were this new thing entirely, a soft thing that seemed sweet regardless of if he was notorious for being a cunt or not. 

“what’s y’ name, sweetheart?” 

asshole!sukuna decided he wanted to see you again after that. you’d caught his interest, which doesn’t happen often. he asks for your number. your instagram, your snapchat, everything. it was kinda pathetic how eager he was to get to know you, but you handed them all over anyway. your friends warn you after the fact that he’s definitely not good news, but you can’t help but want to see where this goes after only dating squares for most of your life. 

asshole!sukuna takes you on a date the very next day, and you were pleasantly surprised at how chivalrous he was. he pulled out your chair at the small hole-in-the-wall restaurant he took you to, he paid for everything, and even more surprisingly, made you feel comfortable. you talked for hours about everything and anything. 

you learned that asshole!sukuna had a lot of hobbies. he played guitar, drums, did a fair few building sketches in the art room with his friend geto when he had time, and had a real connection to film. all of which were things you found extremely attractive, and he could tell, because the next time you two went out he took you to his dorm and showed you his musical endeavors. 

“you’re like... super talented, it’s really attractive.” you smile gently, sitting at the foot of his bed, watching as he finishes up a love song he’d been learning for you. 

“yeah, y’ think so? gonna come to all my gigs when i’m a famous musician?” 

“will i get a backstage pass?” 

“oh, absolutely.” 

asshole!sukuna had officially swooned you after about five dates. he'd mustered up the courage to ask you to be his at that same restaurant he’d taken you to on that first date, and the rest was history. you and sukuna, the couple everyone of his mates envied due to how perfectly you two fit together. 

“how the hell did a guy like you bag a girl like her. yr' gonna destroy the poor thing.” geto teased while they were smoking up one night. 

asshole!sukuna could only reply with, “god, don’t you just hate jealous, hating ass motherfuckers?” 

asshole!sukuna loved to not so subtly brag about you to literally anyone he talked to. (which wasn’t many, but still.) 

“eugh, you’re buying lunch? my girlfriend made me food today, fucking loser.” he’d laugh at the dining hall when gojo and geto sat next to him with a greasy burger and fries. they just gave each other a look, smiled, and rolled their eyes. 

“hm? nah, can’t tonight. me and my girl are getting hot pot. have fun drinking your problems, tho.” he’d turn toji down, turning his nose up at the idea of bar hopping like he wasn’t the most frequent man along the strip a few months back. 

“a two man? i’m not bringing my girl around your little one and done situation, don’t ask me that shit again.” he’d laugh in jogo’s face, hating the idea of his precious baby being around a sleaze bag like him. 

asshole!sukuna always puts you first. his frat’s planning something big, another fundraising night where they really care about attendance, and he’s meant to be there early to help set up. but out of the blue, you’ll send him a text just to say that you've had a slightly shitty day, and boom, he’s suddenly nowhere to be found. his phone’s off, car’s out of the driveway, and he’s at your door with your favorite food and that pissed look, how dare the world have the nerve to bother you. 

asshole!sukuna likes to keep you very close to him when you’re out and about, with either an arm at your waist or his fingers intertwined with yours, he’s most comfortable when you’re right there where he can see you. that way, if anything were to happen, you’d be there for him to protect.

asshole!sukuna lets you get away with absolutely everything. 

“ryo, can i draw on you? like, draw on your back while we watch a show or something?” 

“sure, baby.” 

“ryooo, can i braid your hair?” 

“of course, love.” 

“hey, ryomen? could you drive me to my friend’s house? she lives on the other side of town, though.. it’s okay if you don’t want—” 

“no, no. let’s go, sweetness.” 

“ryo, you smell.” 

“shower with me then, baby.” 

with anyone else, asshole!sukuna would have either yelled or broken their jaw for even thinking they could ask him such questions. but with you? the princess gets what the princess wants or whatever the saying he made up in his head was.

asshole!sukuna fucking hates when people talk over you. it’s a common occurrence due to your soft-spoken nature, you’ll be in the middle of saying something, and someone’ll cut in with whatever thing they think is funnier or more worth listening to. sukuna never lets it slide. “she was talking, dickhead.” he’d scoff, shutting them up and earning a shy, thankful smile from you, as you continued with what you were saying, far more important than whatever that clown had to yap on about anyways. (in sukuna’s mind, at least.) 

asshole!sukuna spends a shit ton of money on you. you almost always go against the idea, but he just can’t help it... when he sees your eyes light up when you see something you like at the mall, he physically can’t resist. he’ll bookmark the product, then order it online to come to your apartment the next day. 

“ryo... why do i have another package?” you whine over the phone, earning nothing but a chuckle from the other end. 

“could tell you wanted it, so just enjoy it, sweet thing. you deserve all the fruits of my labour.” 

“you don’t work? isn’t it your parents’ mon—” 

“semantics. just enjoy, baby.” and he hangs up the phone, grabbing his keys to drive to your place and see how you like the new gift. he thinks it was a new dress? couldn’t be sure, it was hard keeping up with the millions of notifications from the post office. 

asshole!sukuna remembers everything about his girl and makes sure you’re always getting exactly what you want. if he’s out getting dinner before driving to your place, he’ll stop at five different places if that meant getting your order perfectly correct. local maccas has a broken ice cream machine? he’s driving to the next location to try his luck there. one place doesn’t have the kind of noodles you like? he’s making his way to the closest chinese place to see if they do. he is the embodiment of “if he wanted to, he would,” and it’s all worth it seeing your face light up when he holds up the paper bag with a smile. 

“your favourite.” 

“oh my god? this is the place out of the city? how did you—” 

“don’t worry about it, angel.” 

and that was another thing, ashole!sukuna  didn’t let you worry about anything. your place felt too messy? he was over there turning on mlp equestria girls and helping you clean. you wanted a home cooked meal? he’s at the store buying the ingredients. you needed help with an assignment? he’s pushed back his own work to sit down and help you smash them out. 

asshole!sukuna is so overly territorial when it comes to functions. he doesn’t know, there’s just something about people drunk and horny all around you that ticks him off. he’ll always have you either sat next to or on his lap at frat parties. you stick to him regardless, but he has to make it obvious to all the fuckwits blatantly staring at you that you are indeed, his. 

if they don’t get the hint the first time and are still gawking after his mild pda, asshole!sukuna would up the ante. he’ll take you off to some hallway or, if the guys are being particularly sleazy, he’ll kiss you right there. his lips trailling up and down your neck while he stares them dead in the eye, challenging them to look away. 

“ryo... people are looking!” you whisper nervously. 

“let them, sweetheart. you’re too pretty not to stare at.” he grins against your neck, sucking and biting at your soft skin. 

by that point, they always look off. whether that be due to his death glare or the realisation that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon was beside the point. 

asshole!sukuna gets embarrassingly hard at the smallest little things with you. you’ll just be sitting on the couch together and you’ll start scratching his back or head, boom, hard. when you’re sitting next to him in the library and you’re biting your pen, boom, hard. even when you’re just laying in bed, tired from the day, he’ll lay next to you and just sigh. 

“how the fuck do you just look like that. you make it so hard to keep my shit to myself.” he groans as his arms snake around your waist. 

“jeez, i can feel that thing poking into my back... what did i do now?” you smile sleepily. 

“i wish i knew. seems like one look at you and i pop a boner.” he admits, a little embarrassed. 

“can i help you out?” 

asshole!sukuna loved how willing you were to service him, but preferred it the opposite way round. sukuna would spend hours between your pretty thighs if he could, sloppily kissing and sucking at your cunt with dazed eyes, loving nothing more than the pretty moans and groans he could pull from your throat. 

“fuck yeah, y’ like that, baby? you like my tongue, hm?” he’d tease with his mouth full, pumping two fingers in and out of your soaked pussy as he dragged you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

asshole!sukuna knew how wet his filthy words could get you, and he abused that knowledge each and every time he needed you prepped and ready for him. 

“y’ think you can take me, baby, yeah? think you can take this fat cock?” he’d taunt, slapping the thick head against your cunt as your slick coated the pink, glossy skin. “fuckkkk, pretty pussy’s beggin’ t’ get drilled.” 

“what’s that? you need me? well, isn’t that fuckin’ cute. beg a little more and maybe i’ll give you what you want.” 

“be a good girl n’ say please and it’s all yours, angel.” 

asshole!sukuna was massive, but you always took him so well. “you can do it, baby. i know you can.” he’d coo in your ear, lining up the monster of a thing. 

“one, two, fuckkk.” 

asshole!sukuna saw stars every time he’d push in, letting go of a long, pornographic moan as he began to thrust slowly in and out of your tight entrance. the look on your face as your eyes rolled back in pleasure made coming in less than a minute extremely hard, but the intense need to make you finish first overrode any sort of selfish desire to fill you up to the brim in the first few minutes. 

asshole!sukuna loved missionary the most because he could see your pretty face. he enjoyed a bunch of freaked-out positions, but nothing could beat watching your pupils dilate and your lips quiver the second you finally came, his name on your tongue as you let go of the tension building in your tummy. 

“y’ gonna come, baby? y’ gonna come on this cock?” he’d grunt, slamming his member deeper and deeper the louder your cries got, faster and faster until— “fuck, ryo! m’ cumming!” you’d stutter, your insides spasming on his cock, drawing out his own orgasm with one final pound, filling you up with hot ropes of his seed. 

asshole!sukuna was the king of aftercare. words that were filthy before, now soft and caring. 

“you okay, baby? did i go too hard on ya?” he’d ask through tired pants, standing to grab the wet wipes in the side drawer to wash your messy parts off. 

“you want me to order something? anything you want, love. i’ll get you anything and everything.” 

“c’mon, sweetheart. drink some water.” 

asshole!sukuna never made you feel small after intimacy, in fact, sometimes you enjoyed the aftermath more than the mindblowing sex. 

“m’ okay, ryo. just wanna cuddle.” you’d admit shyly, reaching for him to come back to bed. 

his eyes would soften and he’d plop down next to you, pulling you into his lap. “anything for you, angel.” 

sure, sukuna was an asshole, but he couldn't even dream of mistreating you, his biggest exception.

“love you, baby.” 

“love you too, ryo.” 

a/n: i wrote this semi off my face so excuse any bad word or structural choices 💘

© 2026 sixxels. All work belongs to @sixxels Do NOT repost, modify, translate to another language, or plagiarise in any way on ANY platform.

[petalflvr]

⋆.𐙚 ̊ shygirl!reader getting her first tattoo with tattooartist!sukuna

cw: none. just sukuna being soft ᢉ𐭩 art by @_avecot on x

You’re in a tattoo shop for your first one—two little butterflies on your left wrist. Something easy and simple, yet you can't help the nervous flutter in your chest as you sit in the corner waiting for your turn.

A guy with pink hair sits behind the reception desk; he looks a few years younger than you, a cheeky smile plastered on his face as he calls out your number. “Yuji” is written on his name tag.

“Door’s to the left, just straight down. Your guy’s waiting for you now.”

Fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, you stand up and nod. You grab your purse, slipping it over your shoulder with a quiet, “Thanks.” Following Yuji’s instructions, you open the door to the left.

A massive figure is sitting in the tattoo chair prepping his equipment. He must sense you because he turns around and looks straight at you, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Hey,” he says, standing up.

He’s easily 6’5” with the same pink hair as the guy at the reception desk. Tattoos crawl up his forearms from under his black sweatshirt, and even his face is inked.

Oh God.

He’s hot.

You manage a quiet “Hi,” but his attractiveness does absolutely nothing for your nerves—if anything, it makes them worse.

He gestures to the chair. “This way, please.”

You sit, feeling small as he follows behind you and pulls his own stool over. He pauses, glancing at the way he’s practically hunched over you.

“You mind if I adjust your chair?”

You blink before realizing why. “Oh—not at all!”

The smirk spreads into a satisfied smile.

“Atta girl.”

His face pulls closer to yours as he reaches down to adjust the lever. His forearm grazes your calf, and a shiver runs up your spine before you can stop it. Goosebumps bloom across your skin.

He adjusts the height until you’re eye-to-eye with him.

“That’s more like it.”

He pulls back to his workstation, his knees brushing yours in the process. Then he reaches out, his large, gloved hand gently taking your smaller one.

“What are we workin’ with here?”

His grip is firm, but careful. Like he’s already decided you’re something to handle gently.

“Just two little butterflies.” You pull out your phone, unlocking it to show him the reference.

He studies the screen for a few seconds before nodding. “Got it.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand.

Instead, he reaches for his stencil paper and a small bottle of transfer gel, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your wrist. His eyes flick back up to your face, catching the way you’re watching him.

He smirks again.

“Do I need to get you a lollipop?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you look at him, almost glaring. He lifts a brow, amused.

“Just kidding.”

He traces the spot where the ink will go, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I got you.”

Biting your bottom lip, you give a small nod. “Will it hurt a lot?”

He starts to set up, snapping a needle cartridge into the machine and pouring a few drops of black ink into a small cup. His movements are practiced and steady.

“It’ll sting,” he says, glancing at you. “But it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

You sit still.

“It’ll be over before you know it. Trust me.”

He pushes back the sleeve of your cardigan to expose more of your skin, his thumb lingering against your arm.

Then, the low buzz of the machine starts.

You flinch at the first sharp touch of the needle, your breath catching—

“Easy,” he mumbles immediately.

His hand tightens around your wrist, anchoring you in place. The pain is sharp at first—a hot, scratching sensation. But it isn’t so bad.

Or maybe it’s just him.

Sukuna.

The name you just read from his tag—is the one handling you? His movements are definitely slower and more gentle than you expected.

“Who does your tattoos?” you ask suddenly, hoping the conversation might distract you.

He doesn’t look up from his work, his expression relaxed and focused. He moves with the kind of ease that only comes from years of experience.

“My buddy Toji does ’em sometimes,” he says. “Especially the parts I can’t reach. But most of the time? It’s me.”

You nod. “You’re probably so used to the pain… considering you have them all over.”

Why the hell are you talking? And when did you get so bold?

He chuckles under his breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Guess I am.”

Moving onto the second butterfly, he switches to a smaller needle grouping for the fine details of the wings. His hand still holding your wrist firmly against the armrest to keep you grounded as the needle hits the sensitive skin near your pulse.

When you tense, just slightly—

He notices.

His movements slow again.

Finally, the buzzing stops. He wipes away the last of the excess ink and green soap, the cool liquid a relief against your skin.

“There,” he leans back, studying his work.

“But you should definitely come to me, not him.” His gaze flicks up to yours. “Alright?”

You look down at your wrist. Two perfect, delicate butterflies stare back at you, the lines crisp and clean, exactly what you wanted.

“They’re... they’re perfect,” you whisper, your heart doing a little flip when he doesn't immediately let go of your hand. "Thank you."

He winks at you.

Winks.

“I told you I got you, didn’t I?”

After a few minutes, you make your way outside his tattoo corner to settle the payment with Yuji.

Not long after, Sukuna’s door opens and he emerges, leaning casually against the counter right next to you.

“Consider it free, Yuji.”

Your eyes widen, and so do Yuji’s.

“Oh, no. It’s not fair—” you start, but you're quickly cut off.

He lazily smiles at you. “It’s just two little butterflies. I barely moved.”

You blink at him. “You spent over thirty minutes working on these.”

“Or,” he cuts in smoothly, tilting his head, eyes fixed on you, “we can just grab coffee as your payment.”

A beat.

“That okay?”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

It’s just coffee.

Right?

You tuck your wallet back into your purse. “Seems like a good idea.”

His grin widens.

“That’s my girl.”

He follows you toward the exit, reaching past you to hold the door open. As you step out, he slips a card from his pocket and hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours.

“I’ll call you, aight?”

You take it, still smiling. “’Kay.”

“That’s the first time he’s ever done that.”

The door swings shut behind you, but you still catch the voice from inside—low, amused. A dark-haired man leans against the wall. Toji, probably.

“Does this mean I can get my first tattoo for free?” Yuji pipes up.

Sukuna pauses, giving Yuji a sharp glare. “Not until you’re eighteen, kid.” He reaches out and pats Yuji’s shoulder. “Try to be as fuckin’ cute as her, though. But I highly doubt it, buddy.”

soft sukuna just makes me giggle every time ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)

[tonycries]

F*CK EVERYTHING! - G.S.

Synopsis. Your all-new, high-powered rose toy can vibrate, suction, and even…turn human? And why is he so hot?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, Date Everything AU, rose toy!Gojo, objects turning human, slight crackfic, oraI (fem rec.), extra long tongue, fíngering, spítting, manhandIing, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, stopping you from escaping, he’s BIG, making it fit, “just the tip” (fails), tummy buIges, chokíng, rough s, p sIapping, GOJO’S POWERS, víbrators, squírting, he lives to please you, creampíes, cúmplay, breaking the bed, marathons, headIocks, overstím, making Gojo whímper, Sukuna cameo, pet names. swéaring.

Word count. 8.2k

A/N. Not sponsored I swear-

It had arrived.

Finally, that cute lil’ toy you’d seen splashed across your social media. It was all the rave reviews, the discreet packaging, and the promises of utmost pleasure that’d reeled you in. And after a long, hard day of much too many shifts, you just couldn’t help but click that ‘Add to cart’ button.

After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

Well, it was too late to regret it now. Because only a day later and suddenly a large, glitzy, hot-pink box was plopped right in front of your doorstep.

You hadn’t even heard the delivery drivers come up- if you had, then maybe you’d have been able to interrogate them on what that second package was…A mysterious, taped, lil’ cardboard box - one you didn’t even remember ordering. 

It had no title, no images, not even an address. Just your name.

Sighing, you quickly carry both deliveries inside before any of your neighbors could snoop. Eyes catching on the toy’s name—‘The Strongest’

At least it sounds promising, you muse. And that second delivery must be a freebie, perhaps something promotional. It’s with that thought in mind that you find your feet heading straight for your bedroom, ready to give your newly-acquired product a little test run.

It was bigger than you thought once the packaging had come off. 

Curved. Lengthy. As vibrantly pink as the box. With the cutest rose petal-shaped features, and an electric tongue that stuck out from between them. Right in the middle was a snug lil’ hole you guessed was for suction, and according to the website this toy also had the ability to vibrate. 

Oh, you find your mouth drying at the thought. You better check whether this alleged ‘strongest’ really lived up to its name or was going to be forgotten in a box under your bed…

Limbs shaky, you’re mindlessly placing the other banged-up cardboard box on your bedside table and sprawling out on the mattress. Stripping down to nothing but your t-shirt n’ panties, thighs squeezing ever-so-slightly, hands holding the toy up to the light. You stick your anticipating thumb onto that power button and-

Nothing. 

“Ah, fuck-” You’re checking the battery indicator - zero charge. Of course. In slight embarrassment you’re chucking the toy towards the foot of the bed and springing back into the pillows. “Should’ve known.”

The charger probably came with the box- and just as you’re scanning your room for any signs of it, your eyes lock onto another little package. The one you’d forgotten on top of your bedside drawer.

What else did you have to lose? And you were quite curious about what promotional products the company might have sent you, so you find yourself picking it up idly. Pushing apart the layers of duct tape and cardboard to find…a pair of rose-colored sunglasses?

Stylish, with the word ‘dateviator’ branded on the frame.

Grumbling, “This definitely wasn’t on the site.” You put on the damned thing. Nothing special, all it did was tint your vision with a slightly romantic filter of pink.

With slight amusement, you’re checking out the difference in your room. The curtains, the desk, the bookshelves, the towering naked man with white hair-

Wait what?

You’re gasping, eyes widening as you take in the sudden intruder. “What the-” In panic, some part of your brain can’t help but think that this must be one of those illusions. One of those…hollographic glasses? Yeah, must be it. So you’re taking them off-

He’s still there.

Putting them on.

He’s still there.

Taking them off-

“-fuck!”

“That is what I’m here for.” The stranger flashes you the brightest grin you’ve ever seen in your entire life. A tiny dimple at the end of it, sapphire eyes twinkling. 

Your bedsprings dip as he plants a - still very, very naked - knee on the edge of your mattress and you have to force yourself to stop from looking…down. 

“Oh, you can look.” He’s chuckling in a teasing voice, almost like he could read your mind. And you should scream- you should possibly even run, but it’s just so hard when he winks at you like that. “You can even- heh, touch.” 

Before you know it, he takes your dominant hand and gliiiides it down the ridges of his washboard abs. Warm. Strong. Humming, “No need to be shy. It’s what you brought me here for, isn’t it?”

Suddenly you throw the glasses at him - and they have the audacity to bounce off of one of his perfectly chiselled pecs. “Wh-who are you- get out!”

The man pushes his angelic, ivory locks away from his face. “Actually, I’m trying to get in.” And you close your opened legs with a snap once his gaze dips between them- fuck, you were still in your panties. “Oh, how rude of me. The name’s Gojo Satoru- AKA Satorose, The Strongest. Pleasure to meet who I’ll be giving pleasure to~”

He sticks out a hand and doesn’t wait for you to grip it before grabbing your own, pressing such a lingering kiss on the back of your palm.

And you can’t pull away, you can’t even breathe because it just registered - The Strongest.

You start, feeling slightly more unhinged with each passing second his lips peck up your arm. “You’re…you’re the rose toy?” To make sure you look over the edge of your bed where it could’ve fallen - nothing. 

“Mhm, and now I’m your toy, sweetheart. You can thank the dateviators for that—”

“I think I’m going crazy-”

“Oh, you will soon.” Gojo’s batting his long lashes with a promise. “So why don’t we skip the small talk and get to business? I know you’re all wet f’me-” Leaning in so close to whisper against your ear, goosebumps erupt at his tangy hot breath. “-I can practically taste it.”

That was enough to leave your panties dripping down your thighs. 

“Oh.” Your mouth parts. What the fuck was in those glasses? None of the reviews had ever mentioned this. 

And yet, your mind still tries to regain all the sense that you’ve lost in the past few minutes. “B-but what makes you think that I want your help?”

And, to that, Gojo only looks at you as if to smugly ask ‘really?’

Then down at himself: pale hair unruly, azure eyes glinting with something dark. A flush creeps across his handsome features, between his pecs, and down each muscle n’ divot of his sculpted body like he’d been crafted by the heavens. Or maybe an expert at a sex toy company. Gojo took up nearly the entirety of your bed and suddenly you’re remembering that you ordered the biggest size online.

To be fair, he was making a very good case.

And then there was that. 

You didn’t want to stare directly at it - but a happy trail of white leads down his abs, between his thick, meaty thighs. It ends in slightly unruly tufts where he was standing proudly erect-

Fuck. 

“Fine!”

It happens before you know it. Before the word is fully out of your mouth, before you can even blink- Gojo has his hands clawed onto your thighs and his brute strength forcing you halfway down the bed.

Like a ragdoll, like he’s about to rip you apart.

Something in his touch quivers- like he’s still holding himself back, kneeling against the frame of the bed. 

As you gape, his capped knees strike the floor with loud thuds - urgent, rapid. And Gojo’s barely even registering the pain before throwing your trembling thighs over his shoulders and pushing, pushing, pushing his face between your pussy—nose-deep.

Greedy. He’s pressing the point of his nose right against your puffy cunt and taking a deeeeeep inhale-

“Oh- oh, fuck. You’re filthy.” Pushing yourself onto your elbows, you can see every lecherous huff n’ puff of him drinking you in like the sweetest fragrance. You swear- once Gojo pries your sticky panties just to the side, his drunken eyes roll to the back of his head at the scent of your oversaturated folds. 

Gojo was starving. 

And he’s not even a shred regretful about it. Already starting to drool at the feast before him, Gojo purses his rosy lips and starts to blow his scorching air on your cunt. “Mmm, you know why m’such a best-seller, sweetheart?” 

Voice octaves lower. Husky.

It makes a bead of sap slip out of you, making him tighten his hold on your thighs and moan. Irises locked on yours. Head leaning closer to where you needed him the most. “Suction.”

It’s practically a frenzied, white blur- Gojo’s head shoves between your legs and he’s taking in every inch. Dragging his textured tastebuds up the sheeny slick that glues to your thighs, sticking the pinpoint of his tongue underneath your panties, first kissing your pussylips and groaning—

“Sweet.” It’s all he can get out through his own gluttony. Open-mouthed peck after peck, the underside of his tongue slurps up the gloss of syrup on your folds. Drag after drag. “So, so sweet.”

“Ngh- oh my, mm—” You half-want to throw your head back at the sheer primal bliss, but Gojo was just so feral that you can’t help but stare at whatever he did next.

Capturing his stare dead-on once he snags his pearly whites on your underwear. Apparently eating you out through your panties wasn’t enough for him anymore - he needed more. 

He’s pulling them to one side with his mere mouth, maw suctioning around your clit like it was his precise target. Gojo wraps his lips over that cute, perky nub and sucks- “Y’know I come with hah- modes, sweetheart?” 

That fuckin’ tease. He speaks directly over your pussy, just so that the vibrations of Gojo’s throaty bass would make zaps of electricity run up your spine. 

“I have a looooow mode.” And suddenly the tip of his tongue swirls over your swollen clit- he’s pushed in so deep that it was like he was trying to swallow you whole. Trying to make you dizzy with each sultry circle he was drawing, salivating. 

‘Round and ‘round. 

Gojo’s nostrils flare right against the top of your pussy, and he’s unfastening his mouth even further. “And medium.” So tough to talk with a mouthful, but he’s immediately back to work.

Faster, the velvety muscle of his tongue comes spanking down on your clit. Enough to send shockwaves, he’s tuggin’ on it just so primally that you can’t even think- “And high.”

“Fuh-fuck!” If you thought he was ruining you before, then you were practically shattered right now. Because Gojo’s suckling on your clit like his favorite candy lolly, so harshly that the insides of his cheeks hollow. 

Teasingly, he’s squeezing down on your sensitive nub and trying to drag that part of you ever-so-slightly. Soft taste buds rolling over n’ over, tickling you sensually. “And-”

Your voice cracks pathetically, “There’s more?”

“A special mode just for you, sweetheart.” And then he’s doing it- with a few loud slurps, some swooping patterns are drawn on your throbbing clit. Only seconds later are you realizing that he’s writing his very own name—your eyes widen, mouth dropping to moan-

Before Gojo winks his half-lidded eyes up at you and bites down gently on your clit. 

Snickering as you trill out shrilly, as your hips buck. Your hand comes slamming down on the crown of his clammy scalp and you find yourself pushing. “Just sh-shut up, and- ngh!”

“Mmm, being used.” Gojo’s crooning out, and if you didn’t know any better than you’d have said he was grinning - you could feel it. From end to end of your treacly cunt, he was grinning, smushing his soft lips over your own. 

The sensation only makes you bully his head downwards even more, making him salivate from the corners of his mouth. Rasping, “Exactly how I like it, sweetheart.”

And his tongue laps at you primally- now zig-zagging all the way from your clit down, down, down to where your puckered hole was. Knocking like he was about to enter through a door. He can only manage to slither in the very first inch of his wet muscle, rutting back and forth three times to slick himself up with all your sap.

That just makes it so much easier for him to keep on swirlin’ your tight hole, “Oh, mmm—” From this angle, you can see the way that Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp of your sweetened syrup. “You got the hah- the one with the tongue attachment, didn’t you?”

Practically in tears at the constant way his tongue was trying to stretch your entrance out. “Y-yes? Why- oh.”

“Exactly.” 

It’s all that’s said- the last time that Gojo Satoru even breathes before he’s thrusting the muscle of his tongue right between your pretty pussylips. 

You were stretching out so wiiiidely open around his prolonged taste buds, scouring every inch of you from the very moment that Gojo can feel your walls. “Sweet here, too.” He’s huffing, mouth overworking to plunge his spit-glazed tongue all back n’ forth at such a rapidfire pace. “What a lucky toy I am—”

Back n’ forth, back n’ forth.

Your toes simply curl at the feeling of him bashing his long, pointed muscle into your deepest spots. Extra, extra long just for you. “Fuck- oh my god, n-never felt anything like ngh- this before, Gojo-”

“Satoru.” 

“Satoru, fuck!” 

“Mm, we’re getting there—” Gojo’s playful lips were practically glued to the front of your pussy, and each sloppy drag itches such carnal parts of you. His tongue was just as flexible as it was lengthy, jerkin’ up into the spots where you were most tender. 

Barely even able to take the stretch, and yet you’re careening your hips up for more. 

“C’mon now, sweetheart-” But that wasn’t enough for him. And you think you see utter fucking stars once Gojo just grazes his textured tip almost near your g-spot. Grumbling, “Ya can use your toy more. Use me more. Harder. I’m ah- heavy-duty, I don’t break.”

You’re all shakin’ and crying out prettily for him, digging your nails into his swerving head. “Like- ngh, this?”

“Moooore—” Pouting, his tongue sloshes inside of you a few more times before reeling back out. “How m’I supposed to do my job- mmm, otherwise.” Your clit gets gifted with a cute squelching kiss, almost like an apology - a warning.

But you’re not ready at all before Gojo’s long, slender middle finger probes your dewy entrance.

 Feeling that tight, tight first ring of muscle, “Oh! But don’t tell the- ngh, manufacturers that m’giving you my fingers, too.” And it’s not just that - you’re suddenly being spearheaded by both his middle and his index finger with a deafening wet slurp. “I just like you a loooooot~”

Your geysering orifice is being filled up to the maximum, and you can barely even clench ‘round his dual digits. Rummaging around your slick insides, “Oh my god- oh, ngh-”

Thrust after thrust. The globular ends of his fingers pry apart your sticky walls so well, snagging against your most sensitive areas. Easily pecking your g-spot with his fingerpads once more, you let off such a sinful cry—

“Oh- I like you, too.” Coyly, Gojo grins whilst looking at you. And at this point you didn’t know whether he was talking to you or your poor pussy. “And I just know you’ll love this…”

Love what?—You want to ask. But you don’t get the chance to.

Because, just then, he’s shutting up every thought in your hazy mind by making the crowned tips of his fingers vibrate. Just like the toy. 

“You- you can do that?”

Giggling, “Anything for your pleasure~”

Such sensual tremors that made pleasure creep across every inch of your body, and Gojo was more than happy to have it filling up your cute innards. Jostling his digits over and over- he shovels himself till he’s knuckle-deep against your folds and rubbing his skin damn raw with friction.

It’s like having two elongated vibrators swabbing your insides, being bullied out and in again and again until your walls are oversensitive. 

“Just like that- ngh!” Angling just so to dig in until you’re sure the area of your g-spot is left with a bruise of his circumferences. “It feels s-soooo good, Satoru.”

“Oh yeah–? Ya like that, hm?” With a hoarse chuckle at the back of his throat, Gojo’s tongue starts to roll over your neglected clit in a repeated rhythm.

But if his tongue was methodical, then his mouth was just sloppy. Because the greedier he became, the messier he was with his sucklin’ kisses. Just wild, primal drags of his open mouth that leave you quivering- Gojo was slobbering over your clit like a man starved, and you were the only meal he’s come across in aaaages.

In loooong, dewy licks that glaze the corners of his sensual mouth with your sap. You could see it dribbling all down the front of his chin at this point, “Yes- mmpf- like it s’much, oh.”

“Ya like my fingers that much, huh?” 

Another bash of those vibrating, electric fingers on your g-spot. Slickly glissading down to tenderize any rare spot inside you that he hasn’t stroked just yet, “So much- so much.”

“That so—?”

“Yes-”

“Really really so?”

“Y-yes!”

His skin was all flushed, lips swollen, bangs sticking to his head with perspiration at just how harsh n’ thorough he was motioning his head. “Hmpf- well now m’getting jealous of myself.” Gojo’s snowy brows furrow, and you’re feeling his lips on your clit- downturning into a slight frown.

Before he unlatches his maw from your dripping wet pussy with a filthy plop! 

You’re lifting your head up in a daze, “Satoru, what are you…”

Only for him to surge his head back mere sultry centimeters and push the fat girth of his tongue back inside your pussy with a sluuuuurp. Licking you all up from the inside out, letting the rovering tip of his muscle battle against his fingers. 

Gojo’s ruining you from the inside, and he’s letting his greed do all the work for him.

“O-oh my god-” From the lewd crash of his jackhammering fingertips, to the way that his tastebuds were all there to soothe the sting. To lap up any ounce of sweet, sweet slick that his hands might have dared to leave behind.

Probing, he has his slicked tongue filling in your every crevice in a way that made your mind spin. Feeling the heat of your high nearing ever-so-closely-

Blearily, he whispers against your swollen folds. “Mmm, this is more like it.” Before the honed edge of Gojo’s tongue scrapes your g-spot once more. 

And his other hand? Oh, you didn’t think that he would just let one hand go resting, did you? 

As Gojo’s left hand starts to creep alongside the inner part of your thighs, you’re almost clawing his wrist to a halt. Scratching at his skin, keening in pure need once his left set of fingers come up to pinch your wettened clit. 

“Y-you’re almost-” You can’t help but buck, so hard that the bed frame sings in synchronization with you. The triple stretch of your hole driving you mad with stinging pleasure- “-almost- hck! too much—!”

“I’m built for your pleasure, sweetheart.”

And he was eating you out exactly like it. 

From three different angles, Gojo’s scouring every inch of you. Stuck to you like adhesive, the thrashing of his fingerpads make you feel a lump in your throat. 

You’re just bawling, “Fuck-” Thighs shaking, you can’t help but clench them around his ravenous face at the heat curdling at the pit of your stomach. Suffocating. Holding on for dear life. “Fuck fuck fuck, I don’t think m’gonna last-”

And it’s exactly what Gojo wants to hear - to feel.

You, with your cunt quivering and your hips wetly humping up to meet him - using him. You, with your pretty hole bawling as much as you were. You, crying out even more like his favorite song when his fingers somehow vibrate even harder. 

He glides his tongue teasingly along your bundle of nerves just to hear you sob out even more, making sure that the next few crashes of his roughened fingerpads are particularly hard. “Mmm, is that so? Must mean I’m doing my ngh- job right, heh.”

The loudest fuckin’ squelches depart at the drag of his knobbled digits, and Gojo’s just salivating alllll over you. Letting a puddle of drool slip below your thighs, where you were gyrating up impatiently. He’s groaning, “I better finish it off then and- oh, make you cum.” Teasing left hand scrawling out his very name on top of your slick-glossed clit. “Better leave my- oh, my girl satisfied then, hmm–?”

“Sa-Satoru! M’gonna-” You’re unable to stop your noises from reaching a fever point- because with a few more thorough strokes of his fingers, he has you tipping over the edge vulgarly. 

You’re seeing white, body taken over with electricity. 

Spurred on by the tickling patterns of his tongue, you’re finding yourself maddened by the way he had you like putty in his hands. To grope. To thrust. To ruin. To shovel all his lengthy inches of his digits inside until you’re thrashing sensitively underneath him. 

Babbling, spittle coats either side of your mouth- “Cumming- cum- ngh, cumming.”

Gojo coos kindly, “I already know, sweetheart.” And he doesn’t falter, doesn’t even slow down as he pummels your softened insides through each peak of your orgasm. “Told you I’m The Strongest for a reason. I’m reeeeeally good- hck!”

Blue eyes glazed, your sap taking over his mouth like a waterfall.

He drags out your high by carnally itchin’ at your g-spot, mumbling. “Really good.” Like a mantra, he’s burrowing his face oh-so-close to your body, letting the tips of his ivory bangs tickle your skin. “Really- hck! really good.” Letting his mouth prattle away little whispers each time he’s tuggin’ on whichever inch of your glistening cunt he could reach. Slick pouring. “Really- oh…”

“S-Satoru-” Somehow, by the time your orgasm’s turning into nothing but a few tingles from your puffy pussylips, you manage to crack your teary eyes open. And oh- oh, the sight below you is enough to nearly make you want to cum again. “Satoru, you’re p-pussydrunk!”

“Haaaah—?” He’s gurgling on a glittery wad of your slick, “How can I be pussydrunk when the- ngh, only thing I can ever even think of is your pussy anyway?”

As if to prove his point, he breaks off from your sultry pussy like he’s about to give you a good word or two about how addictive your cunt is. But it’s exactly that- he can’t part from your cunt.

Gojo Satoru was addicted. 

And he’s plopping his mouth right back down onto your pussy with a treacly sound, muffling out his groans between your folds. Looking just so pretty like this; your syrupy liquids gleaming from the apples of his cheeks and down to his collarbones, glassy eyes looking through his bangs, mouth a puffy red and downturning. “Oh fuck, I forgot to make you, mmm, squirt.” Shoving himself even deeper, “Need to- mmm, squirt-”

Harder. And you can’t help but let your throat rip free a yelp, feeling dizzy at the sudden overstimulation. “Fuck- ngh! But I want something else…”

“What do you want?” He’s begging, “What do you want, sweetheart? Anything- oh, I’ll get you anything-”

“Wan’ your cock, Satoru.” Almost shy at the intensity of his stare, your eyes dip down to where he was leaning over the edge of the bed. Where just the tip-top of his achingly hard bulge was bobbing with each movement, puddling out thick precum onto the sheets like a fountain.

“Oh.” He gasps, head snapping down to where you were looking. “Oh. So you got the wand attachment-”

“Just shut up and come here.”

You don’t have to ask him twice. And in only nanoseconds, Gojo’s gone from lounging at the base of your bed to nuzzling his slick-glazed face with your own, giving you the sloppiest kiss of your entire life. “Heh, come.”

You’re just about to roll your eyes- when you’re hit with the sound of a sudden rip-rip-riiiiip from below. And then you’re hit with the sudden, startling realization that Gojo Satoru had just torn your panties clean off of you. 

“That was- l-limited edition-”

With a cocky smirk, “I am limited edition.” You’re being flipped over so that Gojo’s broad back is pressed against the mattress. Your thighs straddling his toned hips, your pussy sitting on his cock.

And oh- were you looking now. You were ogling. 

Slidin’ back and forth on top of his swollen length, mentally counting one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

“N-nine inches!” You gasp, hands scrambling to find purchase on top of his beefy deltoids. You needed it just to stabilize yourself on top of him, and with the way your folds were stretched around his girth- oh, he was just so thick.

Decorated with numerous puffy veins that throbbed and twitched with each of your movements. His sheer size left you so aroused that you were just soaking him in all your juices. 

He grins, “Well, you did order the biggest size. Ya better just hope that it fits- heh.” 

“You’re s-soooo cocky.”

“Well I am the strongest~”

And it’s just then that you’re realizing why exactly the toy’s box was just the most sinful shade of pink- his tip. Big n’ bloated, it was blushing the prettiest color of that exact ruby pink. 

You’re in awe of the correlation when Gojo taps the side of his v-line, dragging your attention to his bulky muscles on one side of his hip - and more importantly, the cursive pink tattoo. Of your name.

“Like what you see? Told ya I belong to you.” Gaping, you can only watch as he twirls the drenched fabric of your panties in his hands. Gliding it down the middle of his abs and using it to jerk his aching erection a few times underneath you. “What? Always clean your toys after use. And…”

You don’t know where to look - that tattoo of your name, or his rock-hard cock. But Gojo makes the choice for you, pushin’ your cheeks together into a pathetic pout. Jostling your head down-

“Spit.”

And you do. 

A big, glittering glob of saliva that hits the globe of his cockhead, trickling down the side of his veiny length. It pools into Gojo’s curly white hair at his base, and he shivers, “Always lubricate your toys, too.”

“Fuck-”

“And then…”

And then he’s fucking up into you. He’s shoving apart your bloated lips to jut the uppermost inch of his cock inside-

“O-oh.” Gojo’s fighting to keep his head from throwing backwards. It was just so hot inside you, feeling like he was melting with each liquidy stream of slick slipping between down to his balls. “Wider, sweetheart.”

Your hamstrings scream as you once you’re spreading them further, “Like this-”

“Wider.”

He was just so big that it was maddening enough for him to try n’ fit inside. Slightly fucking up into you in feverish, needy ruts- half-movements even, just stretching out your entrance enough to take him.

Again and again. Every buck leaves him recoiling at the resistance, feeling like he’s about to fucking pass out at that elastic, clingy sensation of your cunt.

Tight. 

“Shit-” Your breath catches in your throat once you hear a sultry pop! Realizing just then that he’d managed to bully his mushroomy tip inside, it was oh-so-thick enough that the girth of him was swabbing your walls already. Up and up you were being driven. “At this rate s’only gonna be the- mmm, tip, Satoru.”

“Yes- yes, just the tip.” And you’re shocked - Gojo Satoru relents?

Snapping your head down till it hits your chest, you’re realizing exactly why - he was completely and utterly pussydrunk. Agreeing to anything you’re saying, just another inch of his length solidly sinks inside and Gojo’s gasping for air. “Uh uh, just the tip- fuck! Anything you want, just the tip-” 

Clawing your waist still, punching up his muscular hips. 

You’re seeing stars every time he’s squeezin’ his bulging erection inside, the sheer stretch so much that it makes you clench-

THUD!

It happens in split-seconds. 

Your back is being pushed into the mattress, you’re being shoved deep enough to touch the bedsprings. All you had to do was clench your pretty, dewy wet walls and Gojo was folding you neat in half like a lawnchair. 

Into a mating press. Your thighs on his muscular shoulders, his sweaty forehead meeting yours. 

He doesn’t even hesitate before gripping your neck with one hand and usin’ the force to push, push, push you down the prolonged length of his cock. “Just the middle now-” Spitting through clenched canines, you’re handled like a ragdoll. Taking his bulging cock with the most lecherous slurps- “Just a few more inches a few- hah, a few more-”

“Oh, please—!” You’re mewling, your hands clawing down his beefy biceps. You just couldn’t stop staring at them, flexing each time he’s pushing down on your airway to make you take it. 

“Just- fuck.” Before you know it, Gojo’s other hand swats down on the middle of your tummy and presses. Feeling his thick, probing cock inch its way inside your pussy- “Ya reeeeeally had to- hck! order the biggest size, didn’t you, nasty girl?”

The flats of his palm make it feel like his rovering was reaching your very lungs. Just the capped crown of his shaft slipping between your walls lewdly. “I-I- ngh-” 

“I-I-I—” He’s mocking, voice dramatically octaves higher in a way you definitely did not sound. Gojo tilts his head down at you, peering through thick lashes. “Look at you now, huh. Wanted the biggest size and now you can’t even, mmm, take it.”

So long that it was like it’s never-ending. Ever-probing, the sultry tip of his cock swabs into your most tender areas and leaves you squealing. 

And just when you think there can’t be more, there is.

Gojo’s only getting thicker towards the bottom, the most sinful right-leaning curve just like that part of the toy had been. And it’s perfect for fitting inside with scraping strokes, for pushing you up the bed with pap! after animalistic pap! of his hips driving into yours. 

“But m’built to p-please, sweetheart. To please you.” Still babbling away, you’re getting even tighter with each inch he’s stuffing inside. Bigger. Harder. “So don’t you dare hah- hold out on me. Just three inches more, th-three inches more.”

“Three inches more?” Something at the pit of your stomach twists at the way he was talking you through it - or maybe that was his hand pressing down even further. 

Smirking, “Mhmmm– three inches more. Two-” Head throwing forwards, mouth starting to water. “Two inches more.”

“Inches- ngh-” The more you were being filled, the more your throat was clogging. With tears upon whines upon need.

His thighs slam yours particularly hard- “Yeeees—say it f’me.”

“One more-” Until you’re ultimately saying- “M-more!”

Gojo hisses under his breath– before smashing forwards until his hilt pounds your pussylips. 

Until he was bottomed out - and still rutting viciously back and forth, trying to plunge even deeper inside. Your hot innards were exactly like heaven to him, and the slightest saturated clenched leaves Gojo stuttering. “S-say it again?” 

“More- oh.” Just to be rummaged with such a long, teasing thrust.

“Mmm—” Gojo gnaws down on his bottom lip like strawberry bubblegum, looking at you with such a heady stare. “Exactly what a toy like me needs to hear.”

And he’s pushin’ you straight down into the rickety bed frame with looooong, vulgar strokes. Aiming from the crown of his bulging tip to the fat, luscious base of his cock - Gojo was impatient. He was needy. He was pulling out his pulsing cock just to spear you even more rudely. 

And any time you’re moaning in pleasure, that only makes him swell even harder inside of you. 

“Fuck- fuck! Please- more more more.” Like a broken mantra, you shrill. To make him lose his mind and to feel the scalding girth of his shaft get bigger. Snaggin’ on your walls-

“Yes- yeeees— say it like that.” Gojo’s azure eyes are widened, almost crazed. And his hand lifts off of your tummy to hold onto one of your free ones, guiding it to his chasing hips. Right where that lecherous tattoo was. 

The skin around it had turned rawly red by now with the impact, sensitive to the touch. You look on in slight confusion at his sudden movements and he only snickers. “You gotta, ngh, guide me, sweetheart. You gotta- ohhh yeah, use me just like thaaaat.”

Making you hold onto his hips, Gojo thinks he sees the pearly gates just as soon as you’re using what feeble strength you have left to move him ‘round.

To have him angling his flared cockhead, stubbornly mazing past your walls with the target of your g-spot. It only takes a few tries for him to suddenly budge your nerves with his length.

The round, strawberry-colored top of his tip striking your most favorite spot like a bullseye. Kissing. Snogging. “Heh, f-five stars if I do say so myself.”

“Satoru, are you fuck- pussydrunk—?” You didn’t even need to ask that - you knew he already was. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from nodding along to his nonsensical talking, just as lust-addled as the sopping wet squelches from your pussy. “What do you mean ‘five stars’-”

“I mean…”

And he trails off, leaving you wanting even more. Even though his bulging, pre-glazed cock certainly wasn’t.

So swollen n’ red, he probes his silvery slit along your walls. Making you squirm with each scratch of his cockhead, it’s almost teasing the way that Gojo reaches exactly for your g-spot once more and bashes that tender spot in. “See? One.”

Oh. 

You’re struck with both the realization and a second, primal hammering of his shaft. Into that very same bundle of nerves you love so much. 

“T-two-” 

“Oh my god-”

He’s gruffly groaning, heavy balls tightening at the slamming impact. But that still doesn’t make him stop, still doesn’t even make him slow down. He only scours your treasure trove of walls inside and maps out your exact g-spot again- “Three-” Again and again. “Four- five. Hah! Five stars.”

And now Gojo was fucking you like he hated you. Like he was trying to prove himself to you.

The most reverent worshipper of your treacly pussy, he was making you cry out with each deep-seated kiss to your every weepy orifice. Every nook and cranny. Gojo had been starving since he was out of that box, and he was taking it out on your poor hole.

“That’s m-more than five–!” You’re crying out after a while. 

“Oh? M’more than five stars, huh?” Purring- at least, you thought for a single delirious second that he was purring. Until you’re realizing that it was simply his vibrator-like fingers, once more attaching themselves onto your clit. “Why thank you.”

Throwing your hands over the bulky height of his shoulders, you pull him in close. Trying not to whine simply at the sensation of his firm, beefy abs glissading down your front - he was ripped. 

And he was pummelling into you like he was about to rip you to shreds, sensually dragging the drivelling orifice of his shaft straight down to your womb. You feel Gojo in your very throat, and he’s slowly but surely getting addicted to the spongy touch of your cervix. “Oh- I’m gonna bruise myself into this cunt, sweetheart.”

Bulging your insides like he was trying to prove it, a thick batter of precum slips n’ slides down your thighs as you squeeze them ‘round his waist. “P-please-” Bucking. Grinding. He only draws hearts on your clit harder, “Please it’s so much-”

And that makes mean, merciless Gojo flick your oversensitive nub and write out his damn name straight across it. S-A-T-O-R-U—“What’s that, spell—?”

“Satoru-” 

A light thwack! of his fingertips on your pulsing clit. “Nuh uh, your Satoru.” And you half-wondered whether his wrist might be aching with how fast they were toyin’ with your cute nub.

It almost hurt how good it felt. Forcing you to anchor your feet onto the bed and bow your body backwards in electric bliss-

“Ah ah-” You’re moving so much that Gojo has to dig his fingerpads into the skin of your neck and pin you, pushing you down with the front of his happy trail. No escape. “S-stop running-”

Somehow, he manages to choke out through the sheer pressure of his thrusts - taking such a sultry toll on him, as well. And all he can do is to wrangle you in his arms, folded until your ass cheeks were lifting clean off the satiny sheets. Until he was just drilling into you like he was frenzied, feverish. “Stop running- fuck! You know we sell handcuffs, too?”

The buzzing tip of his finger gently spanks your cunt and you squeal, “B-but I can’t help it-” Clawing red, red lines down his back. “Feels like m’gonna cum any- hngh, any second now.”

Just in that moment, he’s digging his plump, thickened circumference against your walls and you can see your vision shatter with tears. Oh-so-close now that it felt like he was just milking himself on your velvety pussy- 

“Yeah- Oh yeah? Y’know I only live to p-please you, sweetheart.” A wobbly smile graces Gojo’s handsome face, a thin trickle of sweat sliding down his forehead. “So why don’tcha be a goooood owner f’me and do what you have to do?”

Tearily, you blink up at his feral expression. “Wh-what’s that, Satoru?”

Instead of answering, he only increases the vibrato in his fingertips - each zap sending your body shaking, mind spinning. He only slams his hips so hard that your eardrums pop, sponged cervix giving way to his probin’ swabbing shaft. 

He only whispers in your ear, “Cum.”

And in that moment you can’t control it- you do. 

You think you almost might have even if it wasn’t for Gojo’s guttural, greedy voice. 

It’s just about the hardest orgasm of your life, you can barely even think- even breathe. Your walls constrict like they’re trying to hold back his vicious thrusts, g-spot now throbbing with slammed impact.

“Sa—fuck! Toru- I’m-”

“Cum. Cum- cum.” He’s uttering out like a mantra into the skin of your neck. And as if his rough cadence wasn’t enough, you’re being dragged down by the hand at your throat to further ram against his v-line. Ruinous. Reddening his skin.

You’re fisting desperately at the sheets, hips helplessly bucking with each white-hot shockwave of euphoria taking over your body.

Gojo feels you clampin’ away around him, trying to milk each peak of your high. The globular crown of his shaft glissades constantly down your walls and directly against your womb- making you see stars. “Cum- fuck! If you’re g-gonna cum then-”

You’re so sensitive at this point that just the burning intensity of Gojo’s stare makes you shiver, “Then what–?”

He grins sleazily, “Then you better make use of the fact that I’m water-proof.”

Oh, he wanted you to squirt. 

Barely even getting used to the constant adrenaline of your orgasm flooding your fuzzy brain, it’s then that Gojo’s vibrating fingertips slither their way down from the folds of your pussy. Down to hook inside your dewy hole–

“Sh-shit shit shit-” Your entire body shakes, every leftover ounce of rationality in you dissolving. You’re drooling so much by now that it’s forming an ocean of wetness on your pillow, “Wait- m’so- hah, sensitive.”

“I love it sensitive.” He’s giggling, doughy fingerpads starting to pump at the same rude tempo as his cock was. It’s just stretching you out so much, his vibrations making you so stupid. 

You’re just dragging your nails ferally down his back, feet pushing back against the mattress- almost like your body didn’t know whether you wanted to run from the carnal sensations or grind back in for more, more, more. 

To barely even have the chance to catch your breath from your last orgasm before Gojo’s plunging you into your next. Your third of the day - and, this time, you were squirting. 

Just like he’d wanted. 

Just like he’d dreamed of - in big, heaping splashes of your syrupy slick that drenched his tense core. It slipped down his massively rovering cock and almost made him jealous. 

So awestruck with your explosive high, he fucks his furious cock faster. “I can’t believe- hah! can’t believe you made me-” And you’re the one noticing his orgasm first, the fact that he was creaming your bruised insides white. “Toru- you’re cum—ing—”

Gojo looks down with a gasp, “Oh.” Noticing the ring of sleek white that was already starting to formulating ‘round his base.

He’s cumming just from making you cum.

Piling on his seed against your cervix, you can feel him webbing up your innards with all his ivory sap and it drives you crazy. Each buttery heap of cum being shot out with a lecherous sluuurp—“I did it- hah, I did my job well, didn’t I?” Gojo spits out, draaaaaging your pathetically escaping body back once more to dig his vibrating fingers between your pussylips. He sloshes around his slick cum inside like a mixer, “Did I make you feel goooood, sweetheart?”

“Y-ngh, yes- oh.” You can only gurgle out half-formed answers. Body uselessly tremblin’ all throughout your wave of high, it arcs like a crescent and makes you shake with bliss after each wire of cum streaking your walls. “Please- ngh-”

So sensitive. So fucking full. 

It feels like ages of skin-on-skin until you’re finally dropping from your orgasm, spent cunt letting off only a few more pearly beads of juices. 

And you’re mindlessly making to get onto your elbows, ready to have mercy upon your poor body and pull away when-

“Wh-where do you think you’re going?”

“Wha- oh!”

Being dragged back, you’re in the manhandling arms of Gojo Satoru once more. And he was gone- dazed eyes barely open, teeth snarling, pants labored. “Didn’t you read the- the package, sweetheart?” As if you could think of reading - or doing, really - anything right now. Gojo snickers like he already knew the answer to that question, “I can last for hoooooours~”

Oh, fuck.

And he kept his word. 

The packaging boasted about two to three hours of usage- but you’re fairly sure that Gojo was rock-hard and swollen for much, much longer. 

He was dragging you with inhuman stamina through a second and third round after that, until your poor g-spot was so sensitive that it’d brought you to needy tears. Then a fourth, where his sensual fingers were cramping up- but he’d still pumped them inside until you were falling apart on them. Then a fifth, where you’d completely been dumbified on his cock, your high nothing but some zaps of electricity that he was still proudly wrenching out of your overworked body. And finally…

“Ngh- ngh.” Gojo tries to muffle his lil’ whimpers by sucking on your tongue- failing. And it’s creating the most sinful songs, his fingertips weakly vibrating down your teary slope. “S-sooo good…”

Just the fact that you made The Strongest’s voice crack makes you gulp. “Toru- how are you still even going-”

And he doesn’t answer your question- not yet. 

Gojo had you bent on all sloppy fours; his ridged abs melting into your back, hips merely grinding- not even thrusting by now, his chin digging into the crook of your neck. And most sinful of all, he had you in a damn headlock. 

Angling your slobbering mouth into his, he’s urging you to spit between those pretty lips of his. “Because I can always- hah, recharge.” How absolutely filthy.

Gojo giggles - giggles. “Why thank you.” And apparently you’d said that last sentence out loud without even registering it.

And it was driving you mad, making you gyrate your hips back into his. So gone by now that tears were flowing freely down your cheeks n’ adding to the mess of saliva down on your pillows.

You’re fucking him in lecherous strokes, mere drags of your walls down his veiny length. Every zig-zagged line was simply coated in enough slick n’ cum to slosh around inside of you. You let out a mewl, “I don’t- oh please- I don’t think I even c-can cum, ngh.”

“You can, sweetheart- you will. M’making sure of it-” Snarling against the shell of your ear. Even on low battery, the tremors of Gojo’s fingers were fatal. 

Dragging out your clit, syncing with the honed strikes of his bulbous tip against your cervix. Just graaaazing you until you felt all raw. 

“I need to make you cum- need to-” He’s rolling his eyes to the back of his head, “Just get on your knees and I’ll- ngh, fuck, make you…”

“I-I’m already on my knees, Toru—” Crying out at the tightening of his headlock, beefy forearm restraining your airway. 

“Oh.” And by now you had no idea whether it was you or him that was more gone. Because Gojo’s completely drunk on the suctioning, heated feeling of your cunt. Already letting his pitch lilt octaves higher, breathy. You can feel the positively predatory grin on your skin- “Then cum, sweetheart~”

Whimpering, you can’t do anything but throw your head back and let your body listen to him. 

Like he could predict exactly when you were going to fall over the edge, you find white flashing behind your eyelids. Arms shaking, you can barely even hold yourself up as your nth orgasm of the night takes over you- but, luckily enough, you didn’t have to with Gojo’s headlock holding you up.

Keeping you in place for him to rover his hungry cock, thrust after thrust through your high. Just the way you looked so pretty cumming ‘round his length made him flinch, made him start to moan.

It only takes him one, two, three squeezes from your throbbing walls to let go, too. 

Moaning out your name like a mantra, one hand gripping the headboard, hips slamming—

Splat! Splat! Splat!

Something hot n’ wet hits your shoulder, and your breath catches. Looking behind you, you find your heart stuttering at the sight of Gojo Satoru, overstimulated, crossed eyes scrunching as he tears up. He whispers- “Cum- cumming. Did I do good, sweetheart?”

Gojo was crying at the blank bursts from the end of his shaft, you’d just made him cum dry. And he could do nothing but let the sudden bliss take over him, so much so that it was almost painful. 

CRACK–! Only later - hours and hours later - would you recognize that crack to be your poor bedframe. Shattering under his constant, feral strength - he’d broken the bed.

Again and again– by now he’d collapsed on top of you, pushing you so far deep into the bed. 

He looked so cute like this - bottom lip jutting out, eyes shuttered, grunting whimpers leaving his throat after each thrust. Oh-so-sensitive that it was making his entire body shake just to fuck you through your dual highs. “Can’t believe-” Gojo chokes, sounding agonized, “C-can’t believe- I- dry, oh. The thing you do to me.”

By the time you’re clear-headed enough to register his hazy words, the buzzing of his fingertips had died down completely. And he was instead using them to shovel in all the clingy wads of cum spraying out of your hole, overspilling.

As Gojo snuggles up to you from behind, he makes sure that not a single creamy drop gets wasted- sometimes slicking it over his fingerpads like glaze and sucking. 

“Mmm—” You’re hearing Gojo hum from behind you, “F-five stars, huh, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes in fondness, “Oh, shush.” 

“Can’t, I’m one of the loud types.”

And once Gojo simply occupies himself with making an even bigger mess of your dripping wet cunt, you find your eyes catching on something you hadn’t thought about in hours.

The glasses - the dateviators, to be exact.

They’d somehow found themselves on your bedside table during all your lecherous chaos. Without thinking much of it, you’re leaning over to grab them. Putting them on and-

“The fuck?”

Both of you snap your heads towards the commotion- the husky, mean baritone commotion. And both your jaw and the glasses clatter to the floor at the sight of a man more towering than Gojo. And somehow even more cocky.

Perhaps seven feet, maybe even taller. He had beady crimson eyes, and tattoos across nearly every inch of his muscular body - and that included all four beefy arms. Crossed rudely, a pink brow arches at the sight below him, “The King ends up in a fuckin’ box under this bed and some pathetic rose toy gets to play with ya, mama?”

Gojo snarls, “Oi- who the fuck are you, anyway?”

“Ryomen Sukuna, or Duomen Sukuna- tch.” Unimpressed, he stares down your other non-human companion, “The Strongest in history.”

“False advertising-”

“I’m going to kill-”

Your eyes inadvertently drop between Sukuna’s tattooed thighs; monstrously big, both long n’ mind-shatteringly veiny with a happy trail of pink. And almost instantly you know just what had just come to life - that one massive, double dildo from Bad Dragon that’d once been gifted to you by your friends as a joke.

A joke.

Though, you weren’t in much of a joking mood when you say-

“How about we settle this-” And they both look at you in curiosity as you grin, “-in bed?”

“We love the way you think…”

A/N. I find myself so amusing for that ending.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[yenayaps]

Missing Pieces

Pairing: childhood bestfriend!sukuna x f!reader

Content: As a kid, all Sukuna ever really wanted was to be around you. He did just that for 10 years, only to spend the next 7 years wondering why you just stopped picking up the phone one day [tw: MDNI, angst/comfort/smuț, porņ with plot, friends to enemies(?) to lovers, uncle!sukuna, mentions of depression and low self esteem, sukuna's tongue is pierced, so is his 🍆, nıpple sucking, humpıng, óral (f receiving), fıngering, squırtıng, dacryphılia, matıng press] word count: 15k

Sukuna isn’t the type to hold on to promises, especially one made in elementary school. But, he never would’ve thought that you’d break it like that. 

The promise? That you’d be each other's best friends until the day you died. Looking back, it might be a little dramatic, but you were eight years old— all eight year olds are dramatic. 

Exactly how did you break said promise? 

You ghosted him. 

You fucking ghosted him. 

You were friends for over a decade and the moment you went off to college, poof— gone! You stopped calling, stopped texting, deleted all your socials. It was as if you had never even existed and that you were just a figment of the man’s imagination. 

Now that’s dramatic.

He’s texted and called you multiple times, no response. He’s asked mutual friends, they never got a response either. It got to a point where he had finally had it and texted your mother. You could only imagine how hurt he was when she told him you were doing just fine, and not that you were missing or in a coma.

He’d never admit it, though. 

The years came and went. The hurt he once felt inevitably dulled. Yet, you always managed to linger around in the back of his mind, like a little ghost haunting him. 

To this day, he still has no idea what he did wrong. You may have ghosted everybody, but he wasn’t just anybody. If anyone deserved an explanation, it was him. 

He still cares for you, sorta, but it’s been so long, he’s not sure if he’d even want to reconnect with you. Not with how you just dropped him like that.

. . . . . . 

“Are you excited?”

“No,” you respond a little too flatly for Ieiri, who shoots you the look right after. “Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s just been forever since I’ve seen everyone.”

She sighs, redirecting her attention back on the road— there’s not much to look at. Most people stay home on gloomy Sunday afternoons. 

The GPS says you’re nine minutes away from your destination, making you remind yourself once more to relax. Though, you really wish you could be one of those people staying in right now. Cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie. 

Ieiri taps her finger on the steering wheel. “It’s like what I said—”

What didn’t she say? 

She held you hostage on the phone for over an hour last weekend, threatening and bribing, and then threatening you again if you didn’t go with her to Kento’s surprise birthday party. 

You thought you had a good argument at the time.

“Do you realize how annoying that sounds? Kento doesn’t even like surprises, could you imagine how irritated he’d be if I just randomly popped up, too?”

“If you were Satoru? Yes. You? Doubt it. If anything, he’d probably like the distraction from it.” 

“Yeah– probably,” you murmured. 

“Can you please get out of your fucking head for once?” she scoffed. “Yeah, it’s been years since you’ve seen everyone, but it’s not like it’s because of a falling out. I don’t know where you got this weird idea that they hate you now because of it. It was them who told me to bring you!” 

“Who’s them?” you stubbornly responded. 

“Suguru, Satoru, Yuki, Choso— even Toji said something about bringing Megumi so you could see him.” 

As much as you’d love to meet his kid, it would also be another reminder of all the years that’ve passed— how everyone moved on with their lives. Getting married, buying homes, having children, starting families. 

The most you’ve done is get the job. You’d include the condo if you actually got to enjoy it, but it’s been a year since you bought it and you haven’t even bothered furnishing the place despite all the money you've saved up for it. The last thing you want to do after work is look at a screen and make more decisions. Deciding between color palettes and aesthetics, deciding on what decor and accents you want— it all sounded exhausting. Hiring an interior designer was an option. Except, you barely want to talk to a stranger, let alone work with one. 

It’s too many decisions to be made for someone that didn’t want to make them. You often wonder if you’ve simply just become someone that couldn’t make them. 

You’re well aware of the things that are wrong with you, but it didn’t make it any less surprising. You, paralyzed by choices and options? 

The people who knew you professionally would laugh. Hard. Any sense of certainty that could be felt in the air almost always emanated from you. You were decisive. Sharp as hell— honed to perfection. Someone that was more than capable of a task as menial as filling a space full of items they liked. 

You know what you like, don’t you? 

No, not really.

You are sharp, there’s no doubt about it. It’s what your boss favors you for, and sure, one could say you’re valuable to the company, too. It’s a nice feeling for a while. 

Then you realize there is quite literally nothing more subjective than the value of something.

Luckily, you are very useful. It was simply a fact, and every single one of your quarterly reviews solidified it. A coworker, or god forbid a client, could spend an entire hour talking shit about you, and they’d eventually reach the point where they’d have to backtrack with a little ‘well’ or ‘however’, before giving credit where it was due. 

The devil works hard and you stole his pitchfork. Ripped it right out of his hands, because apparently, you needed it more than him to become the youngest portfolio manager the company’s ever seen. 

Who cares about the value of something when you need it? Mr. Yaga claims to hate black tea, but leave him out in the desert long enough and he’d easily drink gallons of it. 

Having you at the company isn’t a matter of life or death, there’s thousands of others out there that are more than qualified for your role. More than half probably had resumes twice as long as yours, too. 

But for Yaga, there is no guarantee that day to day operations would run this smoothly, ever again. 

You may be a little blunt. At times, impatient. But in a world full of sexual harassment allegations and sleezy managers abusing their power, not once has there ever been a formal complaint made against you. You’re not always like that either, you’re great with the clients and stakeholders. 

It’s a talent, really— remembering all the personal details people tell you, like childhood stories, the places they’ve vacationed to, a spouse's birthday month that was briefly mentioned months ago. It makes people feel special. 

It was very handy, too. Especially in the case where the company might deal with someone that isn’t likely to give them their hard-earned money or signature. Your job was to either sweet talk or gaslight. No arguing needed.

Yaga may have not preferred you at first. You were essentially a kid compared to the people that applied for the position. 

The plan was to let you down easily, tell you to keep working hard and you’ll eventually get there. You were already lucky enough to have your foot in the door as an employee. 

Yaga had a list of goals he wanted to reach before his retirement, though. Any of the other candidates would’ve helped with that, but none would've given him the opportunity to make a second list and cross that off as well. 

The decision took months. 

In that time, he realized a few things. 

One, he spent his entire adult life playing it safe, which is an obvious sign of fearing growth. You’re not sure who taught him that, but at least he realized it was okay to start over and try something new. It was like a rebrand for him and he embraced that the “new” him craved more profit and welcomed different approaches. 

The different approaches being, finding more aggressive people because they bring in the money quicker. 

He never saw you as aggressive, though. He never saw you at all, actually. It wasn’t personal, those under 30 usually come and go, so he didn’t see much of a point in remembering names. What he did see, when he finally opened his eyes, was efficiency. 

You were straight forward in a way that saved time, had an air about you that screamed “don’t ask me how my day’s going or what I have planned for after work”, yet approachable enough for work related questions. Stellar reports, received every quarterly and year-end bonus. Sharp. 

Making you one of the managers meant he could wield you like a weapon, now you are the one he uses the most. You had the salary to prove it, yet no time or energy to enjoy it. 

You’re respected. The young interns, the girls in particular, look up to you more often than not. Eyes bright and filled with ambition. Romanticizing everything, from how much coffee you drink, all the way to your style that they labeled as “effortless”. They’re not wrong, it is effortless— always some variant of trousers, a t-shirt, heels, and a long coat. They’re never planned, yet they somehow always manage to work thanks to the lack of color in your wardrobe. 

You overheard your lack of jewelry and unpainted nails being appreciated once for how “clean” you look. All you could think of was the girl that used to do her hair and paint her own nails at one point. Except for the ones on her right hand. She saved that job for her best friend who surprisingly had a steady hand, despite complaints flying out of his mouth the entire time. Even on the days he gave in and painted his own nails black, he’d find something to be grumpy and complain about. 

It was always you choosing whose house to hang out at, which movies to watch, what places to grab food from. He was a big brat whose favorite answer to most questions was an inaudible ‘I dunno’ from the way he’d mumble it. So, you always led the way. 

Now it’s you mumbling that same exact ‘I dunno’ when you’re all alone. 

You’re tired. Worn out. If you were a blade, you end each day dull and chipped. Nobody sees it, not even those young girls with all the time they’ve spent studying you, blinded by their own dreams and aspirations to be just as important, not knowing the difference between being valuable and useful. 

Maybe it’s better off that way. 

Who were you to try to burst their bubbles when you never had dreams or aspirations to begin with? Your eyes were never as bright as theirs— not as a student, not as an intern, and definitely not as a new hire. 

You never had a spark to begin with, what makes you think they’d eventually lose theirs? 

Maybe you were the unlucky one here. 

You were the one whose head went under water after one bad semester, after all. Even now, years later, it still feels like you’re stuck in the deep end while everyone else has moved on. 

Toji chose to get married and have a kid. 

You can’t even choose yourself on most days. 

“You have arrived at your destination.” 

Fuck. You have a hard time believing the GPS was that loud when it was telling Ieiri which exit to take and where to turn. 

Her lips thin into a reassuring smile as she makes the final turn into the apartment building’s parking garage, and you fail to return it as you take a deep breath. Ieiri doesn’t say anything this time, figuring you’ll probably just have to see everyone's excitement for yourself to realize this wasn’t a pity invite. It’ll settle half of your nerves. 

The other half should settle itself with time and a drink. Several drinks, honestly. She did the best she could with telling everyone that what you pulled during your second year of college was 100% a you thing and to not talk about it unless you brought it up. Which you probably won’t— everyone will understand. No one wants to talk about being in a dark place when they haven’t fully left it. 

One moment, you’re sitting in the passenger seat with your seat belt still buckled. Next, your chest is tightening as you watch her open the door to Satoru’s apartment. There’s already chattering, which stops once she announces your guys’ arrival. 

You barely get the chance to look around before Suguru’s peaking his head out of the kitchen to see if you really did show up and lets out a laugh once he sees that you did. It was light and airy, the kind that’s accompanied by the warm feeling that you should get in your chest when seeing an old friend. 

He’s obviously changed, it’s been 7 years. Yet, he never lost that quality that managed to make people a little more comfortable.

“Hey stranger.”

Your lips thin into a shy smile, “Hey.” 

“Well?” Suguru asks, holding his arms out. “I know it’s been ages but there’s no need to be shy.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, stepping forward and accepting the hug. 

He lets out another laugh. “Don’t be— it’s nice to see you.”

“Where’s mine?!” 

You easily recognize the offended, slightly childish tone. You slowly turn your head around to see a slightly less lanky Satoru. Aside from getting some much needed meat on his bones, he doesn’t seem to have changed much. He’s still as unserious as ever, still wears sunglasses indoors like an asshole. 

Ieiri stood back the entire time, sipping on a drink she had already managed to make, patting herself on the back as she watched her little plan run smoothly: Show up early and let you build some confidence from awkwardly greeting the old friends you shared together one by one. 

It’s funny, you told her that they’d eventually move on to talking to the friends they made after you, but they all seemed more interested in circling back to you, whether it be handing you a shot or introducing you to a new face. 

If there was one burden she wishes she could take from you, it’d be the burden that has you walking through the world as if you were everyone’s last choice. 

Today should be enough to prove that.

“Yeah, no— at this point, fuck Nanami and his birthday. This is a better surprise.” Satoru throws an arm over you, slightly swaying from the shots he’s already taken. “Pfft– he doesn’t even like his birthday. I’m sure he’d be happier to see her, too—”

“He’s coming up the elevator,” Suguru cuts him off. 

“SHIT! EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP AND HIDE,” Satoru suddenly yells, as if he weren’t just talking shit just seconds ago. 

No one would be surprised if Kento heard him yelling at everyone like that, and given how hesitant of a knock there was at the door. The blonde probably already knows there’s something up. 

Suguru goes to open the door, and the moment he opens his mouth to greet him, there’s a loud wave of people yelling ‘SURPRISE’ behind him, with Satoru saying it a split second sooner than anyone else did. 

Kento’s eye slightly twitches. Half surprised, half irritated. He fucking hates surprises and knows that’s the only reason why Satoru decided to throw him one. Before a complaint can leave his mouth, Ieiri hands him an old fashion. He tries to speak again, but gets interrupted once more when she tells him who’s here. 

At first he scoffs, already having enough of people of fucking with him today. 

“No, I’m serious!” she swears, looking around trying to see where you were at, eventually catching a glimpse of your head in the kitchen. “There she is— come say hi.”

Ieiri grabs his wrist and pulls him through the living room and into the kitchen, where you, Yuki, and Choso were talking. She turns back to look at Kento, who’s already surprised by her rare display of excitement, as she gestures towards you. 

“See? Surprise!”

“Yeah, surprise!!” Yuki says right after. 

“Holy shit.” Kento rarely curses, but finds himself unable to come up with better words. “It’s been ages!” 

“I know!” You try to sound more apologetic, but ultimately fail from the nice buzz you had going on. “Happy birthday!” 

And for once, he’s a little less uptight about it when he gives you a hug and says his thanks. It was a nice surprise, he had to admit. If only Satoru didn’t have to ruin the moment with the way he barged into the kitchen with some stupid, frilly party hat in hand, begging Kento to put it on. 

“I said no!”

“C’mon, Nanamin!” Satoru whines, taking a step forward each time the blonde takes a step back. “You’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t want to get any younger— I’m a grown man, and so are you. Maybe you should start acting like one.” 

“I do! I’m just fun,” he continues to pester him, ignoring everything Kento mumbles under his breath. 

You end up excusing yourself to use the restroom, somewhat bummed you couldn’t stick around longer to watch them bicker some more. You’re sure it went on for a while, though, unaware of how it was cut short when Shoko grabs Satoru by the arm. 

He hisses at how tight of a grip she has on him, fingers digging into his skin as she pulls him aside.

“What is your problem?!” he asks through a clenched jaw. 

“Sukuna’s here?!” 

“Yeah?” He tries and fails to free himself from her grip as he answers. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise!”

She looks at him like he’s stupid, nails continuing to dig into his flesh. “A nice surprise? He fucking hates her. I wouldn’t have brought her here if I knew he was coming!”

“Ow ow ow— No he doesn’t?! Do you actually believe that?!” he groans in between each sentence. 

“Yes! He says it every time someone brings her up!”

“Ow ffuck! You know how dramatic he can be sometimes— fuck, Shoko, please, you’re breaking skin.”

“You deserve it!” she responds in a clipped tone, despite finally letting go. 

“Jesus Christ— you can’t just assault people like that,” he pouts, rubbing his arm. “It’ll be fine! It’s been years, he can’t hold a grudge that long.”

. . . . . .

Sukuna can absolutely hold a grudge that long. 

Except, he was staring at said grudge like some fucking loser, and had to remind himself that it was still alive and well. 

At first he thought you were just one of Satoru’s new friends as you walked through the living room, shyly making your way around everyone, but then you just so conveniently looked up in his direction.

His eyes nearly widened. 

And yours actually did, looking as guilty as you should be.  

The longer you two stood there, looking at each other from across the room in shock, the guilt you had in your eyes started to fade. He was sure everyone else welcomed you back with open arms, and in turn got irritated because you probably thought he’d do the same. So before you could even think to take a step in his direction, he wiped the shock off his face and replaced it with a look that’s able to make even grown men turn around and walk the other way. 

Which is exactly what you did, stomach slowly twisting into a tight knot as you immediately began to replay the death glare he gave you over and over in your head. 

Sukuna didn’t stay long and left shortly after. Not without pretending like he didn’t know you when he said goodbye to everyone, including Kento, who he never even got the chance to say hi to in the first place. 

Shoko didn’t think that was enough to have a complete 180 in your mood. She then realized you were already quiet before that. You also decided to stay in the kitchen, where there was a wall in between you and him. 

So yeah, she blames Sukuna.

“Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?” Ieiri asked one last time as she pulled up to your apartment building. 

“Nah— my stomach just started to hurt. I don’t drink alcohol that much.” 

She still didn’t believe you, not with how big of an asshole Sukuna can be, which is why a certain someone got an earful over the phone the moment you got out of the car. He barely got a word out while she threw nothing but insults and threats so specific his way, that he had begun to believe them.

Of course Satoru felt bad! He didn’t want you to disappear again for another seven years and have it be all of his fault. So, he gives Sukuna a call, continuing the cycle of abuse started by Shoko. 

The phone rings three times. Sukuna never finishes saying hello before Satoru tries to grill him. “Alright, what did you say to her?”

“Who the fuck are you even talking about right now?”

Sukuna knows exactly who he’s talking about, Satoru can just see his face crinkling in fake disgust over the accusation because he’s just a bullshiter at the end of the day. 

“Shoko thinks you said something to her— she said she was acting all weird and shit when she came back from the bathroom.” 

“She’s already fuckin’ weird,” Sukuna scoffs. 

“So you did see her before you walked into the kitchen to say bye?” 

“Yeah, I saw her. Doesn’t mean I said anything to her though, you fuckin’ moron.”

Satoru sighs and rubs his temple, knowing he probably looked at you like he wanted to skin you alive. 

“What? Is looking at her a crime now?” 

“With the way you look at people? It should be.” It’s clearly not the first time Sukuna’s managed to simply offend someone his face with the way it comes out as a complaint on Satoru’s end. 

“Why do you even care?” 

“Don’t turn this back around on me?!”

“Then quit trying to grill me over the way I look at people. Seriously— she comes back and you all are fuckin’ babying her like she’s some victim. It’s not that serious.”

“Well Shoko—”

“Shoko can fuck off.” Sukuna cuts him off. “Don’t bother me about something stupid like this again. If she can’t handle someone looking at her in a way that she doesn’t like, maybe she should stay home and lock herself in her fuckin’ room.” 

“I– she already did!” he tries to come to your defense. “Shoko won’t tell me much, but she was going through it for years. She probably still is! She doesn’t go out at all. I tried telling you before and you wouldn’t listen.”

There’s a long pause before a disappointed sigh could be heard. Satoru could tell it was directed towards himself instead of you. “She was going through it, so she locked herself in a room for years?”

“Not literally,” he scoffs. “Look, all I know is she was dealing with depression and now she’s all anti-social because of it.”

“She should’ve fuckin’ said something then.” 

“Well, she fuckin’ didn’t.” 

“That’s–”

“If that’s an opinion, it doesn’t matter,” he cuts the man off, starting to grow impatient. Satoru has adhd— the severe, annoying kind. There’s only so much he could handle before getting the violent urge to scream out random noises. “I’m just gonna give you her number so you can talk to her if you want. Who knows, she might even open up to you more since you were the one closest to her.”

“I don’t want her n—”

“YES YOU DO.” Satoru yells, leaving Sukuna more appalled than annoyed. “I just sent it. BYE.”

click.

Sukuna glares at his phone for a moment as if it were an extension of Satoru, convinced he was dropped as a child or something and just doesn’t know it. He knows he definitely wouldn’t tell his kid if he dropped them as a baby. 

He relaxes his tensed brows and shakes his head as he pulls up the number Satoru sent. For some reason, he expected it to be your old number that he still somehow knew by heart. 

He hates that he remembers it. 

He also hates that the actual reason why you disappeared isn’t as dumb and selfish as he wanted it to be. 

. . . . . .

In the three weeks he’s had your number, he hasn’t tried reaching out. He also hasn’t accepted any invitations to hang out with anyone as a group, despite being told that you were okay with him showing up. Part of it was spite, the rest being him genuinely tired from work. 

His old man’s been taking more time off under the guise of letting him ‘take over for the day’. He acts so gracious with it, too, as if Sukuna should be thankful for the opportunity, when really, Wasuke should just fucking retire already so he can hire someone else to take his place as site manager. He’s essentially working two jobs now and when he asked for a raise, that old piece of shit laughed so hard that he damn near coughed up fifty years worth of cigarette tar.

You’d think watching his father nearly hack up an entire lung would be enough to make him quit smoking himself, but that shit pissed him off so bad that he smoked three cigarettes in a row just to calm down before going back to work. It still pisses him off. He doesn’t regret taking $50 out of that old man's wallet on his way out to cover his gas for the day. He honestly should’ve taken more. 

It’s been months since he’s gotten home at a decent time. Tonight was probably the worst thus far. 

He drags his feet into his apartment and kicks off his boots, heavy eyes landing on the clock that’s two minutes away from 10:00 pm. 

The next ten minutes are spent shoveling leftovers into his mouth, followed by a hot shower that was mainly spent just standing there, zoning out as the hot water hit his back. It’s been days since he’s jacked off, realizing it doesn’t even give him the urge, his sex drives plummeted all the way down to hell. He just wants to sleep at this point. 

Except when his head hits the pillow, he’s wide awake. It doesn’t help that he ends up scrolling through instagram— there was hardly a point for someone that barely followed anyone to begin with. 

There’s not much to scroll through. The most interesting thing being a recent post of Suguru’s night. He absentmindedly looks through them, then pauses at the 4th photo of you and Shoko with your little drinks in hand. 

You were barely smiling. 

Your lips curved just enough for the camera— nothing like the photos of you from before, grinning and laughing. That’s how he’s always remembered you.

Would it have even made a difference if he told you not to move so far away for school? It’s not like he could’ve known, you never said anything. He thought you were doing just fine and you deleted everything one day and changed your number. 

He taps the photo to see who’s tagged. Just Shoko. You still haven’t gotten back on social media, no profile to see what you’ve been up to. All he knows about you is that you moved back to the area after graduation and scored a cozy finance job without telling anyone. The only reason why you got in touch with Shoko again was because she ran into you at some bakery and made you give her your number. 

It didn’t even matter if you did have a new phone with no contacts by the time you moved back. You didn’t need to text him or call him, you could’ve just shown up. Sure, he might’ve been annoyed at first, but he wouldn’t have turned you away. 

You’ve known each other since 8 years old, you disappeared at 19. That’s his whole childhood right there. You played together, ate lunch together, walked to school together until he got a car, ditched school together. You had your own shampoo and toothbrush at his and would just use his clothes if you didn’t have a spare set with you.

It’s just dumb.

Still thinking about it, that is. It’s been years. It may have been fine to still be thinking about it at 21 or 22, but now it’s just ridiculous.

. . . . . .

You aren’t expecting Sukuna to warm up any time soon. At all, really. You couldn’t blame him for the reaction he had seeing you at Kento’s birthday. If there was one person that deserved an explanation, it was him, and you’re just about seven years too late for that. 

He wasn’t the same person you knew. You couldn’t just go up to him expecting that you’d get to have a conversation. A civil one, at least. 

It’s been years. 

And honesty, it might not even be about being several years too late. He’s a grown man, why would he care about a childhood friend that just up and left?

All there’s left to do now is to stay out of his way. You’re sure his temper’s the same and the last thing you want is to bug him. Hopefully being at a kids birthday party shields you from it in the case that you accidentally do. From what you heard, he seems close enough with Toji to know not to fuck with his sons special day. 

It’s not all bad. Toji couldn’t come to Kento’s birthday since his wife and son woke up sick that day, so you were more excited than nervous for today since you’d get to meet them. 

This time it was you that picked up Ieiri. You felt a little guilty for being the one that constantly got rides, despite having a running car of your own. Once you two got to the little park in their neighborhood, everyone was already there, including Sukuna, who was stuck having to watch his nephew that you’ve heard about through Choso. 

The biggest plot twist of all was probably learning that Jin is now technically Choso’s stepfather. You knew Choso had a teen mom, you didn’t know she was that young, though. You also had no idea how much of a milf hunter Jin was, either. 

Jin apparently didn’t know that was Choso’s mother. No one believes him, especially not Sukuna, who still looks at two like they’re a couple of fucking sickos for making him Choso’s step-uncle. 

The kid’s name is Yuji, and he looks just like Jin and Sukuna when they were kids. He’s the same age as Toji’s son, who’s turning 3 today. Yuji acts nothing like his father or his uncle. Jin was always quiet and sensitive. Sukuna was sensitive, too, but he was always very vocal about the things that annoyed him. The toddler was more like Gojo, hopped up on sugar and bouncing off the walls. 

Sukuna calls out to him like an angry mother at a grocery store, gritting his teeth as he tells the kid to, “get your ass over here, NOW,” all while Yuji pretends not to hear or see him…. up until Sukuna gets up from the bench, which is when the little boy decides to run back to him, whining about how he’s sorry and how he didn’t know. 

Megumi’s more quiet and follows Yuji around. He even ran back to Sukuna with the boy, worried that his friend's uncle was going to leave him at the park too, even though his father was at the grill just a few feet away. 

Watching the two boys play is adorable, but you try not to look too much in an attempt to avoid making eye contact with the grumpy uncle, which ends up becoming more difficult than you’d imagined. The kid eventually wore him out to the point where he managed to slip out his view. 

Yuji didn't go very far. 

“...es’cuse me?”

You feel a little tug at your shorts and look down to find an incredibly worried Yuji, who should’ve gone to an adult he knew, but here he was after quickly deciding you were the trusted adult for whatever problem he had. 

“What’s wrong?” You crouch down, getting at eye level. “Are you okay?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, pointing to his feet. “I donno how to tie my shoes.”

“You don’t?” you ask, sounding just as concerned. “Do you want me to tie them for you?” 

He pouts. “Yes, please.” 

Your heart melts at his little voice. “Aw, okay.”

Like any other kid, Yuji’s amazed at how fast adults can tie shoelaces, unable to keep up with the strings crossing and looping around each other to create the little bow at the end. 

“Yay!” He claps his hands, jumping in excitement. “We can play again, Gumi!”

Megumi thinks to celebrate with his friend, but closes his mouth right after opening it. 

Then you’re startled by a scoff made directly behind you. “You make a stranger tie your shoes and you can’t even say thank you?” 

The last to freeze is Yuji, who side-eyes him, rather than turning to face him. “Um.. ya I did..”

“No you didn’t?!” The toddler's ability to lie over something so simple amazes and offends the man at the same time. Does Yuji seriously think he’s that stupid? “I watched you lie about not knowing how to tie your shoes and then I watched you try to run off with even thanking her.” 

“I donno how to tie my shoe!” Yuji stomps a foot on the ground to prove whatever point he thought he was making. 

“Yes, you do— now thank her, before I take your shoes away.” 

“Oh no, not my shoes!”

“Yeah. Bye bye, shoes.” Sukuna snorts, clearly enjoying this. “You’re a big boy now, remember? You don’t need them.”

“Yes, I do!” Yuji whines.

“Then have some manners and say thank you.” Sukuna continues to glare at the kid while pointing at you.

“Thank you for tying my shoe,” Yuji tightly grabs the bottom of his t-shirt with both hands and bows at you, then turns to his uncle and starts whimpering. “Don’t eat my shoes, Unkakuna! I need them!” 

Sukuna’s even more annoyed now at how specific that was. “Who said I was gonna eat them?!” 

“I dunno! You eat everything!” Yuji claims, bottom lip quivering and all, making his uncle's eye twitch in disbelief. “It’s all stuck in your big belly.” 

Sukuna’s face drops, as if he didn’t see a 6-pack in the mirror this morning with his own eyes.

“I don't have a goddamn belly,” he scolds him through a clenched jaw, then lowers his tone as he begins to crouch down. “Do you want me to hit your Papa Jin?” 

“No!!!”

“Then quit acting like I eat everything in sight, you little shit.”

Yuji scratches the back of his head as he continues to whine, trying to force a couple tears out. Eventually he turns to you. “He’s gonna hit my papa with his big belly.” 

“Uh-oh. That's not nice,” you begin to laugh, all while Sukuna grumbles something about Jin being the one with love handles. 

“Papa gonna cry,” he claims, continuing to act distraught over the news, trying to get all the sympathy he can from you. “My poor papa.” 

You giggle. “I don’t think he’ll hit your papa, though.”

“He’s gonna EAT my papa!” Yuji stretches his arms out, emphasizing how big of a meal that would be for Sukuna. As if it couldn't get any worse, Yuji finds a random basketball and tries to stuff it under his shirt. “Then his belly will be big like THIS.”

“Stop it,” Sukuna snaps, pointing off into the distance behind the kid. “Get out of here before I barbecue you on that grill Mr. Toji’s using.” 

“Hey!” Yuji gasps. “You can’t do that!”

“You can barbecue anything when you have barbecue sauce, Yuji.” he informs the kid, then notices a mortified Megumi standing off to the side. “You’re next.”

“DAAAADDDDYYYYYYYY.” 

The boys run to Toji at full speed. Yuji thinks it’s a game, but Megumi’s genuinely scared, sobbing as his father picks him. His dad’s obviously confused as to why his son’s crying like someone threatened to kill him. Once Megumi’s able to actually get a full sentence out as he points right as Sukuna. 

If Megumi thought he was going to receive any sort of comfort from his father, he was dead wrong. Toji bursts out laughing and doesn’t stop, even when Megumi starts screaming and hitting him for not being more concerned over something so dire.

“Megumi says you’re not allowed to have any cake,” Toji yells out. 

“I’m taking Yuji home if I don’t get a slice.” 

Sukuna’s response has the two boys whining in the distance. 

“NO barbecue me.” Megumi glares as he tries to strike a deal with the most difficult person he’s encountered so far in his short, yet stressful life. 

“Give me three slices and I won’t barbecue you.”

“But Unkukuna, you’re belly!” Yuji rounds his arms out in front of him, emphasizing how detrimental those extra calories would be for his physique. 

Everyone grows quiet as Sukuna stares him down, wondering who the fuck even taught him that. Whoever it was better pray to god that he doesn’t find out. 

“I’m not gonna be your uncle anymore if you keep talking about my belly.”

Yuji reaches out in despair as he screams, “NOOO.”

“No? You don’t want that?” he asks, fighting back a smile. 

Yuji throws his back dramatically, shaking his head. “NO.”

“That’s what I thought,” he barks, not bothering to hide how proud breaking Yuji down with a singular sentence made him. “Now ZIP IT.”

“KAY’.” 

Yuji looks away for a moment to take a deep breath, trying to calm down, all while sneaking little peeks at Sukuna. 

He quickly looks away after seeing that his uncle’s staring at him, then peeks again. It happens several times, yet his uncle hasn’t moved a muscle once as he continues to just look at the boy like he’s better than him. 

What kind of a sick game is this? 

Naturally, he grows irritated knowing Sukuna is winning whatever game this is, which isn’t fair since he’s already going to have three slices of cake later. Even one slice was pushing it, to tell you the truth. He was too young to put into words why it pissed him off. All he knows is watching Sukuna enjoy good things, that are meant for good people, will never sit right with his spirit.

By the time Sukuna decided to stop staring at the kid as a form of psychological warfare, you had already been awkwardly standing there for quite some time, unsure if you should leave or not. It was either look rude or look too comfortable, neither of which you wanted to come off as.

Sukuna wasn’t mad at you anymore. At least not since Gojo called and told him you were and still are dealing with some mental health stuff. 

He wasn’t planning on talking to you today, either, purely because he didn’t believe he should have to apologize for giving someone a harmless look. But then he caught Yuji trying to get your attention and figured it would’ve been fine since 2 minutes with him would make anyone want to choose peace for the next hour.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking when your eyes finally met his, but at least he wasn’t giving you that same disgusted look you got at Nanami’s birthday. 

You weren’t the best at starting conversations outside of work, though, and quickly embarrassed yourself with how bad you stuttered while trying to find something to say, which ended up being an apology for tying the kids' shoe. 

In turn, Sukuna looked at you like you were a fucking weirdo. 

“What? No, it’s— that’s fine,” he waves a hand, still thrown off by the apology. “He just goes around annoying anybody he can.”

“Oh– don’t worry, he didn’t annoy me. He's adorable.” 

You suppress a laugh as he shoots you a look saying he’s anything but that. 

“He’s a pain in the ass,” he grumbles, already rubbing his eyes from how tired he is. “We passed around a baseball for an hour before coming here and he’s still running around trying to convince people that I’m a fatass.”

He has to be at least 200 pounds of pure muscle and has the ass of a baseball player, so you neither confirm nor deny the words out of fear that you’d make yourself look stupid again. “He probably just likes your attention.”

“That’s the problem— he’s probably taken 10 years off my life already because of it,” he smiles a little, obviously more fond of the kid that he lets on. 

You avert your gaze as you find yourself smiling as well. “His poor parents.”

“They have good life insurance, he’ll be set.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” you laugh with him until it dies down into another awkward silence. You’ve barely looked at him and try not to think too much about it after the realization. Having a conversation with him was surprising enough. Difficult on your end, too, but you pushed yourself. “How’ve your dad and Jin been?”

“Jin’s been good, he’s—” he huffs out a laugh, “you know he went and made Choso his fuckin’ stepson right?” He openly points at Choso, not very worried about getting caught. 

“Yeah,” you nod, just as surprised by it, more so by the fact that Choso and Yuji and brothers. 

“Well. He’s still going strong with Kaori. Just bought a house,” he struggles to list things worth sharing— aside from the mommy kink, his brother’s pretty boring. Sukuna quickly moves on to Wasuke, who he has no issue talking about. “Old man’s driving me nuts. Says he wants to retire, instead he just takes a bunch of days off and pretends he’s doing me a favor by letting me play boss while he’s gone, so now I’m doing my job and his.” 

“You’re working for the company?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah.” 

It pains him to say, remembering all that talk about him wanting ‘something of his own’ when he was younger. Now here he is, set to take over daddy’s company. 

“I mean… it’s already there,” you try to offer some words of reassurance, being the one that heard most of the said talk. “All you have to do is maintain it once it’s yours.”  

“Exactly,” his tone changes, less ashamed of pulling the nepo baby card. “I’m not tryna work any harder than I should at this point.”

“Does he pay you extra on the days he’s off, at least?” 

“Fuck no.” He laughs, even though there is nothing funny about being exploited at his grown age. “Yeah— nope— he works me like a fuckin’ dog.” 

Hence why he’s been helping himself to whatever cash is in the old man’s wallet and whatever food he has in his pantry when he visits. He makes good money to begin with, so it’s not like he can’t afford any of it, it’s just the principal. 

He’ll take Wasuke’s toilet paper, too. 

That old man has one year to either give him a raise or retire completely before couches and T.V.s start to go missing. 

“Old man’s been good, though… still kickin’,” he mutters, then stops himself before saying something really fucked up, “What’ve you been up to?”

You shrug as you let out an indecisive hum, knowing you didn’t have much to share. “Nothing really— work usually has me pretty busy.”

He’s well aware of how boring of a life you have, but still tries to push for more details. “Yeah? Suguru says you’re in finance now.”

“Mhm,” you nod, growing shy, “portfolio manager.”

“You spend the day telling people what to do now?” he asks as if he were almost impressed. 

“Not really,” you laugh. “A lot of it’s research, reporting, meeting with clients, I— yeah, I mainly just take care of more of the sensitive stuff. If my manager hat’s on, it’s usually just collecting reports from the other managers or figuring out what’s going on with their teams if they’re not performing the way they need to.” 

He nearly barks out a laugh. 

You look at him with confusion. “What?” 

“So instead of managing a bunch of people, you just terrorize their managers?”

“I don’t terrorize them,” you murmur, shifting in place. “It’s their job to make sure that their teams are performing well and if they aren’t—”

“You ask them why they aren’t doing their jobs,” he finishes your sentence with an amused grin. “Then they sit there for the next hour, trying to come up with an answer for that.”

You pause for a moment, wondering if he has to do the same. “Well— kind of.”

You don’t have time to sit there and listen for an hour, nor do you want to. The longest one went just over twenty minutes before you had to stop her. 

“Listen, Linda— I,” you stopped to think twice about what you were going to say, “I’m just asking why there’s been a dip in the performance, I really don’t need an entire life story for that. Why don’t we take a few steps back— how has your team been?”

“Well… uhm… well… they…” You nodded, thinking it’d encourage her, and it did, but 5 minutes later she went off course to talk about her failing marriage, again. “And then Dave, he—”

“Is Dave a new hire?” 

Her eyes dried right up. “No… Dave is my husband.” 

You knew damn well who Dave was, but she was starting to get on your nerves.

“Okay, let’s talk about your team right now… this is about work— Dave doesn’t work here.” You tried your best to be patient with her, but it was like teaching a kindergartener how to self regulate. “I wanna know things like how everyone’s been mentally— are they eating, are they getting enough sleep, are they taking their breaks? Are they having to work through them?”

She didn’t know. She just wanted to give you a sob story so you’d let her off the hook. So, when she mentioned Dave a third time:

“This isn’t working,” you murmur to yourself as you turn to your computer and start typing. “I’m going to make a little worksheet for everyone, including you. Think of it as a peer review. You’ll have one for each team member and each team member will have one for you. I think that’ll be an easier way to get to the bottom of things.” 

Instead of excusing herself, she stares at you like a deer in headlights.

“There’s no need to wait on me by the way, I’ll have them emailed out to everyone within the next hour.”

On the rare occasion that you do have to ask performance related questions, you send them the same exact worksheet so they have an idea of what you wanted to talk about— which is the only part you mention to Sukuna. He’d probably accuse you of terrorizing Linda when you know you could’ve been ten times worse.

You’re just glad he didn’t ask about any of the other stuff you had to do.

Sometimes you wished you spent your days in Linda’s professional shoes— god forbid you ever had to deal with a man like Dave. Her job was less demanding than yours. More human. Working with others and collaborating with them must be great in terms of keeping you grounded— normal people, that is. 

You wouldn’t consider any of the people you answer to now as normal. The stakeholders, clients, the higher ups, Yaga— they’re all fucking crazy. You couldn’t just pretend like they were normal, you had to match their energy and in some cases, you had to be worse to finish whatever job you were tasked to do, which drove you closer to their territory with each day that passed.

“Do you like it there?” Sukuna looks at you and asks, tone fond and filled with warmth, as if he were proud of you. 

In the same moment you realize that you were only fooling yourself earlier when you tried to believe that he hated you. 

You wish you could turn back time by just a few seconds to change the subject. You didn’t want to answer a question that he clearly wanted a yes to— you’re sure it’d make him feel better about knowing you chose to spend all those years alone, when you had someone would’ve easily stayed by your side. 

You grew stiff, eyes glossing at the question because you hated the real answer to it. 

“Not really,” you murmur, almost ashamed to admit it. “That’s kinda how I feel about most things, though.” 

It was true. You don’t even know why you’re wishing for a job like Linda’s, you always came off as cold and hardly spoke to others before the big promotion. 

He didn’t know what to say to that, he wasn’t even sure if there were any words you could give to someone as apathetic as you sounded when answering. It’s not like he was the type to offer anything encouraging to begin with. Instead, he stayed quiet, comfortable in the silence as he let his own mind run free for a bit. 

Just as you were starting to think you made him uncomfortable—

“Did anyone have to drag you here today?” he asks. 

“No.”

“So you chose to come to soot sprites' birthday?” he asks, as judgmental as ever.

You smile. “I did.” 

He gently rests his hand on top of your head, leaving you with a familiar sense of comfort as he leaned in. “You’re not doing too bad then.” 

“Uncle-Kunaaaaaaa!” The man looks up to see his nephew sprinting towards him. “My tummy growling!!”

“This kid’s always coming up with the most extra ways to say things,” he mutters under his breath as he pulls away. “So you’re hungry?”

Yuji slows down the closer he gets, until he’s skipping towards the man. “Yeah. Mr. Toji says he make chicken sticks.” 

Sukuna looks at Yuji the way he always does whenever the kid decides to rename something. “You mean skewers?”

“Yeah, chicken sticks,” Yuji nods, confidently repeating himself, because Sukuna was obviously wrong, even though Toji said skewers, too. Both men obviously don’t know what they’re talking about. 

The man actually looked to you for help, and given how it’s an issue between a 3 year old rage baiter and a grown man that will make time to argue with a child, you decide to stay out of it. 

“That sounds yummy,” you say to Yuji, and you could feel Sukuna glaring at you for not even bothering to call them skewers, too. “You guys should probably grab some before Suguru arrives, he loves chicken and leftovers.” 

Sukuna lets out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh since it’s true, but if anyone’s taking those skewers home, it’s him. 

Which is why he lets Yuji start to pull him away to get some. 

. . . 

Getting to talk to you more, after being pulled away from Yuji, hardly counted since it was with groups of other people. 

Luckily for Sukuna, your car’s parked right next to his and you’re leaving at the same time he’s trying to get the little brat in his car seat. He’s half asleep and won’t let go— each time he physically tries to pry Yuji off of him, he does this weird muted scream. 

He’s about 2.5 seconds away from wrestling this kid when he hears someone. 

“Bye.” 

It comes off as a little unnatural, but it’s in more of an awkward ‘I don’t know if I should say goodbye to you right now’ way. 

Sukuna turns around. “Oh, wait—” 

His hand slides into his pocket, only to find it empty, then realizes it’s in the pocket of his jacket. The side where Yuji’s on and won’t leave. You stay in the place the whole time, wondering if he’s aware of how funny he looks grumbling to himself as he checks all his other pockets. 

He eventually finds his business card, then rolls his eyes after realizing he’s about to give you a business card, because he’d rather not tell you he already has your number. To add salt to injury, he didn’t even need to pull his phone out, because the goal was to give you his number. 

“Here.” He hands the semi-decent card over for you to take, surprised it’s not more broken down since he’s always leaving them in his pockets, even when he’s throwing his clothes in the washer. “You don’t have to of course, but feel free to reach out if you’re interested in catching up sometime over lunch or something.” 

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You look at the card, flipping it over a couple times. “Um… I don’t actually… need this, though.”

He stares at you for a moment, wondering if it was just some pathetic, last minute excuse to turn him down. 

“I already have it,” you shyly admit, handing the card back to him as if it were better off going to someone else. “Satoru gave it to me a couple weeks ago. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me.” 

“Fair enough.” He shrugs, reluctant to say more— he might be down to catch up, but he’s still not apologizing for his face. “Shoot me a text sometime, then. I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Yeah, I will.” You smile a little, trying to hide a bit of the excitement that was starting to bubble up. “Alright, well— it was nice seeing you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

. . . . . . 

‘You’re not doing too bad.’

It took around 3 months after the words left Sukuna’s mouth to actually start believing them. 

It’s not like your life was crazy interesting now. It just slowly started to fill up with things you looked forward to over time. Whether it be hanging out with others or simply sitting in your living room with a latte you took your time making. Your apartment started to feel more like a home with each new addition you added to it. You were nowhere near done, but you found yourself enjoying the process of casually looking through items and randomly falling in love with different ones. 

The newest addition was a painting you saw a year ago and decided not to buy, despite how much you loved it. You stood in that gallery for over an hour, convincing yourself that it would never get that much attention from you again once you took it home. You were convinced that it’d find a way to collect dust in a space that felt as sterile as yours, and left it for someone that had a home where it wouldn’t. 

You found it again in a consignment store with a big coffee stain on the side of the canvas. The person who ended up buying it probably got rid of the moment it spilled. They didn’t even bother hanging it up, and most likely had it on some counter before the accident happened. By the time you got to it, it was collecting dust with dozens of other paintings leaned against the wall since they weren’t good enough to be hung up.

You paid less than a quarter of it was originally worth, but a part of you thinks you would’ve purchased it for its original price if it meant you got to take it home. You’ve thought about it nearly everyday since you stepped out of that pristine gallery, after all.  

Sukuna stared at it for a while before hanging it up. You can’t remember how the conversation started, but he came over and put it up for you after finding out you were going to do it yourself, claiming you didn’t have the right tools. You probably don’t. 

It wasn’t until the canvas was up on the wall when he finally asked the question you had been expecting to get after you caught him looking at it funny. 

“That brown stuff on the bottom corner is a part of the whole thing, right?”

“Nope.” 

He just stood there and continued staring at the damn thing with you, waiting silently for an explanation that he soon realized he’d never get on his own.  

“Are coffee stains some new trend I don’t know about?” 

He was dead serious. It was almost funny how he couldn’t believe that you’d just buy something that was stained like that. 

“Nope, not a trend.” 

He continued to stare at you, so utterly confused as to why you want that thing hung up on your wall when you could just walk into one of those art shops and buy a new one. It’s not like you couldn’t afford it, he’s seen some of the shit you own and you’re clearly not bothered by commas on a price tag. 

You eventually told him the story. He probably still didn’t get it, but that didn’t really matter. 

“How cute,” he says rather boredly, wondering why you couldn’t just tell him that in the first place. “You didn’t buy it for more than 50% of its price, right?” 

You shoot him an annoyed look. “I spent almost an entire year sulking over it, do you seriously think the price of it matters at this point? I wanted it.” 

“You probably ended up cursing the damn thing so no one else could have it. People don’t usually spill coffee on paintings.” he says, starting to laugh the longer he thought about it. 

You don’t laugh with him, but he does catch the proud look on your face as you walk away, just happy to have it. He walks after you with another question in mind, hoping now was an okay time since he always forgets. 

“Mind me asking why you’re just now starting to furnish the place?” 

You shrug. “I was just always too tired to get out of bed. If it wasn’t for work, I wasn’t getting up,” you remind him. “Too many choices to make, too. I’d get overwhelmed and stop looking for stuff.” 

“Yeah, there’s a lotta shit out there,” he murmurs, helping himself to one of the white claws in your fridge. 

The can cracks open and he takes a sip, looking over your living room that’s become a bit more filled in since the first time he came over to help you put your couch together. The place was so empty that he automatically assumed you had recently moved in. 

He’s been helpful since Megumi’s birthday— at least he tries to be. 

It never feels forced, most of the time it’s just him asking if you wanna come along to a place he was already going to, just to get you out of the house. 

He also asks how you’re actually doing, a lot— figuring you were just someone that needed some extra support, given how one lonely, difficult semester made you isolate yourself to the point where you started to believe you weren’t worth missing.

Once, he almost asked how you could’ve ever put him into that category. He loved you, both platonically and not platonically. But he never asked, the past is the past and that’s probably just how it is when someone’s spirit’s in the dumps.

He’s far from a therapist and never has any advice to give, but he was surprisingly good at getting you out of your head— pull you back to reality, without the reality check. You’ve obviously had more than enough of them. It’s why he doesn’t bother being harsh with you, at all. Even during the times he’s come off as more straightforward, you don’t feel any judgement or malice behind his words. The last thing he wanted was to say or do something that made you think you couldn’t give him a call. 

It’s probably why you’re so comfortable with having him come over and why you don’t mind telling him certain things, like the fact that you spent most of your free time sleeping at one point. He never bats an eye. He just wants to be around you, like he’s always had.

“Summers’ coming up. Getting anything for the balcony?” he asks, nodding in the direction of its doors. 

You turn your head, looking over at the empty space. “What would I even get?” 

He’s mid-sip when you ask, but hums in acknowledgment. “Some seating, a little table, maybe a fire pit if you’re feeling extra crazy.” 

You fight back a smile, “Oh? Thanks, asshole.”

“You might be a grandma, but I never said there’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“I’m trying not to be, okay.” You give him the finger as you walk to the fridge, hoping he didn’t take the last seltzer. Seconds later you’re cracking one open yourself.

He chuckles at the little pout you get on your face when you’re offended. “I’m just fuckin’ with you— you’re fine.”

“I guess,” you murmur, leaving him in the kitchen to go take a seat on the couch. 

He trails behind you, leaving enough space between the two of you as he takes a seat on the couch he nearly lost his mind trying to put together. The instructions were in a language so uncommon that most people go about their lives without knowing about it.

“What do you mean you guess?” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Kinda feel guilty for all the years I lost, I wish I could get them back.”

“I bet,” he leans back in his seat. “You ever considered making more time for yourself, now?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Taking some time off. Could be a week, could be a couple months. You could even try working part time for a little. You have a savings, I’m sure you could get away with taking a break.” 

“Oh— yeah, I have actually. The company has really good benefits, though. It’s kinda why I haven’t even tried to leave,” you turn towards him, leaning against the arm rest as you hug your knees. “I’ve been considering asking for a demotion, though.” 

You’re not quite sure how Yaga would handle that. You’ve been coming up with different ideas all month— a hybrid schedule, switching to a 4 day work week, maybe leaving early some days, a demotion. You’re sure taking on another role would have its own difficulties, but it’d be easy to handle compared to all you do now. The workload you have really should  be split between two people, maybe even three. 

“That’d definitely be a lot less work,” he remarks, still shocked at all the shit he has you do. 

“A lot less— I’m hoping Yaga agrees to one of them. If not, I might just find some place else. I could probably take a few months off then. Free time does sound nice.” 

“Yeah you could sleep in, hang out with anyone who’s free, find a hobby, go on a date—“

His last suggestion gets shut down with a laugh. “Yeah, right.” 

“What?” he smirks.

“I suck at dating,” you inform him. “I don’t even know how to anymore.” 

He snorts. “That’s a little dramatic, no?”

“It’s true— last time I went on one was three years ago.”

He raises his brows, then flatly asks, “Three?”

“Don’t judge me,” you grumble. 

“M’not. It’s just— 3 years of completely nothing?”

“God— obviously.” You hide your face in embarrassment. “You are judging me right now.”

“I’m not,” he laughs, taking another sip. “Just a long time to go without having someone take care of you.” 

"Well I slept through most of it anyway so I'm fine,” you roll your eyes, annoyed at how he’d even make a joke like that when he knows you can support yourself just fine without anyone’s help.

“You’re awake right now, though.” 

“So?” you scoff.

“I can take care of you, if you want,” he offers.

“Not funny,” you murmur, just about ready to kick his ass out. 

At first, he’s confused as to why his little offer had you that offended. Then after a minute, it clicks. Since you refuse to look at him, you miss the amused grin on his face after realizing you two are thinking about two entirely separate things in terms of ‘being taken care of’.

You only finally look at him when he gets up from where he’s sitting and there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, making you think he’s just being a dick and leaving.

Then he takes a seat right next to you, leg just barely brushing against yours.

“What are you d—”

“I think you’re a little confused here,” he says a little too calmly, throwing his arm over the backrest and leaning in way too close.

“Listen, I looked forward to hanging up that painting of yours all day, same goes for all the other stuff I’ve helped you out with.” You feel your cheeks start to warm as a result of the low, honeyed tone he’s using on you. “I really like helping you. It makes you a little happier, and with all the assholes I have to deal with everyday, it makes my day a lot better. So, why not just let me do a little more?”

“I don’t— what are you even talking about right now?” Your words come out all nervous and jumbled, failing to stay calm from how close this guy is. 

“I’m talking about all the times I’ve caught you looking at my dick print.”

Your eyes widen in horror and he laughs. 

“Yeah, you’re not slick,” he tucks some hair behind your ear and leans in closer. “C’mon— you’re not even at work right now and your mind’s still all over the place trying to find stuff to be stressed about. Aren’t you tired?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as you hesitate to answer. “I mean— yeah.” 

“Let me fuck you then,” he murmurs, tracing the backs of his fingers down your arm. “You won’t have to think about anything, won’t have to do anything— just gotta take it. Super easy. Sounds fun, huh?” 

“I… I don’t know,” you just barely whisper, shifting in your seat from all the nerves, looking like a deer in headlights.

“I think you do know.” He continues to toy with you as he waits for you to say anything else. Surprise: you never do. 

“I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

You look like you’re about to have a panic attack and it’s adorable. “Stop what?”

“This.” He smiles, pressing a soft kiss right under your ear, humming against your skin, not missing the way it makes your breath hitch. Then he presses another one on your jaw, then another, getting closer to your lips and pulling back right before he does, meeting your glazed over, half lidded eyes. 

He snakes a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in, making your lips meet his. The first kiss is slow and gentle, letting you warm up to it. You put your legs down trying to get closer, not expecting for it to grow more heated, too. 

An arm wraps around your waist and you're being pulled in to straddle his lap. His big hands roam around your hips and ass as you start to full on make out, grinding you down against something long and hard until you’re desperately panting against each other. 

He gives your ass one last squeeze before finding the bottom of your shirt and pulling it up over your head, rushing to unclip your bra and tossing it in whichever direction the shirt went. A soft gasp slips through your lips once you feel the wet heat of his pierced tongue drag a slow stripe over your nipple, not thinking much about the way Sukuna smiled at you afterwards. 

You should’ve braced yourself for the level of greed you were about to experience. 

Many minutes later, your tits are covered in spit and you’re failing to bite back moans out of self preservation. 

And it’s fucking hard. 

Sukuna’s groaning and dragging a heavy tongue over each nipple 1, 2, 3, 4 times before wrapping his lips around them and starts sucking. He goes back and forth between each, pulling away with a wet, lewd pop before moving on to the next. At first, he’d replace his mouth with his fingers— rubbing, rolling, and pinching on the sensitive bud so it’s not completely neglected while he works on the other one. 

They’re now firmly planted on your hips, because apparently he needs the extra friction. So now your shorts are soaked through and you’re trying not to cum as he continues to push you down back and forth against his cock.

Your fingers are digging into his shoulders, the moans you’re struggling to bite back come out as whines and the one thing that actually pulls one out of you is when Sukuna’s palm cracks down on your ass. 

“Come here.”

He pulls you in by the back of your neck and swallows all the little sounds you try not to make with a kiss messier than the last. 

The air's hot and heavy once he breaks it. A small string of saliva hangs on and then breaks as you pull away, already looking like a mess while trying to catch your breath.  

“Bed?”

“Yeah,” you nod, sounding more desperate. 

“Thought so,” he stifles out a laugh as he suddenly gets up, easily taking you with him as he makes the short walk to your bedroom. 

He sets you down on the mattress before pulling his shirt over his head. The buckle of his belt lightly clinks as he undoes it to take his pants off, leaving just his boxers on that leave little room for imagination. He leans forward, hooking his fingers over the waistband of your soaked fucking shorts, taking them off along with your panties in one go. 

You don’t even get the opportunity to be shy around Sukuna because he's immediately grabbing the backs of your thighs and letting out a low whistle while pulling them apart to get a good look at how wet you already are. 

“Shit— look at you,” he groans. 

Without warning, he dips his head down in between your thighs, and he licks a long, fat stripe up your slit, not missing the extra friction from the metal ball on his tongue. There’s a shit eating smirk on his face when his head comes up, teasing you as he pushes you back further up the bed to make more room for himself. 

“Told you this was fun.”

“Shut up.” You giggle as you watch him get settled back in between your thighs, only for it to die out once he dips his head back down. 

He draws a long sigh out of you once he starts to slowly lap at your sensitive clit. He goes at an unhurried pace, just barely using any pressure and you’re sure he’s just doing it to fuck with you. With the way you are right now, the lazily licks are fucking torture, making you squirm around while you clench around nothing.

The more you move, the tighter his grip around the back of your thighs gets, until you find yourself pinned in place as he finally starts to pick up the pace, adding more pressure until that metal ball starts swiping across your clit like you need it to. You focus on it, until it gets ripped away once you finally feel his tongue press flat against your hole and begins dragging heavy stripes up to your clit. 

Your breathing grows sharp and uneven, hand moving down to his head, locking strands of hair in between your fingers as drawn out moans start spilling past your lips. He goes from pressing his tongue against your entrance to pushing past it, dipping further and further until deciding to just stay there and fuck you with it.

The shallow thrusts have you squeezing and clenching, back arching off the bed, desperate for more. You nearly let out a pathetic cry when he pulls away, but then he fills the empty space right back up with not one, but two of his fingers. They’re long and thick, and he’s curling them in. The pads of his fingers rub right up against that spot inside that has you seeing stars. 

Through half-lidded eyes, you watch as he starts to pump them in and out faster, until a light squelch can be heard. “Oh fuuuck.” 

“You like my fingers?” he asks with a low, amused hum. 

You nod. “Feels so good— oh my god.”

“I bet— look at how fuckin’ soaked they are from you.” He pulls them all the way out for you to see, then stuffs them back in. He starts curling faster, thumb pressing your clit and rubbing little circles until you’re clenching and whining. “Yeahh— that’s it, show me how good that feels.”

He keeps hitting your sweet spot until something in you shifts, making you close your legs out of instinct, only for him to keep them open so he can keep going. 

“Oh my god— fuck— wait!” you cry out. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Gonna cum?” Instead of letting up, he goes faster, letting the room continue to fill up with the filthy sounds of his fingers scissoring into your cunt, pushing you over the edge until you give him what he wants. 

And he gets it quick. You let out a sharp cry as you gush around him, finally cumming after holding it in from earlier.

“Fuuck yeah, there you go,” he rasps, fingers slowing down as he works you through it. 

He waits for you to catch your breath before leaning forward and kissing you a couple times, humming with each one. 

“Tired or you wanna keep goin’?” he asks. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath as you answer. “Yeah, keep going.”

“Atta girl.” 

He pushes himself off the bed to take the boxers off and your eyes widen at his cock that’s bigger than you originally thought it’d be. It springs out of his boxers with multiple piercings and precum smeared all over his darkened red tip. 

And of course, you stare for longer than you should.

“You alright?” he asks, sounding cocky as hell, and actually having the right to be. 

Taking your eyes off feels impossible— 3 rows of barbells on the underside of his shaft right below his tip, and another one on the underside of his tip. It almost feels wrong, he’s already long and thick. 

“Yeah— I just— holy shit.” 

“I know.” He says with full confidence as he gets back on the bed and situating himself in between your legs. “Gonna be fun watching you take it.”

He grabs the backs of your knees and spreads your legs further apart, getting a better look at how wet you still are, fighting back a smile knowing it’s from him.

He gives his cock a couple pumps, then looks at you, not sure whether you’re excited or nervous. “You ready?”

You look at him, then back down to the absolute monster he has in his hand, then back up at him. 

“Mhm.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, then casually shrugs. “Alright.”

You’ll get used to it.

He runs the head of his cock through your slick folds, tapping it over your clit a couple times, making you a bit more nervous after feeling the cold metal ball from his piercing nudging at your entrance. 

He pushes in, and you both have the same reaction to how easy it slides in despite how tight of a fit it was. You take in a sharp breath as he starts to sink in, inch by inch, with no resistance, all while feeling an immediate stretch and the added friction from each piercing. 

Once he’s halfway through, he slowly starts to rock his hips back and forth and you find yourself having to bite back on a moan, realizing those piercings were also rubbing back and forth against your walls. 

“You doin’ okay?” he raises a brow, clearly enjoying the sight. 

“You’re so fucking big,” it almost sounds like a complaint.

“I am,” he hums, leaning down and caging you in with his arms. “I’m gonna push the rest in.” 

“How much is there left?”

“You’ll be fine.” 

He thrusts right in and you're letting out a shattered gasp. At the same time, he’s humming in satisfaction since he got to watch the whole thing.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, giving you a moment to get used to how stuffed you are, stealing a few kisses while he’s at it since he’s not entirely an asshole. “Remember what I said, all you gotta do is take it.” 

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s pulling out all the way and sliding back in, working up a pace as he stuffs you over and over again, dragging those small metal balls right over the spot that made your toes curl. 

It still took you a little bit of time getting used to him though, all words dying at your throat once he started to actually fuck you like it was nothing. Feeling betrayed by your body for letting him stretch you so easily like this. 

Each drive of his cock has you moaning and gasping, making you cover your mouth trying to hold them in— something he did not like since he pushed your hand away. 

Then without warning, he shoves two fingers in your mouth. 

“Mmmh— you look good with my fingers shoved in your mouth like this. Now suck.” 

You do as he says, swirling your tongue around his digit a few times before he presses them down it, making you softly moan as you sucked on them. He pulls them out with a wet pop and starts muttering in your ear. 

“Don’t cover that pretty little mouth again, alright?”

Thrust. 

“Fuck— okay,” you whine back. 

“Good girl.” He gives you another rough thrust, pulling another choked noise out of you. “Don’t try to hold out on me thinkin’ snot and tears are gonna turn me off, cry on it if you have to. I like it ugly.” 

At first you wanted to cry from how fucking mean that was, only to realize that urge to cry may have just been from that one spot he wouldn’t stop hitting, which eventually stopped being overwhelming once you finally get used to him.

“See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he asks, though it was more of a condescending remark rather than a question. “Bet this feels good now, huh?”

“It’s been a while,” you say in an attempt to defend yourself. 

“Yeah, no kidding— pussy’s fuckin’ tight,” he says all smug, getting harder at just the thought. “Feels good like this.”

He brings your legs together and throws them over his broad shoulders. Moans start to spill out of your mouth the moment he starts hitting at an angle that manages to hit your clit too. His hips crack against your ass as he picks up the pace, slick spreading past your thighs as he pounds down deeper, bed steadily rocking from all the force behind each thrust.

“Shit— look at how much of a mess you made,” he groans once the wet squelch between you becomes unavoidably louder. “Did you squirt or somethin’? You’re fuckin’ soaked.” 

“No. I don’t— nghh— who cares, just keep going.”

He looks at you in amusement, keeping the same pace as he pushes further back against your legs to go deeper, making you nearly squeal. “Is this what’s got you lying about squirting?”

“I didn’t squirt,” you say with an airy laugh. “Fuuck— just feels good.”

“Right,” he mutters slowly as he pushes back against you even more, slowing down until he’s just grinding against you. “What about this?” 

It’s a full blown mating press at this point.

“Mhm— yeahh.” Your lips curl into a small smile. “Better, actually.”

“Good,” he hums. 

He leans down to press his lips against yours while slowly picking up the pace again, soaking up all the sighs and soft moans he pulls out of you from the deep strokes of his cock, letting the base of it rub against your clit while his tip mushes against that special little spot inside.

The slow, lazy kisses go on for as long as they can, and for you, it’s when your teeth threaten to clash against each other each time his hips snap against you. By then, Sukuna’s going harder. He pulls all the way back, then drives back in— the force behind each thrust growing greater than the last.

“F-fuck— Kuna, that’s—” 

“What? Too much?”

“No, no— keep going,” you damn near start pleading with him, feeling a little bit of pressure start build. “Don’t stop— please, I think I’m gonna—“

Your cunt stretches helplessly around him, feeling every inch and vein he stuffs into you over and over again as he fucks you with reckless abandon. The sight’s nothing but obscene as he fills the room with the sounds of him pounding you senseless. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, honeyed and condescending. “Can’t take it?”

“I don’t– fuck– I don’t know.” Your words are cut off by sharp sudden gasps, feeling something unfamiliar build up. It’s not until he gives you one particularly rough thrust when tears start streaming down your cheeks. 

“You poor thing.” If you hadn’t known any better, he sounded quite pleased with himself. He leans down to lick a fresh tear streaming down your cheek before going back to business. “Look at you, getting fucked so good that it’s making you cry. You’re probably close, aren’t ya?” 

You take in a sharp breath, wondering how bad it would be if you did. You already thought you came. Instead, Sukuna’s right and he’s letting one of your legs back down, leaning in close and cradling your head while he continues to absolutely ruin you. 

“Cum for me,” he murmurs. His fingers trail down to your clit and starts rubbing over it with just the perfect amount of pressure, making clenching like fucking crazy. “Thaaat’s it— c’mon. Give it to me.”

He drags his heavy cock all the way out with a wet schlick, then slams back in— again and again and again— pushing you over the edge until your nails are digging into his back and you’re breaking out into a cry. 

You’re gushing around his cock and he keeps drilling into you like he’s trying to work as much as he can out of you— just powering through it. This is the hardest you’ve ever cum in your life, you’re fucking sobbing and he’s just encouraging it with the way he licks a stripe up your cheek, groaning about how fucking hot you look crying on his cock. 

“Oh my g-god— I-I can’t— ffuck it’s too much—” your nails start to claw down his back as he drives you into overstimulation. 

“I know— I’m so fuckin’ close,” he husks out, and you can tell he’s not entirely all here anymore. “Shhiittt almost there— keep squeezing me like that, baby— yeahh just like that,” his hips desperately slam into you, deep groans start to rumble out of his chest as he chases his own relief. “Fuck— ffuuck.”

He lets out the most drawn out guttural groan once it hits him. He slams in, burying his cock deep inside of you and flooding your walls with so much cum that it starts to spill out while he grinds every last drop of it out. 

He pulls out but keeps you caged in underneath you, pressing lazy kisses against your lips with short uneven breaths in between, skin damp and glistening from sweat. It takes a moment to come back to reality, and for someone that doesn’t even know where to start, you’re surprisingly comfortable with the silence between you. 

It eventually ends, though. You’re the first to break it. 

“Did you still want me to go out on those dates you were talking about?” 

Immediately he lets out a breathy laugh. “If you don’t mind me trying to fight them, then sure.”

. . . . . . 

Six Months Later 

You walk step inside Sukuna’s office, giddier than usual with the small pink cake you bought after handing in your resignation letter to Yaga. His feet are kicked up on the cherry oak wood desk and you doubt he’s doing anything work related. But he’s the boss, who’s going to yell at him? He does sit up straight once he sees you, though, ready to hear the news. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to hear it right away since you just had to look at the wall shelves and catch sight of something that wiped the smile off your face. 

“Why is Yuji’s face crossed off in that photo?”

He rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, it’s whiteboard marker.” 

“But why would you do that?” you continue to interrogate Sukuna, because unlucky for him, you two are the best of friends now. 

Jin visited him earlier today and brought Yuji along. He started off the visit strong by pointing to Sukuna and asking his father ‘Does Uncle have a reezding hairline, too?’ and eventually took a look at the protein snacks he had in the corner, which made him look Sukuna up and down, and go “you eat too much.”

Sukuna rubs his temple as he grows annoyed again. “He called me fat and bald, so I told him we weren’t family anymore and crossed his face out to prove it.”

Despite the words that come out of Yuji’s mouth, the kid loves him in all of his grumpiness. 

“So you made him cry?” 

Yuji cried so hard that started dry heaving and nearly threw up. “No,” he grimaces. “He just pouted and said sorry.” 

The apology being, ‘No, PLEASE! I’m sorry, I'm SORRY,’ and, ‘I LIED— huhuhuhu my tummy hurts, yuji gonna frow up— I’m sorry’.

You look at him rather suspiciously as you grab a couple forks from his little snack station in the corner, but let it go this time. 

He takes your silence as an opportunity to change the subject completely. “How’d your boss take the news?” 

“Oh my god, he was distraught,” you reveal, still surprised over how panicked he looked when you turned in your resignation letter. 

He waves a dismissive hand, believing it’s the least he deserved for not trying to meet you halfway when trying to cut some of your hours down and refusing to demote you. 

“You’ll forget all about it after sleeping in tomorrow,” he reassures you before taking his first bite of cake. 

“Yeah— I,” you give a nervous laugh, “okay, so about that.” 

He stops chewing and just stares at you. 

“I’m gonna stay with them.” 

“What?” he almost snaps. “We’re going on vacation in a few weeks. I— what the fuck? What did you get a fuckin’ cake for then?!”

“We’re still going! He’s giving me that time off.”

“How charitable of him.” He snorts out a bitter laugh, then goes back to be mad. “I thought you hated that fuckin’ place?!”

“I did! But he offered to shorten my hours and said I could work from home.” 

That piece of information does nothing for Sukuna, who is grumbling profanities under his breath, acting like he’s the one being forced to stay there. His words start going in one ear and out the other after telling yourself he’ll get it eventually, and take a bite out of the victory cake since you also got a small raise, despite the decrease in hours. 

“Are you listening?”

“What?” you look up and ask, still chewing on the food. 

“Tch– nothing.” Sukuna takes his aggression out on the cake by stabbing the damn thing when getting more. “He shoulda’ given you all that before you tried to quit if you were that important. Hell— he shouldn’t have dumped all that work on you in the first place.”

“He’s a greedy old man that’s hungry for money,” you remind him. “What else would you expect from him?” 

Sukuna’s delusional and does this thing where he just assumes the world sees you the same way he does, and then when it doesn’t, he gets offended. Last week at the grocery store, someone reached for the produce in front of you and he snapped at them for not saying excuse me. Then he snapped at them again for not having any patience, given how you would’ve eventually moved.

“Whatever,” he gets up from his seat to grab a water from the mini-fridge and takes a sip, but before sitting back down, he stops next to you and gets at eye level. “If Mr. Crabs calls you while we’re gone, I’m ripping that phone out of your hand and cussing him the fuck out, you hear me?”

You suppress a laugh. “Loud and clear.” 

“Good,” he says, stealing a quick kiss from you. “Proud of you.”

The sincerity in his tone pulls a smile out of you. “Thanks.”

He glances at the door, notices it’s locked, then places a hand on your thigh when the sudden realization that there was no one that could fire him hits him. 

He gives it a squeeze. You already know what he’s thinking.

“Seriously? You can’t wait until we're at home?”

“I’ll make it quick.”

All rights reserved © 2026 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai and do not turn them into chat bots.

[mackhiato]

|| studying (the subject of) you

¬ frat!sukuna x nerd!reader ¬

description -> there wasn't much you and frat boy!sukuna ryomen had in common...except your mutual disdain for partner projects. (un)luckily for the two of you, fate has a way of bringing together the seemingly incompatible. but as the project continues and studying sessions involve less and less studying, you both discover you're learning more about yourselves than the subject matter at hand...

word count -> 10.2k

cw -> yearning || mutual pining || like, medium burn? || eventual smut || drinking || smoking || cursing || mean sukuna (but only if you squint) || side frat!gojo x nerd!reader || jealousy || slight angst (but like only a little) || slight angst (it's no longer minimal sorry)

part seven || part eight || part nine

You and Sukuna sat in his bedroom on the top floor of the frat house, textbooks open in between as you both attempted to study the words that ran meaninglessly across the pages, too distracted by each other’s presence to care about whatever assignment you should have been focusing on. 

With the library temporarily closed for renovations, and his frat brothers gaming on the TV downstairs in the living room, Sukuna offered his bedroom as a last place of refuge to get some work done, not realizing the future implications you, his ultimate distraction, in his haven, would have on his ability to focus.

He lay lazily on his side on top of his comforter while you took the desk, hunched as you poured over the text, your glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you scrunched your brows, eyes squinted in faux concentration. He watched you with a small smile on his face as you mouthed the words to what you were reading, desperately trying to keep your eyes on the pages in front of you instead of your partner behind. 

“Hey.” His baritone voice rumbled, smooth like a stone buried in a riverbed. You glanced up, mouth slightly parted as your wide, curious eyes met his. “C’mere.”

You tilted your head in confusion, but rose nonetheless, slowly coming to kneel on the edge of his bed, the mattress sucking you in as you tucked one foot underneath you. “What’s up?”

“Need help studying for physiology,” he started, pushing his pile of flashcards with sloppily drawn anatomic figures and terms on the back toward you. 

You shook your head, laughing slightly. “That is not what we are supposed to be doing. Besides, I didn’t take physio. I can’t help you with this.”

“Sure, you can. You’re a genius. Just quiz me on the muscle groups,” he offered, rolling off his side and closer to your seated figure.

Your mouth curled into a smile as you fingered through the cards, trying to parse through his scribbled notes. “Kuna, I can’t read these. Your handwriting’s horrible.”

He leaned close into you, looking over your shoulder at the notes he had taken, and ignored the way your body tensed as you felt his breath fan over your neck. “Huh. Yeah, it is pretty shit.” He turned to you, his eyes a deep, rusted shade of red. “Looks like we’ll need a new reference.”

You swallowed, but maintained eye contact, your voice shaking slightly at his proximity and intense gaze. “Okay then. What should we use?”

“Use me.”

Your eyes clouded over. “Use…you?”

He nodded, his voice like velvet. “Use me as a model.”

“You mean…like – ”

“My body, princess.” He finished your statement, cocking his head at your flustered state, biting back a grin.

You fought to keep your breathing steady. “And - you’re sure this will help you study?”

“Absolutely.”

You adjusted your position on the bed, Sukuna turning his back to you, and rested on your knees to better accommodate his frame. You licked your lips, trying to remain steady. “Ok. So, do you want me to just…point, and you tell me the muscle group?” You didn’t comment on how you wouldn’t know if he was right or wrong, too overwhelmed by the closeness and sheer absurdity of what you were doing. 

“How am I supposed to see what you’re pointing to?” He chuckled, purposefully leaning back onto his hands, flexing the muscles in his arms and invading your space even more. “You can touch me. Or am I that repulsive to you?”

You shook your head before you realized he couldn’t see you. “No. Not repulsive. Just…” Your eyes trailed over his backside, and you daintily fingered the short sleeve of his top. “Your shirt.”

“What about it?”

“It’s…in the way.”

He didn’t think twice before bringing his hands to his shirt’s bottom hem, pulling it over his head, leaving his tanned, inked back, sculpted, and hard from sinewy muscle on display to you. 

“Better?”

Your mouth was dry. “Mmhm.”

Your hands hovered over his skin, unsure, as if his sun-kissed figure was fire, heating the underside of your palm, tantalizing, taunting, dangerous. You shook slightly as the pads of your fingers ever so gently brushed over his shoulders, then down, down, down, the rippling peaks and valleys of his back, tracing the indent of his spine. 

You felt him inhale beneath you, the same way a flame does when it senses something nearby to consume. He hadn’t anticipated what your touch would finally feel like, bare skin against skin, ghosting over him so lightly, like feather kisses. He wasn’t used to such kindness in a touch, such fragility, such gentleness, and he couldn’t believe he was receiving it from you. 

He needed more. 

You weren’t even trying, and you were driving him crazy. His mind was blinking lights and flashing colors, a monster of a man reduced to his rudimentary abilities with one soft gaze from you. You hover, your scent, the way he felt your eyes on him – he wanted to devour you. Swallow you whole and leave nothing behind. Press into you and hold your hand as his teeth sank into your skin, your taste being the last thing on his tongue. He ground out your name, his voice almost wounded. 

You wet your lips. “Yeah?” 

“Stop being shy. Touch me.”

Your hands were hot as they brushed along his back, your feel of him more sure, more firm, more sensual. You spread your fingers across his expanse, your eyes serious as you asked for the names of the muscles you grazed. 

“What’s this?” Your finger traced the outline of a wing on the left side of his back, right by where his arm and shoulder connect. 

His voice was breathy, as light as his head felt. “Teres major.”

Your fingers sank, running down his lower back. “And this?” Your voice was low and rich, plucking his heartstrings like a bassist, strumming, eliciting a low, guttural groan from his chest.

“That’s – those are my lats. Latissimus dorsi.” He grunted out, breathless, trying to keep from slouching into your frame. He was worried he was already too far gone, his mind a mess, blood rushing from his head south. His fingers curled into the comforter, gripping it tightly to steady himself, tendons and veins taut in his forearms.  

Your hands receded, and he twitched, already missing the feeling of you on him. He tsked disapprovingly, and restrained himself from leaning back in search of you.  A quiet moment passed before he heard the rustle of his comforter, the sink of your weight inching closer to his. He felt your breath tickle the top of his back, edging so close to the nape of his neck, the heat of your body the only thing separating you two by mere centimeters, just enough to send him into delirium. 

“And, this?”

Your lips pressed right at the center junction where his neck met his upper back, not lingering, but long enough before you pulled away. His eyes fluttered shut as his body shuddered, so charged, so sensitive, he could feel the stain of gloss you left behind, taking your heat with you as you retreated. 

“What was that, Kuna?”

His eyes flashed open as he gasped, shooting up from his bed. He looked around, chest heaving as he took in his environment. 

Dark room. Curtains drawn. 

You, nowhere in sight. 

He’d had a fucking dream about you, like he was back in middle school.

He groaned as he fell back into his bed, his heels rubbing against his eyes, as if he was trying to wipe away the memories of his imagination. 

It’s too much. He wasn't himself, past the point of recognition, past the point of willful ignorance. And while he knew this was a problem he’d have to confront soon, he couldn’t help but be distracted by the bigger problem currently pressing against the seams of his boxers. 

The next morning, he could feel the restlessness from the previous night seeping into his bones as he trudged toward the gym with Toji. The grey, overcast morning encapsulated exactly how he was feeling, and Toji seemed determined to make his mood worse. 

“You look like shit,” he commented.

“I feel like shit,” Sukuna groaned back, wiping a hand down his face as if that would alleviate his fatigue. They swiped access into the campus gym and set their items in the locker room, the showers being practically empty on a Sunday morning. 

Sukuna stripped, putting on his athletic wear as Toji started talking again. “Late night?”

“Something like that.” 

“With that girl?”

“Yes, alright?” Sukuna snapped, angrily shutting the door of his locker closed. “If something’s wrong with me, you can probably assume it has something to do with her.”

Toji just stared, nonplussed at Sukuna’s reaction. “Well, are you gonna do something about it?”

Sukuna scoffed in incredulity. “Are we actually gonna talk about this now?”

Toji shrugged. “Rather talk through this than whatever bullshit we normally talk about.” He rolled his eyes at Sukuna’s disgusted face. “Don’t make this more awkward than it has to be. You’re clearly going through it, and I’m tired of feeling like I’m living with a girl. So talk. Or don’t. Either way, stop being a bitch about it, because it’s really starting to piss me off.”

Sukuna grunted, grabbing his water bottle and heading into the main floor of the gym, finding a free bench and loading plate after plate on each side of the barbell, Toji helping silently as soft music played over the gym’s speakers. As Sukuna tucked himself under the bar, resting his back on the bench, he muttered to Toji as he leaned against the side of the rack. “It’s stupid.”

Toji shrugged. “Can’t be more stupid than how you’ve been acting.”

Sukuna’s hands dropped to his chest as he breathed out. “I don’t really know what to do with her.”

Toji raised his eyebrows, insinuating that he go on. 

“I think I like her. As more than a friend.”

“You think?” Toji grunted, coming to stand behind the bar. “I could’ve told you that. C’mon, start your set.” He hovered his hands under the bar, helping Sukuna start his first couple of reps. 

Sukuna grunted as he began pushing the weight above his chest. “She asked just to be friends, and I’m trying, but she drives me crazy. I’ve never done this before.”

“What, like someone?”

He exhaled as he re-racked the weight. “Not seriously.” 

“Just ask her out,” Toji said as they switched, Sukuna spotting him as he lifted the bar. “What’s the big deal?”

“I told you, she wants to be friends. Or go back to normal. Whatever that fuckin' means.”

“Damn. That sucks.” Toji huffed, pushing the weight back up and down. “When’d she say that?”

“After Halloween.”

“Oh, when you started getting real pissy. Makes sense.”

“Haven’t been pissy.” Sukuna watched Toji struggle with the weight for a second before helping him get the last rep up.

“Yeah, right, drama queen.” Toji wiped his hands on his shirt as he got up, taking a sip from his water bottle. “So, you told her you want to be something more, and she said no?”

“I haven’t told her anything.” He felt Toji’s hard stare on him as he leaned over the bar, his arms crossed. 

Toji scoffed. “Pussy.”

Sukuna’s head whipped over, his eyes blazing. “Oh, fuck off. This is why I don’t tell you shit.”

“You don’t tell me shit because you know I’m right.” Toji chided, rolling his neck. “Either grow a pair and actually ask her out, or put yourself out of your misery and get over it.”

“Oh, right, because it’s that easy. Ask her out, then do what?” Sukuna ran a hand through his hair. “Date her? I don’t know how to do that shit.”

“You didn’t know how to ride a bike either, but you learned.”

Sukuna paused. “It’s different. I don’t want my shit to affect her. She’s so…together. And deserves someone who can be more… I don’t know, together…with her.”

“Together, like who, Gojo?” Toji laughed at the withering gaze on his friend’s face. “Jesus, I was joking. Chill.”

Sukuna groaned, putting his face in his hands. “See what I mean? I’m a fucking mess. A jealous, stupid fucking mess. So jealous I was ready to wring Satoru’s neck when he asked her out the other week. She doesn’t want someone like that.”

“You don’t know that. You’re making that decision for her based on what you think.”

“What I know.”

“What you think you know.”

Sukuna scowled. “What’s your point here, exactly?”

“You don’t know what’s going on in her head, and you won’t until you ask.” Sukuna leaned up from the bar, letting Toji underneath as he began to spot him. Toji continued, saying, “I think you’re fucking yourself over by making assumptions that aren’t necessarily true.”

“It’s not an assumption to recognize that we’re just really different people.”

“Different people who constantly look like they want to fuck each other at any given moment.”

Sukuna let out a puff of air, ignoring Toji’s vulgar statement. “I don’t wanna mess anything up. It’s weird, but I like whatever we have, even if it’s a little fucked, and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Toji shook his head, reracking the weight. “Nah. I say ruin it.”

Sukuna damn near threw his water bottle at the smug man’s face, sucking his teeth at his insolence. “Have you listened to a damn thing I’ve said?”

“I am listening. And I’m telling you to ruin it. You’re fucking it up more by not doing anything.” Toji rose as he pushed Sukuna’s shoulder down, signaling him to do another set as he added more weight to both sides of the barbell. “I’m no genius, but any girl who is willingly spending that much time with you has to like you, at least a little.”

“We’re project partners; this is the definition of being forced to spend time together.”

“Listen, no one made you go over to her place after Halloween, just like no one made you spend hours at her apartment yesterday.” He paused as Sukuna sent him a questioning glare beneath the bar. “Don’t look at me like that. You weren’t in the house. I took a lucky guess. Besides, seems like she’s the only thing that gets your ass out of bed anymore.”

This time, the towel around Sukuna’s neck flew toward Toji’s face before he could register what he was doing. Toji batted it away with his hand, scowling. “Bitch all you want about it, you know it’s true.”

“Look, either suck it up, or don’t. Either face rejection or be a coward. But, please, do something, and free yourself from this torment, for my sake. I can’t keep watching you do this.”

Toji hadn’t put it gently, but he was right; whatever this was wasn’t sustainable. Sukuna knew sooner or later, he’d have to do something about this. He could only keep his head buried in the sand for so long. These feelings, however real or temporary they may be, were calling to be acknowledged, but if he was being honest, acknowledgement was the last thing on his mind.

He sighed, looking up at Toji. “Wanna get drunk tonight?”

Toji sighed, shaking his head. “Sure. But you’re buying.” 

|||

“Soup?” Yuki’s eyes popped out of her head when you recounted your previous week. After resting under Sukuna’s orders, you returned to your weekly Sunday session post the following weekend, feeling mostly back to normal. You weren’t sure if the rumbling in your stomach came from the nausea you had experienced previously or because of your crush that had escalated from ignored, to denied, to extreme, but either way, you started to worry that your distress had manifested to the sickest state you’d been in years. For extra precaution, you tried to keep a respectable distance while you helped walk students through problems, but Yuki didn’t seem to care for your attempts to maintain a healthy gap as she pulled you into a secluded corner of the room, prying everything out of you, from your date with Gojo to Sukuna’s surprise home visit last Saturday. 

“He made you soup?” Yuki clarified, speaking slowly, enunciating the question, shock and disbelief lacing her tone. “I’m gonna fuckin’ throw up. That’s adorable. Are you kidding me?”

“Yuki, please, don’t mention throwing up in my vicinity. I’m still slightly nauseous.” 

You woke up that evening to Sukuna gone, but a clean apartment in your wake, the leftover soup packaged in Tupperware in your fridge, and ice pops for your throat in the freezer. Your fever had finally broken, but your skin was sticky from the sweat you produced from the first soundless sleep you’ve had in days. 

You went to your phone to text a thanks to Sukuna, but your thumb slipped, dialing his number instead. Your eyes widened as his contact took up your entire screen, fumbling to press the end call button. “Shit, shit, shit, fuck – ”

“Hello?”

His voice was muffled, raspy, as if you had interrupted a good sleep. The deep vibrato sent a shiver down your spine. “Hi.” You gripped the phone against your ear, talking in a hushed tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call.”

“‘ts fine. D’you need somethin’?” His voice was thick, yet warm, as if he were amused by your antics.

“I just wanted to say thanks. Y’know, for the soup and all.”

He hummed. “You feelin’ better?”

You nodded. “Yeah. My fever finally broke. So, feeling way better than before.”

“That’s good.”

The line went quiet before you inhaled. “Sorry, did I wake you? Was this a bad time?”

“Nah, you’re fine.”

 “Oh. Ok.”

The conversation lulled, but neither of you moved to hang up. You gnawed on your bottom lip, frantically looking for a conversation topic. You blurted something intelligible as he asked a question at the same time. 

“So how are you - ”

“Are you gonna - ”

You both paused, letting out small laughs. “Sorry,” you said. “You go first.”

“No, you go.”

And you did. You both talked, and talked, conversation topics ranging, voices hushed, as if you were scared of getting found out, as if a decibel more would startle you both out of a reverie.

You had made your way to your kitchen while still talking with Sukuna, the soft pads of your sock-clad feet fidgeting as you rested your hip against your oven, waiting for your kettle to whistle as you prepared a cup of tea. Your phone rested between your shoulder and ear as you continued talking. “So, question, I’ve been so curious about this.”

Sukuna hummed in response, prompting you to continue. 

“Has Toji actually done anything for the project? He’s never mentioned working on it once.”

Sukuna breathed out a laugh. “Trust me, he hasn’t done shit. I’d be surprised if he knew his partner’s name.”

You giggled, pouring yourself a cup and grabbing your bottle of honey. “I figured. Is he not concerned?”

“Well, not everyone gets stuck with a pain-in-the-ass control freak who threatens failing herself just to get her partner to do work, so he’s probably doing just fine.”

“Yeah, I suppose not everyone can be so lucky.” You feign a sigh, stirring the sweetener into your steeping tea. “It’s a shame there aren't more of me to go around.”

“The campus would implode if there were more of you wandering around. We’d have to construct a new classroom to fit another one of your big heads.”

You scoffed, sticking your tongue out. “You always this mean, or do I just get special treatment?”

“Would you be jealous if I said I treat everyone like this?”

“Yes. Exceedingly so.”

You felt him grin through the phone. “Then yeah, it’s just you.”

You migrated back to your bed, lying atop your comforter, your eyelids growing heavier by the passing minutes as your cup sat on your bedside table, now drained of its contents.

“You tired yet?” Sukuna asked, his voice lulling and slow.

You shook your head as you yawned. “Nuh uh. You sound sleepy, though.” 

“Well, it’s almost two in the morning, and I spent most of my day taking care of a big baby, so, yeah, I’m a little tired.”

“I did not ask you to do that,” you protested. 

“I know. I wanted to.”

You froze, then inhaled. “Sorry for keeping you on the phone for so long.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“Ok. Well, I’ll let you go then. Talk soon?”

“Counting down the seconds, princess. Night.”

“Night,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Your memories of the late-night phone conversation almost made you wince as you responded to Yuki. “Yeah, he made me soup.”

“Well, don’t be shy now! Then what happened?” Yuki grabbed your arm, shaking it furiously, already on the edge of her seat. 

You blew out a breath. 

What happened next?

Things got…weird.

Weirder than normal, that’s for sure. 

After spending the rest of last weekend resting, recovering, and trying to catch up on work, you showed up to class on Tuesday and walked up the steps of your lecture hall to seat yourself in the back row with Sukuna and Toji. You bounded up, greeting them both. “Morning, guys.”

“Hey,” Toji responded. Sukuna’s head barely nodded in your direction. 

You stopped short, your eyes flicking between Sukuna’s tufts of pink hair and Toji, who sat next to him. He made eye contact with you and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “He’s being an idiot. You’re fine. Sit.”

Hesitantly, you took the last few steps up and gingerly sat next to Sukuna, both your bodies so tense and on edge it felt as though they were grating against each other. You unpacked your bag and paused before asking, your words stilted, careful. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

“Fine.”

You took a deep, sharp breath. At this point, you couldn’t keep up with the mood swings he went through. You felt like you trekked through different climates with him every day, from scorching desert to freezing tundra; it was a toss-up on how he felt like treating you that day. It was exhausting, and the events of the past week had already worn you down. “Alright then,” you said, your voice crisp.

You turned your attention to the front, straining to hear the professor as you took notes, and tried not to look at Sukuna for the rest of the period, all cylinders firing in your mind. You felt Sukuna shifting constantly beside you, all of a sudden finding it impossible to get comfortable. After his elbow nudged you for the third time, you hissed. “Am I making you uncomfortable or something? What’s your deal?”

“It’s not you,” he grunted out, unwilling to offer you anything else. 

You couldn’t possibly fathom what happened between Saturday’s phone call and today that got Sukuna acting like a kicked dog, but whatever it was, you didn’t have the time or energy to help him work through his convoluted feelings. “Well, figure it out, because you’re pissing me off,” you grumbled back, nudging his elbow with your own. 

Thursday was no better. You took one look at his sullen frame and scoffed, traipsing your way back to your usual seat in the front, absolving yourself from dealing with his attitude. You felt his gaze burning holes in the back of your head, but still, no text of protest or inquiry of why you moved seats, which admittedly hurt more than you would like it to. 

“I don’t know. He’s been giving me the cold shoulder recently, and I cannot be bothered to run around campus begging him to tell me what’s wrong. I have more pride than that.” You answered truthfully, shrugging your shoulders at the reality of the predicament. “I like him. A lot, actually. More than I probably should, knowing everything about him, and I probably have for a while now. But I’m don’t wanna like people who won’t choose me. This runaround we’re doing is so beyond dumb. I’m not built for this.”

Yuki nudged your shoulder with hers, taking in the anxious debilitation around your eyes. “Well, at least you’ve come to your senses. If you took any longer, Sho and I were gonna start betting.” Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Wait. Idea! You should come to my sorority’s date party this weekend. We’d have so much fun together, getting free drinks, making fun of people; you’d love it.”

“The one Gojo was telling me about?” You wrinkled your brows. “Hard pass. You know I won’t get along with anyone there.”

“It’s not about getting along with anyone; it’s about who you go with.” Yuki raised her eyebrows expectantly, hoping you were understanding what she was insinuating. 

You weren’t. “And who am I supposed to be going with, pray tell? You and Choso, and be a third wheel all night? Spare me.”

“No, dummy, go with Sukuna! Get him to ask you!”

You gagged. “I’m not that desperate. Besides, I’m not in your sorority. I’m not even Greek life. Those girls would eat me alive.”

“Ugh, you talk about them like they’re all evil, but I’m there! They’re very nice when you give them a chance.”

“I am sure they are, but considering I would have no business being at their date party, I’m sure they’d be more than standoffish.”

“Did you miss what I suggested? Not if you went with Sukuna.”

“Oh, I didn’t miss it, just chose to ignore it.” You said flippantly, gently shouldering past Yuki to head over to a student with a hand in the air and confusion written all over their face. “I’m not about to beg a man to ask me to the dance. Who am I, Cinderella?”

Yuki rolled her eyes, following you as you tried to create space. “Ok, first of all, Cinderella did not beg. That’s like the whole point of the story. And secondly, you wouldn’t have to beg, just politely suggest semi-insistently. He’d probably love to take you.”

“If he'd love to take me, then he should ask.” You said pointedly, wanting to end the conversation. 

“Ok, well, the next time you see him, you should bring it up casually.”

“Yeah, maybe if he’s not acting like an ass.”

As the door to the building opened with a slight tinkle of a bell, you heard Yuji’s voice ring out across the hushed tones of the crowd.

“Sukuna? What’re you doing here?”

Sometimes, you wonder if words are prophetic. If the intention behind what you say and when you say it puts out action into the universe, spurs momentum beyond one’s control, sends paths colliding in places one could never assume, like your volunteer study sessions halfway across town from your university campus. Or maybe you were still feeling the effects of your sickness, your fever’s delayed effects causing hallucinations and vivid daydreams of your hulking project partner, pink hair tousled from the wind, tattoos and piercings factoring him as immediately out of place, hands shoved into pockets, and a scowl painted on his face as he’d rather be anywhere else than where he was currently. 

You almost laughed, your feelings echoing the sentiment on his face. 

“Jin asked me to pick you up. He got caught up with some stuff.”

You could feel Yuki’s maniacal grin boring into the back of your skull, but you refused to look back at her or Sukuna, your eyes dead focused on the calculus formulas swimming on the worksheet before you. You called out, your voice low but strained. “Sorry, what was your question again?”

“You’re early! We don’t finish the session until one, and I have, like, twelve problems left.” Yuji complained.

You hated how you were so used to Sukuna’s presence, like a radio frequency; your ears antennas, specially attuned to the sound of his voice. His crass voice prickled at the top of your spine. “Don’t care. I’ve got somewhere to be, and dropping you off is taking me out of my way. C’mon.”

“Alright, jeez, let me say bye to my tutors at least.”

Your spine stiffened, and you heard Yuji haphazardly shove his papers and books into his backpack, ambling over to you. He couldn’t get a word out before you heard your own name in Sukuna’s disbelieving tone.

You finally looked up, straightening your back to see Sukuna standing off, still near the door, his whole body tense when making eye contact with you. He opened his mouth, but the words stumbled out like he didn’t know what he was saying as he spoke. “What are you – I mean, do you, uh, you volunteer here?”

Your mouth felt dry as you answered. “Every Sunday.”

Yuki giggled from behind you as Yuji’s head whipped between you and Sukuna’s wooden frames. “Wait, how do you two know each other?”

Your eyes searched each other’s, trying to parse through what was hidden beneath the lies you continued to spin. 

“We’re friends.” You both responded, both voices coated in the sweet seduction, in syrupy sweetness of the delusions you feed into, spurred on by the narratives you chose to follow, no longer ignorant, now willingly obtuse. You both were suckers, caressing each other with padded lies and longing glances that dissolved until reaching the chewy center, both wanting to be stretched and swallowed. 

“They’re in the same class and are working on a project together,” Yuki clarified to the room of kids, now distracted by the handsome collegiate who, under the fluorescent lighting, did bear a striking resemblance to Yuji.

Yuji’s eyes widened. “He’s your project partner?”

Your eyes flicked from your student to Sukuna, horrified. “Wait, it’s not – ”

“The incompetent one?” Nobara added on, no longer pretending to do a semblance of work.

Megumi hummed beside her. “Yes, I remember her calling him ‘worse than Yuji’.”

You turned around to face your students sitting near Yuji, hissing, “Guys, shut up!” You waved your hands back and forth in an attempt to defend yourself, looking back at your smirking partner. “That was weeks ago, you’re so much better now, I swear.”

“You complained about me?” Sukuna's voice was snide, but the upturned corner of his mouth proved he found the whole situation amusing. “Well, now at least all the horrible things Yuji has said about his tutors make sense.”

You recoiled in offense while Yuji protested. “That is not true! I have never said anything bad about her in my life!”

Yuki took this moment to sweep into the conversation. “Actually, this is perfect timing, Sukuna.” You craned your neck around, shaking your head inconspicuously to stop Yuki, but she plowed ahead, either unaware or ignoring your vain attempts to stop her. “We were just talking about the date party this weekend.”

You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t stop your body from jerking back around, hungry for the look on his face. Your stomach turned when you saw his face fall, deep shadows cast across his sharp features. His voice was gruff, devoid of the playful tone he had once carried. “What about it?” 

“She was just telling me how fun it sounded.” Yuki insinuated in a sing-song voice. “And a little birdie told me you still need a date.”

“Yuki, please, enough,” You muttered, far past embarrassed. Your eyes stayed on Sukuna, who now couldn’t seem to meet your gaze, his eyes hard, staring at the tiled floors beneath his boots. 

“Yuki,” Sukuna started, but Yuki continued, not one to be admonished.

“Come on, we all know you want to take her anyway, so just – ”

“I can’t.” His voice was so sharp it felt like biting wind, the kind that pricks tears and causes teeth to chatter, cold and unforgiving.

“Why not?” Yuki bit back. 

You whispered, desperate not to hear the answer you knew would send you into a spiral. “Yuki, please.”

Sukuna’s lips were pressed thin as he burrowed his fists deeper into his jacket pockets. He turned away, adamant on not meeting your eyes, not bearing to see the hurt look on your face.

“I’m already going with somebody else.”

There it was. You winced, closing your eyes as if that would prevent the words from seeping in. The awkward silence that filled the room was suffocating as your students shifted their attention away from the train wreck of an interaction, hastily fumbling to pretend they weren’t listening. 

Disgust and anger filled Yuki’s expression. “Since when?” She spat out.

His voice was hard like nails on bricks. “Does it matter? I can’t take her.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Your voice was cold and detached, outside of yourself.  “Besides, I have plans then anyway.”

A lie, of course. Bold-faced and brazen. But this bitter green monster of jealousy had overtaken the typically rational control of your mind, now spitting out whatever you knew could strike back and defend yourself most effectively. Another lie tumbled from your lips faster than you could think of the ramifications.

“Gojo asked me, so I’m probably gonna go with him.”

Yuki’s eyebrows raised as Sukuna’s eyes frosted over. Their voices sounded at the same time, one of incredulity, another of cold rage.

“What?” “What?”

Yuji and Nobara gaped at you, mouths falling open in shock. “Satoru already asked you?” Yuji pursed his lips while Nobara nodded in approval at the date you’d managed to snag for yourself. 

She leaned over, whispering to Megumi. “See, aren’t you glad we came today? We would’ve missed this.”

You shrugged in hopes you came off as nonchalant as you were trying to be. “Yeah. So. I guess we’ll see you both there.”

A line of electricity tied your and Sukuna’s gazes together as you looked up at him, a thumping, neon green to his blood red. The tendons in his neck were taut, his jaw tight, a vein pulsing on his temple.

Yuki could not contain her laughter as she bellowed out, running her hands down her face in happy disbelief at what you just said. “Oh, my God, I am so unbelievably excited for this weekend, you have no idea.”

“Yeah, me too.” Your voice was clipped, not an ounce of earnestness behind it. “Have fun with your date.”

Sukuna couldn’t even muster up the energy to repeat back your congenial lie. “Yuji. Let’s go.” His tone left no room for arguing; his back was already turned from the crowd of high schoolers watching him retreat.

Yuji pulled his strap over his shoulder, grumbling as he said bye to his friends and you. You muttered a goodbye, turning back to your student’s work as you heard the door open and close, the jingling bell out of place in the tense environment.  

“You fucking liar.” Yuki sneered, poking your shoulder with her pointer finger. “Satoru did not ask you to that party.”

Nobara gasped. “You’re joking!”

Yuki turned to face her, almost as if she had forgotten the rest of the students were there. “Kukisagi, focus on your work.”

Nobara grumbled as she rested her head in her palm. “But this is so much more interesting.”

You were too distracted fumbling through your purse to chastise either Nobara or Yuki, searching for your phone to choke down your pride and text Satoru probably one of the most embarrassing requests of your life.

| Hey. I need a favor. 

| A big, astronomical one.

Gojo’s response was almost immediate. 

| those are my favorite kind

| what’s up?

| I need you to take me to the date party on Friday.

| B AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

| Gojo, I’m serious.

| i know you are, that’s why i’m laughing

| Satoru please

You heard Yuki snort from behind you. “So much for not begging a man to ask.”

| I’m desparate and stupid and lied and I need to you be amazing and do me this huge favor

| you are sick in the head

| do you have plans on wednesday

| why?

| because you’ll need a dress and i’ll need concealer for this black eye your friend is about to give me

|||

You were too many drinks in as you stumbled into the Uber from Yuki’s place, dress too short, heels too high, head too fuzzy, judgment too impaired. You shoved yourself between your date, Satoru, and Yuki in the backseat, Choso in front. Gojo’s long limbs tangled with yours as he shimmied into the seat behind the passenger’s side, your arms interlinked. 

“You okay, angel?” He purred, his voice pitched low. You nodded, too inebriated to respond properly. 

You hadn’t meant to get this drunk. Really, a slight buzz is what you were going for. But the nerves of being around girls who would immediately recognize you as an outsider, on the arms of one of the most eligible men on campus, and seeing your project partner wrapped up with some other girl, combined with Gojo and Yuki’s incessant calls for shot after shot, left your head feeling light and your words slightly slurred. 

Yuki adjusted the shooters she had hidden in her purse and boots and turned to you, eyes glassy. “I’m sooo happy you decided to come!” She pressed her cheek against yours. “We’re gonna have the best time, I promise.”

You smiled weakly. You felt Gojo's hand grip yours and squeeze it gently. You turned to him, his eyes even brighter from the drunk glow. “I’ll be with you all night. It’ll be fine.”

“Thanks again for taking me, even though I forced you to.” 

“Nah, it’s chill. Honestly, it’s nice not to have any pressure to do something after the party.”

“Thanks for the dress, too.” You mumbled, fingers lifting the hem that brushed your thighs. It was nice, much too nice for the night you weren’t fully prepared to have.

Gojo shook his head, brushing off your thanks. “Red looks good on you.”

“Well, I hope it does, since you forced me to get it.” You adjusted the strap that started to slip off your shoulder during the shuffle to get in the backseat. 

As the car lurched forward, you felt your head loll to the side, resting on Gojo’s shoulder. “Am I being dumb?”

“Oh, absolutely. But I am so entertained, so please, continue.”

You stuck out your tongue at his joke. “Oh, whatever.”

“You don’t have to talk to him tonight.”

“I won’t.” 

It was a promise you knew you weren’t going to keep. You knew as soon as you stepped through the double doors of the manor where the party was held. You knew as soon as you heard your heels click across the pristine hardwood floor. You knew when you felt Gojo’s large hand flex against your hip as you entered the foray, the girl's eyes sizing you up as you stepped forward by his side. 

And you knew as soon as you laid eyes on him. 

Sleek, pressed black button-up shirt rolled up his taut forearms, inky bands of black circling the tendons and disappearing underneath the fabric, stretched, but not bursting, over his frame. Nice black slacks, polished shoes, the unmistakable glint of his silver jewelry on his face. 

He looked devastatingly handsome. 

And some other girl had her arm linked with his. 

You felt your heart flutter, and you cursed it for doing so. Gojo looked down at you, following your gaze and tsked. “Stop staring.”

“I’m not staring.”

“I don’t think you’ve blinked since we came in. I’m scared you’ll start drooling.”

You glared at your date. “I’m not drooling. Shut up. Let’s get a drink.”

You refused to make eye contact as you maneuvered through the crowd, heading to the makeshift bar set up in the foyer, ready to pour yourself a drink strong enough to make a sailor sing. But while your eyes adamantly fought to stay off Sukuna’s frame, he let his drunkenly roll over yours. It felt like heat simmered off your skin, and he could feel it radiating from across the room. The straps of the dress were thin, sparkly lines seemingly painted over your collarbones and dipping down the curve of your back. The crimson red fabric kissing the frame of your body, brushing the tops of your thighs, accentuating the curves and contours of your body – he felt starved. 

He swallowed. 

Uraume looked up at him and matched his gaze. Her eyebrow twitched up in recognition of your glasses from the photo on his phone from Halloween. “Let’s go say hi.”

Sukuna’s head tilted down slowly, the alcohol and absurdity of the statement slowing his reaction. “What?”

“To Gojo and his date. Let’s say hi and get a drink.”

“I don’t need a drink.”

“Well, I do.”

He felt his own grip on his cup tighten as he watched Gojo whisper something in your ear. You keeled over in laughter, and he couldn’t tell if the sound was ringing through the hall or just in his ears. 

“Sure. Let’s say hey.”

You felt his approach before you saw him, your body reacting against your will, tensing as his pink hair entered your periphery. You felt a woman’s polished nails brush your arm while the hair on your neck stood up as his figure brushed past yours, his scent following him like a curse. You looked over to the girl who introduced herself as Uraume. You said your name back, words feeling empty as she attempted to make conversation while you were distracted, watching Sukuna roughly pull Gojo away, yearning to hear their exchanged words. 

Sukuna fought the urge to address you, beelining for Gojo, a half-assed attempt to maintain a shred of his dignity. He grabbed Gojo’s forearm, pulling him away from both their dates, his voice strained as he tried to keep himself together. “What are you playing at?”

Satoru took a big swig of his drink, concealing his grin behind the lip of the cup. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Sukuna exhaled, nostrils flaring. “Why’d you ask her?”

Satoru’s eyebrow flew up. “Uh, because you didn’t? Haven’t we sung this song before?”

Sukuna’s blinks felt long and slow as he pulled his thoughts together, words escaping him as he tried to choke down his anger. “You told me I couldn’t. I asked you months ago, and you told me no.”

Satoru’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion before he barked out a laugh. “You were talking about her? Even back then?” He shook his head in disbelief, Sukuna’s confession alluding to how long he’s truly been acting so foolishly. “Since when do you listen to me, anyway?” 

Gojo scoffed before continuing. “I don’t know how many times or in how many different ways we can tell you to stop being dumb, but it’s getting exhausting.” Gojo, despite his level of drunkenness, focused his gaze on Sukuna’s, eyes serious. 

Sukuna couldn’t help the way his eyes dragged over to you again, your figure leaning in to hear Uraume’s words. Gojo’s sharp tongue forced him to look away. 

“You fucked up when you didn’t say anything in the library, and you fucked it up more last weekend. Just do everyone a favor and try not to fuck anything else up tonight.” Gojo walked away from Sukuna, his hand back on your waist, pulling you away from Uraume toward a group congregating near the side of the room, thick cushioned chairs arranged to maximize socialbility.

Sukuna followed, taking his place by Uraume, his voice colder as he swallowed the rest of his drink, at the ready to pour another. “You wanna join them?”

Uraume snorted. “And do what, play Truth or Dare?”

“Beats standing here.”

He felt Uraume’s eyes gloss over his face inquisitively. “Alright. I’ll bite. We can go over there, but we’re gonna get sucked into whatever stupid game our president suggested they’re playing, and I’m not playing by myself.”

A heavy-handed pour later, Sukuna found himself sitting beside his date, you and Gojo across in the circular formation, drinks flowing and laughs chiming through the social circle as Yuki cleared her throat, catching everyone’s attention with a flash of her blonde hair. “Ok, Miss Prez wants us to play a game.”

He felt Uraume roll her eyes and look up to him expectantly, as if to say, “Told you so.” His eyes were still on you as you adjusted the hem of your dress, fighting the urge to show how nervous you were. 

You mumbled, your voice only loud enough for Gojo to hear. “A game? Are we in middle school?”

“Yes, this is a date party.” Gojo teased, nudging you with his shoulder. “Just go with it. It’ll be chill.”

You took another sip of your drink as you listened to the guest go around, a strange, convoluted mix of Truth or Dare, combined with Put a Finger Down and Never Have I Ever, the game at its core reaching into the soul of the player, getting them to confess their most embarrassing moments while keeping the drinks going, sentences getting more slurred by the second. You giggled as Satoru told an elaborate, exaggerated story about getting caught by the father of the girl he was seeing in high school and running out of the house, his pants falling between his legs as he ran down the street.

A girl’s voice chimed out over the laughs from Gojo’s story, calling for a shot for every single body someone had. You grimaced, looking at Satoru. “That would genuinely kill you.”

Gojo chuckled, not denying your statement. “How about, put a finger down for every person you’ve fucked in this room?”

You snorted. “Is that any better? I’m sitting amongst half of your scorned lovers.”

Gojo grinned. “Just trying to catch you up to the rest of us, angel.” He jokingly grabbed your hand, pushing one of your fingers down. “C’mon, don’t be shy. We’ve all done it.”

Despite his fibbing nature, you blushed as the girls cooed around you. “Satoru, stop it.” You shoved him off of you, a smile still on your face. “You wish. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“Yeah? Tell that to him.” Satoru cocked his head forward, and you turned, seeing that Sukuna had excused himself from the circle, already halfway toward the door to step out to the patio area. Gojo sighed. “Such a drama queen.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not being any dumber than the two of you.” Gojo rolled his eyes, taking the drink out of your hand. “Go. Lick his wounds, or whatever else you all do.”

“Satoru!”

“Just go.” He pushed you off him toward the door that Sukuna had just walked out of. “I already know you want to, so go.”

You stumbled forward, wrapping your arms around your front as you glanced over your shoulder back at Gojo, who gestured you forward with his hands, turning back to the group with an ever charming smile on his face, distracting the crowd from your absence, regardless of whether they noticed. 

You pushed the door forward and stepped out into the chilly air, Sukuna’s back toward you as he stood facing the inky, starry night. The sound of the door clicking shut and the click of your heels alerted him to your presence, his head twitching slightly to the left. You stopped as you stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and staring straight ahead. 

Neither of you said anything as you shifted your weight onto the balls of each of your feet. You saw him take a sip from your peripheral vision and cleared your throat, tired of the quiet between you two.

“It’s not true, by the way.”

Silence.

“I haven’t hooked up with Satoru, I mean. He was just, I dunno, teasing, I guess.”

“Right. And why would I care?”

You couldn’t control the scowl that painted your face as you turned to face him. “Stop being a dick. You clearly care.”

“I’m not bein’ a dick. Just don’t know why you’re telling me worthless information.”

“You stormed out in the middle of the game like a child, and you expect me to believe you don’t care?” You spat. “You can’t even look at me.”

It was then that Sukuna’s head whipped down toward you, eyes ignited, silver jewelry glinting. “Trust me, princess, I’ve been looking at you all night.”

The intensity of his gaze made you pause; his eyes locked with yours, deep, stormy red. You breathed in, not to be deterred from your tirade. “You have a date. One you asked out tonight, mind you. And you’re looking at me?”

“We both know she’s not the one I wanted to go with.”

You weren't prepared for Sukuna's attacks back. Ruthless, forward, and honest. Your defenses were down, and you felt like you were scrambling to get your bearings, losing in a game where you didn't even know the rules. You swallowed. “You’re being mean. Stop it.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“No, you’re being mean. You’re drunk. You don’t mean that.”

“You know I do.”

You paused, your breath shuddering as you tried to wrap your head around what he just admitted. But once Sukuna started, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t control anything: his thoughts, his actions, his words around you. You nullified and lit up his senses simultaneously, like some sort of sick dog collar; he was on your leash, and when you pulled, he followed. 

“Why him?”

“Stop. Sukuna, please.”

“Why him?” He repeated, stepping closer to you. His cologne, his scent washed over you, your head dizzy at his proximity and the liquor running through your veins.

“If it bothered you so much, you should’ve asked me.” You couldn’t brace yourself for any more of this conversation turned confessional. His eyes were too earnest, his body too close for you to think straight. You staggered back, turning your body to walk back toward the door when his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and stopping you in your tracks.

“Would you have said yes?”

Your voice cracked. “What?”

“I need to know. If I had asked, would you have said yes?”

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You didn’t even know why you were crying -  maybe it was the muddled emotions finally making themselves known, or the combination of liquor and unresolved weeks of denied tension festering in the pit of your stomach, but you couldn’t keep it in anymore, no matter how hard you tried. 

“Of course I would’ve said yes, you idiot!” You bashed your fists against his chest, not knowing if you were trying to push him away or pull him in. 

It didn’t matter. You didn’t have time to process, or think about what you had said, or what you had wanted, because the next thing you knew, your back was pressed against a pillar, Sukuna’s hands were circling your wrists, and his lips were pressed against yours. 

It wasn’t gentle or slow, but desperate, pleading, as though he tried to push everything he couldn’t say into you through this kiss. You felt your brain short-circuit before jolting into action, your arms going to wrap around his neck, tugging him in, down into you, deepening what you felt you both had been waiting for. His hands dropped immediately, grabbing you by the waist and drawing you flush against his chest. It was like a game of tug of war, his desperate pulls for your bodies to be closer and his hungry kisses pushing you back into the foundation behind you, clawing for more in attempts to steal the very breath from your lungs. 

You gasped into his mouth as his fingers squeezed the skin on your hips, lifting you against the smooth, cool pillar as he wedged his knee between your thighs, devouring your hitched breath like they were nectar. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, as if you could try to pull him any closer, your fingers threaded through the baby hairs on the nape of his neck. You felt his groan rumble in his chest as he inadvertently slid your core against his thigh, his muscles thick and taut beneath the dress pants as his cloying grabs pushed the fabric of your dress higher and higher up your waist. 

“Kuna,” you pleaded, not knowing what you were asking for; stop, keep going, you couldn’t tell. You dragged your hands down his chest, fingers gripping the front in an attempt to ground yourself. Your eyes fluttered shut as he took the opportunity to kiss his way down your neck, nibbling at the sensitive part at the junction of your ear and jaw. “Kuna, please.”

His breath was hot as he pressed his lips against your throat, a small whimper escaping your mouth. “You drive me crazy, y’know that?”

You felt his sharp canines drag against your jugular, and you moaned. “Kuna, I - ”

His lips muttered against your skin. “Tell me what you want, because I want it too. I need to hear you say it.”

You panted, your entire body on fire, senses blazing as you felt his hand trail down under your thigh, pulling your leg up and pushing you impossibly closer. You felt your grip in his hair tighten as you felt him pressing against you, and your mind went blank, too overcome by what was happening. 

“Kuna, I – ”

Your eyes shot open as you heard the back door creak on its hinges, and an inquiring voice calling for the man whose name just fell breathlessly from your lips. You stiffened and pushed him away, swiftly pulling your dress back down and pulling up the strap that had slid off your shoulder, hoping your hair wasn’t too mussed to be obvious what had just transpired. 

Uraume rounded the corner behind the pillar, wide eyes immediately locking in on both your winded states, chests heaving, clothes wrinkled, eyes clouded, both of you clearly still affected by what had happened. Her head cocked to the side as she eyed Sukuna up and down, but his eyes never left yours, guiltily, as if watching for your reaction. You stood frozen, not knowing whether to apologize or wait to be reprimanded, your pupils blown as you watched Sukuna’s date size you both up. 

After moments of agonizing silence, she let out a small huff, shaking her head. “Figures. If you weren’t interested, you should’ve just said that when I asked.” She fiddled with her purse, reaching for something small and metallic, tossing it at Sukuna’s chest. It reflected the moonlight as it sailed toward him, and he caught it in his palm, grimacing as he opened his hand, revealing a watch. You glanced down at it and back up at Uraume.

“You left that at mine last Sunday. Been meaning to return it.” Her tone wasn’t cold or menacing or vindictive, just tactical and honest as she crossed her arms, eyes hard as they flicked back and forth between you two. “Guess we both look dumb now, don’t we?”

You couldn’t tell if her last comment was directed at you or him as she walked off, her heels sharp against the paved ground. You felt Sukuna’s eyes on you, but you couldn’t see anything as your vision began to blur, the timelines merging in your head as you fought the sob that threatened to wrack your body. 

Last Sunday, he was with her. Last Sunday, the day after you were sick, when he had come over, caring, or pretending to, as sickness wracked your body. Last Saturday, when you fell asleep, his warm, velvet eyes were the last thing you saw before fatigue took over. Last Saturday, when you all talked on the phone for hours about nothing, his voice was comforting you like the blankets you shrouded yourself in all weekend. Last weekend, when you could finally admit to yourself that what was between you, this pseudo-friendship, meant much more than you had ever intended it to, while clearly it meant nothing to him at all. 

Sukuna whispered your name, his voice hoarse. “Wait.”

You pushed yourself off the pillar, turning your face away so he couldn’t see how easily he broke you apart. 

You knew. Deep down, you knew. You couldn’t believe you had fallen for something so truly simple, so stupid, so archaic and ancient a story it had been told time and time again. You couldn’t stand to think of the pitying looks and knowing glances those girls would give you as you walked inside, your eyes red, mascara running, and chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Played again by the infamous player. A silly, stupid girl, another victim of charm and deceit. You wished you could laugh instead of crying. 

“Fuck you.” You bit out, eyes squinted as you willed the tears away. You whipped around, stalking toward the door Uraume had just exited from. 

“Wait, stop.” Sukuna’s voice ground out as he reached for you again, but this time, you had the sense to pull away.

“Don’t touch me!” You hissed, ripping your arm out of his grip.

“Just – listen to me, I can explain.”

“I don’t want you to explain anything!” You shouted, practically hysterical, before you remembered yourself. You shuddered as you took a breath, attempting to ground yourself amidst the fury you felt. “You’re a liar.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me.” You pointed a manicured finger at his chest, and his lips pressed into a thin line as you continued. “You pretended to care about me when you don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself.” You angrily swiped at the wetness on your cheeks, embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state. “I cannot believe I let myself think for one second you could actually – ” you shook your head, laughing at the idea you couldn’t even begin to let out. You stoned your face, wrapping yourself in steel armor, putting the guards back up that you should have never let down. 

He took another step forward as you stepped back again. You tried to ignore the wounded look that crossed over his face.

“You’re exactly what everyone says you are.” You whispered out, your words like needles driving into his skin.

He shook his head. “Don’t say that.”

“Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that. It’s not true. Please. Listen to me.”

“Sukuna, don’t.” You brought your hand up, palms facing him as you continued to back away. “Just leave me alone.”

You turned away from him, walking through the rest of the party looking for a familiar face to let them know you were leaving. Gaggles of girls and their dates passed in front of you like a maze, and you stumbled through blindly, searching for any sense of cognizance. You wiped away another stray tear as you walked into a body, mumbling out an apology over your shoulder. 

You felt a pair of hands wrap around your arms, and you looked up, Satoru’s blue eyes concerned as he studied your face. You hoped you didn’t look as pathetic as you felt as his thumb brushed your cheek, wiping away another tear. 

Gojo sucked his teeth. “I’m sorry, angel.”

“Did you know?”

His eyes didn’t turn from yours. “He should have stayed away from you. You’re too good for him.”

You winced, leaning forward, pressing your forehead against Gojo’s chest. “I’m such an idiot.”

Gojo pulled you closer, his hand gingerly holding the back of your head. “You’re not an idiot. He’s the idiot, I promise.” You felt Gojo pull away as you sniffled. “You wanna get outta here?”

“I don’t wanna cause a scene,” you mumbled. 

“Too late for that.” Gojo joked, rubbing the sides of your arms, chilled from the night air. “Wanna get some ice cream? It’s getting lame here anyway.”

You nodded, too tired to do anything else, as Satoru quickly and diplomatically said goodbyes, making their way outside, waiting for the hailed car to arrive. Gojo sat down on the porch steps outside the manor, and gently laid his jacket on the ground, allowing you to sit down and rest your body weight against him as your head hung on his shoulder. 

“What flavor are you gonna get?” Gojo asked, a feeble attempt to get your mind off what had just happened. He laced his fingers with yours as he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I definitely want something sweet, like strawberry.”

You sniffed, trying to stabilize your wavering voice. “Nothing too sweet. Maybe a coffee flavour, or something.”

Gojo grimaced. “Gross. Don’t get that. Then I can’t have any.”

You turned to him, eyelids heavy. “Why not?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I hate coffee. Can’t stand the taste.”

You blinked. “What?”

Gojo rolled his eyes. “I know, everyone thinks I’m crazy. But it’s too bitter, no matter how much sugar they put into it. Can’t stand the stuff.”

“You…don’t drink lattes? At all?”

“I’ll chug a Red Bull before I ever fix my mouth to order a latte.” Gojo stuck his tongue out, faux gagging. “So please, get another flavor so I can steal some.”

You tuned out Gojo’s prattling on about flavors, your eyes vacant as the memory of hazelnut and vanilla filled your senses. 

You felt another tear, traitorously, roll down your cheek. 

taglist (open!) : @timelylovergirl @ninnamanzo @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen @amourarchive @minasuniverse @chimichangagirl @hannahzg8 @toytears @heartcandyslxt @dovewhisper @thejujvtsupost @feliaeae @hereforchifuyu @weirdnewbie @yummidumplingss @kur0mii3 @zeeseekay @haazelnuutloover @x-evieee-x @bonesbooksbelladonna @mimicryyyy @un-requ1ted @sevloraa @sukubusss @otherworldlymythharmony @ckilhj @winkii @ryosphere @keeperofhearts1 @fluerful @man1cslut @piercddprincess @sleepypandabea @idiotsandwich33

a/n: please put down the pitchforks!! i promise this is the worst it gets!! there is romance to come!! trust me the next couple chapters feature pining and groveling sukuna and it will be delicious. also shoutout to y'all for commenting on this bc istg it truly motivates me to finish this story lol, which i will do!! much love <333

© 2026 mackhiato. All work belongs to @mackhiato. AI training is NOT authorized. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

[naomiiocha]

Gojo commission I did recently, had to put pants on him for this post booo 👎

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

FRATBOY!SUKUNA and his pathetic crush on NERDYY!READER ༊*·˚

⋆˙⟡ fratboy!sukuna has a big, pathetic crush on you. and for a guy who could usually bag any chick he wanted, the shy nerdy girl in his business class made him unusually nervous. (suggestive, fluff, ooc) ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 || WC: 3.8k || AC: @/to00fu @/winterrbluess

FRATBOY!SUKUNA failing business studies. not “haha barely scraping by” failing, no. he’s an actual, genuine academic failure. attendance’s shit. notes? most people didn’t know the idiot could write. the only thing the 6’5 hunk of a man was consistent with was showing up ten minutes late, sitting in the back with his equally as stupid friends, causing a ruckus, and longingly staring at you, the pretty, nerdy girl who sits up front and scores top of the class almost every term.

on the very last assessment FRATBOY!SUKUNA submitted, he got a twenty. not a sixty, not a forty, hell, not even a thirty. a twenty. you, on the other hand? a perfect hundred. it pissed him off. and not because he was jealous, but because he knew that if he weren’t such a pussy when it came to you, he’d be able to pluck up the courage to ask you for some help.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA keeps telling himself he’s gonna talk to you today and loiters outside the lecture hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and acting as if he’s just waiting on his boys, but really? he’s watching you through the glass door like a fucking creep. he watches you sitting there so engaged and decides now is his time, mutters a quick “fuck it” under his breath, then immediately backs out when someone walks past him and makes eye contact.

yeah. maybe tomorrow.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA talks a big game at the frat. he’s flopped out on the couch with one bulky arm thrown over the back and a beer in hand, running his mouth about you. “she’s into me, i just know it,” he nods. his friends have seen firsthand how nervous he gets around you, and inevitably start shitting on him.

“yeah? then talk to her you fucking pussy.” toji bellows, earning chuckles from the other drunken brothers.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA forgets entire conversations in the middle of his sentences when he catches a glimpse of you moving around in your seat in the front. his friends are nudging him, asking if he’s even listening, and he just grunts with those red eyes still locked on you.

“yeah, no. sounds good.”

“the fuck? i asked what we’re doing after class.”

“yeah, no. that’s fine.”

most of his mates give up at that point.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA finally sits next to you one day. shit, he doesn’t even really process walking down to the front row. one second he’s in the back, the next he’s plopping into the seat beside you like it’s nothing. obviously not thinking about it was the method, since overthinking only made him more nervous every other time he’d tried. you look up at him with a cute little confused expression, and he feels the rush of the blush hit him all at once, the fact that you’re right there, close enough to touch. he clears his throat and leans back trying to act like he’s totally normal about you.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA tries to make some easy small talk but immediately fumbles the bag. he taps his pen against the desk, glancing at your notes inquisitively.

“you always write this much? fuck.” he asks with a nervous laugh, like he’s not hanging on your answer.

you look at him a bit startled that not only was he still sitting there, but he was also talking to you. you nod, starting to explain the topic in that quiet voice of yours. he listens with open ears, your speech like gospel, the tone of your voice now engrained in his mind. he’s never been lucky enough to hear your voice before, but as of now it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA tries to keep up the conversation, but now he has a million things to worry about. does he look okay? is there potentially something in his teeth? fuck, what did he have for breakfast? but most of all, he can’t stop gawking at you, you’re way prettier up close. he keeps clocking the way your eyes flutter down when he looks at you too long. you smile shyly when he thanks you for explaining something, and the way you had your notes set out really impressed him. everything about you felt all but too overwhelming, he wasn’t sure if he could keep this up any longer without throwing up from the nerves.

nevertheless, FRATBOY!SUKUNA tries with all he is to keep you on the hook. “you’re such a clever girl, you ever… study somewhere else? like, not here?” he asks awkwardly in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. you blink at him, then mention a café you like to visit on occasion. he jumps at the opportunity and nods too fast, “we could go, like, together. or whatever. maybe.” real smooth, ryomen.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA then asks for your number all nonchalant. he slides his phone across the desk toward you, trying to keep his face nice and neutral and not dusted with pink. “y’should put your number in,” he says with a smirk, masking the goofy smile he wants to let out. “so we can arrange n’ shit.” you hesitate for sec, then take it, typing your number in with a small pull to your lips. he watches your fingers, not even pretending to look away. when you hand it back, he feels very weirdly proud, like he just won the golden lotto.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA walks into the frat that night with a fat grin on his dumb face. he kicks the door open loudly, calling out to everyone, “oi, guess who got her number.” the boys present in the house erupt with sarcastic cheers and praise, and gojo stalks up to him and pats him on the back.

“m’ gonna be honest i didn’t think your dumb, loser, good for nothing ass would ever-”

“shut the fuck up.”

FRATBOY!SUKUNA, after all the commotion of the evening settles, is back in his room alone. to be honest, he’s kinda stressing over whether to send you a message or not. i mean, he really, really wants to, but what if you think he’s a loser for texting you not even five hours after meeting?

he's sprawled back on his bed, phone in hand, your contact open on his screen. he’s been staring at it for a good five minutes and decides that he’s just gonna bite the bullet and stop being a pussy.

sukuna [9:42pm]: yo, its sukuna

sukuna [9:42pm]: from class today

you [9:43pm]: i know who you are 😭

sukuna [9:43pm]: okay damn

sukuna [9:43pm]: i'm glad you said yes to going out

you [9:44pm]: oh? i didn’t know it was like that

sukuna [9:44pm]: like what

you [9:45pm]: like a date..?

he pauses with his thumb hovering over the screen, staring at your message a second too long with an increasingly reddening face before typing again.

sukuna [9:46pm]: depends

sukuna [9:46pm]: you want it to be a date?

you [9:47pm]: mmm

you [9:47pm]: do you?

sukuna [9:48pm]: wouldn’t have asked if i didn’t

you [9:49pm]: i seee

you [9:49pm]: first date... kinda nervous...

sukuna [9:49pm]: oh wow, your first one? i'll make it good, promise.

there’s a small bit of time, then three dots that come and go about three times.

you [9:50pm]: why did you even ask me

you [9:50pm]: you’ve never talked to me before? 😭

sukuna [9:51pm]: been looking at you for a while icl

sukuna [9:51pm]: just never did anything about it till now

you [9:52pm]: oh i see

you [9:52pm]: why me?

sukuna [9:53pm]: don’t know

sukuna [9:53pm]: you’re quiet but not in a boring way

sukuna [9:53pm]: you actually know what you’re doing in class

sukuna [9:54pm]: kinda into that

you [9:54pm]: kinda?

sukuna [9:55pm]: mkay

sukuna [9:55pm]: very

you [9:55pm]: ahh

sukuna [9:56pm]: what

sukuna [9:56pm]: you asked

you [9:56pm]: i didn’t think you’d give me a legitimate answer

sukuna [9:57pm]: i don’t lie about that stuff

...

sukuna [9:58pm]: you got insta?

you [9:58pm]: mhmm

sukuna [9:59pm]: send it overr

you [9:59pm]: wow ure bossy

sukuna [10:00pm]: sorry sorry

sukuna [10:00pm]: please send me your instagram?

he doesn’t know it, but you too are smiling sweetly at the messages.

you [10:01pm]: okay okay it’s @/y/n

sukuna [10:01pm]: got it

a second later.

sukuna [10:01pm]: followed

you [10:02pm]: i see it

you [10:02pm]: don’t stalk too hard

sukuna [10:03pm]: no promises

you [10:03pm]: 💔💔

sukuna [10:04pm]: i’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?

sukuna [10:04pm]: we’ll figure out when to go

you [10:05pm]: okay :)

sukuna [10:05pm]: night sweetheart

you [10:05pm]: goodnight sukuna

FRATBOY!SUKUNA immediately stalks your instagram. his phone’s now mere inches from his face as he scrolls slowly. every single photo gets a long, long look. there’s ones of you in cafés, you with your friends, you smiling up at the camera like you don’t know how good you look. he zooms in on stupid details, your pretty little outfits, your coffee order in one pic, the way you pose so sweetly. god, why did you have to be cool and cute? the swag gap was getting bigger.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA can’t stop thinking about you in the lead up to your little date. he gets a haircut and tells his barber to make him look ‘sexy as fuck,’ makes sure to go to the gym the morning of your little date so he has a nice pump, and takes the time the night before to lay out a nicely curated fit. (he couldn’t let you fit mog him on the first date, but by the looks of your instagram, that seemed highly likely.)

“nanami! c'mere.” he yells down the hall an hour before what might have been the single most important outing of his life.

“what?”

“do i look good?”

nanami rolls his eyes and begins to leave, not in the mood for sukuna’s little ego boost shenanigans.

“wait! no, no. m’ serious. i’ve got a date with that girl i told you about.”

this piques the blonde’s interest, and he takes the time to actually look his friend up and down. he smiles at the air of nervousness he can sense and pats the tatted man on the shoulder.

“you look ‘sexy as fuck’, ryo.”

FRATBOY!SUKUNA 's at that cafe a full twenty minutes before you'd planned. first date nerves, or whatever. he’s picked a booth that's tucked away and ordered the coffee he’d remembered from your instagram to arrive at the table in time for when you were supposed to get there. and when you do get there, the man has to say a prayer and thank his lucky stars that he’d worked up the courage to ask you out, because holy shit, you looked perfect. (swag gap, definitely still there.)

after standing up far too abruptly, he apologises to the chair he’d almost toppled over then walks up to you, a bashful smile on his face.

“yo, you look real pretty.” he mentally slaps himself for how gojo that sounded, but it was the most prominent thought up in his head.

“oh... thank you.” you reply softly, toying with the fabric of your shirt and avoiding his eyes with a flush.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA thinks he might just implode with cuteness aggression. that easy tone from your texts was gone, left with your careful, slightly anxious voice. he was gonna change that.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA talks your ear off in an attempt to ease both yours and his nerves, but just ends up totally fumbling every single sentence.

“so... d’you go to the gym? i mean, not that you need to. i do. even went this morning to get a good pump for you, could ya tell?”

“oh, you like mitski? that’s cool, that’s cool. i like druski, they kinda sound the same.”

“your hair looks real nice, does mine? i got a haircut for this by the way, needa look good for you.”

FRATBOY!SUKUNA thinks he’s totally fucked this up by now. but when he’s done rambling and winces to look back at you to see how you’re taking his horribly embarrassing monologue, you’re staring up at him with a fond smile, and he softens up and relaxes.

“do i.. make you nervous, sukuna?” you tease.

that starts the ice breaker conversation that kicks off the next three hours of non. stop. talking.

you two discuss everything and anything there is to discuss, you take turns telling each other what your favourite such and suchs are, and most importantly, the awkwardness from before is nowhere to be seen, you were meshing well.

in the final moments of the stellar date he’s almost sure he dreamt up, FRATBOY!SUKUNA sits and stares at you for a second. you're all smiley from talking, looking down at your mug, swirling the liquid in your cup, and both you and the cozy cafe background look so pretty. so, he snaps a picture.

“ah! did you just-”

“sorry, sorry. you just looked really good.” he flips the phone to show you, and it might’ve been the nicest candid anyone’s ever taken of you. “i can delete it if you want, just thought it’d match the vibe you’ve got goin on on your instagr-”

“please send that to me.” you interrupt, staring in awe at the photo.

the man just smiles, loving the way you perk up. “i’ll do you one better.”

and just like that, that photo is sitting on his story, your handle tagged at the bottom with a white heart.

you felt like crying, he had to be really down bad to be posting you this early on, but you weren’t complaining.

that night, FRATBOY!SUKUNA's phone explodes with countless dm's asking him about the cute girl in his new story. friends, friends of friends, friends of friends of friends, old flings, recent flings, his mum, everyone. he ignores them, though, silencing his instagram notifications. he had better things to do, like text you.

sukuna [11:12pm]: that was the best date i’ve ever been on

you [11:13pm]: you’re so right actually

sukuna [11:13pm]: nh i’m so serious

sukuna [11:14pm]: like

sukuna [11:14pm]: i was lowkey stressing all day for that icl

sukuna [11:15pm]: but i had a really good time

sukuna [11:15pm]: so thanks for saying yes to coming

you [11:16pm]: that’s freaking cute omg 😭

you [11:16pm]: i also had a lot of funnnn!!

you [11:17pm]: i liked hearing you talk about your interests and such

you [11:17pm]: you’ve got a lot of unexpected interests, i love it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

well i love you... too early? yeah, maybe.

sukuna [11:18pm]: unexpected is crazy

sukuna [11:18pm]: how fratty do u think i am

you [11:19pm]: nooo that's not it, shuddup

you [11:19pm]: it was really nice

sukuna [11:20pm]: well you’re nice

sukuna [11:20pm]: and you dress nice

sukuna [11:20pm]: actually

sukuna [11:21pm]: you dress really nice

sukuna [11:21pm]: i noticed that straight away

sukuna [11:21pm]: you’ve got like

sukuna [11:22pm]: a really cool thing going on im kinda jealous

sukuna [11:22pm]: don’t know how to explain it

sukuna [11:22pm]: but yeah

you [11:23pm]: oh my gosh thank you so much

you [11:23pm]: thank you thank you thank you

you [11:23pm]: i try so hard, its good to have a little recognition 💪

sukuna [11:24pm]: nah you don’t even try

sukuna [11:24pm]: that’s the annoying part istg

sukuna [11:24pm]: you just look like that

you [11:25pm]: oh my gosh

you [11:25pm]: stop i will cry

sukuna [11:25pm]: i’m being so serious

sukuna [11:26pm]: you gotta help me dress better or something

sukuna [11:26pm]: i can’t be showing up next to you looking stupid

you [11:27pm]: you don’t look stupid!

you [11:27pm]: your outfits are always nice ive thought that for ages, even before we talked

you [11:27pm]: you don’t need my help

sukuna [11:28pm]: i do actually

sukuna [11:28pm]: c'mon i’m asking nicely

you [11:29pm]: mm

you [11:29pm]: i mean

you [11:29pm]: i could help you

sukuna [11:30pm]: yeah?

you [11:30pm]: help you get undressed LOLLL

FRATBOY!SUKUNA's never felt his cock throb as hard as it just did. girls have sent him videos with sound and he's never popped a boner that quick. one, flirty message from you and boom, rock hard erection in the span of ten seconds. he has to take a breath, throw his phone away, and look up at his ceiling for a good five minutes to calm down.

sukuna [11:37pm]: lol you want me bad

you [11:38pm]: first time flirting... kinda nervous...

FRATBOY!SUKUNA comes to class, he completely ignores his friends and plops down next to you with your coffee in hand. his boys boo him later for it and call him a love-struck loser, but he just tells them to shut up, and doesn’t move back.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA starts bringing his school shit to class. notebooks, even pens that actually have ink in them. he leans over your notes more than his own, asking questions under his breath and nudging your arm when he misses something the prof says. you start expecting him now, shuffling your stuff to the side to make space before he even sits down.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA follows you to the library one afternoon when you mention you’re heading there to study. he just blurts, “i’ll come,” and boom, study partner. he hates the place, it’s far too quiet for him, but he sits across from you anyway with his long legs stretched out under the table, trying his best not to get bored. and to his surprise, he doesn’t. he watches you all pretty and focused, and it makes his heart thump with affection, that cute way you tap your pen when you’re thinking and how you push your hair back when it falls forward. he ends up actually doing some work. not great work, but still.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA starts making it a routine centered around you. go to class, then the library, then drive you home. every day. you mention that you could just take the bus once, but he cuts you off with a foul look. “don’t be stupid, i’ve got a whole ass car,” he says it flippantly and yet, he’s grabbing your bag for you, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing. the drives get longer each time, and it’s not because of traffic, but because he takes the long way on purpose. he plays music he knows you like, the windows are cracked, and you end up talking about everything. he definitely doesn’t rush to drop you off, no. petrol was expensive, but you were worth every cent.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA’s smoking up on the porch with choso one night when he gets a ping from you and fumbles to answer it.

choso watches with a tired smile and chuckles, “grown ass man,” choso mutters, nudging him with his foot.

sukuna scoffs weakly. “shut up.”

“you’re so into her.”

“really?” sukuna rolls his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “i am. like… a lot.” he sighs. “she’s not like anyone i’ve messed with before. i just... i adore that girl.”

choso hums in acknowledgment.

“i think she’s a real keeper,” sukuna adds. “it’s just... never had something like this before.”

“like... a girlfriend?”

“mhm.”

“the fuck?”

FRATBOY!SUKUNA rolls his eyes again and explains, “dunno, just never really felt a connection with anyone like that before. her, though? fuck me....” he blows smoke into the starry sky, thinking a little longer before adding, “scared i’m gonna fuck it up.”

choso takes a second before answering, calm as ever. “just don’t overthink it, yeah? be yourself, you’re already doing fine. treat her right, that’s all there is to it.”

sukuna lets that sit, nods slowly. “yeah.” he glances over, bumps his shoulder into him. “thanks.”

FRATBOY!SUKUNA takes that advice and runs with it. he starts asking you out more, not just study sessions, but actual plans. food after class, quick stops at random places he thinks you’d like, late night drives just because you both feel like talking together. he pays every time without making it a big deal, just taps his card and moves on. he remembers little things you mention and brings them up later, making your head dizzy with adoration.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA gets closer to asking you the big question every single time he drops you off. it sits right there on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down at the last second. not yet... he wants it to be just right. he wants you to look at him like you already do, just a little more.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA drives you home one afternoon after a particularly long sesh in the library. the sky’s turning shades of red and orange, that late golden kind of light. you slide into his car, smiling, and he just stares for a second before shaking himself out of the daze. “you hungry?” he asks, already starting up the engine.

“i meannnn,”

he smiles at your cheek and takes you to your favourite drive thru without needing any directions.

“you remember my favourite place?” you ask.

he shrugs. “yeah. you talk a lot.”

you talk a lot now, at least.

you laugh, and he thinks he’d come here single every day if it meant hearing that beautiful sound.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA doesn’t head straight to your place after, he drives up this hill just outside town and parks facing the blooming horizon. it’s pretty, you even comment that it’s pretty, but when you look to him to see if he’s agreed, he’s looking at you instead.

“hm, what’s up?” you query.

he exhales like he’s been holding it in all day, then he turns his whole body to you, one muscular arm resting on the wheel.

“i wanna be your boyfriend,” he says. there’s no joke or some inside gag you didn’t know about, no. he’s being one hundred percent honest and you can tell by the way he’s looking you dead set in the eye.

“genuinely. i want that. really fucking bad.”

although you’re terribly caught off guard, you still smile, looking up at the man who’s staring at you so utterly in love.

“yeah? well i’d really like that,” you reply.

FRATBOY!SUKUNA lets out a breath and a laugh of relief. his shoulders drop, the harsh tension easing up, and there’s this small, disbelieving smile pulling at his mouth.

by now you’re both just cheesing at one another, laughing in short bursts and looking away shyly. but when your eyes lock again, you can’t ignore the pull that drags you close.

closer, and closer, until your eyes are shut and his lips are pressing ever so gently to yours.

the sunsets in it's last phase, the red and pinks painting the car in a deep, warm ambiance. he pulls back, then cups your cheek softly.

“you’re my girlfriend now, yeah?”

“yes, ryo. m' all yours.”

“first girlfriend.. kinda nervous...”

“we hang out too much.” you giggle, and he kisses you again.

"that's a problem i always wanna have."

a/n: i missed writing this dumb stupid guy

© 2026 sixxels. All work belongs to @sixxels Do NOT repost, modify, translate to another language, or plagiarise in any way on ANY platform.

[tonycries]

Lady & The Sick Man - T.F.

Synopsis. Most people would run away from the ghost in their shabby new apartment, Toji Fushiguro makes you lose your mind.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Lady K!reader, Lady K & The Sick Man AU, roommates-to-Iovers, sIeazy Toji, he cooks for you, male mast., face-sítting (fem rec.), Toji’s DOWN BAD, pússydrúnk Toji, dry húmping, matíng presses, he’s BIG, tummy buIges, pushing down on it, MARATHONS, bréeding, spítting, dúmbifícation, fíngering, cúmplay, making him whímper, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 11.1k

A/N. Babygirls, I WILL cry if this doesn’t post-

All in all, it wasn’t the most awful place, considering the dirt-cheap price.

Toji certainly could’ve done worse for himself after being sacked from his job - some nonsense about recessions and workforce reduction, go figure - and racking up a mountain of arrears on his last home. 

Sure, a few questionable mildew stains here, and perhaps a broken floorboard there. But this unverified property wasn’t completely run-down; at the very least it had running water, a dingy kitchen, tolerable enough neighbors, and…

…you.

It was only a few hours after moving into his new apartment that Toji understood exactly why the rent was cheap enough even for him. Exactly why the jittery landlord was oh-so-insistent on signing the contract right away. And exactly why he’d kept looking over his shoulder all throughout their rushed “tour” - as if dreading for something to pop out of thin air any second now.

Like a pretty lil’ poltergeist haunting the closet inside his bedroom.

Toji sighs out a clammy breath at his glaring phone screen, thumb brushing over the twentieth interview rejection this week. 

Honestly, with his recent lack of employment success and the sheer amount of boxes he had to unpack, a ghost seemed like the last of his worries. 

It wasn’t as if he really wanted to do something about his unsolicited roommate in the first place - not that he had the funds to move again, anyway - because from what little he’d seen of you since moving in today, you were harmless. 

And…fucking hot. 

Startling out a disbelieving huff of laughter, Toji empties out a boiling hot kettle over two matching cups of instant ramen. The bubbling red sauce molten and simmering to the surface exactly in time with the traitorous flush over his ears.

Almost hunched-over in his snug kitchen, he could visualize it from glimpses already— that skin-tight dress of yours, so thin it looked see-through, always peering at him from corners with those confused, gorgeous eyes. 

Like he’s sure you were doing right now.

“D’you want the spicy or the extra-spicy noodles, doll–?” Toji’s crooning out somewhere behind his back, lazy drawl laced with a titter of sheer amusement as he hears your shocked squeak. Followed shortly by the urgent thud-thud-thud of you surely running back to the safe haven of your - his - bedroom. Calling out, “Oi! S’not that bad.”

Turning back, he warily eyes the soils of chemicals swimming around inside the mouth-watering concoction that’d become his dinner every night since getting fired.

Well, Toji’s bored, mossy eyes flit questioningly from the tower of instant ramen stocked up on his kitchen counter to the shadows where you’d disappeared. If even a dead person wouldn’t eat those then…

And it hurt - ah, did it hurt for him to grab a handful of the ones he’d begrudgingly acknowledged were extra awful for your insides. Big, beefy hands shovelling them down his waste bin with a pained grunt-

Wait- did said dead people even eat? He has no idea, and yet carries both scalding hot cups to the room he’d become quickly accustomed to. Even despite his afterlife accomplice. 

“Yoohoo, pretty lady~ I got somethin’ for ya.” He’s cooing as he enters, husky bass dipping into something softer. Smoother. 

With a humming gruff, he seats himself down on the scratchy tatami floor. Surrounded by so many boxes upon boxes to be sorted through, quirked gaze locked firmly on the shut sliding doors of the closet. That papery wall just opposite him was so flimsy that he could almost see you watching from behind it, waiting. 

And Toji waits, too.

He waits until his senses get used to the slightly damp, willowy scent of the four walls. 

He waits until his ears grow strained n’ tired from yearning for but a single sound that you were still there with him. 

He waits until he’d finished both savory, now-lukewarm cups - in his defense, job-searching and trying to make nice with your resident ghoul will really work up an appetite, alright?

Letting off yet another exhausted gust of air, Toji’s just about to throw his hands in defeat and dispose of the remnants of his dinner - perhaps even try and forget about this entire ordeal altogether. Briefly-unused joints creaking as he stands up, he’s shaking his head free of you when his eyes land on something.

Actually, more someone. 

That raunchily flashy cover of one of his favorite porn DVDs, propped right on top of one open box, the actress in it smiles brightly in a sheer white dress that reminded him too much of yours. 

He gulps– if he remembered correctly, it was about some foreign exchange student that seduced her nervous roommate and- Toji’s lids crack wider, the sleaziest of leers plastering allll across his face. Well, hey…

SLAM!

The cozy closet trembles with both surprise and poor woodworking as Toji all but crashes it open, making quick work of fitting himself inside the stifling airway and propping open the hidden attic doorway homed on the ceiling. The only place he would expect a ghost to disappear off to.

Shit, you think he looked so unfairly handsome like this.

Cottony black fabric of his sweater hanging off of his every bulging muscle, heavy eyelids half-hiding away that glinting stare. Devouring. 

One meaty palm pushing the rickety door upwards, his grin is vulgar as his sights land on your crouched figure. Rasping, “Hey there.” The heated gasps of his words barely hit your face before Toji’s other hand- oh, his other hand shoots up in a split-second to curl sternly around your neck. 

Tight. 

Before you know it, you’re letting yourself be pulled into a filthy, filthy kiss. 

Fuck- Toji’s honed canines snag against the cute plush of your wobbly bottom lip and make you sing out the prettiest whine. Biting back a groan himself when the spit-filled crevice of your mouth parts way to let him squeeze his tongue in - making you suck.

You tasted like the most syrupily cloying candy and, hell, Toji wasn’t one for sweets but now he wanted more. 

More more more. 

The doughy mounds of his sensory tips itch out bruises right near where your pulse was thundering, he’s flexing his strong arms and reeling you in even closer. So soft and warm; you were practically melting into every swipe of his mushy tastebuds, and he was drinking you in like a man dying of thirst.

Straightening his towering height even more into the attic, it was like he was burning. Bright, boiling red. A rugged palm gliding to your beautiful nape and pushing-

Every breath. Every whine. Every slippery dollop of spit that dribbled out of your unfastened maw and straight into his watering mouth. 

Toji was a damn sloppy man - and he was just as cocky, too. Feeling your nose nuzzle against his cheek in an effort to get him to kiss you deeper, he’s parting one bleary eyelid just a fraction to envision the full force of his effect on you. 

Trembling and impatient. How cute.

One dark brow raises at the way your lashes were so close and clumped with great glittering droplets of tears. Sliiiiding just away to take in the way your thighs were squeezing–

“Hck!” You’re breaking off from the lecherous French kiss with a sappy pwah! delicate strings of spittle, still dangling from each of your lips as Toji drunkenly chases after your mouth.

Feeling his gawking on you, your hand shoves shyly between your legs. And the other shoves him right out of the opening of the attic, as if you weren’t raw putty in his palms just mere sultry seconds ago. 

Fuck. 

Toji finds himself thrown back onto the wooden closet floor, marvelling at the thunderous crash of you locking yourself back away - and yet he still can’t fully compute it all. 

A calloused palm comes up to cover the lower half of his face, mind whirling over and over with the burning memory, and before long he’s realizing that he’s let his kiss-swollen lips leak with a thin trail of drool. Him. Drooling. 

Even more once he’s thinking of it again - the way you were sooo fucking wet, just from a kiss. 

“What….the…f-fuck.” Toji mutters to himself, stare latched dazedly to the closed wooden surface of the attic as if just willing it to somehow open once more. Toned thighs making to leave and-

Oh.

It’s right then and there that the man looks down at the hardest fucking boner he’s ever gotten in his entire life, wet n’ achingly swollen. Almost as if his prolonged length was about to break through his sweatpants right this very second-

“Dammit.”

.

.

.

Back at Toji Fushiguro’s last place, there’d been no one but himself to keep him company.

Which wasn’t necessarily bad - he’d still had his instant ramen (almost all of it now thrown away because of…health reasons), his vast porn collection (given away to a few friends, no use keeping something he couldn’t watch with you around), and occasional small talk with his neighbors (his current ones seemed to avoid him for whatever reason.)

Right now, it was just him. And-

“You know, I hear these new microwave meals are supposed ta be killer, pretty lady.” 

“Ahh–!”

“Oh- sorry. S’that too insensitive?” Toji snickers out, sounding not even an ounce apologetic as he catches the cute frill of your ghoul-like dress disappearing behind the corner of the grim kitchen wall. 

It was about as much of a conversation as he’d managed to coax out of you in the week you’d started cohabitating.

A week of letting you squeak and ogle at him from the shadows as you pleased, a week of trying his very best not to show off the puffing bulge of his muscles whenever he worked out unabashedly in front of you. A week since…that kiss.

“How rude.” He’s scoffing, though the curling twitch of his lips says otherwise. Eyes still honed on the way the very crown of your head just spies out from the corner. Cute. 

Seating himself on the creaky kitchen table, Toji places the second microwave dinner right opposite him and pretends not to notice as you pad a few tentative steps forwards. Picking idly at the soggy rice on his plate, he feels the bottom of his stomach twist with something strangely akin to delight.

Closer. And closer. 

You’re peaking curiously over at the clouds of steaming tendrils that waft off of the food, catching a whiff and- nose crinkling in disgust, you scamper away before Toji can even feel disappointed. 

“Yuck.”

Grumbling, “Now that was really rude.”

Well, he really didn’t know why he was so intent on befriending the cute lil’ ghost that lived in his closet attic. And he really didn’t know why he found himself trudging over to that tiny nook tucked away in his bedroom later that night, full of a microwave dinner he certainly won’t be buying again.

Blankets and flattened pillow in hand, Toji’s eyes rover for any sign of you - any. 

But, alas, as most things tend to do, it doesn’t exactly go the way he hoped.

“Hmm– no sign of her.” He murmurs underneath his breath, uncertain hands setting his impromptu bed down on the closet floor. Volume lilting just a few pitches louder in emphasis, “Guess I’ll go to sleep then.” Higher - and so does his head up into the looming darkness where you were sure to be. Slithering underneath the warm covers, “This is me now. Sleeping.”

And Toji doesn’t exactly have to pretend to fall asleep - not quite. 

Long lashes shuttering; the net of slumber casts down on him sluggishly - it’s not long before his chest grows heavier, breaths more staggered, and a heated body settles into his bed.

You. 

“Ya came back for more, huh?” His softly musing groan strikes the back of your neck like a scorching breeze, skittering such delicious goosebumps all over your body and all underneath that useless piece of cloth you called a dress. 

Making him wonder where else…

Plump, puckered lips hit the side of your throat and you shiver– hips gyrating back in a lewd figure eight to where Toji was spooning you now. 

He was so big, in every sense of the word. Chiseled washboard abs gently caressing down your arched spine in a repeated back n’ forth, every ridge massages you depravedly, the plush pillows of his pecs cushioning your back. 

When Toji’s broad arms wrap snugly around your body, so do his meaty thighs pinning you to him. Instantaneously, your head tumbles backwards with a stuttered gasp, “Please.”

And something in Toji twitches. Something in him awakes.

“Ohhhh– so ya can be nice?” He purrs, roaming over one hand in a carnal grip on the globes of your ass. He’s savoring that sweet, sweet sound of your voice begging for him and- shit, he really hadn’t dreamed of this last week. “Say it- say it f’me again like a good girl?”

“P-please.”

“Hmmm, how cute.”

The very tip of his thumb writes out a cursive Toji on the right cheek of your ass, playfully tapping its way down to cup your fluttering core. 

You were so fucking wet that the fabric of your dress was clinging between your legs in a way that made him jealous, sticky fabric seeping through with a few glistening slathers of syrupy wet slick. Practically flooding out a lil’ damp spot where his massive cock was stirring. 

“Fuck- hellooooo girls.” That hooked scar tickles down the tenderest spots of your neck to pant out humid breaths over the swell of your breasts. A viscid layer of sweat slicking up those perked nipples as you squeeze your shaky thighs and push-

Your lungs burn with a fiery need, squeezing out every ounce of air as he’s smearing his hands all over your tits. “-T-Toji.”

His name - you’d memorized his name. 

You were going to be the death of him.

And your body renders forwards, dipping the curves of your gorgeous tits further into his ready grasp. You could feel every roughened callous, every palmistry line, every grope he was relentlessly feeling all over. Feeling allll of you.

“Ngh- T-Toji.” You’re slipping out adorably, as if his name was all that you could repeat at this point. Fuzzy brain showing static at the spiking heat of this closet room-

“Yeah- Yeahh–?” It’s all you hear before his rounded digits spank down on your tits, circling out softly against where you were the most sensitive. That high-pitched wail you’re keening out is the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

Toji has the audacity to giggle, thick fingers sneaking underneath your dress to give your pebbled nipples yet another thwack! 

“Whoops.” And another. “Sorry-” Dutifully pinching the nibs of your tits as he pecks your jawline, he’s rolling his thumb right over those pointed nipples like he was milking them. “-hand slipped.”

“Y-your fingers–” And you’re choking on numerous saccharine moans when his fingerpads come slamming down once more, the stinging striking rendering your mouth waterlogged with oodles of saliva. “-so m-mean.”

Tears were practically overtaking your pretty features now - but that wasn’t the only place you were letting out sobs from.

Your inner thighs glue together with a clingy film of bawling sap out from your cunt, puffy lips so bloated n’ needy that Toji could peer down and count every sinful throb. 

“Wouldya look at that–” He’s breathing out, in such awe at the slurping slurs that were springing up from your dampened pussy. Almost as if she was squelching out in conversation, he nods, “She’s more talkative than you. This heh- turns ya on- doesn’t it, pretty lady?”

Velvety sweater skirting up, he’s dragging the thick, scratchy tufts of a black happy trail straightly down your squirming back. Pushing you against a sexily tensed core, your heart races as you could feel him harden.

“Mmm…could bury myself here forever.” His voice cracks sloppily as he cranes over to muffle the ends of that particular sentence into your heaving mounds. Musked cologne hitting your senses, filthy tongue flopping out to smack your tender areolas and draaaaag-

“Toji- Toooji–”

“Heh- m’here. Your Toji’s here, sweet thing.” He’s snarling as he bites, glistening white edges of his teeth scraping your raw flesh. Voice warbling - high, his raven lashes flap furiously to keep his vision from hazing over. “C’mon- c’mon c’mon c’mon don’t hide ‘em from me.”

Sensually, he’s trekking his hand near the hem of your dress and tugging down until he can fully try to suffocate himself between your pretty tits. 

Toji didn’t need fucking air - the sight of you was heavenly enough, making him buck so that the curly black hairs near his base scratch your skin and leave it stinging. 

Tongue simply ruthless, whisking out soppy dollops of spittle that drip down your nipples and purposefully make a mess. Sucking and sucking while he ruts from behind with a groan.

Messy. Toji was making sure of it.

The slimy trailway of his tongue laps and laps until your eyes are bulging halfway out of their sockets, grunting. “You got it- you got it, sugar.” He latches on hypnotically to your left nipple and gnaws a generous mouthful. “Keep up now- I bite.” 

Jaw dropped, toes curled. 

Babbling broken ohs! and Toji! your lips smack away incoherently through bouts of bubbling slobber. He’s watching with awe as your legs fall open, glue-stuck pussylips spreading wiiidely apart- 

Swallowing a leaden ball at the sheer amount of wetness you were pouring out. Bucketloads, really.

Pretty. 

Toji grabs ahold of your humping hips with a groan, pushing you all snug n’ cozy against his throbbing cock. Spying from beneath his unruly black bangs, “Would make the s-sweetest fuckin’ birthing hips, pretty lady.”

He was so…massive.

Gasping, the very action of you scrambling up onto your elbows makes your vision swim with a few blotches of black - still tingling all over with the buzz of being so close.

You’re shivering, a sudden yelp escaping your glossed lips as you nudge Toji away with something that resembled a headbutt and ran. 

Well, more like crawled with whatever strength you had left - all the way back up your safe, dark attic whilst leaving the man disoriented below. 

And it was not just because of your forehead crashing into his.

“Shiiiiit.” Toji belts out a low whistle, a hand dipping down to grab his thickened cock through his drenched-through sweats. He’s laid all out on his back now, staring up at the shuttered attic door where you’d disappeared, “I’m fucked.”

.

.

.

It was quite a change to be sleeping with a ghost - in the most literal sense, he wasn’t sleeping sleeping with a ghost.

Turning into somewhat of a routine now to find himself woken up inside the closet space with your sleeping body cuddled softly up to him - at least, until you realize and make it your mission to disappear before he can say more than a few words, that is.

You hadn’t progressed past a few cute whines n’ touches here and there, and even that was enough for Toji to lose his damn mind this past week. 

He thought of you when he cooked, he thought of you while his neighbor squawked at every glimpse of him, he thought of you in the shower - especially in the shower, in fact, with one hand wrapped around his hard fucking cock- 

-and he was thinking of you right now. 

Stood stock-still in front of one of those high-end fashion stores beaming smugly on the bustling streets of Tokyo - the exact type he’d have scoffed and turned his nose up at just a few weeks ago.

But now, Toji was turning his nose at something else - right downwards to search for a price tag on the cute pink dress that was displayed proudly in the middle of the shop window. 

It was a skimpy lil’ thing, open and stylish, the exact type he knew you’d look perfect in. The exact type you’d wear so nicely that it’d make him want want to rip it off altogether. 

The exact type that was making him gape at the sheer number of zeros on the printed price, jaw moving up and down soundlessly as he double takes - was it legal to charge this much for a fucking dress? How the hell was he supposed to even get it for y-

Wait. Toji straightens up until he’s ramrod as a pole, not even caring for the way passersby give him the dirtiest of looks as his bulky frame blocks most of the sidewalk. Why was he even thinking of buying this for you in the first place? Did ghosts even-

“Steep price eh, sonny?”

He’s turning ‘round towards the aged, grating voice of the shopkeeper who’d apparently come outside to investigate his conundrum. 

The older man smiles apologetically at him, as if he wasn’t the one that was responsible for half those prices anyway. “You know how it is with these one-of-a-kind pieces. Lowest I could put it at, of course.”

Toji nods without a word, feet itching to remove himself from this awkward situation before- 

“S’for a special lady o’ yours, isn’t it?” 

“None of your business, old man.” Toji snarls, not much bite to his words. 

Judging by the way the clerk smirks, he’d figured out that he hit the target dead-on. And the frosty cold of the city air had never bitten the tips of Toji’s ears sharper, redder. Waving a weathered hand airily, “Tell ya what- I don’t usually do this, but I’ll reserve this piece until you collect ‘nough of those salaries and buy it for ya girl. How about it?”

And usually - usually - Toji would have told the man to fuck right off with those bargains. “One-of-a-kind” his ass. 

But…his eyes drift to the gauzy, delicate dress, the way it fitted on the mannequin. And how much more gorgeous you’d look in it. Salaries, huh?

With a firm nod, and a reluctant handshake with the shopkeeper, he finds himself browsing once more through a few employment sites he’d all but cursed the name of and abandoned a few weeks ago. 

One thing at a time, Toji ponders, shuffling his phone back into his pocket, albeit with a few fresh webpages bookmarked. 

Now, back onto his mission to head to the nearest supermarket - namely the fresh produce section. 

Which…actually didn’t turn out to be as much of a wild goose chase as he expected about two hours, a pissed shop employee, and three burnt fingers later. 

Skin muggy with the stifling kitchen air, hands placed on either side of his waist in a way that reminded Toji of his mother- “So?” He grouches out, the nonchalance in his voice given away as nothing but a façade with the way his feet tap-tap-tap. “How about it? Michelin star or what?”

The subject of his attention - you, like most days recently - only scrunches your nose in distaste. A spoon filled to the brim with steaming hot miso soup inching ever-closer to your mouth with the air of a lamb being carted off to slaughter. 

And a fucking massacre it was once the taste hits your awaiting buds and you spit–

“Oi-”

“Yuck!”

So much for Michelin stars, Toji’s grumbling to himself as he takes your same spoon and savors the miso soup with tofu for himself. Face crinkling immediately like a piece of paper at the salt bomb that assaults his senses, “Too much miso.”

Well, it seems he couldn’t fault your ghostly tastebuds just yet - but in his defense, it was his first time doing anything as sensible as this!

“Pretty lady~” Toji coos out, kneeling on the frigid quilt of his kitchen tiles to bring himself eye-level with your crouched figure in the shadows. “C’mere, sorry about the miso- try the tofu.”

And it was almost…adorable how you’re tentatively skulking your way over, pretty lips pulled into a permanent pout after his mess of soup. 

As soon as you’re close enough, he’s popping a hand into one of the bowls and plucking out  a creamy wad of tofu to nudge inside your mouth; slightly mushy in his touch, but at the very least you don’t wince too much at the overdone flavor of it. 

In fact, you actually swallowed. 

“Mmm–”

Leering, “Delicious, huh?”

“No.”

“Fine then- not bad.” Cackling out a hoarse bark of laughter, amusement sets his features aglow as Toji thumbs over the stray smidgens of white that stuck to your salivating lips. Catching a few beaded droplets of soup, “Messy girl. Look at you.”

You’re whining as he smears over the sleek spillage, trickling from between your lips and down to where your see-through dress was drenched almost non-existent. 

Fuck. 

You really were messy - and it was driving him crazy.

Parched Adam’s apple bobbing up n’ down in his scratchy throat at the glistening stickiness where your tits were heaving, his strained breaths aching to match your own. Pants tightening, buzzing fingertips twitching, Toji can’t even think before he unfastens his mouth with a dry, “Let…let me try something, doll?”

Your mouth drips hot and open as soon as Toji tugs down on his snugly-fitted sweatpants until his throbbing cock proudly slaps at his tensed core. 

And when you imagined that he might be big - you didn’t think he’d be big.

Red n’ swollen, the glittering tip of his mushroom crown was sprinkling out pearly drops of pre at the sudden sting of the cold kitchen draft. Simply gaudily decorated with fatly pumping veins all ‘round his girthy sides, they slithered in a zig-zag towards the clammy tufts of his happy trail. 

Nine- maybe even ten solid inches that twitch as your glassy eyes set sight on all of him greedily. So ridiculously massive that your mouth was starting to water already.

“Just hafta watch me, pretty lady.” Toji gruffs out solemnly, one of his burly hands curling around his meaty hilt. The ridges of his teeth sink down as he bites back a simmering hiss- “Just- just–”

Trailing off into merely nothing but soft rasps as he’s starting up short, stout tugs of his painfully hard cock. Not made of rocks, but made of fucking diamonds and jolting out creamy spatters of precum with every slight squeeze.

He was teasing. Toying. Just blushing cherry red at his tip, a saccharine lil’ color that made you want to inch forwards…

“Awww- yer drooling, sweet thing.” Toji interrupts your train of thought with a cocky tilt of his head, narrowed gaze flittering down to the thin line of spit that’d started to overspill from your maw. “Heh- never seen a guy so big, huh?”

You’re shaking your head in a way that makes the man groan, and with a vulgar few flicks of his capped thumb underneath the jutting ridge of his slit, Toji shoots out his free hand. Darting, in two bats of your shocked lashes you’re registering that he’d locked one hand around your neck and was pulling you.

Unapologetically tittering, “No needa be shy now.” Closer. Closer. Faintly wondering whether ghosts could bruise, the curved margins of his nails bite down your rapid pulsation. “C’mere.”

Mewling once gusts of his bodyheat radiate in waves, making your skin prickle with cold sweat. Your spine aches with the effort of being manhandled close, “T-Toji…”

“Tha’s right, m’here.” He’s grunting from above, scarred lips pulling into a prowling snarl as he smears the tender side of his length against your cheek. Burning hot and messy, your features gleam with a sprayed sheen of sweltering pre. “S’a biiig fucking cock, huh?”

“Please-” You’re latching down onto the elastic hem of his pants, mindlessly yanking away until you could see the chubby curve of his fat breeder balls. “S-sooo big.”

“Greedy greedy.” Toji’s right hand slows down to a slooow crawl up and down his plump shaft, taking his lazy time to tug open your prettily pouted maw with his other hand. “Heh- could open that pretty mouth all wide f’me and it s-still wouldn’t fit, doll.”

With a wailing protest, you’re letting him lilt your mouth open further- and fuck, the way that pinkish tongue of yours flops out eagerly makes Toji dizzy. 

His own tastebuds flooded with a freshly scalding wave of briny spittle, just starting to threaten near the crevices of his stern lips before he cranes his head towards yours and spits. 

Splattering.

Now, Toji had good aim - perfect, actually. But where was the fun in that?

His rotund thumb swipes away a few speckles of excess, plugging the frothy remnants back between your whiny lips. The way your brows scrunch at the impact is so adorable, “Look at you- all greedy for this cock. Sooo fuckin’ wet already.”

“M’n-not…” 

Liar, your cunt seemed to throb. Legs trembling together whilst your whirling pupils followed every draaaagging stroke of Toji’s big hands, the way he’d softly caress his lengthy digits over those delicate lightning bolts of his veins. It made you clench around nothing just to imagine how they would feel inside.

You blubber out a sobbing, “T-Toji.”

“Say it- say m’name again.” Toji drawls out sluggishly. Needy. He’s spitting down his spheroid cockhead, pumping angrily. “C’mon, say it-”

“Toji-”

“Again.”

Stuttering, slobbering with every gyrating hump gifted into the heady air.

“Toji…” Your bottom lips swells with your biting nibble, “-cum f’me.”

And as soon as the axons in his body pull taut and snap, he’s scrambling up from his seated position onto his knees to push his weepy tip into your face and cum.

Alllll over your pretty face - great, dripping cobwebs of seed that make his heavy thighs shake with sheer force. Whacking his bulbously swollen tip against your lips so that the ivory topping swabs across every inch he could reach. 

Toji’s clawing on a tight hold around your neck to keep your cutely squirming self in place, his sharp hips jutting outwards in a slow gyrating pace. As if he was fucking an invisible you - envisioning it whilst his stringy bouts of sweltering hot cum dripped down your face. 

Sloppy, sloppy.

“Shiiiit, haven’t cum this hard in…” His deep bass trembles, eyes glazing over with something primal and dreamy. Practically melting for you, “...in forever.”

The fastest he’s ever had, he shakes back the red, red blush scalding his ears now- just from you and those words. You. 

You’re mewling, lapping your tongue out to taste the syrupy salted caramel flavor of his oozing sap. Lips gluing together at the thickly glutinous consistency, “Toji- cummin’ so much. Want more.”

“Shit.” Toji hisses, lurching as if he’d just been bolted with a zillion volts of electricity. Instantly, the hand at your throat adjusts you so that you’re splayed out on the kitchen floor. Pretty and slobbering with need for him.

Dewy eyes widening a significant fraction at the way his rounded capped knees settle languidly on either side of your head. He was so thick with chiseled muscles, you think you could cum alone from the way that Toji’s wrapping a hand around his hefty base and milking himself.  

Face blossomed red, black brows scrunched, a slow splashing of sweat falls onto your face once he’s squeezing his hilt with a raw squeeeelch–!

“Sh-shit, talking outta pussy when you ngh- can’t even-” Straddling you, he nibbles on the flooded inside of his cheek, whirling peripheries locked on the last few splotches of pure sinful white that cream out of his tip and frost an adhesive capping down his length.

Chest heaving, voice guttural. “-can’t even- even hck!” As he’s finishing off, he guides his length to stand side-by-side with your fucked-out face. The way he was bigger than your head. Airily musing, “-fit this.”

You can only whine in protest, “A-as if.”

“Sass.” And Toji’s overstimulated cockhead twitches once, twice as he drifts a hand over to thumb his fattened pad on a particularly knotted puddle of cum beside your cheek. Gliding it allll down your wobbly lips like a sticky lipgloss, “Damn beautiful, too.”

With a shy peck on his meaty palms, you slip away into the shadows as you usually do. And eventually he’ll find his charcoal lashes dipping lower with fatigue, skin still sizzling with you and his high and you-

“Oh? Ya also wanted a change tonight, doll?” Toji pauses, worm-patterned blanket (it was half-off, alright!) partly spread in his arms. 

Now about an hour later and back in his dingy bedroom, Toji stares with bated breath as you sneak out from the cracks of his open closet. 

It wasn’t like him to leave you all alone, but after a week of his back moaning and aching at him- well, a night away from that teensy shack you called a home wouldn’t hurt right? At least not physically, it was tough for a man his size to squeeze himself inside without any afterlife powers.

What he certainly didn’t expect was for you to move back into the proper bedroom with him.

Cuddling your back against his toned front, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Arms tight around your waist like glue, legs tangling together sweetly. Toji finds himself scoffing at the rosy heat that rises irrationally up to the tips of his ears - practically mocking him. 

“G’night, pretty lady.”

“Good night…Toji.”

Burying his face into the soft crook of your neck so you wouldn’t see his furious blush, he thinks he’s never slept more peacefully.

.

.

.

Once in a blue moon - emphasis on once in a blue moon - Toji actually begrudgingly appreciates the presence of Shiu Kong in his life. 

Sure, the man was an ass and absolutely too proud of those pencil lines he called a stache, but he was employed, at the nearby gym no less. And the best part about having a friend that was employed was that he could help Toji himself get employed. 

And it was walking back home after (completely, totally acing) his job interview as a boxing coach, swiping through the email with his advance and the request that he start next week, that Toji runs into his enigma of a neighbor. 

Ichiro…Ijishi…? Something of the sort. Running on the fumes of his good day, Toji raises his hand at the fidgety, spectacled man in greeting, “Yo- Itachi.”

Honestly, he couldn’t have looked more terrified had he been welcomed by a phantom. And Toji would know…

Jumping about a proper three feet in the air, he’s breaking out in a glittering cold sweat all over. Muttering incoherently, “I-it’s Ijichi…”

“Ah, right.” Toji grunts, shocked he even managed to squeak out enough syllables to answer him. Usual conversation was limited to running away or avoiding him altogether - though, perhaps the presence of you had something to do with that fact. Not that he was complaining though, as long as he had you.

Almost as if Ijichi had sensed his thoughts, he’s splaying his hands out in warning, “Y-you know- Toji-san, you should really be careful.”

Halting right in front of his walkway, the taller man raises a brow in questioning. This was bound to be interesting. 

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while but, th-they say there’s a…” Looking around, shuffling. “-g-g-ghost in that apartment, a woman who lived long ago and- d-died inside that closet. Until you, no one could live there because she would eeep! haunt them. Y-you should really be careful, Toji-san, I’ve been hearing noises from your home at the dead of night lately, too…”

Ah, your moans. He forgot he shared a bedroom wall with the other man, and you were probably louder now since you’d started sleeping in the bedroom with him.

Fingers tightening on the glossy pink shopping bag held in one hand, “S’that so? She’s really this scary ol’ ghoul then?”

“Exactly- it isn’t an o-old wives’ tale, either. Everyone’s seen it, the closet door opening at night, lights flickering, strange voices.” Dark brows furrowing, he trails off. “If you want the- the town’s exorcist, Ogami, is coming to cleanse my a-apartment tonight and has been urging me to give you her number.” 

“An exorcist.” The syllables fall flat on Toji’s tongue, “For the ghost.”

“Yes yes- that ol’ woman, ah- exorcist says that the vengeful s-spirit can attach to a human being and sap their life source, tying the ghoul to them forever-”

“I wouldn’t mind that, actually. If it was her.” 

He’s surprised to find that he means it. 

Leaving Ijichi blubbering in confusion, Toji mutters away something that hopefully sounded like a ‘thanks but no thanks.’ Easily making his way inside, the door had barely slammed closed before you were slamming into him.

Face pushing into the valley of his firm pectorals, arms dangling to reach around his neck. Your fingers tangle into the delicate waves peaking out at his nape and Toji almost purrs, tackling you equally as fervently. 

“So- dinner?”

Damn, he couldn’t even deny it anymore. Exorcism and spiritual powers his ass, you’d turned him into some sort of house-husband. 

The same thought he’s repeating again and again as he cooks up a mean omurice in that tiny kitchen of his, golden brown and perfectly crisp on the edges.

All thanks to two hours of online research and bugging Shiu - his usefulness strikes again, dammit.

Toji takes great pride in drawing a lil’ heart of ketchup on the mounded middle, like he’d heard maid cafés do. Watching as you sniff. Cautious…and then scoff it down in generous gulps. Smirking, “So…Michelin stars?”

You’re only nodding, leaning over to plant a lingering peck- “Mhm.”

“Knew it.”

You were eating something he cooked - finally, finally eating something he cooked.

Suddenly hit with remembrance, Toji reels back his body a few inches away from your proximity on the kitchen table and almost whines - what the hell have you done to him? Shuffling through the few groceries, he waves one bag tantalizingly in front of your face, “Guess what, pretty lady.”

Oh, Toji was right. 

If you asked him, he would say that he’s always right - but he was especially right in his assumption that you’d look jaw-droppingly gorgeous in that pretty pink number from the shop. 

The old man had kept his word, reserving that dress so that Toji could splurge almost all of the hefty advancement fee from that brand-spankin’ new job of his. Later that night, he sat criss-crossed on his bedroom tatami, awaiting the fashion show. Letting you waltz out of the closet, nervously donned in a gauzy layer of fabric that hugged your body just so-

“C’mere. Shit, c’mere.” Toji rasps out, one hand sliding down his face because shit- the other clamors for his phone to take a picture. He glances down at the kassha-! of the screen, jaw dropping when- “Oh, ya really are a ghost.”

You’re spying over at the photo that showed nothing - literally. Nothing but a dress floating in midair, you shrug. “Duh.”

“Well, whatever-” Toji grouches, so much for setting a picture of you as his lockscreen. More preoccupied with the success of you becoming more talkative lately, “-do ya like it, doll?”

“Mhm– like it a lot.”

“C’mere, then. We hafta celebrate.”

Ah, you had the feeling that ‘celebrate’ meant so much more right now. 

Because without warning, Toji’s roughened hand clings to the side of your waist and pulls you until you’re landing cutely to straddle his manspread lap. “Toji…”

“S’alright, sweet thing.” His familiarly heady musk and cologne invade your senses like fog, and Toji’s nose slides alllll the way up and down your gulping throat. Slowly. “M’kinda…starved.” Your hand twitches towards the hem of your dress- before Toji stops you gently. “Nah- keep it on, pretty lady.”

Oh?

Oh.

“O-oh, fuck–!” You’re squealing before long, straddling Toji’s sprawled head, the halo of his unruly bangs tickling your tender inner thighs. Laid out on the matted floors beneath you and leaving a wet peck near the sheeny splatters of slick coating your outer pussy.

Squelch after raw squelch he was ripping out of you with only a few innocent glides of his lips on your own, “No underwear? What a sweet girl ya are f’me.”

You’re gasping as his tongue swirls over a few gumdrops of escaping sap, opening his rugged maw wiiide open to let you see the way they slip n’ slide all the way down Toji’s ravenous gullet. 

“Ride. Ride my face- c’mon, ride my face like you own it.”

Hiking your newly-bought dress further up the curve of your ass, your knees ricket in tiny gyrations on top of his maw- needing more. A bullet of beaded sweat drips down your temple, “Stop- teasing, Toji.”

“Demanding now, aren’t we?” A soft spank leaves your mouth cracking with shrilling whimpers, head throwing back at the calloused drag of Toji’s fingers grabbing your ass and pushing you in deeper. A French kiss. “Let me- mm- let me taste ya first, at least.”

Oh, he was mean.

And the only thing meaner than Toji was that damn sinful mouth of his. Purposefully latchin’ his plush lips where your swollen folds were all puckered, letting your legs twitch with each vibration of his throaty groans. 

“Wanted this for so long- so long.” He’s letting his spit-glossed tongue swipe suddenly between your drooling slit, a faaaaat drag of his ridged tastebuds. “So long- n’ you’re so fucking sweet.”

“F-fuuuuck– your tongue-”

Toji snickers, hot gusts from his lungs heating your pried-apart core - his widely prolonged tongue flops out eagerly to drink up every sploshing wad of slick that trickles down from your sloppy entrance. Cock twitching at the lacquered gloss hitting his chin, “Mhm- ya like that, right? She likes that- riiight?”

You did. He didn’t even need to fucking ask - your syrup sweet liquid gluing to his tastebuds was enough of a clue. 

And Toji didn’t need another sign for his girthy tongue to inch towards your quivering hole, slithering. Sensually, so that every passing second meant you felt the grating scratch of his sensory buds. 

“Now–” His nose crinkles in excitement at the thundering sluuuuurp he hears once his mushy tip presses inside your rubbery cunt. Stretching and stretching out your tight channel with a few slashes of his muscle, “-hello to you, too, sugar.”

Was he…giving nicknames to your pussy? Your tear-trapped lashes flutter awake, “Toji- wh-what are you-”

“Shhh- s’alright, doll.” With only one of his hands locking on your waist, he’s easily hoisting you onto your knees- fuck, you didn’t even have to burden your weak limbs with your weight because he was holding you up anyway. Scar-decorated mouth murmuring, “Upsy daisy- you just keep those pretty legs wiiiide open f’me and ride, okay? M’gonna take care of you…”

Words seeping with a dangerous whisper now that he had the perfect view of your pouted pussylips, it made Toji want to lick his own lips in desperate salivation. 

Breathy, “Gonna take good- good-” Surging upwards until the tip of his high nosebridge bangs into your treacly clit. Hard. “-good care–” Tongue making a mess, humping up into the air. “-of her.”

You’re whimpering, hands bunching up into your dress to lift it higher once he brutally squeezes past your tight first ring of muscle. Enveloping eeeeevery nook and cranny inside you with his relentless tongue-

“Ngh- Toji–” Your hips restlessly roll into every barreling push of his swiping muscle, thighs flinching with every flick of his curling, dexterous crown stirrin’ your innards. Filling you up until it was maddening.

Just about all he can manage out right now, muffling a lil’ ‘mhm—?’ right when his tongue pokes into one of your earliest tender spots. Treating it like a dart board, he’s stretching his tongue as faaaar and wide as it could go to hit it repeatedly.

Vulgar. 

He’s massaging his stinging maw into your saturated pussymound over n’ over until every bit of your steaming hot slick is piled onto his lips. With a harsh grip of one of your asscheeks, and a thumb lugging lazily over your throbbing clit - Toji was sloppy.

And you were simply crying from both ends, bubbling tears clogging up your throat at the bruising pace he was making out with your honeyed cunt to. “H-how are you even- reaching-”

To Toji, it was a personal insult that you were riding his handsome face like this and still had the time to ponder your pretty head with nonsense like that. 

Well and fully intending to gnaw on your teary pussy until you were stupid, one of his free hands traverses a sneaky pathway underneath you. The thick, rounded stretch of one of his fingers circlin’ your hole making you moan. “Wh-what- hngh!”

That was more like it, he’s smirking something dark as you clamp around his bulky finger with your dripping wet core. Warm and soft. 

So soft. He really can’t help but stare down in pure awe with those sultry hazed eyes of his, watching through partly-open lids when he slaps his tongue down on your perky clit and takes the opportunity as you gasp-

“Fuck! Toji–”

-to rummage in another girthy finger, canines bared back in the tiniest of snarls while he unapologetically pumps back and forth to try and shovel them deeeeply inside. Hissing at the slight resistance, scouring fingertips scraping way inside your flooded wet depths. 

And he doesn’t know who’s louder - you or this sweet pussy of yours.

Fuck- with a joint furrow in his brow, Toji’s holding back his rasping pants in an effort to memorize every squelching noise you were letting off from between your legs. “Tha’s it- atta girl, talk t’me.”

Scissoring his knobbled digits all the way until his knuckles are striking your plump lips, lurching out filthy slurp after slurp. 

You were just too damn sexy for your own good, and before the next few whimpers of his name can formulate on your tongue, Toji spits a weighty glob of spit down your bulging slit and chases it. Like a moth drawn to flame, he’s pressing the flat of his hot tongue everywhere. 

The stray spaces where he was viciously thrusting away inside your entrance, the hood of your clit, the glittering layers of slick caking your inner thighs. 

Anywhere, in long depraved licks until your back begins to arch. Voice cracking at a lilt he found familiar, “Please- please please please m’so c-close, Toji-”

“Close, huh?”

You’re damn near falling straight onto your face if it wasn’t for the way Toji holds you up, sobbing when he only dips his fingers ever-deeper right where your nerves were on fire. Slapping a stinging bruise over the patch of your g-spot. 

“S’that r-right, sugar?” He gasps through pitched pecks, kiss after kiss of his swirling berry-pink tongue that makes your eyes twirl comically. His own thighs squeeze together, aching for any friction between, “Gonna- gonna cum? Gonna- ngh- cum on my face, sugar?”

Fuck- and every time his pearly white teeth latch on animalistically to the fleshy nub of your clit, your puffy pussy practically screams out answers. Tugging on your perked hood until drool seeps like a river from your lips. 

Both pairs, and Toji loved it. Loved what a pretty mess he could make of you. 

“S’that so? Uh uh–” He nods, and if you weren’t rendered stupidly speechless right now you might’ve just said a thing or two about the way that he was talking to your dripping cunt. “Mhm? Oh? Oh really…” Before spying over at you through lowered lashes, “Says she’s gonna heh- cum, doll.”

Almost as if he spoke it into existence, you’re hitting your high at that very moment. 

“Shit- shit shit shit m’cumming– ngh, m’cumming.”

Rolling his eyes with fondness, “Oh yeah? Give it t’me- give it all, m’fucking ngh- starving.”

“All- all.” Your voice reaches a fever pitch inside those papery-thin walls.

Vision shattering with tears, and you might not have seen the way you’d cum - what with your eyes permanently finding a home at the back of your head - but Toji certainly did. 

And fuck, he’s never wished more that ghosts could show up on camera. 

Because you weren’t just pretty when you were finally overcome with your orgasm, you were gorgeous. Toes arching cutely, mouth plastering with a fresh lipstain of moisture, throat parched over and over with the sound of his name. 

“Pretty girl.” Plopping in another finger with a wet splotchy sound to fuck you through your euphoria. His lengthy tongue aches with the slippery squeeze of your walls, grinding up with every rolling push of your hips. “Pretty pussy.”

You’re cumming and he’s tugging down his currently see-through pants to furiously pump his rock-hard length. Fucking you with his mouth the way he needed to with his bloated cock.

Your body lurches in sparking sensitivity-

Only to be hauled back down unceremoniously by his hand resting upon your throat, “Nuh uh, no runnin’ away.”

Just pouring wet, and Toji was more than happy to drink up every ounce and sappy wad. The treacly slabs of his saliva so weighty and thick that you could almost taste it on your own stinging buds.

Toji’s kiss-swollen scar smeeeears down your clit one last time n’ stays there playfully, “Heh- had my fill, pretty lady. Now about that dress…”

It’s only then that you’re gathering all your bearings enough to gaze down at your dress- well, initially supposed to be the drenched hem of your new clothes.

But instead what your eyes are drawn to was the way that big, bad Toji looked so ruined.

His sparse chest hair glinting in the dim-lighting with a lamination of fervent sweat, flushed a clammy crimson all the way down to his collarbones. And the look in his eyes- oh, Toji was drunk on all the sweet, sweet juices of your pussy. 

Half-lidded, woozy, dilated until his gaze was almost all Stygian black - he doesn’t take his stare off of you for even a second as you remove yourself with a sappy pop!

Breath hitching at the way your slick slobbered until it was dripping down his chin, creeping all the way up to Toji’s cheekbones. He grins– and you don’t think you’ve seen Toji look so accomplished, freeing you of your soaked-through dress. 

Staring at your nude figure in worship, “How about a bath. Together?”

“Mmm- that sounds…” Your sensitive eardrums crane towards a lowly incanted muttering that came from one side of Toji’s bedroom walls. “-s-sounds…”

He’s instantly raising his thick brows in confusion, brushing away a sliver of sweat away from your face. “You alright, pretty lady?”

Yes. You want to say yes, but the electrified vibrations invading your body say otherwise - and you’re staring at that particular blank wall like a deer in headlights. 

Toji couldn’t figure out for the life of him what was going on, following your beeline of sight towards the edges of the thin wall adjacent to you two - the same one he shared with Ijichi next-door. Ijichi who was scared of you and- oh. 

Straining his ears urgently, he’s managing to catch a few snatches of the man’s conversation from the other side-

“-s-strange noises————louder——p-please get rid of-” Overlapping with the constant utterance of something that sounded like a…mantra…

Oh, shit.

He’s snapping his head to you - faint, “No. No no no no–” Fuck, how could he forget? That ‘cleansing’- you were being exorcized in front of his very eyes.

Toji Fushiguro has never moved faster in his entire life than when pins you down on your back and plugs your ears with the knobbled globes of his digits. Blocking out that damn incantation that might have you slipping from his very fingers. 

“Don’t listen.” He rasps, watching at the twinkle gleams back in your hazy irises. Mouth crashing into yours, “Don’t listen- please, don’t listen- Stay with me, try not to think of-” But how could you not when the scratchy voice from beyond the wall only seemed to grow more determined, louder?

Shit- a distraction. He needed a distraction. 

Suddenly too aware of the way your thighs were trembling around his toned waist, your naked middle rubbed scratchily with the peeking curls of his pubes- you drown out the mantra with a moan.

Your head tilting down-

Baritone growling with a slightly dark glint, his cock sags even heavier out of his pants at your intense stare. “What do you want me to- oh.” Following your line of sight, Toji’s jade eyes twinkle. “Nasty girl.”

Oh, you had the perfect idea to ignore that damn exorcism.

The trilling mewl that escapes your lips is nothing short of music to his ears once he’s tightening his vice-like hold on you and forcing your eyes permanently onto where his big, leaking cock was pulsing for attention. 

Red and huge. 

Swollen so tautly that it was bobbing from above his waistband, the chilling bedroom air making precum weep out in stringy splatters and hit right on the bullseye of your hole sloppily. 

“So much precum…” he’s muttering to himself.

He was so ridiculously big that it made you thighs tremble - and not with fear over the happenings next door anymore, the incantations still distantly resounding.

“Take it then-” Distraction or not- this was a wet dream he’d been having ever since he moved here. He’s letting his throat tear with a primal growl, “Take it all- feel it, n’ you better only think about my fucking cock.” A lecherous idea pops into his head, “N’ you better count.”

It takes you all of one second - and two direct smacks of his fatly bludgeoning cockhead on your dripping mound for you to finally understand what he meant. Oh. 

Round and pretty, Toji’s blushing a ruby red at this strawberry divot. Plump against your puffed-up pussylips, he’s angling his hips to position the curvaceous mushroom tip against your flooded entrance. Rubbin’ up and down your slippery slit sweetly-

“Count.”

“O-one.” Your sweet voice is enunciated with a quiet whimper, watery eyes slipping down to make note of every one of his branding, mazing veins. One twisted cozily around his base, one pounding near his split-ended tip. He wanted you to count his inches. Each and every one. “Two- three.”

With a smoky moan, Toji’s throwing his crown back- forehead slicking with a thin lamination of sweat at those pretty noises drawing out of you. “Mhmmm, good girl. K-keep going.” 

Stretching you open so wiiiide, that you were temporarily stupid. His left-leaning cock was positively covered in curling veins, snagging and snagging your gummy walls they were molding to his hugely rotund circumference.

He cracks open one heavy eyelid to watch the way you gawked downwards, “Four- no, five.” One hand carefully letting go of your ears- the incantations growing fainter, he flies it down to his squelching wet length, fap! fap! fapping! it just to try and fit.

You’re pausing momentarily to ogle the flexing ripples of his working biceps. 

“Talk- fuck, talk. Could cum from just the sound of that ngh- voice of yours, pretty lady.”

“Six…”

Sploshing out a heaping pile of pre somewhere into your heated core simply by the way you talked. It pat-pat-pats down in goopy, translucent dewdrops that slither to the saccharine bottom of your pussy.

He’s twisting his fingers to scratch that carnal itch on the line between his stimulated balls, probing you with the deeply rounded underside of his crown. Deeper. Deeper. Thighs shaking, breath harrowing, ears popping- a steady line of perspiration drips down his temples at the way he touched your walls with a final, filthy vein peeking out at you from underneath. “Yeahhh–? And? C’mon l-let me in–”

You’re gasping, “Seven-”

Oh- it was almost like a countdown for Toji but in reverse.

A countdown until his sanity snapped, and he was crawling a hand midway down your tummy. The mountains of his palm massaging your front when he pumps his hips a few sultry millimeters back and pushes- 

Bottoming out.

“Ten–” Your mouth cracks open into a goopy mess as the remaining rest of his inches shovel ruthlessly inside you. Second high of the night hitting you like a truck, “Ten.”

He gasps at the way you’re cumming already. Already. 

“Ten.” Toji echoes in a slight hiccup, heftily-lidded gaze roaming over the stout hill he was drilling into you. The outline where his crowned head was smooching the mushed sponge of your cervix, digging in deep. And if he sprinkled out just a singular jetstream of cum early then- well, he was only glad that you were too fucked dumb to notice the second skin of sap cascading down your walls. 

“All the way…” He’s cooing at the way you twitch n’ whimper as he draws an invisible line up, up, up and down from the tip top of your cunt to your cylindrical bump. “-to your heart.”

Ten entire inches.

Toji starts to move in short, rapid little thrusts to batter the your cervix with a cratering circle of his cock tip. The bulging girth of his fat sides sensually giving your g-spot repeated hits, “Biiig stretch- isn’t it, pretty lady?”

“Hngh- y-yes—” You moan at the sloppy spanks, frothing out bursts of creamy buttery pre cum from the space between your puckered hole. Still oh-so-gone with the embers of your last orgasm.

Gasping, when his crownhead slopes in and out minutely - he’s so damn big that even that makes your hips thrash stupidly. 

“Now now, what did I hah- tell ya about that damn f-fucking runnin’.” Toji grunts, watching as your folds throb palpably. Pinning you down with the ridges of his chiselled abs, one hand pulls you to him by your hips. “Won’t let you run. Breathe girl- breeeeathe n’ take it all.”

“B-breathe-” But it was so difficult considering how every mushy bump of his pulsating cock left you gasping for air. Lungs burning with strain-

He’s pinching your flared nostrils and blubbering out a drunken giggle, watching the way your shrieks lilt cutely higher. “See-” Your ears pop! “-see how much better it is when ya ngh- breathe? So take it like a good girl n’ ngh- say it with me, ‘biiig stretch.’”

Folding you like a lawnchair until until your chin hits the jiggling mounds of your tits, you stare dazedly at the way Toji’s eyes flit down to your gulping pussy and dilates. “B-big-”

“No no—” He starts driving into you with thorough, solid inches, reaching tender spots you didn’t even know existed. And you’re ringing the four walls of the room with your trilling wails, “S’a biiig stretch- not a ‘big’ stretch-” Finally cautious enough to dart his second hand down to roll your cloying clit, “-isn’t that right, sugar?”

It was apparent he wasn’t even talking to you anymore, watching your cutely contorting expression as Toji slouches his knees and pushes and pushes.

“Yes- yes yes yes yes–” Your ass stings with the ferocity of his strikes, and Toji’s toned pelvis was already starting to redden with the slamming impact. Babbling, “S’a biiig stretch- a biiig stretch.”

Sleazing a scarred grin when your capped knees start trembling, “Yeah- yeahhh atta girl. My poor baby needs a hah-hand?”

With a ricketing creak–! of your poor knees, you’re being pressed into the sloppiest mating press possible. Your heels digging bruises on his proud shoulder muscles, instinctively clenching ‘round his bustling length. “O-oh my god- fuuuck, Toji-”

“Oh…so fuckin’ wet. So fuckin’ pretty…” He’s breathing out in a quiet huff that hits your mouth, hungrily lapping up the few stray drops of saliva that string out from your parted lips. Toji’s intense gaze is so adoring that your skin prickles with goosebumps, “Makes me wanna…wanna ngh-”

“Wh-what–?” Your head tumbles back into the scratchy surface of the tatami, urging an answer. 

And oh, Toji’s only pounding you harder into the ground in response. Again and again and again until your legs are numb.

Striking your throbbing g-spot with a dead-on whack, whack, whack. So hard that every ramming jackhammer from the curving mound of his red-tipped cockhead to his hilt makes the floorboards tremble. 

Feverish. Desperate. 

A pornographic groan breaking off from him, “Wanna- wanna ngh- cum inside. Wanna breed this pretty pussy.”

Oh, it’s like something had snapped inside of him. Every gobbling inch vigorous.

Toji’s trembling, thighs jolting- ramming into you so hard that your brain was all stupid with static electricity. And the only thing you could think to do at this very moment was stick your face into his clammy crook and whine- “Please- inside. All inside, Toji.”

“Fuh-fuuuck–”

With those words in mind he’s collapsing his sculptured body on top of yours as if he was shattering, and you’re catching sight of his rounded ballsack flinching dangerously at your targeted words.

Sucking his velveteen lips back into his teeth, one hand twisting on top of your crowned, sweat-matted head to push you down. “I-I’ll pump you so full of hah- cum that you won’t be able to keep it all inside you.” The other twisting on your clit, “Gonna breed you right, sugar.”

And you don’t know who cums first - but it makes you sob.

Your eyes turning pure white as his cock searches deep, deep, deeply to hit the back of your pussy with ribbony knots of cum. 

It’s so wet down under, so much seed being pumped into you - just about two or three thick wires glueing to your insides with each passing second - that you’re flooding out. Great, heaping torrents he mercilessly thrusts into you after every one of your high peaks. 

“Cum- cum- cum a lot.” Toji gravels out into your buzzing ear, pinching your fragile clit until you’re shattering underneath him. Faster. “Cum. Get- get pregnant with my ngh- child.”

You bawl out belatedly, “Cumming– cumming, Toji- don’t m-miss…” 

“Never, pretty lady.” He’s biting down on your lollling bottom lip, larynx scratching with grunt after grunt with every hit. Every plummet of his plummy, cum-candied cockhead turning your brain into melted mush. “Gonna get you pregnant- get-”

Two knobbled fingerpads dip down to plug your leaking hole back full with the glittering globs of cum spilling out of you. 

Scarred lips curving into a smile, crazed. “Get pregnant- get–” With a final few slams, he’d milked himself dry and was still aching for more. Pressing down on your bloated tummy bulge of cum, “Ohhh look at th-that, all mixin’ together. All yours.”

You wince, your heart thundering at the way he was making even more of a mess down there to meanly push back into you.

And every lazy, directed pound leaves you gasping for air– Looking down at the dolloping cream, you’re mumbling out a fatigued, “M-mine?”

“That’s right, doll.” 

Heart racing, the lights flicker as your spectral powers yield out- and you’d already known that Toji was the only one you’d tie your soul to this way, till the ends of time - immortality for him.

But now was the moment - that burning question finally on your tongue. 

“Be mine?”

He leaves a slight smack at the adhesive sheen overtaking your thighs and makes you shake. Eyes half-shuttered, blush burning, maw drooling– Toji throws his head back as his aching tip twitches wildly for a second round. “All yours.”

.

.

.

And it was by the time that your second round turned to thirds, your thirds into fourths- fifths, sixths, fuck- Toji couldn’t even keep track.

It might as well have been a draw.

The only thing he could register was the yolky light of dawn filtering through the windows, and the way that every inch of the bedroom was a mess beyond recognition.

A few holes were made in the neat tatami, his bed broken into splintering pieces, desk shattered. 

He now had himself pushed back into the cool wall of the snug closet, restless lower half papping up where your hips were straddling his. Ruined. Toji creeps a hand down the humid skin of your spine and pants, “So f-fucking wet, s’like a damn ngh- water…park…”

His sluggish eyes flap and fight to stay open, words sluuurring - and so do his hips. 

“T-Toooji—” You drag out like a broken record, your hands resting precariously on his bulky deltoids. Scrambling to swivel n’ swivel in lazy hearts and circles, drool dripping out of you like a waterfall from both ends. “More- ngh moooore.”

“Holy shit- what sorta s-stamina, doll-”

Though, he really wasn’t complaining. Not when Toji lets his sweat-dropped head hit the back of the wall with a gruff call of your name, aching red cock loading out just a few more wispy strings of sap.

“Yours. Yours yours yours-” He whimpers- whimpers. Head spinning once you’re huffing out a pout and swerving your hips in a sexy figure eight, bouncing ever-so-slightly to milk him dry. “Stainin’ me all nghhh- white n’ creamy.”

A soft spank on the tippy-top of your clit makes you see stars - cheek nuzzling his own and Toji thinks it’s so cute. 

“C-cute?”

Oh, shit, did he say that out loud?

Judging by the twitching corners of your lips, he’d said that part out loud, too. “Mhm– k-keepin’ me hostage. Squeeze me like that n’ I’ll- ohhh- one hell of a ngh- woman.”

By this point, the inflated bulge at your tummy was jiggling with each plap! of skin stickily slamming down onto skin. You’re whimpering as you start veering into fatigued grinds instead, scraping the outside of your clit down on his drenched happy trail.

“Tha’s right- fuuuuck, gimme those h-hips- those damn birthin’ hips, my lady.” His vision muddles with a few tears, and Toji has to grasp your neck to keep guidin’ your cunt to that pinpointed target of his tender inches. Big, fat cock sending shots of electricity darting along his veins, “Squeeze me t-tighter.” Fingers getting tighter, “Tighter- c’mon g-grind those ngh- pretty hips a lil’ bit.”

“L-like this–?” 

He’s using up all his strength to bounce his knees - heart stuttering just as much as his words were. Toji could barely feel his spasming pink tip, “Back and f-forth- back n’ forth back n’ forth–”

You’re letting yourself be manhandled like some glorified doll, your slurping walls sucking the soul out of him with every swash of that weighty cum jostling inside of you. “P-please.”

Ah, and that was all it took a thoroughly overstimulated Toji to keen out yet another wringing orgasm. Though, this time filling your swampy cunt up with nothing but a few twitches and jolts, he’s cumming dry– still fucking up into you like he was pumping you with severe bouts of seed.

“Pregnant-” He’s rasping out mindlessly, parched. “Preg- ngh! Gonna breed you all pregnant, sugar…” The syllables tumbling out like a babbling mantra. 

And that was when the final shreds of his rationality spark, tear-polished lashes fluttering as he listens intently beyond your four walls. Only to discover…nothing.

No mantras.

No exorcism.

Nothing taking you away from him.

“Scared off, huh?” Toji catches your eye and smirks, “Hope they heard.”

You giggle, “You’re a sick man.”

“M’your sick man.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.