distracting toji while he's on the phone...♡ (rough!toji x sweet!fem reader)
tojis halfway through a phone call when you climb onto the couch beside him, immediately curling into his side while he keeps talking, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions behind you and his phone pressed to his ear.
its something about money, something about work, something thats got his brows pulled together while he listens with that oh so familiar rough expression.
"yeah, I heard you," he mutters "then tell 'im I aint payin extra."
meanwhile, youre completely occupied with him.
your fingers find the side of his hair first, gently combing through the shorter strands near his temple while your cheek rests against his shoulder. toji keeps listening while you continue absent mindedly playing with him. your hand drifts lower, tracing the line of his jaw before finding his collar, smoothing it down and then fiddling with it again for no reason other than you just felt like touching it.
"because that aint what we agreed on." he says into the phone, voice steady despite the fact youve now moved on to his hands.
you turn one of them over in your lap, running your thumb along old scars and rough knuckles, tracing every line in his skin with a quiet concentration while the conversation continues.
the man on the other end keeps talking, and toji tries listening.
then your fingers slide to the rolled sleeves of his top, adjusting them before trailing slowly down his forearm, following the muscle there with light touches that dont mean much to you and mean everything to him.
his jaw tightens slightly. "yeah," he mutters into the phone, "mhm"
by now youve found his hand again, interwining your fingers with his, turning them, tracing the shape of his thumb while leaning a little more heavily into his side.
youre not even looking at him, youre just happy sitting there, all soft and sweet, quietly occupying yourself with whatever part of him happens to be within your reach.
the silence on the other end of the call stretches.
"...you still there?" the guy asks.
toji blinks once, realizing he hasnt heard a godamn thing for the last minute. his eyes drop to you where youre curled against him, happily playing with his fingers while resting your cheek on his shoulder.
"yeah." he says "keep talkin."
but his free hand is already settling over yours, thumb brushing across your knuckles while he looks down at you for a second longer than necessary, then he leans over and presses a rough distracted kiss against the top of your head without interrupting the call, squeezing your hand once before settling back into the couch.
toji still isnt listening to the man on the phone, not with you tucked into his side playing with his hair, his sleeves, his hands, every soft little touch way too distracting.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ working with line cook! toji and line cook! sukuna
sfw. waitress! reader. pining. touch of angst? resturant au. unedited.
just something i whipped up quick tehehe. nsfw version????
the guys in the kitchen were always nice—at least to you they were. they were often spatting, throwing around insults, always on the verge into breaking into a fist fight or dramatically quitting. they became especially rowdy when a waiter came back with a messed up order.
toji and sukuna were the worst out of the staff, and not just in their individual attitudes, but the way they acted to each other—their strings of curses knew no bounds, and the kitchen was lucky if by the end of the night every line cook still had their fingers.
“the fuck it’s wrong,” sukuna would mutter under his breath, “this is medium rare—do they wanna be chewing on leather?”
his sneers were strong, and the way his tattoos wrinkled up with every exaggerated emotion. he’d swear under his breath, turning to the vegetables he’d been chopping, using his knife with such precision it was almost deadly. for someone who was always in a bad mood, though, he seemed to be passionate about what he did—maybe that was why he got so offended any time anyone questioned the food they had received.
toji, on the other hand, was there for the paycheck and the paycheck alone. he found any excuse to slip out of the kitchen, sometimes pawning a cigarette and taking as long as possible to smoke it. he showed up half-awake, always looking a little scruffy, and with a blunt attitude.
“stop fucking standing in the way,” he’d grumbled at waiters that rushed in, and worming they way through the kitchen. he’d roll his eyes and get back to half-assing his job. sukuna could sense the laziness from across the room, and within minutes the two were bickering.
“quit standing around, you little shit,” sukuna would order, although toji was anything but little.
the older man stood there with a grimace, looking up from the vegetables being sautéd on the pan. toji narrowed in his vision.
“i’m fucking cooking here,” he claimed, gesturing to the meal being prepped. sukuna scoffed again—making his emotions known to the whole kitchen—a clear sign to steer clear of the two of them. unless you wanted a rolling pin thrown at your head, of course.
yet, as soon as you walked through the kitchen doors to pick up the next order, their behaviour seemed to improve drastically.
“um sukuna,” you started, looking down at the plate with a bit of a pout. “they ordered the sweet potato fries. these are just the regular ones.”
you held up the plate to show him, voice small, clearly not wanting to inconvenience him. sukuna only stared, eyes widening slowly, studying the way you stood there. if it had been anyone else he would’ve chewed their head off. but, it was you, and slowly, he pulled the ticket up to inspect it. he then eyed the plate once more, drawing his conclusion. his lips pressed together, and he took a deep breath.
the rest of the kitchen held their breath for you, hoping that he wouldn’t take it out on you. just last night he and another waiter nearly poked each other's eyes out over a mixed up order. so as they watched sukuna, it was as if the whole room fell silent.
“my mistake,” he grunted, taking the plate from you, surprising everyone with his lack of outburst. it was like a blue moon experience, especially as they heard the following words slip from sukuna’s mouth: “i’ll fix it—sorry about that.”
his subtle kindness went right over your head, and everyone could see the way he softened up, yet no one wanted to be the one to point it out—they didn’t want to deal with an angry sukuna while he held a knife. it was painfully obvious to the whole kitchen staff that you were his favourite waitress, and they wondered when you would finally notice it.
“hey were are you heading off to?” sukuna would ask as he saw you pacing towards the punch-clock. he almost lost track of the meat he was grilling, focussed on the way you seemed to be in a rush.
“oh i got cut, so i’m heading home,” you said, smiling. although, sukuna’s face was far from mimicking that reaction.
he knew that you going home meant that he wouldn’t get to see you for at least another week, which felt like an eternity away. he contemplated switching his availability just to raise the chances of being scheduled at the same time as you. he sighed internally, nodding at your words, even though he didn’t want to accept them.
“right,” he said, confirming what you said as if it was a question. “have a good night.”
he wasn’t a strong flirt, or a smooth talker—not by any means. he hoped that you noticed his kindness—or, at least, his attempts at kindness.
“you too,” you smiled at him, making his heart thump. “see you later, suki!”
sukuna wasn’t sure if it was the heat from the kitchen that was making him feel so hot, or the fact that you had a little nickname for him. either way, his cheeks were burning, and if anyone else looked close enough they would see a playful pink tint added to his face.
toji wasn’t any better at hiding his intrigue in you.
he could spot you dotting around the kitchen, sticking out like a sore thumb. clearly you were too caught up in your own work to notice the chaos of the kitchen, which often made him snicker.
every now and then, when he would wait outside to smoke, you’d stumble out carrying a heft garbage bag from the kitchen. with both your hands gripped the black blastic, you were barely able to hold your own balance.
“what fuckers made you take this out?” he’d question with a scoff, shaking his head at the thought of the boys in the kitchen making a pretty little thing like you do such a tough task.
“it’s okay, i got it,” you replied with a false sense of confidence.
only, the bag most definitely weighed as much as you did, and although toji didn’t want to be rude he was sure that you didn’t have the strength to haul it up into the big, rotting bin they kept in the back. especially with the way you were already huffing and puffing as you tried to haul it.
he took a step forward, leaning off the wall he’d been resting against and reached his hand forward.
“here,” he said quickly, his fingers brushing over your knuckles as he took the bag from you. you didn’t fight him, though, feeling flustered at the contact. toji took a few steps over and threw the bag into the garbage like it was nothing.
he wiped his hands against the back pocket of his jeans and then smirked back at you, “see, it was no trouble.”
“thanks, toji,” you hummed, still catching your breath.
there was a nice breeze, and the moon was out. it didn’t help that your feet were starting to throb. maybe you could join toji while he was out there?
“it’s good to get some fresh air every once and a while, y’know?” he interjected, as if he could read your thoughts. he dug into his pocket and pulled out a pack of marlboros, sliding out a cylinder and slotting it between his teeth. next, he fished for a lighter and cupped his hands in front of the cigarette’s tip, lighting it carefully.
you couldn’t help but watching, catching the way his arms flexed ever-so-slightly. you had never looked at toji in that light and as he locked eyes with you, any thoughts about work or the tables that were being waited on slipped from your mind.
“you want a hit?” he questioned, a little rasp in his voice.
tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you shook your head softly.
“i don’t smoke,” you replied, and toji realized then what sukuna was seeing in you. that soft, sweetness, that even though the business could be a little cut throat at times, you were still an optimist.
“probably for the best, sweetheart” he hummed along, letting you stay by his side regardless.
time seemed to pass differently outside, and before you knew it, you had been gone longer than you had anticipated. laughing along with the jokes that toji made, you heard the door creep open, and turning your head you quickly noticed sukuna standing there.
“it’s getting busy,” he stated, although he seemed a little pale—like there was a lingering disappointment in his eyes. “manager’s been looking for you.”
“shoot,” you frowned, looking down at your watch, rushing back into the kitchen and praying that your tables weren’t getting angry. you ran past sukuna without saying anything else to either one of the men, trying to get back on track for the rest of your shift.
when sukuna stared down at toji, they didn’t exchange a single word, just a quick scowl and a vicious glare. it was like two animals trying to get territorial, the real question was which one would be successful?
satoru’s voice reverberated against your whimpers, possessing a soft lilt to his husky tone. his lips ran its course on your pussy. not even eating you out, just a damn tease.
his lower lip dragged itself, tracing your flushed folds. your wetness smeared on his lips. he pressed the gentlest, firmest kiss on to your throbbing cunt.
your hips lifted, just a little to meet with his mouth again but all he did was let out a chuckle at your desperation. “now, now, let’s be patient, alright?”
“spread your legs a bit more. can you do that for me, baby?” he blew a cold gush of soft air directly on to your clit, making you gasp, complying instinctively with his request.
he straightened himself up, away from your pussy, and tugged his trousers down— unveiling his thick, robust and undeniably hard of a cock, smeared with pre-cum on the pinkish tip.
prominent veins decorated his cock. the entirety of it was bruised a regal shade of purple and blue, purely from restraint, agony of not penetrating the pretty hole.
one hand of his wrapped itself around the base, slowly jerking it up and down sensually, coating his girth with the pre-cum from his. his other hand had adjusted his hair, pushing the wet strands of snow locks back. “look at me, baby. see what you do to me, sweetheart?”
“you’ve got your man so damn fucked, huh. doesn’t happen that often” you could truly see it, his face flushed, crimson injecting itself in to him, as blood was coursing to his head with profuse intensity.
his canine bit in to his lower lip as he slightly lowered himself to you, a spread of his torrid tempered hand lay on your red marked thighs while his knees pressed on to the futon’s softness.
the tip of his cock maliciously kissed your ready hole, only a little, not entering like you had desired for. his hold on his cock tightened as he vehemently guided it up and down your raw pussy.
your juices coated his length as his tip steered through your cunt, drenching on the mess, thrusting between your folds.
one hand of his had pinned your thigh around his waist while the other was too lascivious, shamelessly spread your pussy lips apart with his thumb and index fingers. “hm, yeah, look at her. so wet for my cock. yeah, makes so much sense, doesn’t it baby?” he raises one of his eyebrows while a smirk graces his wintry face. “so damn wet for me. nothing new though”
he was so egotistical, especially now seeing the condition you were in. cheeks scorched with an impaling desire, mouth parted to whine and moan, cunt wet enough to completely deep throat him.
his cock, still idly dousing itself with your wetness in a cadenced pattern, a rhythm curated by him only. one that had a burning contact of skin on skin but deprived you of pleasure.
and as if he couldn’t get any more cocky— he slowly dragged his meat from your succulent hole to your lonely clitorus bud as he repeatedly slapped it, then, slowly nudged on it. the slit of his tip incessantly nudging around your clit had you instantaneously moaning his name in stutters. “i know, the dick’s too good huh?”
he was stimulating your pussy so well. consistently dragging the head of his cock between your labia, arrogantly chuckling every time you moaned in dire need. “fuck yeah, want me so bad don’t you? of course you do. why wouldn’t you?”
he had mockingly put it inside but slipped out of quick, a fake pout formed on his face. “shit– oops sorry, can’t put it in, cutie. it’s too big for you. what should we do? hm?” he feigned a sad look while teasing your entrance. how annoying.
“g-god, you’re so full of yourself” you, somehow, muttered through your gritted teeth which had earned a chuckle from him. “mhm. and now, you are about to be as well”
fratboy satoru is a sore loser for your pussy. 18+
“please, baby, just let me” satoru lamentably pleaded, desperation clung on to his tenor. his feverish cheeks, tinged a delicate crimson on the snowy skin, rested itself on the plumpness of your bare thighs, scorching his golden mark on it. his reprehensible whimpers of agony and intense need was narrowing all the routes of your five senses.
“please– i’ll be good, just one taste.”
if his fraternity brothers found out, that their frat’s vice president was ignominiously reduced on to his knees, all because he wanted to have a taste of his girl’s raw cunt— then there would’ve been a hellish discourse upon the matter.
satoru gojo, who would commence parties of bright lights and foreign liquors. satoru gojo who would gulp down burns through his throat too easily, claiming ‘light work, no reaction’ even after seven shots of tequila. satoru gojo who called girls by their wrong names after waking up naked next to their shy faces, breaking their golden hopeful hearts so cruelly— now, was on his knees, in front of the campus’ shy girl, who was just as cruel as he was.
your legs were open, wide and candid, panties down to the ankle which satoru had been merely allowed to discard. the sight of your tempting pussy had satoru letting out a pathetic moan already as he kneaded himself through his grey sweats. he was so needy. so damn pathetic.
just to trace your glistening folds with the tip of his brute tongue. just to spittle and rub your clit bud by skillfully flattening of his tongue. simply just to eat you out, incessantly and ardently.
just for a lick, a taste of your juices.
“baby, please, please. let me. just a taste. i promise, i’ll be good. i’ll be so good to you” his begging fell to deaf ears. you had slipped on your panties, back into position, shielding your sweet glory away from him.
“then, now, do you believe me that i wasn’t with sukuna last night?” you batted your lustrous eyelashes, a sweet smile conquering your face. it was a lie, you were with sukuna last night.
satoru had been questioning you on it relentlessly, suspicious, but now— “yes, yes, yeah baby. i, shit, sorry. i’m such a dumbfuck for not trustin’ ya. of course i believe ya, doll”.
honestly, he had it all planned. like always.
you were supposed to be just another girl who he shared white sheets with. just another girl who would moan his name while he mumbled a made up one for you. just another girl for him to smile at, fuck once and play with but instead, he was the one getting played. by you. the shy, quiet girl.
the shy girl whose weeping friends had slept with satoru, and deliriously wanted him to suffer for breaking their lovelorn hearts. the shy girl who had taken a grievous vow to break, the egocentric frat king, satoru’s heart.
the campus’ shy girl was truly cruel. worse than satoru. because she was the only one to beat him at his own game.
“softenin' it,” your husband replied, his voice completely deadpan. he didn’t look up, his face carved into an expression of such absolute, scholarly focus you might have thought he was doing open-heart surgery rather than kneading you ass.
you’d been trying to get some rare peace and quiet, lying face down on the bed half-asleep, when the attack started. toji had the massive, beefy build of a pro athlete, a guy made wholly of dense muscle who had absolutely zero concept of "personal space"
yet, for the last ten minutes, those huge, scarred hands—hands that literally killed people for a living??—had been thoroughly squashing and massaging your ass with the obsessive devotion of a baker molding a piece of sourdough.
“softening it?” you repeated, the mere insanity of it wiping away the last of your drowsiness. “toji, it’s an ass, not a cheap steak. you’ve been doing this for ten minutes. let go.”
he was lying on his stomach right next to your thighs, his nose hovering close over your asscheeks. feeling suddenly frustrated, you planted your forearms on the sheets, trying to crawl away from... whatever he was doing.
and you couldn't even make it an inch.
a heavy, coarse palm slapped down on the small of your back, securing you to the mattress like a literal ton of bricks. when you twisted your neck to glare at him, his stunning profile was pulled into a focused, childish pout. his emerald eyes stayed glued to his work while his other hand went right back to its aggressive squeezing, paying no attention to your feeble protests.
“keep still,” he grumbled, his voice getting petulant like a boy refused candy “you’re messin' up the texture.”
“the texture?” a sudden rush of heat hit your cheeks—the result of your frustration and being vividly aware of how his face was glued to your backside. “i am trying to sleep, you psycho. your hands feel like sandpaper.”
“then don't move and it won't scratch,” he reasoned in a plain tone as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
and yet, there was something weirdly mesmerizing about how engaged he was. he looked almost peaceful sitting there, if you ignored the thick fingers poking at your crack.
finally comprehending it was useless to fight a fatty bitch with two hundred pounds on his body, you collapsed face-first into the pillow, letting out a defeated groan.
“...if i see any bruises, you're gonna pay for it.”
that lazy, almost boyish grin finally shattered his straight face. toji didn't bother lifting his chest or moving back. he just rested his heavy jaw in his free hand, watching your clothed butt devotedly.
“can’t charge a guy who's broke,” he reminded, his deft fingers continuing their task. “now shut it. 'm not done tenderizing.”
especially when he’s got you pinned beneath him, buried so deep inside your tight, dripping cunt that you can barely think straight.
every brutal thrust has him dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you, slamming right into that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back and your toes curl so hard they cramp.
his hips is snapping with that cocky, practiced rhythm, stretching you open around his thick cock like he owns every inch of your body.
the wet, filthy sound of him pounding into your soaked pussy fills the room, your juices coating his length and dripping down your ass with every deep stroke.
and he just can’t help himself.
the moment you start clenching and fluttering around him, moaning like a whore, that feral side of him takes over.
he leans down with a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with pure mischief and hunger, and sinks his teeth into your skin very hard.
he bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, teeth digging in so sharply you yelp in pain, your whole body jerking violently beneath him.
“fuck- satoru!” you cry out, but he just moans like it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
he thinks you’re screaming because it feels that good.
“shit, baby… you’re so loud for me..” he groans against your bitten flesh, voice husky and dripping with arrogance.
his tongue laps over the fresh, throbbing mark before he bites down again, harder this time, right above your collarbone.
the sharp sting blooms into burning heat as he sucks hard, leaving a deep purple bruise while his cock keeps bullying that perfect spot inside you without mercy.
you scream again, a raw, broken sound that’s equal parts pain and overwhelming pleasure and it only makes him worse.
satoru chuckles darkly, the vibration traveling through your skin as he grinds his hips in slow, filthy circles, stirring his cock deep in your guts.
“yeah? right there, huh? keep screaming like that, sweetheart. you’re clenching so fucking tight every time i bite you… makes me think you love when i get rough.”
he shifts his angle, folding you nearly in half as he drives even deeper, another harsh bite lands on the swell of your breast, teeth grazing your nipple before clamping down.
the pain shoots straight to your core, making your pussy gush around him.
satoru’s lost in it, he pistons into you faster, harder, the headboard slamming against the wall as he chases his own high.
he bites your neck one more time, right as his fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing tight, mean circles.
the mix of pain and pleasure shoves you violently over the edge.
you shatter around him, screaming loud enough to make your throat raw as your walls spasm and flutter wildly.
satoru groans in satisfaction, hips stuttering as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release while still nibbling and sucking on your abused skin like he can’t get enough.
satoru has been unbearable for three days. they say that's what happens during ruts, anyway - a change in behaviour. most felines get more aggressive, or even downright territorial.
satoru becomes clingy.
“baby,” satoru whines into the back of your neck, voice wrecked and raspy. “you’re doing this on purpose.”
you barely look up. “doing what?”
“that.” he buries his face against your shoulder, breathing you in. “smelling like that.”
you hum, and the sound nearly kills him. every instinct in his body is revolving around you until it borders on insanity, and you were ignoring him.
his large hands slide around your waist, body twisting on the couch until he's as comfortable as he can get. “sweets,” he mutters desperately, dragging his nose down the side of your throat. “c’mon. look at me.”
you sigh softly. perhaps in exasperation. it makes his pupils blow wide nonetheless. fuck. he inhales again, slower this time, nearly dizzy from your scent. warm skin and shampoo and something soft and uniquely you underneath it all that makes every predatory instinct in him spark alive.
mine. mine mine mine.
his teeth graze your shoulder before he can stop himself. “satoru,” you warn.
“i know,” he mumbles instantly, though his grip tightens. “i know, baby, i know.” for approximately twelve seconds, he behaves, then his body rolls off the couch, dropping between your legs, hands sliding lower and lower until you feel him grind against your calf with a frustrated noise.
“seriously?” you say flatly.
his tail wraps around your thigh possessively while he mouths at your neck again, slow wet kisses turning into little nips when you continue to ignore him. honestly, the lack of reaction from you might've been what drives him craziest. when you grumble his name again he grabs your thigh and presses his face into it. “need you,” he mutters against your skin.
“you’re dramatic.”
“m’ serious.” his tongue slowly drags up your bare leg and you twitch. there it is, finally - a reaction. his tail puffs instantly.
“there you are,” he breathes, sounding downright delirious. before you can answer he bites your thigh, just enough to make you jolt and glare down at him. “i’m being soooo good,” he insists while licking over the mark immediately after. “you don’t appreciate how good i'm being.”
“you say that like it’s reassuring.” satoru just grins lazily against your skin, sharp canines flashing, and when you jut your leg up just an inch, pressing against him harder, he lets out a groan so obscene it echoes through the apartment.
you stare at him. “..you’re unbelievable.”
“yeah,” he breathes, eyes half lidded while grinding against your leg shamelessly. “but you love me.”
his ears flick when your fingers finally slide into his hair. instantly, the man melts, a deep rumbling purr vibrating through his chest as he nearly collapses against you, licking slow stripes up the inside of your thigh.
you find the base of his ears, through the thick tufts of his white hair, and scratch. satoru's canines sink into the plush of your thighs, teeth dragging up, up, up until they're tearing a line through your shorts, ripping them off.
“satoru!” you scold, your protests promptly fading into soft little moans when he buries his face between your legs, blue eyes gone fully dark, spotted tail flicking rapidly behind him.
“m’ gonna be so good to you, sweets,” he rumbles against your core. “promise.”
not in the way you’re thinking—no, he doesn’t kick puppies or steal candy from children (as tempting as that sounds). he just finds creative, deeply personal ways to ruin your day for his own amusement.
like when you’re running late for work and you open your sock drawer to find every single pair has been replaced with mismatched ones. you stand there, staring at the chaos, while satoru leans in the doorway with that insufferable grin.
"what’s wrong, baby?" he asks, all fake innocence. "can’t find a match?"
you throw a sock at his head. he dodges, laughing. "you’re the worst," you mutter.
or when you’re trying to study, your notes spread across the kitchen table, and he decides it’s the perfect time to test your focus.
he sits across from you, silent, watching. you ignore him for twenty minutes before you finally look up. "what?"
he’s holding a single grape between his fingers. "nothing," he says. then he flicks it. it bounces off your forehead.
you stare at him. "did you just—" another grape. you duck. "satoru gojo!"
he’s already reaching for a third. "what? i’m bored."
you slam your book shut and chase him around the apartment, your highlighter in hand like a weapon. he lets you catch him eventually, laughing as you tackle him onto the couch. "you’re insufferable," you pant, straddling him.
he grins up at you. "but you’re smiling, aren't you? i'd do anything to make you happy."
or when you’re on the phone with your mother, trying to have a normal conversation, and he decides to make it impossible. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, your phone pressed to your ear, when you feel his hands on your waist.
"satoru, not now," you whisper, covering the receiver.
he doesn’t listen. he drops to his knees in front of you, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts.
your eyes widen. "mom, uh, can you hold on a second—"
he yanks your shorts down in one smooth motion. you’re trying to kick him away, but he’s stronger, his mouth already pressing hot kisses to your inner thigh.
"sorry, mom, i just—i need to—" his tongue drags over your panties and you nearly drop the phone. "i’ll call you back!" you hang up, breathless, and glare down at him. "you’re going to get me in trouble."
he looks up, his eyes gleaming. "it'd be worth it."
or when you’re trying to cook dinner, following a recipe, and he keeps stealing the damn ingredients. you turn around for two seconds and your onion is gone.
you turn back and your garlic has vanished. "satoru," you warn, spinning around to find him leaning against the counter, chewing.
"what?" he asks, mouth full. "i’m hungry."
"i’m trying to make us dinner," you snap, reaching for another onion. he intercepts, his hand wrapping around your wrist.
"or," he says, pulling you closer, "we could order takeout. and i could eat you instead."
you stare at him. "that was terrible." he grins.
"and yet, you’re smiling again."
but the worst part is when he gets you into bed, because that’s when his particular brand of cruelty really shines.
he’s got you on your back, your wrists pinned above your head with one hand, and he’s been teasing you for what feels like hours. his fingers are inside you, two of them, curling against that spot that makes your vision blur. you’re close—so close—and he knows it. he always knows.
"t-toru, please," you beg, your voice cracking. "i need—i need to cum—"
"yeah?" he murmurs, his thumb brushing your clit in the lightest, most maddening touch. "you need it? is my pretty girl all worked up?"
you nod frantically, your hips rolling, trying to chase the sensation. he pulls his hand away entirely. you sob. "no, n-no, please—"
"aw, baby," he coos, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "you're so pathetic. it’s cute." he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while you watch, helpless. "you taste good when you’re begging."
he starts again, his fingers sliding back inside you, his pace agonizingly slow. you’re panting, your thighs shaking, your mind going fuzzy at the edges. "toru! i can’t—i can’t take it—"
"yes, you can," he says, his voice calm, almost gentle. "you'll take whatever i give you. you wanna be good, don't you?" he curls his fingers, pressing hard, and you nearly scream. "that’s it. feel that? that’s mine. your pleasure is mine. i decide when you get it."
you’re crying now, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, your body trembling. he leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "you’re so pretty when you’re dumb like this. can’t even think, can you? just a pretty little toy for me." he adds a third finger, stretching you open, and you wail. "that’s okay, baby. you don’t need to think. i’ll do it for you. all you have to do is take it. you can do that, can't you?"
he brings you to the edge again, and again, and again. each time, he pulls back just before you can fall. your mind is gone, your body is on fire, and all you can do is sob his name like it’s the only word you know.
"satoru, p-please!!" you whimper, your voice hoarse. "i’ll do anything. please lemme cum, i-it hurts!"
he smiles, that sharp, wicked smile that means he’s nowhere near done with you. "it hurts?" he asks, his fingers still moving, still torturing you. you nod desperately. "poor baby," he mocks. "we can't have my sweetheart in pain, now can we?"
he presses his thumb to your clit and curls his fingers one last time, and you shatter. your orgasm crashes over you so hard you can’t breathe, your vision going white, your body convulsing. he doesn’t stop. he keeps his fingers moving, dragging it out, forcing you through it until you’re shaking and sobbing and begging him to stop.
"too muchh!!" you gasp. "s'toruu! it’s too much—"
"shh, hush now," he says, his voice low and dark. "you can take it, you're doing so well."
he shifts, his cock replacing his fingers, and you barely have time to process before he’s pushing inside you, filling you completely. you’re so sensitive, so overstimulated, that the stretch is almost painful. you cry out, your hands fisting the sheets.
"thaaat’s it," he groans, his hips snapping forward. "take my cock. take it like the good girl you are. you’re so—shit— so fucking tight after you cum, baby. feels so good." he fucks you hard, his pace relentless, his hand sliding between you to rub your clit again. "you still with me?"
you’re babbling now, your words slurring together, your mind completely gone. "satoru—fuck—i can’t—i can’t!!—"
you cum again, your walls clamping down on him so hard he groans, his rhythm faltering. he fucks you through it, his hand still working your clit, and you’re sobbing, your body shaking, your mind nothing but static and pleasure and him.
"that’s it," he praises, his voice rough. "good girl. such a good girl for me. look at you, so stupid. can’t even speak, can you?"
he cums with a groan, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing inside you. you feel the heat of it, the way he fills you, and it sends you over the edge one more time, your third orgasm ripping through you like lightning. you’re crying, your body trembling, your mind completely blank.
he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves. then he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms, his hand stroking your hair.
"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft now, gentle. you nod, your face buried in his chest.
"you’re mean," you mumble.
he laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "yeah. but you love me."
you don’t answer. you just press closer, your body still humming, your mind still fuzzy. and yeah. you do.
Summary: A collection of drabbles based on the Seven Deadly Sins, about 2 per week, with the last on Friday the 31st. Written for fem!reader. MDNI. Comment to be added to the taglist (age in bio)!
Content Warnings: MDNI 18+, everything is nsfw (consensual ofc), i'll add more warnings per post
Featuring: Sukuna, Choso, Toji, Geto, Gojo
A/N: might switch up some of these like two days before.. i'm indecisive LMFAO
5 October 〃 WRATH
Hatefucking (not rly tho) with Ryomen Sukuna
8 October 〃 ENVY
Jealousy with Choso Kamo
12 October 〃 SLOTH
Morning Sex with Toji Fushiguro
16 October 〃 PRIDE
Praise with Choso Kamo
19 October 〃 LUST
Edging with Suguru Geto
22 October 〃 GLUTTONY
Cunnilingus with Toji Fushiguro
28 October 〃 GREED
Free Use with Satoru Gojo
31 October 〃 HEAVEN HELL & PURGATORY
Angel!Satoru x Reader x Devil!Sukuna
you and toji had been in the body wash aisle for 30 minutes now. The large man motionless by your side as you grabbed another bottle off the shelf. You popped the lid and brought the bottle to your nose, recoiling at the scent that filled your nostrils. The fragrance was something between cigarette butts and burnt leather.
“yuck! smell this,” you exclaimed before shoving the bottle towards toji.
“i don’t want to smell it after your reaction,” he stated, leaning back to escape the smell of the body wash.
you huff, returning the bottle to its spot on the shelf. your eyes scan the selection once again. your gaze concentrated, index finger tapping lightly on your chin. toji looked down at you, shaking his head at your serious face.
this whole debacle started because you had stayed over at toji’s place for the first time last night. it was going swimmingly until this morning when you decided to take a shower. of course, you snooped around his things except his cabinets were empty besides his tooth brush, tube of tooth paste, bottle of cheap cologne, and a jar of pomade. no lotion…no skincare…nothing besides the bare essentials. you took a deep breath before pull the shower curtain open, and there it was…a single bottle of 3-in-1 body wash. you grabbed the bottle and marched out of the bathroom to the living room. toji looked at you then looked at his body wash confused.
“i can’t believe you actually use this,” you huffed appalled.
“you don’t like the scent or something,” toji replied back, leaning back into the couch.
“it’s 3-in-1 body wash, toji. that’s so gross. how can one soap be used for your hair, face, and body?”
“it works just fine for me,” he says, turning his attention back to the horse races on the tv screen.
you move your body, so you’re blocking the tv. the big man tries to maneuver his head around your frame, but you don’t relent.
“we are going to the store. i can’t be with a man who uses 3-in-1,” you state, arms crossed to your chest.
toji grumbles something about how he’s going to miss the races as you grab his arm, pulling him off the couch. he’s complaining, but he secretly likes when you boss him around like this.
so, now he’s here, smelling the hundredth gel-filled bottle you put in front of his nose. his nose hairs felt like they had been singed off at this point. he still didn’t understand why his original body wash was such an issue. he never smelled and showered everyday, so he figured it was fine.
“yeah, that one’s fine,” he muttered, wanting this torture to end. to him, all the soaps smelled the same, but not to you.
“eh, i don’t know if i like it,” you said, putting the bottle back before picking up another. toji groaned softly. you immediately sent glare in his direction.
“why can’t you just pick one, mama?” he questioned.
“i’m the one who has to smell you, so i want to make sure i pick something i like,” you explained with a pout.
he smiled down at you. the scar stretching at the corner of his lips. he thought you were being absolutely ridiculous, but he loved it. you had probably smelled every single body wash in the aisle yet you were still hell bent on find the perfect one. but, you had a point you’re going to the one you breathes his scent in the most. your eyes land on a bottle on the top shelf. it was in a sleek black bottle unlike the rest of bottles with overly masculine packaging. you reached up on your tiptoes to grab the body wash, but it was just out of your reach. toji stepped forward easily plucking the bottle off the tall shelf.
“this better be the one,” he fake complained, handing you the bottle.
you twisted the cap off. the scent of citrus and sandalwood flooded your nostrils. it was almost intoxicating with how good it smelled.
“this one!” you exclaimed.
without warning, you held the fragrance up the toji’s nose.
“it’s actually not that bad,” he nodded in agreement.
you let out a small excited squeal before tossing the body wash in the basket toji was holding. meanwhile, toji let out a sigh of relief, hoping he can finally get back to his horse races.
“okay, now we just need to find you a shampoo, conditioner, and face wash,” you stated, counting out your list with your fingers. toji’s eyes immediately snapping in your direction. he searched for a hint of joke in your face. he groaned when he realized you were being dead serious.
“stop complaining, ji. you’re 35. it’s time you stopped bathing like a barbarian,” you said before dragging him in the direction of the personal care aisles.
the large man lumbered begrudgingly behind you, knowing you both were about the repeat that grueling process at least three more times. but, you both know he’s exactly where he wants to be.
a/n: sorry for being mia recently! consider this my peace offering :P this idea randomly popped in my head at work yesterday. not proofread btw
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