24+ years old 🏳️🌈🇰🇳creative spirit who loves reading and listening to music🎧a movie and show lover, I ADORE a campy movie📽 big FEMINIST and occasional man hater💅🏾
Valko asks it all casually, clacking away at his laptop as you sit on the couch, one of your legs right next to his shoulder, brushing it a bit.
He tries his best not to sink his teeth into the plush of your thighs, eyeing it as his cock starts throbbing. He tries so hard not to snatch your phone up and throw it, demand your damn attention, sniff you.
It's especially hard not to sniff you when you smell so fucking sweet, ruining him every time he is alone with you - which is often, given the assignment you two were on together. That and you have become friends, which he doesn't wanna fuck up with the wolfish way he wants to claim you.
Bite you, mark you, make you his.
Breed you-
"It's just Caleb," his eyes narrow behind his glasses now, looking right at you. "What? He is in town."
"Uh huh... Caleb," he repeats- he knows his ass is obsessed with you. Who could blame him, really? But you should be paying attention to him right now.
Not Caleb!?
"Well, what's he saying?"
"He was asking to come to dinner and... ah! Did you just bite me!?" He growls before he can stop himself, his teeth sunk into your thigh. You suck in a breath, smacking at him. "You bratty dog!"
"I am not a dog," he grumbles, smirking at the glittery teeth marks on your skin. "Tell him you are busy."
You blush when he sets down the laptop, spreading your thighs and kneeling, his ears twitching as he looks up at you - your heart hammers in your chest.
"Oh. Should I?" You tease, breathless when he slides his hands up. Sharp nails press against your delicate skin.
Leaning forward, he is far too close, inhaling your skin, breath against your inner thigh, making your pussy drenched.
"Valko..."
"Tell him. Now, sweetheart," he murmurs, done with pretending.
He needs you.
He can smell your juices, see the darkening of your panties when his pretty eyes flicker to your cunt. Pushing your thighs further, you drop the phone.
"Ah-ah," he bites your other thigh. Your hands come to tug on his fluffy ears, making his tail twitch side to side. Cock leaking. "Tell him you're busy."
"Fuck, okay," your shaky hand picks up the phone, your eyes getting lidded when his nose brushes your pretty pussy over those panties, you suck in a breath at it, fingers faltering. "mngh..."
"Tell him," he says in a soft little hum, inhaling you again, palming his cock to adjust it, feeling it swelling with how badly he wants to devour you. "If you wanna cum, you will."
"Fuck you're a brat," you mumble as he tugs you closer, shoving your knee up over his shoulder, nose inhaling your cunt again. "Are you gonna just sniff me !?"
"Till you answer," he sighs. "I could do this and cum."
"Freaky wolf, ah!" He bites your inner thigh, your juices just slippin' down further, in rivulets against his face, his glasses fogged up with his breaths. "F-fine."
Sorry Caleb - I'm busy tonight.
You show him the screen, and he smirks, a curve of his lips.
"Good girl."
Fuck.
Valko tugs your panties aside, looking at the mess your cunt is and moaning at the sight, tongue hot as it laps you from your ass to your clit, then back down, not just tasting - he's fucking lavishing you, spit soaked tongue dragging through your folds. "V-Valko I..."
"Good, good, good... good girl you're s-so... good," he's gripping you bruisingly now, slurping your messy, needy hole, the juices just pouring - his adam's apple bobs as he gulps you down, his glasses just slightly askew from the way he's drinking you. "Taste s'good... fuck..."
He could almost cum from the taste alone, greedily dragging his tongue from your slutty, quivering hole to that twitchy clit, all while you're gripping his hair with one hand, the other rubbing his ears. It feels so good as he lets you coat his taste buds, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.
You shatter so fast, but he's not even trying to make you cum - he just needs your taste, he needs your scent, biting your clit before he can stop himself, the action having you squirt right down him, all over his sweater and his collar. He laughs softly as you whine out, arching your hips, thighs quivering.
"Please... in me, mngh..." You see his slick face and blush, the dark mess you made on his sweater apparent as he takes it off, standing, his cock leaking through his sweats.
You go to touch him but you don't get a moment, he's got you turned and bent over the living room table, that sweater of yours gripped in his huge hands, claws ruining the material without him meaning to. He spits right on your cunt just to make it even messier, it's so wet she doesn't even need it, laughing as you arch, thighs shaking.
The phone goes off.
Valko hums a bit, looking at the message.
"Aww... he misses his 'pips'. Cute," Valko laughs, lost now - he's not the goofy little jerk you're used to, not when he's lining his reddened tip with your hole - no, he's feral. "Should we show him how you're doin'? Hmm, sweetheart?"
"N-no, psycho," you're wetter at the idea, and he notices, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, torturing you as you arch, begging for more. "In me, in me... in - ah!"
Valko slides his veiny, thick cock deep, his tail wrapping around his body and tickling you as he groans, head falling forward, that heavy weight pressing you down. He's as big there as he is everywhere, his grin against your skin felt before he bites your neck, shoving in fully.
"S'deep... you're..."
You're a babbling mess when he pins you there, twitching inside you, cock dragging your sweet spot and kissing it over and over again. You're a drooling mess the more he moves, the more his cock rocks in and out, thickening and swelling impossibly.
"Should call him, huh baby? Let him hear your cunt he wants s'fuckin' bad," Valko can't stand it then, thinking of anyone with the girl that should be all his, every instinct on fire. "All mine, yeah baby? Breed your messy cunt till you're all mine, can't even talk, can you?"
"Mhm," you're shattering when he fucks you faster, meaner, a hand on the table bracing himself as he bites your neck till blood drips, lapping it up so his lips are crimson, moaning against your skin. "Valko... please..."
"I'll give it all to you," he's sinking his teeth again - marking you his, ones he hopes last and last, as his cock is soaked, and your tacky walls are milking him. "Fill you so full, won't be able to see anyone, will you?"
You shatter with one more drag of his fat tip, and that's when it pushes him over the edge, his knot swelling as his cum fills you to the brim, coating your walls in white. He's biting your shoulder, your neck, your arm, everywhere he can, as that fat knot stretches you, hurting so bad you're in tears - but fuck it feels good.
"So much... s'much, V-valko..." you whimper as he moves that knot, kissing all the places he's marked you, moaning softly. His tail twitches as it tickles your skin, his ears curving down.
"Perfect, f-fuck you're so... oh baby I don't think it'll go down I..." He's never had this happen, not being able to calm it down, locked and knotted so thick in your tiny cunt. He keeps kissing you, moving back a bit, hearing your little sharp breath. "Want me to keep this cum plugged inside you? Hmm, breed you, baby?"
"Yes, yes," you're drooling, looking at him with dilated eyes, all covered in his marks. "K-keep it all.. in ... your knot it's so..."
"Mhm, I know baby," he's soothing you even as he rocks it in just an inch - back and forth, until he's pressing all his cum right against your puffy lil cervix.
You're cummin' again and again, but what you don't realize is...
Valko left Caleb all of that on a voice message </3
frat!gojo, who had a reputation that always clung to him like smoke—loud parties, chaos, and endless amounts of cheap alcohol with men and women practically throwing themselves at him, but none of his one night stands ever stuck around. no one ever really stayed.
frat!gojo, who was always perpetually bored of people, no one could ever really keep up with him, that was until you.
frat!gojo, who’s almost instantly enamoured by you, following you around like a lost puppy everywhere, just so you can give him even the slightest bit of attention.
frat!gojo, who almost whimpers when you roll your eyes at him, walking away as if he was never there, and he just knows he has to have you.
frat!gojo, who has your schedule memorised to the T (he found it while stalking your socials), waiting outside your classes every single day, with his tuft of white hair sticking out in the crowd, while following you around immediately while carrying your fat stack and books and your bag while you walk around campus.
frat!gojo, who’s always bored out of his mind when you aren’t in class with him—always pestering poor nanami because you aren’t around to slap some sense into him and tell him to focus.
frat!gojo, who’s almost afraid of how smart you are, his cock straining nearly painfully against his pants when you ramble on about the kreb’s cycle and whatnot, and all he can think about is what it’d be like to be quizzed from between your thighs instead.
frat!gojo, who’s had numerous filthy dreams about you, with you tying him down, walking all over him in your pretty boots, fisting his hair with your pretty hands—and he wakes up, his cock throbbing in his sweats, leaking beads of pre, he feels like an idiot while he wraps his hands around his dick.
frat!gojo, who muffles his moans into his pillows, cumming onto his pretty abs, all while gasping your name in between breaths. he know’s you’d kill him if you found out about the dirty little fantasies he’s had of you—but the very thought of you reprimanding him has him twitching, flushed against his abdomen all over again.
frat!gojo, who has a picture of you in his wallet, it’s a candid from when you were tutoring him, your lips in a focused pout while you were trying to explain your notes, and gods he just never got over how pretty you looked while being completely engrossed in the stupid text that sat in front of you.
frat!gojo, who knows he’s down bad but he just couldn’t care less. so, if you see satoru gojo being yelled at by a pretty nerd, do NOT come save him. he is exactly where he wants to be.
i missed this too. @yoonsucks @cursedkisss @yorikae @6x-x9
Synopsis. He’s a monster, he’s a m-monster (in bed, too.)
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, monsters, Venom!Toji, aIpha!Nanami, Red Hood!Geto, Choso in héat, íncubus!Sukuna, Ghostface!Ino, clan leader!Gojo, vampire!Higuruma, rough s, manhandIing, matíng presses, spítting, headIocks, overstím, marathons, true form Sukuna, dp, slight bréeding, matíng marks, breaking beds, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Venom inspired by this post by the lovely @/screampied
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - VENOM
“T-Toji what’s…” Your jaw drops, holding onto Toji for dear life while he drilled into you like a madman.
And while that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for your husband, you can’t help but feel that he’d been much rougher since the start of the night, much more…primal.
“Primal?”
You’re snapping out of your hazy lil’ reverie immediately, jaw dropping at the deep voice that seemed to come out of neither you nor Toji. “Wh-who was that?”
“Ah, well-” Toji winces. Still unstopping. “Now - don’t get mad, doll - but in the lab today I may or may not have done some snooping where I shouldn’t have.” He watches for your reaction. “And I may or may not have kinda…sorta…procured a…parasite.”
You shriek, “A parasite?”
He gulps—and before you can get out another word, what looms before you isn’t your husband anymore - it’s something humanoid but monstrous, with stark white eyes, jet-black, molasses-like skin. And the longest tongue…
“We…are Venom.”
He was so incredibly huge.
Down there, too.
And you’re instantly feeling the sheer stretch of him burrowing his thick, bulbous cocktip against your cervix. This…Venom swipes his split-ended shaft all the way against the front of your womb, easily reaching there without even trying-
“Tch, ‘course I don’t have to try.” It seems that Venom(?) Toji(?) was cooing down at you. Hammering out push after push of his hot, vein-decorated cock. Not only was he long - he was just so damn girthy as well, and you’d barely gotten used to Toji’s sheer size.
So this was drivin’ you positively wild with the way he stuck his textured shaft into each of your crevices, his velvety cock mazing back in n’ out at a blurred pace. So hard that Venom had to pin your squirming hips down with one of his overlarge hands. Keeping you from fucking escaping. “D’you want me to?”
Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at what he was asking, “Wh-what?”
His eerie grin wides, splitting damn near half his face. Venom then leans in so close that his gusting breath wafts over your drippin’ wet cunt. “D’you want me to try?”
Hitting a thorough thud! against your g-spot.
“Y-yes–!”
And then he’s slithering two of his Stygian tendrils out almost like tentacles - one grabbing your throat and pulling you towards him after the bouncing recoil of his furious bucks, the other slidin’ sensually between your pussylips.
Finding your clit.
You’re whining out, and just as you do, Venom quivers from above you. He’s growling, he’s muttering something angrily underneath his breath- before the face of your husband surfaces where Venom’s face once was.
So his entire body was still the massive, extra-muscular figure driving ruthlessly into you.
“Enjoying yer time without your husband, are you?” His handsome face - oh, how you missed him - peers down at you with a sleazy smile. “Did you get that cockdrunk ‘nough to forget me, mama? I’m hurt.”
You’re squealing as his scarred lips pull down into a dramatic pout, and with it- his hips are only slamming into yours even harder. The honed tip of his cock pryin’ apart your plush walls and finding himself lodged into your cervix with one thrust after the other.
Since he was still maddeningly long now, you found yourself only growing stupider by the second. Your pupils swirling inside the whites of yours eyes, mouth flooding with saliva- “N-no, promise I’m not- ngh-”
“Uh uhhh, promise?” Toji mockingly questions, stirrin’ your gooey insides with his flared ridge. He’s using it as his very own spotlight, mazing through the tight channel of your pussy to find your most delicate spots.
And Toji’s tempo was much better than Venom’s, you have to admit. Because he could filthily wad out the volumes of his precum right where your hidden nooks were. “S’that why you’re drooling this much?” And that tendril he’d conjured prior still glides between your pussylips, snaggin’ against your tender orifice and pressing on your clit like a button. “S’that why you’re like a damn water park, doll?”
“C-can’t help it-” You’re huffing out with your brows knitted, you buck your hips up into his incredible cadence and find yourself getting utterly dizzy with need. “S’like you want me to get this wet.”
“Oh, how’d you know?”
“Shut it, it’s my turn now-” Toji talks, seemingly to himself but you knew it must be towards Venom. And then he’s boring his half-lidded green eyes down at you, “Of course, I wan’ you to get wet- and s’all for- hah, me- right, mama?”
“Ngh- fuck, all for you.”
And just as his plump lips start to twist into a grin- “Lies.”
You’re gaping, and Toji rolls his eyes. “Hah? As if.” Without any warning, he’s ramming one of his free hands between your jittery legs and feeling all your slick wetness.
Letting his fat fingerpads drench in all your flooded syrup, he then takes them up to his mouth and sucks them clean. Murmuring, “See? Even that damn pretty pussy of yours says she’s all wet f’me.” As if to prove his point, he’s sticking his globular cockhead against the doorway to your womb and knock-knock-knocking - your cunt answers keenly in raw squelches. “Even tastes like it.”
“The only reason she feels good is because of me.”
“Oh you fuckin’ wish.” Toji grumbles, meaty thighs sticking against yours with a clammy film of sweat. He’s hiking his lower half up further, slouched over you and pressing into your helpless cunt with both his weight and his sagging cock. “Let’s see who can make her- fuck, cum first then. Deal?”
Your heart stutters as you register his words through your buzzing eardrums. “Wh-what do you mean you’re competing-”
“Deal.”
Oh, fuck.
And you were the prize.
They’re both setting their sights on you at once- Venom attempting to fight against Toji for ownership of his body whilst he stuffed his prolonged cock into you. And Toji fervently battles just so he doesn’t lose even a second of feeling.
Of the way your quiverin’ pussy was clenching around him. Gushing. Twitching with every white-hot spark of pleasure that runs up your spine.
“Sh-shit, m’not gonna last long.” Whimpering out, tears bead at the corners of your eyes as he speeds up his vicious pumps. “If you keep going like that I won’t- hah!” Probe after bulging probe, you swear you could feel him stretch out spots you didn’t even know you had. And not only was he tunneling in with his swollen length, he was using that hold he had on your clit to squeeeeeeeze as well, ticklin’ your perky nub.
Toji grins as you start bucking wildly- Venom might be larger, but he sure couldn’t read your pretty body like your husband could. “Mmm, not too long now- huh?”
“Oho?”
“Cum f’me, then, mama.” He’s ignoring that damned parasite. “All for me- like a good girl, won’t you?” Pap after pap of clammy skin-on-skin, Toji rovers his bulging cockhead deep against your cervix. Breath hitching, “Cum—please?”
And with only a few more of his vicious strokes, you do.
Your voice cracks with so many moans, head throwing back- perfect for Toji to surge his mouth forwards and sink his teeth into your throat. Biting down. Pounding his vulgar cock into your cunt as he hits and hits your puckered g-spot.
“Yeah- all for me, all for- hah, me.” You’re holding onto his sculptured shoulders and he snickers. “See that? The way she’s holdin’ onto me- heh.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
It’s as much of an admission of defeat from Venom as he’d ever get- and even then, Venom still finds a way to slither out. Because just after your high melts away into nothing but a few zaps, he takes over- hah, how easy it was when Toji was just enamoured with how pretty you looked creaming all over his cock.
Venom looms over you, large and needy, letting his looooong slobbering tongue flop out.
“My turn now.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Mr. Alpha
“Fuck, I’m sorry-” Nanami rasps through the slight cracks between his teeth, and you notice the way his rough baritone seems to shake as if it was on the verge of shattering.
And your poor husband shakes like he was about to.
Holding onto your cryin’, quivering body with his headlock around you, chiselled abs pressing in from behind, his bulging cockhead probing deep into your cervix. And you’re practically putty in his hands as he draaaags you back into his body, manhandling you. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m- hah! sorry.”
And he said he was - he whined he was.
Nanami just couldn’t control it, this damn rut of his left him in a frenzy. His body heat ten times hotter than it usually was, he’s folding you stupidly onto all floors. “Fuck, ngh, does- does it at least feel a little- hngh, better, Kento?”
“Yes—” He’s seething, until a few more thrusts make your gummy walls clench onto him like adhesive. “N-no…fuck, I don’t think m’ever gonna stop feeling this- hah, fever.”
“Shit, m’not gonna make it out alive-”
“Honey-” Nanami jerks your head slightly upwards to face his handsome features, and he’s spitting into your open mouth with no regrets, no apologies. “-I’m not gonna make it out alive.”
He’s been like this ever since he’d come back home from the office. He’s been like this ever since he had just enough time to explain that he’d stumbled across his rut during work. That he’d been rushed home and he can’t even remember how he got here but oh- now that he was…
Nanami drilled his thick, thumping cock into you furiously. His palm pressing you down into the kitchen counter right where he’d found you, “Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck ngh- you’re just insatiable-”
“Oh, my love, m’not just insatiable—” His knobbly fingerpads dig into either side of your hips, hard enough that the neat crescents of his fingernails indent in there. “-I th-think m’gonna fucking- die- if I don’t- ngh, fuck this pretty pussy.”
You’re grasping at the marble platform, “Shit- y-you’re going so hard, Ken.”
“And do you not wish for-” His ringed left hand slips between your legs and swirls over your outer cunt, letting out the most lecherous sounds. “-more, darling?”
You’re gasping as his rude headlock tightens, his beefy biceps clenchin’ around your throat. “Is that so—?” Spittle flows down the side of his veiny forearm, and he’s nudging his muscles even closer. “Then tell me if it gets to- hah…rough, my love. You can bite down aaaaany time you want.”
“A-any time.” You babble away, too cockdrunk to even formulate coherent responses.
Showing absolutely no mercy.
Nanami has his powerful body hunched over, his pointed chin pushed into the crook of your neck. The slamming impacts of his hips so fucking hard that your feet dangle off of the floor, being pushed higher and higher upwards.
Your husband’s enlarged cockhead shoving against your plush walls and swabbin’ its way all around. He’s letting his veiny shaft stick to the roof of your cunt, your teeth chattering at the sheer thumps of his thrusts. “And you better bite, my love- because m’not gonna stop until-”
“Until wh-what?” You’re prattling out in a whiny tone, looking over your shoulder at what’d just left your stoic, sensible husband speechless.
Only to find that he was staring straight at your pussy with molten eyes, half-lidded and greedy. Licking his plump lips as he stares at the glistening entrance of your cunt, and Nanami was just so big - just so thick with neediness that he could nearly see himself from the outside.
Such a cute lil’ tummy bulge that he rovers his hand over, the other tuggin’ your tight hole aside so that Nanami could start to fit his swollen bulge inside. “Until I can fuck you pregnant, my love.”
Oh. Your knees weakened.
His knot.
As an alpha it was no surprise that he’d form a thick knot at his base- but this was incredible. The round circumference of his base sweetly kissin’ your pussy, “Until you can take, ngh, this-” Pushing and pushing - harder with each of his pressurized rams. “And then- even after that m’gonna- hah- fuck…fuck another one into ya.”
“Sh-shit, I’ve never heard you speak like this, Kento.” You’re whining out, your head falling behind and hitting his sharp collarbone.
He nuzzles you softly, his vanilla-like pheromones seeping out and leaving your head all dizzy. Nanami’s puffy lips drag down your throat, nipping at the side of your scent glands that made him salivate just to be near. “Mmm, s’all because you make me this way.” Push after push of his knotted hilt that tries to fit inside. Half-rutting. “Can never go back now- never. Y-you aren’t walking out of this bedroom not pregnant, darlin’.”
Gasping, “W-we’re not even in the bedroom, Kento.”
“Huh- oh.” Nanami blinks his heavy lids just a bit, so pussydrunk that he doesn’t even realize. And the moment he looks down from his surroundings and back down at you- his sweet scent flares even more. “My apologies for not- hngh, doing it right.”
Usually he’d take it slow. Take it sensual, but right now he’s fucking his furious, creaming tip into like he was crazed. “No- don’t- don’t apologies, mm, you’re in rut-”
“But I still hafta do it properly.” He’s insisting, and before you can get out another word- you’re feeling his panted hot breath distance itself just a little. As if he was pulling back. As if he was gearing up for something.
Gearing up for a few sultry seconds to bite you - straight into your cute, quivering scent glands. His honed canines puncturing through and melding your two pheromones.
“There-” He pants out between his pearly whites. “There- finally did something properly, and now…”
You’re whimpering, already knowing what’s in store for you by the way his creamy white precum floods the base of your pussy.
“Now for the fun part, my love.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Red Hood
“Oh, giiiiirl—” Red Hood - or should you say, Geto Suguru - tips back his crimson mask to take a good, long look at you. His pretty lips curving up into a smirk, “A petty thief like you- you didn’t think you’d get away so easily, did ya?”
You pretend to bat your lashes, all the while struggling with the way he straddling your waist with his thick, sculpted thighs. “A pretty thief you said? Why thank you.”
“Petty.” Geto emphasizes, and it was only with the way you two had run into each other multiple times prior that he smiles- anyone else and you’d be in cuffs and on your way to Gotham Penitentiary by now. “Though, the other one works well, too.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Almost.”
Faux-gasping, “Almost?”
“Gorgeous.” Geto bites out, starting to ache in his pants with just how much you’d been squirming and fighting to free yourself - as if he’d let you go that easily. “You’re gorgeous, petty thief.”
Oh?
Just a few minutes later and a tough fight with skin-tight suits later found you and Geto grappling on top of his king-sized bed. Fighting for purchase of each other. Pushing the other down. A power struggle to seat yourself on top of his rock-hard cock and pin him down.
You fight the temptation to throw your head back in pleasure as his plump, mushroom tip starts to stretch you wide open. His curvaceous globe pokin’ its way inside, “Mmm, fuck- it feels s-so good.”
“S-s-so good, huh?” Geto mocks you, in a high falsetto that was much too dramatic. Even though- fuck, he could barely keep his own self together. Could barely even stop his brows from knitting, mouth falling agape, eyes falling half-shut.
And of course, you’re noticing.
A sultry smirk winding its way ‘round your lips whilst you buck your hips forward and clench. Letting your velvety-soft walls swallow up his thickened inches, “Yeah? Doesn’t it feel good for hngh, you, baby?”
“Oh, f-fuck–” Geto pants out, his toned chest rising and falling. “Now tha’s just fucking unfair, you know what that does t’me.”
Pretending to think, “Oh, do I? And here I thought I was just some…” Bouncing down even harder, you could feel each needy thump of his veins pulsing against your walls. “-petty thief?”
“No- no no no, you’re not.” And fuck- fuck, this was the Red Hood? Especially raised and trained by none other than the Dark Knight himself. Oh, his mentor would positively faint if he saw this version of Geto.
With his pink lower lip trembling pathetically, and his mouth sagging further open at the feeling of your treacly cunt. One of his hands come up to hold onto the side of your waist without him even realizing it- and he’s bucking, pumping his lengthy inches into the deepest depths of your pussy. “Fuuuuck, you’re- ngh, you might just be h-heaven itself.”
“Oh? And how does it make you feel?” You’re urging him further, the backs of your ass cheeks striking his toned pelvis until his skin turns red.
His breath hitches just as you angle your hips so that his vein-decorated shaft reaches in for a tight cranny at the very back of your pussy. He wasn’t even bottomed-out, and yet he was stretching you out so maddeningly. “Makes me feel- ngh, like-”
“Yes?”
He flits his eyes up n’ down from the glossy lips of your cunt, and then back up to your face. Cheeks slowly flushing a pretty pink, “Like, hah- fuck…”
“Mhmm—?”
“Like I’m gonna-” Geto’s strangling out primally from the back of his throat, and then you’re clenching once more and his head throws back. “Like I’m gonna f-fuck you until you can’t walk, gorgeous.”
Your brows raise at his hefty order, “Oh? And you really think you’ll be able to do that when you’re so- oh, fuck!”
He’s flipping the two of you over in mere split-seconds. With his sculptured lower half pressing against your own, his cock throbbing all the way against your cervix, and his hand on your throat to keep you from squirming.
To keep you from running.
You arch your back and attempt to move yourself away at the sheer girth of him, his wide circumference bulging against your walls incredibly. “Fuck, at least give a girl a w-war- mm.” Only to find that he won’t let you move a single centimeter-
Squeezing those long, flexible digits of his against the sides of your neck and drag-drag-dragging you back in. Even closer to him than you had been before, Geto’s plastering the backs of your thighs against his waist. His curly black happy trail scraping your sensitive clit- “A warning? So you want a warning, gorgeous?”
Geto’s heaving. He’s seething.
He’s fucking you deep into his luxurious bed like he was addicted to the soft, sensual feeling of your cunt. Squeezing him so tight, running him dry of his dollops of precum.
“Oh, I’ll give ya a fucking warning-” He’s grumbling underneath his breath, and just then the curved, wettened tip of his cock meets your womb in a thorough bash. “-how about this to not walk ‘round doing crimes, hm?” And then his dominant hand slides down your front, teasingly thumbing between your bloated pussylips for a few seconds before he presses down on your swollen clit like a button. “And thiiis to maybe keep your hands to yourself instead of- ngh, on precious things they shouldn’t be on.”
“Shit- right there-” You’re starting to claw at his bulky deltoids and Geto loves it. Oh, you could feel him growing harder inside of you at the mere feeling, the flared ridge of his slit swelling up, turning even redder.
“Oh? Catty, are ya?” And before you know it, Geto’s reaching over to his bedside table in a flash.
Slightly confused, you blink away the hazy lust in your eyes- and find that Geto had grabbed his infamous red mask of all things. And was using the flexible material to wrap your restless wrists together, all at his mercy.
“And this…” He’s chuckling, dark. “This’ll teach you to do something, mmm, better with your night- heh, like this. With me.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - H.E.A.T.
“Oh-” Choso’s rasping into the clammy crook of your neck, his spittle pouring out like rain and staining the side of your neck.
And every time he’s dragging his red, overstimulated cock in n’ out with a squeeeelch- you can feel his mouth water. More and more, even with the tiniest ruts and shoves of his achin’ hot tip he’s grunting out. Gasping. “Oh, fuck- I can go once more- h-haaaaah, fuck! I promise I can go once more, baby.”
“Choso—ngh, oh my god-” You’re whining yourself. And you don’t know which one of you is more in heat, him or you.
Well, him - most certainly.
Choso was blushing red-hot, he was practically burning up. Like a fever he’s fucking his tired hips into you, uncaring just how many times he’d bruising the sides of his pelvis with slamming impact. “Yeah?” Choso speaks out wetly, and something in his tone sounds breathy. Sounds…crazed. “Yeah- is that a ‘yes’, baby? Gonna- h-hck! gonna let me fill this pretty pussy up once more, baby?”
Practically sobbing at the raw way his puffy veins scrape your walls, the same mapped-out pattern that makes you see stars. “Shit, Choso I don’t even know if you can-”
“Of course I can.”
And Choso Kamo is never the type of boyfriend to cut you off. Never the type of boyfriend to shut down your thoughts without even hearing you out.
But, fuck, you have to forgive him this one time - and he will apologize, later. And it was all the fault of his damned half-curse nature, all the fault of that seasonal heat that made him somewhat…animalistic.
Fucking his drivelling orifice into you in quick, rapid thrusts- he strikes the spongy end of your pussy with his globular tip, pressuring in deep. Like he wanted to pound you way past your cervix n’ that was the only thing stopping him.
“See?” He’s snapping you slightly out of your reverie. You follow the greedy line of Choso’s sight to where he was stuffing you with all his thick inches, right where he’d been fucking a cute lil’ bulge on your tummy.
Just that big that he could be seen, the channel of your cunt slightly inflated with his sheer ivory wads of cum from hours prior. “See, look at me- hngh, look at me, look at me- m’fucking you already, aren’t I?”
“Y-yes but-” You’re gurgling out, your eyes darting to where his prominent v-line was damn near the point of bruising. Where his doey eyes were watery, his muscles rippling with the strain of being flexed for so long.
“Oh? What is it, baby?” Choso babbles out, only after the few vulgar strokes that it takes for him to actually register your words. “D-did you want something- anything-”
And before you can get out a word, he’s hazily moving over one of his ringed hands to slide down your tummy. Pressing down on where you could feel his plump, cylindrical outline pushin’ against your g-spot. “Did you want it to be harder- hngh.” Hard.
You’re both throwing your head back, and that action makes your head fuzz up with more of his sweet, chocolate-smelling pheromones.
Mouth watering at the smell- and his did, too. Just from watching your cute reactions like this, Choso leans in and nuzzles the side of your neck, “Or did you want me to go…faster?”
Faster.
Oh—your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull at just how fervently he’s then thud-thud-thudding his curvaceous tip against your cervix. Again and again, it makes you sob– “Al-hngh! already going so- hngh, fuck keep going, Cho—”
“Oh? S’not it?” And his handsome face crinkles in concern, eyes travelling all across your pretty body. Every single inch of it. Before he finally reaches the place between your trembly legs- where your cunt was absolutely soaked in so many wadded layers of slick n’ cum, drooling out lecherously.
And Choso’s watery eyes seem to light up with an idea. “Ohhhh—I get it. D-don’t worry, my baby, I already know…”
Furrowing your brows, “What do you already- fuck!”
Though your confusion doesn’t last for too long.
Because Choso Kamo’s already taking care of what he believed you wanted fixed. He’s slithering down a hand to cup his bulky hilt, and you swear you feel both his body and yours hum with the vibrations of cursed energy.
Of his blood manipulation technique.
Flowing all throughout his erect cock and swellin’ himself up even further - he was already big enough, but with his technique going out-of-control like this…
“What- too big- oh.” Choso’s glossy, pink lips fall open as you babble way cockdrunkenly without even realizing. His other hand presses down even further to feel his hardening tip scour your every hidden nook, “But you’re t-taking it so well, baby. Are you sure s’too big?”
“Yes- no- fuck, I don’t even know.” You cry out. Your feet loop even tighter around his slender waist and use the leverage to bounce back into his thrusts- and you’re unsure whether you wanted to run away or push yourself back into him.
For more. For the roughest kisses his pinkish tip was leaving on your cervix.
Choso coos down at your lack of a coherent answer and cups his large palm against your face. “Awww, my poor baby. Can’t think, can you?”
At this, he’s gently shaking your head with his own hand. Giggling out prettily at your pliable body- “Even though, h-hah, I’m the one in heat- ngh, oh, you’re so cute.” And before you know it, he’s snakin’ that same hand down to roll over your throbbing clit. “But don’t you worry, baby, I’ll take care of it all.”
“Fuck- yes-” You babble away, your spine arching off the bed as he increases his roverin’ pace. His plump cockhead poking into your g-spot, “Yes please-” Into your womb- “Take care of it, Cho.”
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
Without even thinking, Choso bullies his cock all the way near the back of your cunt. Pumping out steady strings of cum that floods your cervix with so many layers, his blushin’ tip twitching just a few times.
And then his hips reel back, back, back to fuck those cobwebbed wads inwards. He rasps, “Oh, m’gonna take care of it alright, baby.”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - “I-incubus?!”
Your jaw drops- and you can’t help but look from that dusty ol’ book you’d borrowed on a whim from the library, to the…the absolute hunk that stood in the middle of your humble bedroom.
He was so tall that he was forced to hunch ever-so-slightly, muscular, swirling black tattoos decorating most of his muscular frame. A devilish tail and two tiny, red horns stuck up from underneath his pinkish hair.
Ryomen Sukuna, he’d said his name was.
Incubus.
And only a few minutes later, he had you moaning it non-stop. Like a broken record-player that cracked occasionally, you’re throwing your head back and letting off a particularly loud whine of it once he pushes in the second of his slimy, reddened tip.
It’s fatness bulging out the entrance to your walls, “Oh my god- fuck, not only do you have two but they’re both so—” You’re trailing off, feeling his slick, veiny shafts slip against your walls and each other. “-so big.”
“Hah- flattery won’t save yer pretty pussy from me, mama. Try harder.” He’s spitting out into your widely-agape mouth.
Crimson eyes narrowed down at you- the way your human body somehow seems to take it when he’s pounding into you with the full impacting force of his incubi body. Folded into the meanest mating press possible, Sukuna laces two of his overlarge hands on top of your scalp and puuuuulls you into his driving hips.
And the only thing you can do at this point is hold onto him for dear life.
Never having been fucked like this before, his matching twin cocks were stacked against your roof and the tender underside of your chanel. Stretching you open like never before—“H-how m’I supposed to flatter an- ngh, incubus then?”
“Chatty.” He gruffs out- and you swear the monstrous mouth that was slashed across his stomach smiles, too. Salivating. Slobbering.
The curly tip of his second tongue then flops out. So long that he’s managing to snake it easily up the middle of your body, slathering down to leave a bright sheen of saliva- before he’s teasing his honed edge between the crevice of your pussylips and licking.
“Oh my god- th-that’s unfair-” You’re blurting out, your hips desperately bouncing back into his dual stimulation. He was both pumping into your deepest depths and letting his ridged tastebuds steal a good taste of your candied pussy. “-and you didn’t answer my question…”
“Heh, oh- but I did.” Sukuna snickers out meanly. Every time he’s speaking, he lets the tendril of his muscle flick outwards.
Up and down, up and down. Sticking, probing, gluing himself to the sweet outer part of your cunt just as much as he was to the inner part with his throbbing length. “Can’t you hear, mama?” And then his roverin’ tongue slips over your clit, rolling over in sultry gyrations. Slurp after sluuuurp of your pussy. “Hear her? This is how you truly flatter the King of Incubi, heh.”
“Wh-what do you…” Your eyes widen- and so do both his sleazy smirks.
Ryomen Sukuna was talking about the way your cunt was squelching. Like his favorite human song, he’s letting it resound out every time his tongue glues between your folds.
The thrashing of his ravenous cocks makes you gush out in more glistening slick for him to lick up.
“You’re s-so filthy.” You’ve never had anyone eat you out like this. You’re absent-mindedly slipping your hand between your legs, almost as if in an attempt to make him slow down his loud, hot kisses.
But Sukuna’s second mouth only unfastens even wider to let them dip inside, sucking. He gruffs out, “Greedy for ‘er, huh?” But not at you - no, not at your honeyed pussy, either. Rather as his gleeful cursed mouth that lapped happy between your legs, plastering himself even deeper. “Oh- can’t blame you- she’s addicting, huh?”
And then, almost as if realizing what he’d just admitted - almost as if realizing he’d just paid a compliment to a human of all things - Sukuna bumps both of his fattened tips against your cervix.
So hard that you’re sure it bruises, his wide circumferences let out two dull thuds as he bottoms out savagely. “You- you didn’t hear that.” He rudely spits out, now starting to tease the tendril of his tongue against your first ring of muscle. As if he was threatening to snake his textured way inside- “Fuck, m-maybe this pretty pussy is too good at flattery. A…dangerous lil’ thing.”
“Or maybe you’re just weak.” There was no breathing or non-breathing being in this world who’d dare talk back to the king like so.
And yet, with the rhythmic way your cutely-shaped insides were clenching ‘round him- fuck, he might just be at your mercy. Oh, how the creatures of the underworld would faint if they saw this. “Caaaaareful, brat.” Sukuna growls. “They don’t worship me for nothing.”
“W-worship?” You really needed to read more descriptions of books before you accidentally summoned an incubi king - though, you really weren’t complaining.
“Mhmmm—”
Lecherous strokes speeding up. Swabbing, sticking his red-tipped shafts against your tiniest orifices.
He lets you sheath his cocks all the way down to the circular tattoos that decorate his bases. Drenched all over with a sheen of your slick- one that Sukuna’s cursed mouth laps up happily. He’s feeling the cloying taste on his own tongue, and it’s so hypnotic that it makes him throw his clammy head back with a groan. “But- right now-”
Words blurting out before he can control them. Before he can even register them.
He’s probin’ a few more slashes against your wettened cervix, and it’s enough to make you damn near sob. He was almost glad for how stupid were becoming on his cock - it’d stop you from noticing the way that Sukuna’s mouth salivated, the way his eyes widened.
The way his nostrils flared at the sweetened pheromones that were emanating into the air.
Right before you’re arching yourself right up into him and cumming.
Your toes curling, heart almost thumping out of your chest at the pleasure. A wave of bliss so strong passes over you that you start to wonder whether any other orgasm you’ve had before was even an orgasm.
A high that leaves you blabbering, and your eardrums nearly too fuzzy to hear-
The way that Sukuna seems to lean down close and whimper- “But…fuck, r-right now, it seems like I’m the one worshipping you, mama.”
♡ INO TAKUMA - Ghostface/ Pretty face
“Sh-shit.” From underneath his ghoulish mask, you’re spying a lil’ sliver of Ino’s pretty face- flushed cheeks, pouty lips wobbling.
He was the one that broke into your house.
He was the one supposed to scare you silly, the infamous Ghostface.
And yet…Ino found him at your mercy the very second you’d gotten your hands on him.
The wet crevice of his maw drops open as you sensually clench ‘round his cock, “Oh my g-god-” And his lanky body shivers as he fights not to let his head drop back, looking up at you through his mask as you ride him lecherously. Stirrin’ and probing his spearheading cock inside you, “You’re k-killing me with this pussy, sweetness, ngh.”
“Mhm—?” It was just too cute how pussydrunk he was already, and you’re letting your velvety walls slurp him all up. Sticking his geysering orifice into every one of your nooks n’ crannies, “And here I thought you were supposed to be the serial killer here?”
“I can’t even compare to her-” Breath hitching, his dominant hand slips down to place a heavy spank on your glittery pussy.
Wadded with so much of his creamy pre, it’s dribbling all down your legs and creating a glistening sheen on Ino’s abs. It helps you slip and slide. It helps you fuck him stupid with your grinds.
You’re dragging your pussy forwards some more down his veiny shaft, and you swear you catch the way his toes curl. Letting out a husky, groaned noise that you wish you could see him make-
“Aw, c’mon then—” You’re tipping your fingers underneath Ino’s infamous ‘Ghostface’ mask, “Maybe I should be the one, mmm, wearing this then. Take it off f’me?”
His lungs rip with a primal whimper, bucking up into you as you swivel your hips in a dizzying figure eight. And fuck- Ino swears the way your softened cervix takes his thrashing hits is enough to make his pupils circle comically. Babbling without even thinking, “Y-yes, pretty-” His hand goes to take his mask off-
Before he’s realizing with a sudden gasp-
“N-no, wait…” Stroking his glistening, drenched cock up into your pussy wildly. He’s bottoming-out to scrape his split-ended tip against your womb with a dull thud! “Who’s supposed to be the criminal here?”
You’re batting your lashes, slightly teary with all the oversensitivity of him stretching you out so good. And your pussy takes each thrust with a grateful slurp, “Hmmm, is it you?”
“D-damn right-” Ino grits his pearly whites from underneath his mask, and you can sense that he’s fighting to keep his tone even. “And who’s the one f-fucking you?”
“M- oh, you.” He manages to somehow fuck the exact answer he wanted out of you- with one of his hands plastering onto the side of your hips, roverin’ you in slight circles. With him holding onto you like this, the zig-zagged veins upon either side of his shaft graze gently against your sweetest spots. “Fuck, s’you, Taku.”
“M-my real name-” He’s huffing out, core tensing and flexing incredibly once he’s starting to fuck up a steady pace into your cunt.
And you don’t know whether it’s because of the way he’s hittin’ every spot precisely or because of the pure heavenly sight- but you find yourself drooling. Something that makes him snicker meanly, “And who’s in charge?”
“Ngh- oh, fuck!” You’re arching your back after a particularly hard hammering thrust that glissades wetly all the way from your g-spot to the back of your pussy.
A sensation so blissful that it makes your gooey walls cling onto him like gum, something that makes the ‘one in charge’…break. And your eardrums already catch the slew of swears he lets out after your clench, something that makes you tilt your head down with a cockdrunken smile. “Is it…me?”
“You-” Ino’s strangling out, before he drills up into you like a madman. You didn’t know which one of you was more gone by now- him. Definitely him. Thump after thump. “Fuck fuck fuck, yes- it’s you.”
He gasps.
He pants.
He whimpers—the slick, flooding divot right in the middle of his shaft mazing through every inch inside of you. Ino can’t help but let your poor bedsprings creak as he drags his patterned length along your walls, “How was I ever s’pposed to compete?” Rolling over your clit with the fatness of his thumb. “You make me s-so dizzy, this pussy…she’s like magic.”
“Dizzy, huh?” You’re smirking out, bashing the globes of your ass back into his pelvis. “If you’re getting dizzy then maybe you should, ngh- take that mask off, Taku?”
“Yes- no, fuck fuck fuck yes- wait-” It’s gotten to the point that his skin ‘round that area was starting to redden with impact, and yet Ino didn’t even care.
Only shoving up harder, gluing his crowned shaft to your cervix. He stirs his aching, pulsing tip there for a few seconds, just feeling you. “Only if you- oh, do that thing again.” Ino asks, his voice thick with tears. “That thing with your s-soft pussy walls? Please?”
And you couldn’t see it right now, but you got the distinct feeling that he was batting his lashes up at you. But oh, how could you say no to him?
So with your hips bouncing even harder, you’re barely even letting your cadence falter as you clench around his reddened cock even more. Just feeling his swollen size, his swollen veins- and it makes Ino throw his head back with a sensitive cry.
“F-fuck yes, pretty—” Ino lets his voice break. And with it- the fastened strings of his mask, slowly it starts to fall. But you’re the one to properly pull off his Ghostface mask, revealing…
Oh.
He’s just too pretty.
With the softest brown eyes all glistening with tears at how good your syrupy-soft pussy felt, his cheeks flushed with fever, sweating like he was in the depths of a fever - a fever for you. Ino’s heavy lids partially close at the feeling of your starting to increase your bounces, and his Adam’s apple bobs when he feels his ravenous girth wad out a thick splatter of precum.
Your shocked face making Ino gnaw down cutely on the plushness of his bottom lip, stuttering. “S-stop staring and fuck me stupid, sweetness.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Clan leader Gojo
The elders had never seen their stoic, strong clan leader storm through the Gojo Estate like this - nearly upturning every piece of furniture, nearly steamrolling every resident of the household.
The elder had simply never seen him so…impatient.
Practically more beast than man by now, he’s throwing open his grand bedroom door, slamming it shut so hard that a few of them glimpse the hinges start to crack. But only you manage to catch what happens after.
Inside. With his face blanched, his blue eyes widened, breaths coming out in pants. Gojo sounds as though he’d just run halfway across the world to be here with you - and he’d do it all over again just for another minute with you.
Gojo’s looking up- and then he’s on you in a second.
Pushing you against the bed, tearing up your comfy shorts—getting to those wet, flimsy panties of yours and ripping them straight off your hips to bring up to his nose and smell.
“Fuck…” He lets out, underneath his breath. “You’re wet already, my wife.” And as Gojo leans in, you can’t help but stare into his crazed, hazy eyes - something about them drunk already. He grins. Voice breathy. “Did you know I was coming to beg to put a baby in you?”
“O-oh.” Your mouth gapes, “Oh, fuck.”
You were fucked.
And that was hours ago—days, perhaps. You’d easily lost track of time with Gojo’s swollen, reddened cock being shoved inside you without any hesitation- he’d been so damn hard that you could practically count every time he throbbed.
Thumping n’ thumping his soaked, ruby-red tip against the ends of your pussy- he’s reaching his beefy arm over your neck and holding you against his moving body in a headlock. Keeping you still on all fours as he empties out yet another creamy load of cum, “Take it- take it take it take it, sweetheart, and g-get pregnant.”
“Fuck—I think I might be already, Toru- ngh.” You’re gasping for air, your spittle drivelling all over the mounds of his biceps. Just so chiselled.
Fuck, it felt good to have you be manhandled like this. And the strongest was, inevitably, strong enough to push you into any pliable position he wanted. So his meaty knees nudge your shaky legs just apart from behind- a stream of syrupy cum pour out of you with a sluuuurp!
“Mmm, I think not.” Gojo pouts mockingly from behind, he stuffs his face into the crook of your neck and breathes you in. And as he does so, you swear you feel his skin bzzzz–! with the low humming of cursed energy.
Flaring up once Gojo activates his Six Eyes to look straight through your body, into the glazed depths of your goopy pussy. He’s letting out a little puff of breath as he does, “Not yet, at least.”
“Oh, ngh- f-fuck!” You’re squealing as he latches onto your perked clit with one of his vibration-tipped hands. Squeezing that nub where you were so sensitive, he’s then roverin’ his glazed shaft into you wildly - as if he wasn’t already before.
The creaky frame of your bed was sagging on one end, splintering after every one of his hard thrusts and yet he still wasn’t slowing down. The fattened, bludgeoning end of his girth scraping your dewy cervix, drawing out a stripe of precum. “So y-you have to take it again, right, sweetheart?” He’s grunting against the heated shell of your ear, “Gonna take it again and again, until we finally make an heir, m’kay? I’m thinkingggg—a daughter, maybe? What do you, ngh, think?”
“Fuck- Satoru, I don’t know if I even can think.” Begging, you’re fisting your dampened sheets for dear life, your entire body sagging into it.
To which your husband can’t bear to let you move apart from him even mere inches—and he’s sliding a hand underneath your tummy, hoisting you up into him with a grinning ‘upsy daisy.’ Gojo keeps his palm splayed open where his cylindrical cock was pushin’ from inside, pressing down.
“S’okay—-you don’t have to think, my wife.” And then the knobbly ends of his fingertips squeeze your clit, tugging. “You just hafta- hah–” Right in the same rhythm of his pumping, probing cock. “-take- it-”
Your teeth clench, saliva sizzling on the top of your tastebuds every time he bashes his plump cockhead in. Just so puckered that his flared slit knocks against your g-spot without even trying- or maybe he was trying, maybe he was looking through your body and straight at your tender spot with his Six Eyes.
You didn’t even know at this point. You couldn’t even compute.
“Please- p-please-” Just babbling away every time he’s pressing his ripped abs against your backs, toned pelvis hitting yours with slamming impacts.
“Please?” His honed canines nip your own lips, “Please?” His v-line reddening, the curly white hairs of his base drenching in all your slick n’ his cum. “Mmm, no need to beggg, sweetheart. M’gonna fill this pretty pussy up, don’t you worry. I won’t- hah—”
Reaching so deep inside. Scouring. Bashing. He’s wadding up the entrance to your womb in all his milky precum, like he’d go even deeper if he could.
And it takes Gojo a few more vulgar strokes to catch his breath, as gone as he was. “-won’t leave you hanging. Ever.” And as his voice cracks, so do a few bolts of his cursed energy- jolting on your pretty clit and making your legs shake, eyes tear up. “G-gonna fill you up with my, ngh, kid.”
“Oh- Toru, fuck!” Your head throws back, and with his position it lands perfectly on his bulky shoulder. The perfect opportunity for him to lean in and bite your cute throat as you cum with a whine.
A few more solid thrusts to drag you through each zap of your high, you feel him locate your most fragile hidden spots with his cum-glazed tip. Thrashing. Pokin’ in. Gojo presses on your g-spot like a button - straight in - as you quiver and fuck back through your wave of bliss. “M’c-cumming…”
“I already know, my wife.” Something about him just sounds so crazed- as if, with his powers, he could see every peak of your orgasm.
He counts them underneath his breath, stroking your sweetest spots just in time with it. And the very moment he’s reaching about six lecherous pushes of his vein-covered cock- you’re finding that Gojo’s cumming, as well.
Not because he says so. Not even because he realizes.
But because eventually as the haze of your high fades, you feel something wet splatter onto the side of your shoulder. And at first, you think that it was his sloppy, pussydrunken drool- only to turn your head and find out that Gojo was crying.
The strongest was crying.
“F-fuck!” Then you’re registering the hot liquid spraying out into your cunt, a few heavy dewdrops that speckle your deepest insides. He’s pushing them in so deep that you swear you can taste the salty flavor on your tongue, “Did it t-take now, Toru?”
“Huh? Oh…” Gojo finally - finally - looks down and catches sight of the ivory wetness dripping out of your pussy. Forming the filthiest lil’ ring around his smearing base.
He crinkles his nose at the pleasure, mazing his swabbing tip even deeper with a groan. “Fuck, I th-think—” Prattling away, he hits the front of your womb with a thump! “I think it did- oh.”
Just the mere notion is enough to make him fall into his high all over again - to pump out gluey wads of cum, to fuck each one into you, to cream himself dry on your pussy.
Teary all over again- “And we’re gonna hafta fuck at least twice more to make sure it- heh, takes.”
Oh.
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Vamp-eater
“Ngh- ngh, please.” Your hips quiver sensitively as they glide down the ridges n’ features of Higuruma’s handsome face.
Sloppily riding, your legs straddling his head on his damn office desk.
Controlled all by him, of course- he glues a hand to the side of your hips like adhesive, rovering your treacly cunt for a particularly long time over the bridge of his sexy nose. Letting your bloated pussylips pry apart, his tongue then reaches for every sensitive spot. “Please, Hiro- oh fuck!”
Just then, he’s letting his elongated fangs prick the innards of your thighs and bite teasingly.
See, that’s the thing about accidentally stumbling upon the fact that your boss was a vampire, during late night overtime with just the two of you in his office - he just couldn’t let you go.
Literally - he’s plastering your cunt onto his spit-slicked maw with only a fraction of his inhuman strength. Barely even trying, barely even realizing the indented bruises he’s sure to leave behind with his hold. “Mmmm, yeah, you clench ‘round my tongue every time you whine- did you know that, angel?”
“N-no…” You babble out, looking down through your lashes at the glistening upper half of his face. All drenched with sweat and the clingy wads of your slick, “But, mmm, Hiromi I want something more.”
His dark brows raise in anticipation, “More?”
And you can only nod and nod your confirmation blearily- “Want something more like-” Your eyes shyly stray downwards, where they latch onto the thick, throbbing outline of his erection through his dark formal pants. “-your cock, please.”
“Awww, sugar, you don’t need to say ‘please’ w’me.” Higuruma coos up at you, something glistening in his deep eyes. And then he’s giving the side of your ass cheek a good smack, “A thousand years waitin’ for my beautiful mate, and I’d wait a thousand more if it meant I got to have just a little taste of this—” One bite, his fangs sinking in the side of your thighs - just beside your outer pussy - and he seems to groan.
And then there was that.
The fact that all he’d taken was one sniff of your syrupy-sweet scent. One step inside your personal space. One sudden kiss to confirm what he’d been suspecting ever since the very first day you’d walked inside this company building - you were his fated soul. The only one he loved. The only one he ever wanted to love.
He seems to let his power simmer- like the click! of his fingers.
Before suddenly you’re finding yourself underneath him - your back against the cold desk, your thighs on top of his muscular deltoids, your cunt startin’ to be spread wiiiide open by his red, bulging tip. Higuruma huffs n’ puffs as he sinks his way inside your hot cunt, barely even seeming to have realized that he’d just fucking teleported.
“O-oh, fuck- yeah, just a little taste.” Higuruma’s licking his pale lips, and he’s sure that if his icy, undead heart could beat then it’d be thundering by now. “Mmm, would fucking- kill-”
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit-” You’re fighting to regain your breath, every slight half-thrust of his feels like he’s scouring all the way damn to your lungs.
The vein-covered length of his shaft dragging down your walls, and he’s just so big that his girth stretches you out wiiiidely. “R-right here, angel. You’ve got me right here.” And you swear the circles ‘round his dilated pupils glow as he taps his hand somewhere midway down your tummy, “Good luck getting me out…heh.”
Your mouth drops into the very same ‘o’ that he was fucking into your cunt, “Never f-felt it go in so deep before, Hiromi.”
“Good, sugar- I’ve gotta stake my claim after so long somehow.” Just pouring out webbed wads of precum that stripe the end of your cervix. He sure was marking you out as his, occasionally pushing his face into the clammy crook of your neck to breathe in your pheromones - the way your honeyed scent mingled perfectly with his.
“Fuck- fuck, ya really are made f’me.” Higuruma groans out in ecstasy after the way your soft walls would clench n’ cling onto him with each thrust. After the way your arms wrapped around his sculpted shoulders and fitted his toned front to you so perfectly.
After the way he shoved his plump, puckered tip up against your cervix and you’re gobbling him down like you wanted even more of him.
Without even fully registering it, he’s letting his primal fangs extend. Gently pricking the side of your neck before the first tang of iron makes Higuruma pull back- and instead he’s teasing his canines along your lips. Watching as you cutely squirm and whimper, “No- no don’t stop, Hiromi.”
“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, angel.” He’s soothing out, voice husky with need. He increases the pace of his roughened thrusts to thud-thud-thud your sopping wet cervix. “M’never gonna stop- n-never, not when this cute pussy begs me not to.”
And as if on cue, your drippin’ wet core lets a few sticky slurps out into the air.
A sound that you’re following after with your whiny shrills, “Yes- yes yes yes, just like that.” Without warning, you loop your hands ‘round his short, jet-black hair and forcefully bring his mouth close to your neck. “But I also want th-that, too.”
Oh.
Oh.
In your distant hearing, something cracks - and only hours and hours later will you realize that Higuruma had gripped the side of his mahogany desk so hard that it’d broken. His strength then being channeled into the bashing strikes against your pussy.
Oh, he’d gone easy before.
Because he’s scrapin’ every crevice of your inside, he’s letting his glazed tip map out every inch, he’s hitting your g-spot dead-on in one, two, perhaps tens more strikes that you’re suddenly too dumbified to recognize.
Again and again and again before you’re hurtling into your high.
Toes curling, your back arching off the frigid surface and straight into his tensed core. White-hot sparks of pleasure are bursting behind your eyelids before Higuruma slightly angles his nose into the air and sniffs. “F-fuck.”
His eyes droop drunkenly, jaw dropping open.
Higuruma edges his handsome face nearer, and you’re feeling the warmth of his breath. The slight slimy graze of his tongue- before his fangs sink straight into your neck.
“Oh my g-god-” Maybe it’s your high, maybe it’s the feeling of being bitten by him like this - but you find that your orgasm has never been greater. Pure euphoria running through your veins and dripping out from the two puncture wounds on the side of your throat.
It just feels so different. As if your entire body is engulfed in ice water, and the main source of heat from your body came from between your legs where you were still zapped with your high. And from the bite mark. “-am I like you now, Hiromi?”
“Are you ‘like me’, sugar? Oh, you’re more than that- s-so much more.” Higuruma breathes out, nearly choked with emotion.
You feel his jackhammerin’ thrusts get even sloppier, wetter. The red end of his shaft twitching dangerously like he’s about to cum- before he says, “You’re mine, angel.”
A/N. Mwahaha second post of Kinktober how are we feeling babygirls??
Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does.
Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.0k
A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.
“You’ve never what?”
“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”
Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.
---
Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you.
He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.
It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.
Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.
The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.
Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any.
“Um, welcome to-”
“Your hair’s funny.”
Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?
Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”
And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears.
After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day.
But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.
Oh.
Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder.
Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.
He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-
“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”
Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.
“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”
“Bye, crybaby.”
And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-
“Big bro, why are you so red?”
Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting.
Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.
“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”
“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter.
Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?”
No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question.
Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-
“Man, are you even listening?”
Shit.
Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.
Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!”
“Am not.”
“Am to.”
“Am not.”
“Am to.”
“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”
God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane.
Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.
“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”
Perfect. Great. Wonderful.
The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?
“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”
Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”
“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is.
Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”
You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust.
Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-
Click!
“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”
You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”
His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”
“Dad, I’m running away.”
That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact.
It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad.
Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-
“You alright, Cho?”
Ah.
Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.”
“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart.
“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”
“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”
“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.
“Cho.”
“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful.
And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.
“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”
“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”
“I don’t know either of you two.”
It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod.
He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”
Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”
“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years.
And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”
Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”
Raising a brow, “What?”
“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”
“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years.
“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”
Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way.
“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’.
Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”
“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”
“Wanna bet, brat?”
“...”
Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet.
Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him.
Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night.
“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.
Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.
“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”
Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”
Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him.
“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.
You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”
He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”
Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.
“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-
“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit.
“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you.
You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”
“You know…”
“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy.
“Choso.”
Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted.
Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”
And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”
And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-
“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”
And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole.
“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-
“Use me.”
Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”
“Use me.”
There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch.
And, well, how could you say no to that?
Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth.
And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now.
So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.
You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”
And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard.
Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high.
“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”
The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”
“No.”
You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”
Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway.
“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”
“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss.
Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor.
And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this? He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls.
You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”
“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”
Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him.
“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”
You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him.
He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”
And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass.
“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”
“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good.
“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”
A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”
You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”
“Mhm?”
“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”
Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now.
“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.
“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours.
“Cum f’me, my girl.”
My girl.
And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.
Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base.
“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below.
“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips.
In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now.
“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”
And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years.
Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with.
It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken.
“Crybaby.”
“Cho.”
“Corny.”
“You started it.”
Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go.
“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”
“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”
---
Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More
Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX
-Jin.
Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still
Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX
-Jin.
Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else?
Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk
Kugisaki: *spare
And you just LET him?
Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER
…
AND DID IT ANYWAY
Kugisaki: L
Fushiguro: L
Gramps: L
Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????
Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)
A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.
Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.
Your neighbor was a tease.
Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…
Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot.
Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way.
What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.
Bzzt–!
Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.
Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3
Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything.
You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door.
Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.
And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.
“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”
Oh.
Oh.
Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily.
Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down-
It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.
Especially around you.
In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp.
You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”
He knew what he was doing.
God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet.
“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”
He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.
A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”
“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.”
“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”
Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-
“He’s lying.”
Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to.
“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”
“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”
“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside.
“Just tell her!”
“I’m taking your iPad time away!”
It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…
“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”
You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”
“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”
“Yeah but-”
“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”
“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”
He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”
And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”
He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”
The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow.
And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips.
“Smooth, dad.”
“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”
Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.
And then, he sees it.
Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry.
So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later.
With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-
“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…
But this?
Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear.
All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.
“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”
And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter.
He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence.
But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?
Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was.
Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning.
And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.
Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.
So cute.
“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.
“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”
And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.
“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”
His phone clatters! to the ground.
Did you just say…his name?
“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest.
Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder.
“Toji—!”
Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-
Toji feels pathetic.
Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-
Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft.
“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”
The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.
For anything.
“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”
Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please-
Ah, his prayers are answered.
Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”
“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”
And could you read his mind?
Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.
Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure.
The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-
“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”
He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples.
Burning.
And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one.
“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”
Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard.
So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice.
It was agonizing.
And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.
SLAM!
“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-
“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”
He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit.
“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.
“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”
That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-
“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”
Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?
Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes.
Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.
“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”
“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”
He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high.
Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before.
And it makes him cum
It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.
“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty.
Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin.
“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”
Bzzt–!
From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.
Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?
---
“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”
You weren’t listening.
You couldn’t.
Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.
You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass.
But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside.
No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…
And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy.
Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-
“-doll? Doll.”
“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”
“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”
Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”
“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”
“Wh-wha- where did you get that?”
Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over.
Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro.
He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”
“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible.
“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”
He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke.
You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”
“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”
You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he.
“...I heard you, too, y’know.”
Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips.
“You mean-”
“Yes.”
Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”
Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”
“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”
Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”
Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”
.
.
.
“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”
But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already.
Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.
And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk.
All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.
Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”
And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”
He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat.
His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”
“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”
Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.
Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick.
“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”
“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”
“Tell me exactly what you want, doll.”
So bossy, you want to snap back.
But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”
And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss.
He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans.
Sweet.
So sweet.
“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”
Proposing and proposing and kissing-
He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking.
You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”
It already was.
But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up.
Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”
“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”
Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”
Toji didn’t expect an answer.
And you can’t give him one.
Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-
“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”
But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”
Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”
“Y-you’re so mean.”
At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”
You were sure he was talking for himself.
Or…was he?
Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls.
Either you could take him or he’ll make space.
Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”
You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear.
Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls.
Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed.
“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”
“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”
You stumble through it - yearning for more.
“Faster.”
“I-I’m trying.’”
But it wasn’t enough. Obviously.
And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”
How could you not?
It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now.
Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-
“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”
And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”
Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate.
And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”
It’s so rough.
Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue-
Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.
“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”
Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose.
It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.
“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”
But even that didn’t seem like enough.
Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved.
So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”
“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.
With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness.
“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”
You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself.
It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt.
“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”
His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”
And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”
God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.
The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-
“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”
“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him.
You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows.
“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.
Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”
And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know.
He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine.
“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”
And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible.
It’s like Toji was out of control.
Feral.
A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”
“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”
Shit.
The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.
Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”
As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea.
His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy.
He’s so filthy.
“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”
And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.
Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words.
“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”
God- you said his name.
Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-
“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”
Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”
Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.
But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.
When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”
God, he was flying too close to the sun.
Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”
“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”
You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”
Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”
He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well.
He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting.
Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright.
Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed.
It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.
THUD!
Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”
Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”
“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”
With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around.
The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.
“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”
Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”
“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”
“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”
“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”
And it’s only later.
Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock!
A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”
“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”
---
“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”
"you ever tried doing that upside-down kiss?" you looked away from your phone for just a sec, but then buried your face back in the screen. "y'know, the one spider-man from the other universe did with mj."
he sat at the desk with a notebook full of integrals and numbers in front of him — he'd been crushing math problems for two hours straight. with a quiet sigh, he leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. "babe, i didn't have a girlfriend before you, 'course i haven't tried it."
then he slowly turned around, cocked an eyebrow, and a smirk played on his face. "...you wanna try?" "nah, it looks crazy uncomfortable."
spoiler: wrong answer.
because now you lay on the couch, his cock hammering right into your mouth, your hips right over his chest, and your pussy stayed an inch from his mouth. he legit wanted to prove he was just as good as any other spider-man and could do way, way more than just some upside-down kiss.
his chest got wet from your juices dripping down your inner thighs. he gripped your hips, guiding you down right to his face. "come on, baby, right on my face." the second your slick folds touched his lips, he let out a pathetic moan, and that sound went straight to your needy clit.
you didn't wait either. you leaned down, grabbed his huge cock, massaged it first, and then ran your tongue over the head. "haah.. fuck baby, don't tease," he whined and jerked his hips.
the head slid between your lips and you sucked him in deep, circling your tongue around the ridge underneath. he instinctively twitched, but you kept a firm grip on the shaft. "you like that, huh? like havin' your thick cock in my mouth?"
he didn't answer, just buried his nose in your folds, and his nose got wet instantly. "god, your pussy smells so good," he groaned, rubbing against you. "so fuckk! wet for me. gonna drink from you 'til you're empty." you moaned around his cock, the vibration makin' him twitch, and he pushed his tongue inside in return, moving at a ruthless speed, feeling your heat drip onto his chin. "yeah, rub that little pussy on my face," he commanded hoarsely.
you moved up and down on his cock, swallowing it all the way to your throat, then backed off to lick the head. he alternated between sucking your swollen clit and thrusting his tongue deep into you and every time you swallowed him, he pressed your hips harder into his face, literally buryin' himself like he wanted to get inside your body. "suck it, baby," he rasped, "take every fuckin' inch. let my cock clear out your throat." you responded by sliding your mouth down 'til your nose touched his pubes and stayed there, squeezin' with your throat. "mhmmnn! nnghh!" you hummed, and he groaned, dug his fingers into your ass, and spread your cheeks to fuck you deeper with his tongue. "just like that," he whispered right into your pussy, "gonna make every little hole of yours happy, huh? push against my tongue 'til you cum on my face."
his hips started thrustin' into your throat on their own and you let it happen: let him fuck your mouth while you squeezed his balls with one hand just enough to make him whimper.
"fuck, your mouth," he groaned, pulling away from your clit for a sec to catch his breath, pressin' against your thigh. "so good, baby... your tongue, your pussy, everything's made just for my cock, i'm gonna... mmnh— fuck fuckk—"
your thighs started shakin', and he felt your pussy clenching around his tongue, your breath getting choppy. he doubled his efforts, flickin' the tip of his tongue against your clit, while one hand reached up and slipped two fingers into your leaking pussy. "you gonna cum on my face?" his lips vibrated on your clit. "gonna soak my tongue with your sweet juices? i'll drink 'em all, then i'll make you swallow my cum while you're chokin' on my cock." you screamed, your mouth lost its grip, but you didn't stop. he grabbed your hair and shoved you back onto his cock. "don't you dare stop," he growled, "suck 'til i feed you full."
his own heat built up, he felt that familiar tension in his balls and growled into your pussy "gonna fill your throat, babe," he growled. "swallow every drop, or i'll fuck you with this cock 'til you forget your name. fuckkkk just like thattt!.." you took him deeper, your throat relaxed, and you swallowed him whole. he came with a shudder — hot, thick cum splashed right into your throat. "mhm! mhmmnn!!" you muffled with your mouth full, trying to say something, but it was useless. "gonna make that cute mouth remember my taste for another week, huh?" there was so much cum it literally spilled out of your mouth while you tried to keep his cock inside. "now don't you dare swallow 'til i say. keep my cock warm inside." he made you stay still with him in your mouth, feelin' you fight the reflex, feelin' the cum fill your cheeks. "now swallow," he ordered, and you did. greedily, like you were drinking damn milk.
but he didn't stop. he kept licking, sucking and fucking you with his fingers 'til your orgasm hit you completely. "cum for me," he demanded, pressing hard with his tongue on your clit. "cum on my face, right now. right in my mouth, baby." "ah! nnngh! mhmmnn! gods! tor— toru!!" your whole body convulsed, you rode his face, moving so much that even his eyes and even damn forehead got all wet. your juices flooded his tongue, and he drank 'em up greedily. "there you go, babe," he whispered, licking off every drop. "such a good girl. your sweet pussy's practically beggin' me to lick it clean."
well, it didn't turn out to be that uncomfortable. theory proven, you were definitely wayy luckier than whatever mj was.
Synopsis. Five times Fushiguro Megumi and his particularly determined elementary class attempt to matchmake the strong, surly divorced Fushiuro Toji with you—their pretty elementary school teacher. And the one time it doesn’t end in disaster.
(Or in other words; the one time Fushiguro Megumi might just become a big brother?!)
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!teacher!reader, DlLF!Toji, 5 + 1 things, crackfic tbh, Iike MAJORLY, brainrot, sigmas, Megs and co., faiIed matchmaking, Toji’s a YEARNER, but can’t pull, bake sales, cherry bIossoms, SO many references, kids Iearning bad words from Toji (smh), parent-teacher meetings, tension, oraI (m + f), he’s FÉRAL, manhandIing, spítting, p taIking, p sIapping, fíngering, cIit bíting, GRADING, somewhat roIepIay, he’s MEAN, he’s BIG, biiiig stretches, you grade HIM, cervíx smooching, sIight banter, cIit pinching, more p sIapping, sIight bréeding, mentions of kids, feeIing for himself, taIking you through it, creampíes, cúmpIay, stuffing you FULL, brief headIocks, implied marathons, getting together, happy endings, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 15.4k
A/N. And shoutout to Megan THEEEEEE StaIIion for teaching me what rizz was mhm- aIso slightly inspired by my Unckuna fic here <3
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE ONE: RIZZ.
“…and that’s the problem.”
Fushiguro Toji can’t believe this.
No matter how he looks at it—this is weird, right?
After all, no respectable single father would be hesitant to drop his son off at his elementary classroom- instead lingering by the wide, multi-colored building steps for a few seconds before finally entering like a lamb to the butcher’s. And even worse- no respectable single father would let himself be ruthlessly interrogated by his son over this fact.
And worst of all, reveal - after much intense probing by a nine-year-old - that this was all because…he happened to have…a stupid crush on one of the teachers.
“Which one?” Megumi looks up through jet-black bangs much like his, nose crinkling at the thought of his father having- eugh, feelings.
Toji sighs. “Don’t mean to push you into your emo phase early, kid, but…”
And then he glances beyond the little one’s frame.
Right. At. You.
The entrance to Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary opened up to the main hallway; with classrooms upon either side, and doorways spaced between walls that were kaleidoscopes of crafts and schoolbag hooks and polaroids of students over the years. If Toji looked hard enough then he’d even be able to find the polaroid where Megumi was flipping the camera off—he’d learned that one from him, see.
That was an awkward parent-teacher meeting.
But that was also the day he properly met you - beyond just the polite nod and hasty small talk at drop-off and pick-up.
With your adorable flowery apron on - courtesy of elementary school policy - and your lips trying very hard not to twitch up into a smile—very nicely telling Megumi that that wasn’t something good kids do.
Toji agreed then. He’d have agreed with anything you said.
“But you were the one that taught—”
He’d slapped his hand over Megumi’s mouth then.
You’d let a small laugh slip- and he was a goner.
After that meeting, Megumi may have lost something (iPad privileges for a whole month), but Toji gained something: this little ember of attraction that he couldn’t shake off no matter how much he tried. Every routine pick-up and drop-off, every bake sale, every little notification that lit up his phone—you typing into the parents’ groupchat about some announcement or the other. And though it’d never be anything too personal, his heart always thundered in his chest as he clicked those notifications open. Is it weird that he set a different tone for your notifications?
The harder he tried to ignore it, the further it kindled.
Until he evidently couldn’t even walk inside that damn building without feeling some part of him melt just a little…
Even now, his skin burns as he watches you.
Biting back a laugh as one of your students hugged their guardian goodbye- so hard that both adult and child topple over. And then you’re being grappled into the same embrace, which you’re letting yourself be tugged into—soon enough, three more of your students join in. One tucks a wildflower from the garden behind your ear.
Sunlight falls across your face as your head falls back in a laugh - and then you’re leaning forwards and grabbing all of those tiny bodies in a hug.
Toji can’t help but wonder whether you’d like to be embraced just the same. Toji can’t help but wonder whether you’d laugh just like that when you’re picked up and spun around, feet never touching the ground. Toji can’t help but wonder why the hell Itadori Yuji was pointing and laughing at him.
“Mr. Fushiguro’s dad, your face looks funny—!” He squeals. Loud enough for multiple parents to turn and look.
Toji grumbles something underneath his breath and straightens, like the respectable adult - the respectable adult - he is. Cool. Calm. Collected. Mature. “Oh yeah? And your hair looks funny, kid.”
Now those same parents were turning to him and glaring.
“What—?!” He gruffs out at them, hands raising in surrender. “He started it.”
Itadori turns to them and smiles an utterly precious, gap-toothed smile.
He tells himself that he’s imagining the way they seem to be pulling their kids away from him.
Itadori stops laughing and ruffles his own coral-pink locks. The boy had strong-armed himself to become one of Megumi’s best friends since their first day; and he always has made himself known as the chatterbox of the group. The sweetheart. The trouble-stirrer (one of them, at least). “My grandpa says it’s um- jeanetic. My father had pink hair, too.”
Toji raises a brow, “Oh?”
“Yeah! Did you know my uncle’s in prison?” The boy looks squarely up at him and beams. “He sets things on fire.”
“Same, bud.”
“I eat dirt.”
“…what the fuck.” Toji whispers underneath his breath- though it must’ve been loud enough for the keenest of eavesdroppers to listen, because before he knows it, a little boy with a face mask and the most atrocious bowl cut Toji’s seen in his life—pulls out a notebook from his backpack and starts furiously scribbling something down.
Assumably the profanity he’d just spoken.
Inumaki Toge, was it?
Now he’s the one stepping away from these damn kids.
But before he can get too far, Toji feels a tug on either arm—he looks to his right: Itadori.
Attempting to climb up his forearms and biceps like monkey bars.
He looks to his left: Kugisaki.
Looking knowingly between you and him.
“These partners stink of-”
“What was that?” Kugisaki asks.
“Nothing.” Toji quickly replies. And then there was the other one: Kugisaki Nobara was impossible to miss in a classroom. If not by her chattering that was just as loud as pink-haired Itadori’s, then by the red, rubber hammer that she seemed to be fond of, smashing it on top of people’s heads if they displeased her. He was just in the middle of wondering whether he could be successfully knocked out if she hit him hard enough when-
“Where…are you taking me?” He quickly narrows his eyes- just as soon as the little girl started pulling him by the hand. Towards your classroom. “Hey—”
“Oh, c’moooon.” She rolls her eyes in a manner that was far too expert for her age. “How is the male lead going to get the heroine if they don’t even talk?”
“I’m not the main character?”
Itadori - who had by now managed to perch atop his right shoulder like some parrot - whispers uncomfortably in his ear. “How’s the rizzler going to get the skibidi?”
Toji whirls to him- “Bless you?” The fuck…
Megumi follows and nods sagely. Deadpanning. “Dad’s not sigma enough for that.”
“Not you, too?!”
“Hi?”
The Earth had given way from underneath him. But in reality, it was just your voice breaking through the chaos of the elementary lobby—Itadori had begun gripping onto his shaggy, black bangs for balance now- and Toji was doing all he could to peak through the boy’s cutely chubby fingers.
A breath catching in his chest once he realizes that they’d walked him all the way over to you.
Apron on. Brows raised. A flower tucked prettily behind your ear. Standing right at the door to your vibrant classroom; you kept a hand on your mouth to stifle your obvious smile. Though nothing could hide the light in your eyes.
And before Toji’s given the opportunity to wax shitty poetics about it in his mind, you’re nodding at the boy latched onto Toji’s head. With a smile- “Down now, Yuji. What have I said about climbing people like monkey bars?”
He sighs and removes his hands covering Toji’s eyes, “To not climb people like monkey bars.”
“And what are you doing right now?”
“Climbing people like monkey bars.”
“Down, please.”
Yes, ma’am…Toji’s thinking to himself. Snap out of it, man.
It was like a miracle. Itadori Yuji - for however much of a sweetheart he was - was never the type to listen to authority so directly—you could tell the kid to not eat glue and he’d chug down the whole bottle. Toji knows. From experience.
But it’s as easy as butter that he’s sliding off the older man now- and soon enough, his small red shoes are hitting the floor. And he’s staring up at Toji with his scarred mouth gaped open.
In fact, everyone was.
“Um, Fushiguro-san? Is everything okay?” Your brows then pinch in concern.
Kugisaki slaps her forehead, and Megumi seems to sink deeper into his bangs. As quickly as the words are registering in his head—he’s shutting his mouth and faintly puffing his broad chest out. Making sure that you see the way his beefy biceps flex as he scratches behind his neck. “Yeah- yeah, everything’s alright. How about you?”
“Can’t complain.” You giggle. And when there doesn’t seem to be a follow-up question, he flexes even harder. “I see uh…you’ve been hitting the gym lately, Fushiguro-san.”
“Oh, me?” He has the audacity to look a little shocked. “That’s cute, doll. But I don’t hit the gym.”
“You must take steroids then.” Itadori pipes up gleefully. “My uncle takes them, too-”
“I’m all natural—”
As this subsides, you’re taking control of the chaos like the professional you are. “Alright, oh- look at the time!” Sweeping a glance behind you at the classroom clock, “We’re almost late for attendance and rehearsal time. Let’s get inside, kids.”
You start ushering some of them inside- and Toji squirms as those balls of energy rush past him. Evidently you were preoccupied with them, but you have enough time to look up at the older man and flash him a smile-
“And I’ll see you at pick-up then?”
Faintly, he nods. “Uh-huh.”
“Good.” You cock your head up at him, “Hope you have fun with the gym then~”
“U-uh-huh.”
He can only watch mutely as you whisk a few students inside and clap your hands to get their attention—some of the parents were filtering out and he knows he must look like such a creep…but you were just so astounding. And at least he hadn’t completely fucked up that interaction-
“Mr. Fushiguro’s dad, sorry for your aura loss.” Itadori pats him comfortingly on his side. There were still some students milling about with their goodbyes.
He whirls, “Fushiguro Toji doesn’t lose aura-”
“But you did.” Kugisaki nods with her arms crossed. “You fumbled, Fushiguro-san.”
He turns to his beloved son for reassurance.
Megumi looks at Toji blankly. “You never had aura to me, dad.”
“That’s it-”
“But it’s okay.” Kugisaki says, “The male lead never gets the heroine in the first five minutes. They have to suffer first. You just messed up Phase One.”
He almost feels sorry asking. “And…what is Phase One?”
“The rizz phase.” This time, it’s Itadori that answers. “You have zero rizz, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad. But—we have a plan.”
“A plan?”
Itadori holds up three fingers. “Four more phases before you win Ms. Teacher’s heart!” Not so loud…he’s grateful you haven’t noticed them yet.
Megumi holds up the correct number of fingers. “Four more phases to embarrass yourself, dad.”
What moral support, son.
“I don’t know…”
Itadori nods seriously, “Take it this way, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad- there’s a red button and a blue button in front of you. If you press the red button you die alone like my uncle probably will. If you press the blue button you totally rizz Ms. Teacher up and live happily-ever-after before she divorces you. Which button would you press?”
Neither?! His jaw drops. “What the fu-”
“We just want to matchmake you!” Kugisaki shoves Itadori aside.
He eyes the kids warily. Leaving his love life to three elementary schoolers? Has Fushiguro Toji really fallen this far? Oh…he really is getting old. “Whatever. I don’t a shi- damn.”
And the answer is yes, yes he has.
But then Kugisaki clasps her hands together and beams, “Then in the end you’ll be just like Jinu and Rumi from K-pop Demon Hunters!”
And beside himself, Toji cracks a little smile. “Yeah…yeah, maybe we will.”
“You’ll die in the end and she’ll become a demon!”
“…let’s just stick to Phase Two.”
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE TWO: SWEET TREATS!
Status: Pending…
Why did he agree to this shit again?
Though it wasn’t exactly Valentine’s Day; Fushiguro Toji was lugging a cart ‘round the candy aisles of Maruetsu supermarket, followed by three children with sticky fingers that just kept on piling even more sweets into the hefty chocolate-filled cart. And more. And more. And more-
And though Toji agrees that there was never a wrong day for chocolate - he was just damn relieved that yesterday had been pay day. These brats didn’t even glance at the price before throwing chocolate bars and heart-shaped candies over the cart rim.
Right alongside a bunch of flour, butter, and whatever shit one needed to make cookies.
Because yes—Fushiguro Toji was apparently the type to make cookies now.
Itadori tosses a bunch of Daddy Tony’s Chocolonely into the cart. “We’re totally chocolate-mogging everyone in the store right now.”
Why did he agree to this shit again?
It’d been their idea.
Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary’s annual talent show was nearing. The decorations were being made. The kids were rehearsing after-school. And Toji didn’t care too much about such things—the only reason this had stuck in his mind was because you’d sent a message about it in the group chat. And he’d read that little sentence over and over again until he memorized it.
To raise funds for such an endeavour, the elementary was hosting a bake sale; where parents - should they choose to do so - could contribute their own baked goods and little treats and candies that could be sold. The year before, Toji had honestly just sent Megumi off with a bag of chips that Itadori had scoffed down in all of three seconds.
Though, in his defense, it wasn’t mandatory and he didn’t know what the fuck a bake sale was supposed to be.
Phase Two of the plan seemingly consisted of emptying out Toji’s pockets- the three of them had insisted that this bake sale was the perfect opportunity for Toji to make his move on you.
It was simple, really—bake cookies for the sale, sell them there, and when it came to you- woo you with a special heart-shaped cookie and ask you out. Simple!
Was it obvious that this plan had been concocted by a bunch of nine-year-olds?
Toji sighs.
He glimpses Megumi wandering into the meat section and reaching for ¥50,000 Wagyu-
The next day, after burning the first few batches of cookies and setting fire to his kitchen only twice, Toji found himself crammed into a pretty pink-frilled booth at the official annual bake sale. Equally as pink apron cinched around his waist—and his t-shirt so tight that he catches a few single parents giving him appreciative looks.
Though he wasn’t paying attention to that.
He was keeping his eyes on you- making your way from booth-to-booth, laughing along with parents and trying out everything your students had to offer.
Toji lets out a long, lingering sigh.
He was never going to get over this damn crush—
Next to him, Megumi and his two best friends were the ones manning the counter and giving out cookies to paying customers. He hates to admit it, but business was booming.
“Hey…hey, if I pay you in chocolates would you sell this shit again for me?”
Megumi looks up at him blankly. “I want 60% equity and ¥5 for every unit sold.”
Toji drops a cookie he was holding over the counter—“M-maybe not…”
“Hey, there’s Ms. Teacher!” Itadori squeals.
And then…and then the most sweet, seraphic sound echoes in his ears- too close for it to be something he’d imagined, too removed from him to be anyone but you. You’re making the tall man freeze where he was leaned over the counter - and the hairs on the back of his neck rise…he’s pausing to listen for you before he knows it.
“Oh, let me get that for you.”
Toji hadn’t noticed you walk over. Toji hadn’t noticed you bending down to pick up the cookie he’d dropped. “O-oh, no you don’t need to—” Not before you’re straightening up and holding it out to him with a beautiful smile.
“It’s no problem.” You chirp.
Mutely, he takes the crumbling cookie from you.
He wanted that cookie badly.
“So…I see business is booming.” You nod down at the three little ones manning the counter, “Good job, sweethearts. How are you today?”
“Good.” Both Megumi and Kugisaki echo.
“My grandma got hit by a bazooka!” Itadori beams.
Your smile falters, though Toji’s impressed at how quickly you recover. “Well…that’s certainly a time, isn’t it, Yuji? And how are you, Fushiguro-san?”
“O-oh, me—?” His faze sizzles at being called out so suddenly. And the older man hurries to scratch behind his neck—did his biceps look good in this apron? “Ah…chill.”
“Chill, hm?” You smirk. Eyeing him, “I dunno- I’d say it’s a rather hot day today.”
Features scrunching up, Toji leans his head out and looks at the sky. “Is it? Those damn weathermen always lie.”
Megumi smacks his forehead.
“No, I just meant…” You’re flitting your gaze at the paper-thin fabric of his t-shirt, wrapped around his chiselled limbs so perfectly. Gift-wrapped. And then you’re shaking your head, instead turning to the rows of cookies put on display. “Anyways- any recommendations you guys have for me?”
Toji furrows his brows at the abrupt change in conversation. Beside him, reaching just past his knee, Kugisaki kicks him in the shin and hisses- “The cookie! The cooooookie! Make a move, male lead!”
“Oh. Oh.” Toji startles. Bending down and whispering back, “Now?”
“Yes, now!”
“But-”
“Go.”
“Wait—”
“Go!”
Finally, he holds one calloused palm out at you. Bandaged and slightly aching from baking all day yesterday. “Stay here, we made something special for you.”
“Oh?”
Toji shuffles around in the box of cookies that they’d brought with them; packaged away and separated from the rest was one particular cookie—your favorite flavor, which he’d probed out of the kids. Specifically made in the shape of a heart.
His hands shake a little bit as he turns to you with it.
Scarred lips parting, “This is…”
“For me?” You cock your head with a sweet smile.
He nods. “Free of charge.”
“That’s too sweet, I couldn’t possibly-”
“Please—” Toji interrupts, fingers weak - barely holding onto the crinkled package - as he holds it out to you. “I insist. For taking care of my son.”
Something changes in your expression, and your fingers twitch closer to his.
The trio watches open-mouthed as your hands close the gap in mid-air before—
“Oooooooo, cookie! Fanum tax!”
Before one Todo Aoi leans over the counter and snatches the cookie fast- before everyone could even blink, all of Toji’s emotions, hopes, pursuits, and dreams find themselves stuffed down the crumb-coated maw of the little boy. Chomped to bits.
Everyone looks at him in stunned silence.
He polishes off the cookie in three bites.
“What?” Todo asks as the silence stretches even longer- and he notices the stares around him. “Needs a little more salt…”
Toji feels like keeling over. “I am going to-”
“Here, Ms.” Megumi picks up one of those cute, floral-decorated cookie packets on the counter and pushes it into your hands. “Free of charge.”
“Thank you. I…” You look at Toji as though you’re about to say something more—but then a call of your name from across the school field catches your attention. Another teacher was waving you over for something- and with an apologetic smile, you’re bowing your way out of there.
Itadori whistles, “Wow, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad. Maybe if you hadn’t waited around bein’ a scaredy-cat then Ms. Teacher might’ve gotten the cookies before Todo.”
Immediately Kugisaki gets down from the counter- grabs her rubber hammer, and slams it down on Todo’s head.
Then before Toji can feel a rush of pride, she grabs two cookie packets and beckons him to crouch down to her height.
Once he does, she presses both packets to his cheeks and asks seriously. “And what are you?”
“A fuckin’ idiot cookie.”
A small gasp.
From the other side of the counter, he hears furious scribbling as someone jots that particular word down—he doesn’t need to look to know that it’s that Inumaki Toge again. Nooooo—! It’d slipped out accidentally, he promises. Also on the other side of the counter was Todo Aoi who was now eyeing the other cookies enviously- Megumi frowns and starts pulling them away from him.
Itadori turns to Toji and shakes his head as though he’d been the adult in this situation. “It’s a shame, though. Phase Two has also failed - take the L, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad.”
“L.” Kugisaki echoes.
“L.” Todo.
“L.” Somehow Toge.
Megumi nods. “Loser.”
And somehow that hurt the most—
He groans.
Todo huffs. “Can’t believe you just got framemogged by the TJE class monitor, old man.”
Toji whirls around with a glower. “Mugged? I’ve never gotten mugged by anybody-”
“But since you’re all just begging me—” Todo turns to the bemused others with his arms crossed importantly. “-I’ll teach you the true art of rizzing.”
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE THREE: A DATE.
Status: -84834832849 aura.
A date.
Not one he’d asked you out on, of course.
Spring had neared like a reawakening of the Earth; the breeze was warm. The Sun cascaded softly. The birds were twittering. And Fushiguro Toji was losing it—he had already had enough of making a fucking fool out of himself in front of you.
And now he was about to do it all over again.
Megumi’s elementary school was hosting a picnic with the kids in Ueno Park, in honor of the cherry blossoms beginning to open up.
Parents were invited too, of course.
And it was inevitable that you’d be there.
Now with that kid Todo - a student a year older than the trio, it seems he’d found himself attached to Itadori though Toji has no idea how that friendship started - onboard for the scheme, Toji was finding himself pulled around like a marionette. This ridiculous scheme to kinda-sorta try and make you fall in love with him…
That he was going along with.
So for the outing, the four had emphasized that Toji wasn’t to come unless he was looking his absolute best. They’d told him to burn that usual black t-shirt of his - no matter how many times he tried to insist that he had a wardrobe full of identical ones. He wanted Megumi to vouch for him, but the boy had lied.
That traitor.
Thus on the Saturday morning it’d been planned; Toji spent a good few hours in front of the mirror.
Tugging back the sleeves on his white cotton sweater- he’d been told that people appreciate forearms more this way. Dousing himself in perfume. Putting on one of those face creams Kugisaki had recommended after asking her guardian. Attempting to tame his shaggy, black bangs. He made sure his biceps were looking good that day—and stuffed Megumi into his matching sweater as well n’ rushed off to Ueno Park.
He thought he looked pretty good, honestly.
Todo eyes him warily once he arrives, “…That’s the best you’ve got?”
“The hell’s wrong with it?”
“It’s just…not sigma-”
“Shut-”
A few parents turn to look at him.
“He started it—he—”
After certainly no small amount of bickering (and much apologizing from the woman that seemed to be Todo’s guardian), they managed to make it to the picnic area. Where a row of multi-colored checkered blankets were laid out across the green grass like some form of a quilt—Megumi wastes no time before waddling over to where Itadori and Kugisaki were seated with their families.
And before long, the three kids were tugging several blankets closer together and creating a larger one.
As Toji sighs and stalks over to them—he’s suddenly stopped by Todo Aoi. Evidently having broken free from his guardian for far, far greater purposes; he holds his hand up and makes Toji freeze. “You have much to learn, don’t you, old man?”
“Haaah?” He balks down at the boy.
“True rizzlers don’t sit around playing teatime with kids—” He throws his arm behind at the other three, “-and my beloved brother, Yuji—” They were related?! “True rizzlers have to be tall and nonchalant even if they’re short and chalant.”
Toji eyes him warily. “…Okay? And what am I supposed to do?”
“Talk. To. Her.”
“How—”
“Go there-” Todo stabs a finger in your direction. But Toji didn’t need it to know where to look.
He sweeps his eyes across the cherry blossom gardens- and his eyes seem to find you as they always do. Even in a garden of the world’s brightest and rarest flowers, you would be the most beautiful.
“Brother eugh, you’re getting that sappy look on your face again- nonchalant. You have to be nonchalant!” Todo exclaims.
You were wearing a summer dress that fluttered around you in the soft breeze- and before he knows it, the little boy was pushing him towards where you were standing.
“W-wait—”
“Oh, has Phase Three started already?” Soon enough, Itadori’s voice is piping up right beside him. And he’s pushing Toji, too.
Then comes Kugisaki. “Ooooo they always have a cherry blossom episode! I love those.”
The dark-haired man looks to his son for help, and he pretends not to meet his eye.
Dammit.
“Fine—fine.” An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Toji’s pushing back against their persisting guidance, and they just won’t have it. You’re going to notice him being made a fool again. “I’ll talk to her. Don’t rush me—I said don’t-”
“Why is it that every time there’s trouble, it’s got something to do with the five of you?”
Too late.
With your hands on your hips, you’re walking over with a playful smile.
Though there was nothing playful about the way his heart thunders-
High-pitched giggles emanate from behind him, and he doesn’t have the time to compute before all three sets of small hands - and Megumi’s mildly disappointed stare - vanishes. The kids are running off, leaving the two of you alone, once you’ve properly walked up to them—leaving Fushiguro Toji to fend for himself and also…collapsing to the ground. Because of the lack of force from behind now, his ass hits the soft grass and you’re trying not to laugh from above.
Pretty hand reaching out, “Everything alright, Fushiguro-san?”
“Toji.” He somehow manages to blurt out, taking your hand and getting to his feet. “Call me Toji.”
“Of course.” And then you’re sharing your own first name. He repeats it like a spring breeze.
Then, like the fool he is, Toji stands around admirin’ you—long enough that the silence stretches a little awkwardly, and you’re starting to shuffle on your feet. He hears a chorus of small groans from somewhere behind him, and quickly amends- “Uhhh, do you like walks down cherry blossom paths?”
You’re raising a brow in faint amusement, “Yes?”
“Have you walked down cherry blossom paths?”
“Not this year.”
“Will you walk down cherry blossom paths?”
“Fushiguro Toji, are you asking me to walk together?” You bump his shoulder with yours, then loop a hand around arm - he felt like arm candy, but don’t save him—Toji was exactly where he wanted to be - and start walking between pink-shedding trees. “You should’ve just said so. Should we have invited Megumi as well?”
“Who’s Megumi?”
Your startled laugh echoes—and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.
The two of you loop around the pathway and then back again in companionable silence; though questions and confessions constantly bubbled up to Toji’s throat. Are you having fun? Is his body too warm? Can you hear his heart beating? Do you like the cherry blossoms? Do you know you’re far more beautiful than them?
Why do you glance at him with that knowing smile?
What secrets do you hide?
Before he knows it, the two of you have reached the spot where you met once more. And four eager children wait for something to happen- for something to be said.
Toji knows he might not get another opportunity—so as soon as the cherry blossoms are tapering out to more of the green grass, he’s turning to you and stammering. “I-I have something to ask…”
“Yes?” You smile.
“And it might be strange-”
“Yes?”
“And weird-”
“Oh, yes?”
“And creepy- don’t be afraid to say no if it’s creepy.”
“Huh?”
“But…” He feels the question: would you wanna grab coffee sometime? claw at his throat. Toji knows you’re waiting, anticipating—and then a cherry blossom flutters down and lands on your crown—making you look far too angelic. “Would you…happen to know that Japan is turning footsteps into electricity.”
You balk. “Excuse me?”
Toji whispers to himself faintly. “U-using piezoelectric tiles…every step you take generates a small amount of energy. Millions of steps…together…”
“Okay, old man, let’s get you to bed.” Todo’s - Todo, of all people - is coming to his rescue. Ushering him away, whilst his son hopefully manages to cover for his father with a good excuse—
“I do not know that man.” Megumi tells you, then leaves.
You’re left shrugging. Ah…
As they’re walking back to their picnic area, Kugisaki murmurs. “This is the cherry blossom episode. Next is the episode where you get hit by a truck-” Toji really hopes it is. “Guess this’ll be that sort of unfinished love drama…”
“My uncle loves hitting people with trucks.” Itadori beams.
Megumi smacks his forehead once more-
Toji narrows his eyes. “You’re gonna give yourself a concussion if you keep doing that.”
The boy smacks his head even harder. “I hope so.”
Toji mutters to himself. “Fuckin’ me too.”
Behind him, he already knows that Inumaki is jotting this somewhere in some bushes.
As the picnic continues—more and more of Megumi’s friends join their combined blankets. Toji notices you fluttering about, too.
So caught up, in fact, that he doesn’t even notice four matchmaking masterminds roping in their schoolmate Yuta into a deep conversation.
Toji sneezes- someone must be talking about him.
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE FOUR: THE MARRIAGE.
Status: Toji, you’re scaring the huzzzzz-
It seems that Fushiguro Toji was getting married.
Though not exactly of his own volition.
And to whom, exactly? Well, that would be none other than you—
The wedding shall be held in the idyllic venue of Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary’s sprawling playground; amongst the swings and pieces of chewed-up bubble gum stuck underneath slides. Music shall be provided by the choir team. Snacks are Goldfish crackers and nothing more—you won’t want to miss it.
Don’t bother to RSVP.
Invitations are open to no one, he’s bound to make a fool of himself.
Again.
Toji should’ve known that something was up the second Megumi told him to come for pick-up a little earlier than usual. Elementary classes ended their day with around fifteen minutes of playtime, before official pick-up commenced.
And though Toji didn’t mind coming in earlier - he usually staved his entrance off for the allocated time so Megumi didn’t have to play with his dear ol’ dad looming over his shoulder.
Something had to be wrong- maybe he was sick? And yet…Megumi was the type to never let out even a peep even if he was—he’d have to be dragged out of class and still try to convince Toji that he was feeling well enough to go back. He’d never leave hints like that.
Maybe he didn’t like playtime anymore? That certainly couldn’t be it- playtime always exhilarated Megumi, no matter how much his deadpan son attempted to hide it. He loved his friends. He loved the small rabbit pen that the school had. He especially loved the twin black-and-white wolf spring riders on the playground.
Or maybe…maybe he was getting bullied-
Toji shakes his head clear of that thought immediately.
He’d no sooner be bullied by his son than have his son be bullied-
In fact, before he’d met Itadori and Kugisaki- Megumi loved the playground for…very…different reasons. He’d pile his ‘opponents’ high like a small kid mountain.
Toji shudders.
So what could it be—?
That’s exactly the thought tumbling ‘round in his mind as he walks up to that multi-colored painted building. Instead of going up those steps, however, he’s rounding the corner towards the playground on the other side - where he could hear cheers, laughter, and shrieks. Those youngsters touched the air around them with happiness, and it made some part of Toji’s chest soar to think that his son was one of them.
That’s until he’s actually in-view of the playground and spotting you. Right in the middle of the chaos of elementary classes in playtime.
At the foot of the slides.
A bundle of weeds in your hands
A paper veil atop your head.
With that kid Yuta from the grade above Megumi’s stood solemnly beside you. An officiant.
It looked like…a wedding.
And the space in front of you was empty for your partner.
Ah.
He looks at Megumi who was avoiding his eyes- so this was the plan…
Fuck.
He must have made a noise of bafflement- because just then you’re turning and letting a smile splash across your face. You exclaim. “Ahhh—there’s my groom!”
Oh…oh, he might faint.
Toji feels numb to the small hands that tug on his arm- “C’mon, c’mon! You’re late, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad—!” And he’s being dragged all the way to the front of the slide, where his bride-to-be was awaiting him, it seems…“After this we need time for the divorce-”
“No, the divorce should happen like four episodes later.” Kugisaki rolls her eyes.
“There shall be no divorce.” The seven-year-old Yuta speaks above them - out of them all, he seemed to be taking his role the most seriously. And he beckons the happy couple closer to one another—fuck, Toji couldn’t even meet your eyes.
Standing in front of you, he stuffs his hands into his pocket and keeps his eyes trained on the ground- giving you a brief nod. “‘Sup?”
“On second thought, there may be a divorce.” Yuta solemnly declares.
“Hey-” Toji sends a glare at the black-haired little boy with the wide eyes, then crosses his beefy arms. “So are we gettin’ married or not? Chop chop.”
You shake your head fondly, “Don’t worry- we cut into rehearsal time for this, it seems.”
“Start the music…” Kugisaki whispers to Megumi…simply standing on the sidelines and sinking deeper into his bangs with every passing second. “The music—!”
Megumi lets out a sigh beyond his years, and clicks on the classroom speaker they must’ve brought from inside.
In mere seconds, Stateside by PinkPantheress with Zara Larsson starts flooding the playground. Kugisaki hums to herself with a smile- “PinkPantheress n’ Zara always makes things better.”
Soon enough Yuta’s reading out of a scribbled notebook in his hands, “We’re here today to um- something about marriage.” He looks between the two of you—“Hold hands, please. They always do that in the movies.”
The two of you share a look.
And then you do.
Your fingers are warm n’ perfectly fitted in his - he doesn’t have to think to curl his own fingertips around yours. It’s as if his hands were made for holding yours—the thought zips through his body and he wonders why the hell he was getting emotional as though this was a real wedding…
Yuta continues, “-ummm, something about love.” Toji almost jolts. “Something about caring. Something about taking care of each other when you’re not feeling too good- like my momma always does, heh. She makes this chicken soup that-”
“Get on with it—!” Kugisaki hisses.
“Wait- what sort of chicken soup?!” Itadori pleads.
“That’s my rizzler! Toji bro—!” Todo cries.
“Oh, yeah—” He looks back down at his useless notes. “And stay together forever and ever and ever for at least 67 years no matter how far apart you are, or how scared of your feelings.” Yuta looks at Toji pointedly- who did this kid think he was?! “Does the happy couple have any vows?”
And maybe this was it.
Maybe this was his moment.
Maybe this was…
Toji’s scarred lips open. “I-”
Suddenly the speaker playing music explodes—not literally, though for a moment there it did feel like it. The dance-pop song that’d been playing inexplicably heightens in volume until their ears rung- and Megumi hastens to turn it down.
Kugisaki smacks the speakers with her rubber hammer a few times before it stops. Then with nothing to play in the background, she elbows the pink-haired boy in his side—“Yuji, hit it!”
“Me?!” Itadori yelps, before noticing everyone’s gaze upon him. It’s slowly dawning upon Toji that this might not be the best place for a real confession when Itadori suddenly starts doing some confusing two-step. “You gotta go and I can’t…ehh, sorry. Uhhhh…Nepal. I just don’t want to say that-”
“Please.” Megumi drones. “Please stop.”
He stops.
Mutely, Kugisaki smacks the speaker once more and Stateside blares again.
Toji turns to the officiant- and shakes his head.
Yuta looks at you, “And what about you, Ms?”
“Oh—my vow is that you’re all getting extra homework if eeeeevery single one of you doesn’t dance to the reception tomorrow.” You look at each and everyone.
Small faces scrunched in glee.
Yuta hisses at Itadori. “Time for the rings—the rings!” And the pink-haired boy startles to hand them to him- just a single one plopped onto Toji’s open palm. It was one of those cheap ring pops; still slightly sticky and encrusted with flecks of strawberry candy from before. The actual candy part of it had been very-obviously eaten…
“Sorry.” Itadori still smiles. “I ate it.”
“And the…other ring?”
“I ate that, too.” He excitedly claims, “Plastic and all!”
“I…love whatever’s wrong with you.” Toji furrows his brows. “But also what.”
“Enough talk—exchange the rings then vow your undying love!” Kugisaki yells. “Then die!” She turns to some of the other kids looking at her strange- “What? I don’t mean it like that—the drama’s just better when they die. Where are you going- where are you-”
“Scary kid.” Toji comments. “But sweet. But scary.”
Megumi distances himself from everything.
Before long, Yuta’s announcing that they ‘exchange’ rings.
You mime putting one on him.
From the sidelines, Todo sobs into Itadori’s t-shirt—seriously, were they actually related or not?! “Marriagemaxxing already…I’m so p-proud of you my rizzler…my brother in rizz…my sidekick…”
He jerks. “Side—”
Yuta speaks. “And do you, Ms. Teacher—take this auraless man to be your husband?” He can already tell who came up with this officiant’s script- but before he can throw a glance at the trio and Todo, you’re nodding.
“I do.”
Toji feels his heart flutter. He grows warm.
And his fingers are just as tender and sweet as they slip that ring pop onto your left hand—“Then I announce you married- uh. Smooch?”
“Euuuuuuuugh! Gross-” Megumi wails.
If Toji thought that he’d been warm earlier—then he wasn’t prepared for right now. It feels as though his entire body was on fire from the inside; every vein, every cell, every single part of him that hummed with delight at the notion. That made him blush.
So embarrassingly, as though this was his first-ever crush.
Toji catches your eye- and you give him the briefest of nods.
And then he’s leaning in…he’s hearing your breath catch- and pressing his lips to the back of your hand - just the lightest of grazes, where the ring pop stood out - before pulling back just as quickly. Nothing indecent. Nothing that would give away anything to you—
That ring…
It tasted sweet on his lips.
The surrounding kids cheer- loudly. Now it seems that everyone in the playground had joined in on this little act—and that’s exactly what it was.
Just a little act.
Toji’s lips quiver with the beginnings of a sentence he’s been aching to say for so long-
And then the school bell rings denoting time for pick-up.
Around you, the kids run to their classrooms and their backpacks - excited to tell their parents about what they’d just done in the playground. And as the sea of small bodies moves and thrashes against the two of you…Toji just remains standing. Staring.
Something within him still unfinished and unsatisfied—
You’re keeping his gaze for a few more seconds, before finally dropping it and unscrewing the plastic ring from your finger. “I uh…sorry about that- and thank you for playing along.”
“Yeah…” He faintly says. “Yeah, no problem.”
You give him a tight-lipped smile. “And if you don’t mind, I should probably…”
You gesture to the parents that had started walking in now, and he jerkily nods. “Yeah- yeah, go do…that.”
“Yeah, I…” You’re then holding your hand out to him- nodding at him to keep his palm open. Then dropping the strawberry-scented ring pop into his hand. “Guess the divorce came a little sooner than expected, huh?”
“Two seconds, that’s a new record.”
Starting to walk back—you briefly wave. If he was a cockier man, he’d have called you nervous. “I’ll see you at the talent show, ex-husband.”
“Hopefully sooner, ex-wife.”
“Oh- yes, the upcoming parent-teacher meetings.”
“That…” Toji murmurs to himself. That too, he supposes.
And as he watches you leave…Kugisaki is the first to speak up. “Not even a date? Awww man, I hate slowburns.”
He gapes, “I uh…”
“No, he got scared of his feelings—” Itadori adds. Toji squirms. “Did you know my uncle says he doesn’t have feelings? My grandpa agrees.”
“Dad.” Megumi pulls on Toji’s t-shirt to get his attention.
“Yes, son?”
And so deadpan, so unexpected- “You fumbled just like Klay Thompson.”
Dammit, son.
Speedwalking to the school with them. “The fuck just happened?”
That one he mouths- he mouths. But Inumaki writes that one down fast-
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE? CURRENTLY ON HOLD…
Reason: Parent-teacher meetings.
Status: Dire. Auraless. Megumi doesn’t claim him.
Will the plan have to be abandoned?!
“So.”
“So…” You’re twiddling your thumbs together on top of the desk, eyes trained on Toji whilst his own dart around the colorful classroom. “Megumi’s such a good kid- honestly there’s nothing more to say about him.”
Because today was the day of parent-teacher meetings; that half-an-hour where parents sit before you and leaf through crayon drawings and mathematics that made them cringe. Toji himself hadn’t been the biggest fan of them when Megumi was younger—why the fuck would kindergarteners need parent-teacher meetings?!
But now that his teacher was you…
At least it gave him something even more to look forward to.
So he sets his elbows on your desk and leans in—every meeting had been conducted sitting on opposite sides of your teachers’ desk. It was far too much proximity for his poor heart to take—but you sure as hell won’t hear him complaining.
Not a single peep.
He glides his roughened fingertips over the pages before him- Megumi was never the type to be cagey about his grades. And either way he did get everything above an 80%.
Toji tries not to let the tips of his lips twitch upwards into a smile—especially as he looked over one of the artworks that Megumi had done: a slightly-smudged drawing of three small figures, one with pink hair, another with a brown bob-cut, and then a portrait of himself.
And then two larger figures on either side of them
Toji and yourself.
The prompt had been Megumi’s family…
“You should be very proud, y’know.” Your gentle voice breaks through the quiet air in the classroom.
Toji had come slightly after the other parents, as organizing Megumi’s little sleepover at the Itadori household (with Kugisaki and Todo in tow) had been absolute chaos. Today they’d offered to take the children in because apparently Itadori had gotten some earthworm movies he’d wanted to share. And though Megumi didn’t seem particularly excited at the prospect of earthworms, he’d been begging for weeks to have this sleepover.
Now. The sunlight dipped beneath the horizon outside, casting the classroom into its warm embrace—like kindling fire. The light bounced off your features and touched his lips, too. Where things were perpetually encased in day and the hours were hot and lazy—like the leaping spark from a fireplace.
For the first time in a long time, Toji lets himself smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
You’re nodding with a smile- “He speaks about you a lot, did you know that?” Once Toji shakes his head, you’re continuing. “About how strong you are, about how you’re funny—” Your nose crinkles, “-but an awful cook.”
“Hey!” Toji squawks, indignified. “I try.”
“I know.” Something about that felt so knowing. “It really is a pleasure having Megumi in my class- he’s quiet but I think Yuji and Nobara are slowly bringing him out of his shell. He’s diligent. He’s quietly kind. He’s a sensitive kid, he notices things faster than most.”
“I’m sure he gets that from me.” He smirks.
You hum, staring at the blood-orange sky outside. There’s a long pause before you speak again—“And I think it’s sweet how he’s trying with his friends to set the two of us up.”
Toji’s jaw drops.
Actually drops.
For a moment he’s speechles—hell, he thinks he might be speechless till the end of time. Sure, he’d guessed that you must’ve noticed something being off…but he never thought you’d actually realize the two of you are being set up—!
You catch the look in his eyes- “Oh, c’mon. You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you?”
“I uh…”
“The cookies. The wingmanning. The wedding. The plans-” Stifling a laugh. “Elementary schoolers aren’t very good at whispering, you know that?”
“Damn.” Toji fists his hands, softly thumping them against the table. “And here I thought a bunch of elementary schoolers could fix my love life…”
You hum—something coy in your tone. “Why don’t you fix it yourself?”
And Toji’s snapping his head up so fast that he thinks he might’ve caught whiplash-
“Would you…” He swallows. He starts off unsurely. “…maybe…like to get coffee sometime-”
“Yes.”
Barely waiting till the sentence flies off his tongue before you respond- it makes Toji wonder whether you’ve been waiting for this as long as he has.
Embarrassment shows in your slightly-frantic movements, as you start picking at the stationary on your desk and smoothing out your clothes. Nervous. It hits him. “I uh…you’re my last meeting of the day, actually. I’m free to grab some coffee now, if you want?”
He’s never agreed to anything faster in his life.
Less than twenty minutes later and the two of you have found yourselves in the cute new coffee shop down the road. The faintest memory of sugary goods still etched on your smiling lips, and your cups of drinks warming your hands—the two of you were sitting and talking at a window booth when the rain had started.
“Oh, shit…” You peer outside. “You were right.”
“Hm?” Toji takes a sip of his black coffee.
“The weathermen always lie.”
More than the panging warmth at the idea that you’d remembered a throwaway comment he’d said- was what you’d followed that sentence up with.
“Hey, I know this is out-of-the-blue, but…I don’t have an umbrella with me, and taxis are costly this time of evening.” You shift in your seat, avoiding his eyes for perhaps the first time since he’s met you—“My apartment’s close by if you’d wanna maybe grab an umbrella from there? You could even hang around until the rain subsides, if you want…”
This time, it’s his turn to reply embarrassingly fast. “Fuck yeah.”
And so you’d ran.
You’d ran hot on each other’s heels as though someone was chasing you—maybe fear, maybe your inhibitions, maybe the feeling that Fushiguro Toji wanted to kiss you so badly.
So bad.
You’re sploshin’ the five-minute walk it takes to reach your apartment- before you’re both darting inside and closing the door to the world. Just the two of you. On opposite sides of the narrow vestibule connecting the entrance to the living room. To your bedroom.
Toji presses himself against the cream-colored wall and breathes in. heavy.
This entire place carried your sweet, sweet scent—and it was driving him crazy.
In front of him, your hands seemed to absent-mindedly reach for the umbrella holder- blindly clasping around one polished handle. “I uh…”
“You-”
You’re both attempting to speak at the same time—then abruptly stop when the other speaks. You gesture for him to continue, and he does the same for you-
“I just meant- here’s your umbrella.”
“Thanks.” Like a zombie, he’s reaching out and clasping it.
This was it—this was really it.
He was about to leave.
He was about to wake up from this dream.
Before Toji’s letting the umbrella drop to the floor- and you’re both crashing into one another. It’s built and built—and the coil of tension had tightened and tightened before finally snapping—!
Lips against lips.
Tongues against teeth.
His lips sliding against yours and positively ravishing you—one of his large hands finds purchase on the back of your head. His warm touch. Toji feels the pretty pulse on your neck quicken as he tips your head back and delves his tongue even deeper - memorizing the taste of you to every crevice in his brain.
Your essence…he wants it imbued into him.
Absolutely starving.
He just couldn’t get enough of you.
He just couldn’t get enough of you.
The two of you are making out sloppily- and the sounds of lips lifting from lips permeates your entire apartment. Punctuated occasionally by the hollow grunts that Toji himself was letting off.
Your cunt twitches between your legs - and you’re pressing yourself into Toji even further. Pushing against his toned body. Rolling your hips against the raging, hot erection that’d found itself home in his pants. Just the sheer size of it- the thickness, the way it throbbed against you was enough to make you let out a soft, simpering nose.
One that he’s gladly swallowing up whole—greedily, even. Because that’s exactly what he was.
A fucking greedy man for everything that’s to do with you.
And he’s waited for far too long.
In no time, you’re taking him by his larger hand and pulling him to your bedroom. Leaving the umbrella and your reservations behind.
Toji lets out a hallowed groan as he’s being pushed back into the bed- the backs of his knees hitting the mahogany bed frame. Your hands flying to the ties of his trousers. Your own knees striking the floor—
“Easy there…” Toji brushes one hand down the side of your face- reaching back into your scalp and tightening. “Don’t want my girl to get hurt.”
“Your girl?” You grin. “You haven’t even asked me out on a proper date yet.”
“And you should be buyin’ me dinner before this. Lecher.”
You’re huffing as you’re able to tear that wretched fabric off his muscular legs- finally. And your jaw…drops…
He was so…
Fucking big.
From the moment his achin’ cock’s freed, Toji springs out and seems to pulse even thicker—the start of his base reminding you of one of those soda cans. Toji reaches down to wrap his other hand ‘round it, his palm covering some of the dark curls decorating his pelvis, and he seems to look even bigger when framed like this.
Rock-hard. Covered in numerous veins.
They were dappled all across his inches and throb-throb-throbbing- so ravenously hard that Toji’s length twitched the moment he’s feelin’ the cold bedroom air.
And not only was he big, but that curve of his shaft was delicious.
It made you wonder what it’d feel like to have him curve up inside…
Upwards tilted. That crown of his craning up at the ceiling. The pointed end of his cock ended off with his blushin’ mushroom tip- so fat n’ already soaked in his wads of sopping precum. The color of it was the prettiest tannish pink you’ve ever seen in your entire life—and so you really couldn’t help but lean down and press a chaste peck-
The taste of his salted-caramel pre takes over your tastebuds immediately.
“O-oh…” Toji’s head throws backwards with a gravelly groan. “Don’t go teasing me now, doll.”
“You’re the one that’s been teasing me this entire time.” You counter. Though you’re loosenin’ your jaw and taking him in even further. Inch by solid fucking inch.
It’s hard to stuff Toji’s cock all down your throat like you so-badly wanted- he was big. N’ those zig-zagging veins down his length made you want to linger…massaging the roof of your mouth with a few semi-gulps that rub his inches on top. Again and again.
You’re shuttering your eyes and moaning deep into his shaft at the carnal scratch he somehow seemed to soothe.
“Ah ah—” You’re hearing him before you’re feeling him- suddenly, two thick fingertips are pinching your poor nostrils together. Eyelids flapping open to stare up at him.
Toji has the most cocky smile across his beautiful scarred lips as he peers down at you. “Now what’s this about refusin’ to take me anymore?” He asks you, punctuating the that of his sentence with a thorough nudge of his bulbous tip down your throat. “You don’t wanna take me any further, doll? Or you…”
And another.
Though, this time, it wasn’t a nudge at all.
And Toji’s massive length is pushing apart the wet walls of your throat- and mazing his throbbing cock inside. The noises you’re letting out when you slurp him up are so pretty—
And the older man uses his second hand to wipe a stray tear off your cheeks, “-can’t?”
“Mmm–mmmfg.” Choking down both your needy sobs n’ your breaths. You’re clawing at his thicks- so thick and toned.
“What? Whaaaat?” He pinches your nose even harder. “Wha’s the matter, teach?”
“You-” Barely able to mangle out some semblance of coherent syllables - you’re going cross-eyed trying to both take him in deeper, and look at the fingers blocking off your airway. “Mmm- ngh.” Whatever mess of a sentence that was meant to be, it’s coming out embarrassingly jumbled.
Embarrassingly so.
And tears are just starting to stream down your cheeks- your cunt’s getting even wetter at his actions and pushing against his toned calf- once he finally lets go. Finally.
With a loud pwah! you’re removin’ your swollen lips off of his cock. Feeling for your poor nose that’s startin’ to sting—“So mean, Toji. I should’ve bit that dick off.” You joke.
He looks at you with a leer, “We both know that out of the two of us, you’d be the most disappointed with that.” And it was true- it really was true. But Toji takes it a step further by lazily reaching his calf over and pushing it against your cunt. Dripping wet even through those panties of yours- your pretty dress was hiked up n’ already exposing that sweet puddle that’d formed in the middle of your underwear.
His mouth waters at the sight.
“See what I mean?” Then Toji straightens up and pats the top of his manspread thighs. An invitation.
“But, I haven’t even…”
“S’okay.” He nods at you reassuringly. You didn’t have to worry about any of that needing to please shit with him- he’d be the one driving you wild tonight. “I have something even- heh, sweeter in mind.”
And hopefully every night after that.
In a mere few moments, you’re settling yourself on Toji’s lap. And then he’s attacking your mouth in a mind-numbing kiss, tongue swipin’ between your lips before ultimately sucking on those tastebuds of yours. Sucking. Like candy.
He then maneuvers the two of you to then drape you across the sheets; slightly sodden with lust and perspiration. The blankets stick against your clammy skin as Toji presses your hips down on the mattress- “Down, girl.” His fingertips dig into the side of your waist.
“What’s that about not teasing?” You pant.
With a low chuckle, Toji presses a peck on the left side of your hips—then creeps himself down until his handsome features were huffin’ and puffin’ against your sodden cunt. His own hot breath seemed to reach out to you—curling, cloooouding, it seemed to stroke down that watery slit of yours. “Fushiguro Toji never teases.”
“You’re teasing right-”
“M’just waiting for the perfect moment.” And there’s not a second wasted- before Toji lurches himself nose-deep between your legs and gives your dripping pussy a good lick!
“O-oh…” Your mouth waters at the brazen touch- body jolting just a little. Though if you thought that Toji would let you so much as squirm whilst he’s locked between those thighs of yours, then you’d be sorely mistaken. His fingers dip down the expanse of your legs and clutches you close against his ravenous maw—“Aren’t you going to take off my panties, Toji?”
“Don’t be vulgar, doll.” He mutters- just to tease you. “M’gonna eat you through your panties, of course.”
And it’s the only warning you’re getting.
Before Toji latches his puckered lips to your cunt- properly, this time. And his loooooong tongue was lavishin’ across every inch of your pussy he can reach. Through your panties—Toji gapes his mouth open and laps like a fuckin’ animal at the leaking slit your underwear was stick to, your swollen folds, your utterly needy button.
“Mmmmpf-” Toji’s prominent nose pushes apart your pussylips, and he’s feelin’ for that puckered, pretty nub. Already throbbing like you’ve been so impatient for him this entire time.
He presses himself closely against your clit for a few seconds—throb-throb-throb!
Like a ticking time bomb. He’s driving himself absolutely wild; before snakin’ your panties to the side and thrashing his tongue against your raw cunt. Slurping. Sucking. Everything and anything of you he could find - he’s pushing himself so nose-deep into your pussy that he damn-near can’t breathe—and eating you out like an animal. “Mmmm, don’t you move a s-single inch now.” Toji tightens his hold on your quivering legs. “I haven’t even started yet.”
“Started what…?” You babble out - your hips were yearning to push off the creaking mattress.
Though all it took was a fraction of his strength to pin you back down, roverin’ his tongue on the slick-glued insides of your folds. Rooooound and round in circles that left your mind dizzy. “Heh- what else d’you think?” Toji answers. “M’teaching this pussy how to take Fushiguro Toji, that mouth of yours barely could.”
“Rude.”
Before you could pipe up anything more witty, he’s spankin’ four fingertips down on your glistening pussy. “S’not rude if it’s true.”
“I’m the teacher here, though.”
“Then maybe I’m the principal.” He leers- swabbing the fat edge of his tongue into your hole. “Gonna grade you and everything…”
“That’s fuckin’ corny—”
“Made your pussy weep, though.”
And just in good time, too- because almost immediately he’s letting that first inch of his tongue fuck inside your cunt. Just the first inch. But it was already enough to make your toes curl n’ your back arch—Toji’s wet muscle was just so thiiiiiiick.
He’s pluggin’ up your orifices with a mere few thrusts - the ridged texture of his tastebuds kneading your tight walls. Shovelling you open. Shovelling himself deeper inside. The flickerin’ tip of his tongue laps against some of your most tender areas n’ then pushes up into the sensitive roof of your cunt-
“Sh-shiiiiit—” You’re keening out in the prettiest trill he’s ever heard. Toji has the audacity to let out a wet giggle at your dripping core - clenching ‘round him.
His ears burn at the musical note- and before long, your folds are burning at the searing smack! that he’s planting on top of your cunt. Your head drops down to stare at him in shock.
“That’s a C- for handling yourself.” He echoes. Two more spanks follow—before Toji nuzzles your gummy pussy n’ laps his tongue across your clit. “But an A for pretty moans.”
“I th-think that grading syllabus is a little- ngh! skewed, don’t you think?”
Yet another spank.
“Not at all.”
He was merciless. Ruthless.
Absolutely impounding you with those slashing, scouring strokes of his - Toji’s thrusts manage to reach so much deeper than you’d have ever guessed. And when he felt that his tongue was stuffed inside your pretty pussy far ‘nough, he’s flaring those edges outwards and scraping his tastebuds down the sides of your walls. Stimulating your snug channel sooooo fuckin’ good—
“S’that so?” Toji flutters his long, dark lashes up at you. It takes a second for you to register that you might just have said that last thought out loud.
Though you’re merely steeling your expression and nodding-
He’s plasterin’ his fingertips against your puckered pussy with a chuckle. “Cute. But flattery’s gonna get you nowhere- with all this damn squirming you’re doing, your C’s dropping down to a- haaaah, D.”
Your eyes pop open. “B-but…”
“And just think-” Toji continues without a single speck of mercy for you. His tongue’s tunneling and thrusting- faster than your frenzied mind can keep up with. “-that if you’re reacting like this to just my long tongue…” Thrust after thrust after thrust—the curvaceous inches of his tongue don’t leave a single bundle of nerve unprobed. Zig-zagging and swabbing wildly - your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. “-yer gonna fucking run away when it comes to my cock, doll.”
“Oh—” You’re tumbling your hips constantly up to him. Attempting to heighten the friction. “Promise I won’t. Promise-”
“And now look at you.” And after all he’s taught you…Toji grasps his left hand underneath your arching body. Grabbing a nice handful of your ass cheeks- it makes him smile to watch your mouth drop in shock at the lecherous action. “Dropped down to a D-.”
A fucking minus.
That earns you several more wet spanks. And then a fucking pinch—right on your clit.
And Toji merely trundles, “Where the fuck does this pretty pussy think she’s going?”
Crashing his lips into…yours. Quiverin’ your weakened limbs around the back of his neck-
Your ankles are weakly latching themselves there- slightly glissading down his glossy strands. It messes up his hair just a little, and Toji’s soon finding himself smirking against those pussylips.
“Tch…fine, you get a B for neediness.”
Only a B?!
But perhaps it was better that you’d kept your mouth shut - mostly because you couldn’t speak over the primal moans that kept escaping your throat - because then Toji’s sinking his canines ‘round your clit and swervin’ his face aaaaaaall around your pussy. Every corner and inch.
He’s fucking coating his features in a layer of your shimmering slick.
Like a damn medallion.
It clings to him in long, ropey excess.
“O-oh my god—” And then your trilling vocals break the very second that he’s intruding your hole once more- this time, with his fingers…
You weave your own hands into Toji’s sweat-dampened hair and hold on for dear life.
“Hmmm, a little possessive, huh? M’bumping that neediness to a- hah, A+...heh.” As a reward, you’re getting his textured lips encasing your sopping clit—just so desperate and damn-near flinching with how hard you were pulsing between your legs. Needing. Needing.
Your breath comes out in stuttered bursts, and it takes everything in you to echo. “A-and what do I have to reach to- mm, get your cock, Toji?”
“I dunno, aren’t you the one with a t-teaching degree?” He’s babbling- before that haziness in his eyes clear up once he realizes what he’s just said. “No, wait—I’m pretending to be…I’m the one gradin’ now…”
Toji looks down at your pussy as though offended. A spank wasn’t enough, he’s properly spitting.
“This pussy’s made me pussydrunk, heeeeh?” He scoffs n’ edges in to suckle on your clit—all while his two bulky fingers were scissoring between your pussylips. “An A+ for that…”
Pussydrunk.
Though you’re not doing too well yourself.
You’re just sizzling from the very insides - even your very vessels seemed to be vibrating with that carnal sort of needy for him. And as Toji’s slashing strikes with his fingers accelerate, so does that kindling pit of pleasure in your stomach. “I th-think m’close, Toji…”
“Close?” Toji’s breath hitches. “Close? And we haven’t even finished the grading yet—buck up, doll, because m’not holding back anymore.”
“Th-that was you holding back?!”
Evidently so.
And you can surely attest to that—in mere moments, he’s adding in a third finger with a lecherous slurp! of his honed inches bein’ all sucked in. Down every single joint. Down to his damn knuckles; you’re feeling those mountainous ridges push up against your sensitive pussy, and Toji’s three fingers were rovering and reeeeeaching every single spot inside.
Claiming them as his.
Toji laps up a silken line of slick that’d dripped from your cunt and down his wrist—you were claiming him as yours, too…“Got a second to hear your grades, doll?” Whilst the desperate pleads start to bubble at your throat- “Won’t be given’ you this cock until you do…”
“Then tell them to me—” You shriek. Haaaauling at the thick tufts of his scalp, “Fucking tell them, Toji.”
“Well, manners fuckin’ F.” Toji huffs- but he couldn’t fool you. Ohhh, the expression on his face was pure ecstasy as you guided his lapping face around your cunt. “But manners for this pussy…hmmmm…B.”
“Only a fucking B-”
“Roughness: used to be C- but oh, m’thinking it’s now an A.” He comments - the more and more frustrated you become, the more your carnal urges surface. Your grip is searing on his scalp. Your legs are locking around his neck. “Doesn’t mean you can go easier on me now, teach.”
“Fuh-fuuuuck, Toji—”
“Wetness: A+ of course.” Rolling his eyes as if that should be obvious, “Sweetness: A++.”
“Fuck-”
“That mouth of yours? D.”
“Fuck you.”
“M’trying to. And hmmmm, about the way she clenches…” He ponders- before then directly diverting his round, rotund fingertips to the spot just a few inches into your channel. He’s already mapped your smallest ridges n’ crevices out by all of these thrusts- and you’re feeling pure white-hot pleasure run down your spine as Toji then rams his dexterous fingers into your fucking g-spot. “That’s an A+++”
Because of course, you’re keeping him hostage.
Of course, you’re squeezing your velvety walls around him until his joints were turning white—and Toji’s fingers were havin’ a tough time moving back and forth stuffed between those clingy walls of yours.
And yet…he’s scissoring apart your needy grip and rammin’ into your deepest, most sensitive depths.
Again and again and again- “Yeah…this pussy’s definitely gonna take me now. Isn’t that right, teach?” But the only thing your fried head can urge you into doing is nodding. “Tha’s what I thought. Dumbification: A.” Toji cocks his head. “Don’tcha think I’m being too nice with these grades?”
Shaking your head fervently- through sobs.
“Mmmm…well, I think I am.” His canines teasingly grip your clit and draaaaag that swollen nub out. “S’alright doll. After this, you can grade my cock when s’time…”
He smirks - still keeping that firm attachment onto your most sensitive place - and you can feel it. You can feel it—
“And you can be as fuh-fuckin’ ruthless as you want.” Toji’s long fingers then curl inside your cunt for a final time before…“Because I know m’gonna be fucking my girl right.”
Before you’re shattering.
Breaking into your high—it first starts with an explosion of pleasure between your legs- before teleporting right up to your fuzzy head. Your thighs were quaking. Your pulse was thundering so loud you could hear it with your own ears- and it felt as though those torrential waves of bliss were just taking you over.
“Oh—oh, fuck.” Clawing your hands through Toji’s hair. The only anchor you had was this- and the tunneling digits that were fingering you to ecstasy- he was hitting at every peak. He was elongating your orgasm more than you ever thought possible. “Fuck, fuck, fuck- fuuuuuck, Toji.”
“Tha’s right- say my name.” He grunts. Such lecherous slurps! echoing from between those legs of yours as he sucked n’ sucked on your clit simultaneously. “Say my name- say my name. Who’s making you feel this good?”
“Toji.” You hiccup. “Y-you, Toji.”
A sudden spank! resounds across all four corners of the room.
Your high crescendos even further than your limits- or at least what you’d assumed them to be.
“I was lookin’ for sir, but that works, too…” Your jaw drops at the boldness of this man.
“Sir? D-don’t think that you’re getting off easy when I- ngh, when I finally ride you stupid.” As the last few pangs of your orgasm shimmer through your body, you’re managing to gather your thoughts better than before. “What do you think you’d get anyway?”
Toji pulls off your oversensitive pussy with a loud plap! “A’s across the board.”
“Oh, don’t be so humble.”
With that said- you’re reaching out and grabbing Toji by the collar. He gets dragged upwards—the bed dips as the larger man cages you in with his strong forearms. He leers, “I think you pass, don’t you?” You could see that somewhere during makin’ out with your pussy, Toji had tugged down his pants- likely to jerk himself off as he did so.
And his long cock stood aching and rock-hard between his legs.
That round, reddened tip of his seemed to wink up at you as he dribbled out a single bead of precum. Aaaaall the way from the edge of his cockhead, and aaaaaall the way down to his bushy black curls at the base.
Your mouth waters.
Hands on his body- his fingers tearing through your own fabric. Soon enough you’re naked beneath him—and he’s just as devastatingly bare. Perfectly-aligned abs. Chiselled pecs. Fushiguro Toji had a body that made him look as though he was hand-carved by Hercules himself- it was just so sensual the way his ladder-like core pushed down against yours.
And it’s so difficult to keep a stern face facing him when those bulky biceps of his were flexing—right next to your face.
But somehow you manage- you were a professional after all, weren’t you?
“I’m serious about what I said on riding you stupid.” You’re murmuring up at him, “Flip over.”
He smirks, “And if I don’t?”
Within split-seconds, you’re grabbing a fistful of his hair and watch as his cock twitches at the rough manhandling—at the way you’re turning the two of you over and straddlin’ his hips. Toji bucks with a groan underneath you, but you’re quicker than that- and you’re clasping a hand around his gulping throat. Sweaty and scorching to the touch .
“Ah ah-” You tut. “You already had your fun. Now it’s time for mine…”
“Aye aye, teach.”
“Quiet coyote.”
Toji mimes zipping his lips shut—but there’s openin’ back up again almost instantly once he feels your sultry hips swivelling down his cock. You duck a hand underneath yourself to grab his throbbing hilt- and before long, his wet tip’s smushing apart your pussylips. He’s intruding that hole of yours and bucking up into where you needed him the most.
He shovels in a few more inches with an echoing sluuuurp! of your pussy viciously gulping him up.
“What did I…oh.” Beside yourself, your head’s throwing backwards at the sheer pressure he was creating inside. “What did I say about staying still?”
“Actually…you didn’t say anything about that.” That grin of his was infuriatingly handsome. “Still, mmm, cockdrunk?”
“You wish…” Though that wasn’t an outright denial.
It was true that your mind was coiled with fog after your last orgasm; the dopamine still coursing through your body. And the way that Toji’s thickened, textured length was pushing your walls aside wasn’t helping—it was making you feel sensations so raw and carnal- that saliva’s dripping down one side of your mouth after a mere few semi-thrusts.
Just the bulging edge of Toji’s tip scourin’ your channel inwards.
“Awww, don’t tell me I was right?” He asks you- and it registers as mere distant words. Toji reaches out his right hand and wipes away that splatter of spit - before bringing it up to his own mouth and sucking. What an animal. “Can’t grade ol’ Toji’s cock? Or is it- heh, so good that I’m breaking all the scales?”
“You fucking-”
“Yeah yeah, wish- right?” He scoffs meanly. But honestly…he might be teasing you but he was completely infatuated with the idea of your smart mouth babbling for him like this.
The way you were twitchin’ with every light graze of his flared tip.
Your insides were getting used to him, and Toji was only stuffing himself even deeper. “Right…” Though of course- Toji himself wasn’t doing all too hot. Just a single one of your adhesive-like clenches and he can’t help but buck—
“Easy, eeeeasy- you can take me, my girl.” He grits his teeth. He blinks back the tears in his eyes. He’s guiding your impatient hips n’ grinding your cunt dooooown onto his pelvis. “Fuck- fuck, and how d’you grade the stretch?”
Your eyes pop open. “The stretch?”
“Mhm- the streeeeetch—yeah?” Toji’s chest rumbles in delight as he watches your every microexpression and reaction. Even the smallest curlings of your toes. “Such a big stretch feels good, yeah?”
“Mhm- I rate it a…” Your jaw hangs open- as though to purposefully influence your grading, he’s shovelling his length a few more times. Faster. “B.”
And that…what the fuck?!
“A fucking what?” That makes Toji’s maw gape, and his handsome face twist into something of bewilderment. You look at him and you honestly let out a little chuckle - but that seems to only spur his driving hips even further. “Oh noooo, doll. You’re joking.”
“I said what I said.” Biting back. “It’s a B because…” Throwing your head back and arching—you’re gaining more movement in your hips and letting him push inside. “-you’re just not- fuck. Bottoming. Out. Fucking do it already—!”
His feet plant ever-so-slightly on the ricketing mattress- and that means you were feeling the plushness of his muscular thighs against your back. Those tendons and rippling strength. There’s honestly nothing more for you to do but gnaw down on your trembling lower lip in the hopes that those embarrassing noises won’t escape-
Because Toji then glues his hands upon either side of your hips and slams your cunt down onto him.
It’s such incredible friction. It’s so many of his winding veins- pushin’ apart your walls and scouring you all over—
You’re arching your back into him and gasping- “A…”
“A what?”
“A for your veins.” And that honestly manages to catch him off-guard and make him let out an exhilarated bout of laughter. Being in your presence was like four shots of espresso—fucking you was four shots of vodka. Straight. He’s dizzy and he’s clamorin’ his numerous inches up your pretty channel, watching as you drip glittering globs of slick all ‘round him.
“Oh…” Toji seems to grow even bigger inside you. He grips you as hard as your pussy was clenchin’ him. “Keep going-”
“And a- fuck, an A for your pace—” Just perfect. Dizzingly fast; whilst still being steady and balanced enough that you were able to feel his textured length slipping into every spot he needed to slip into—“And a…a fucking F for your attitude.”
“Hey…” Toji juts his scarred lip out in a mock-attempt at a pout. “Don’t imply m’sassy when your pussy speaks like that to me.”
Right on cue, you’re letting out some of the most sinful slurps as your cunt slaps right down onto him. Onto his hefty balls.
Toji’s thick brows raise at the sounds- even he didn’t think that your pussy could get this chatty. Mouth falling agape as he watches you drip-drip-driiiip.
You’re grabbing onto both of Toji’s sculptured deltoids for balance, increasing your pace as your legs start to grow limp. Perhaps noticing your little struggle, he’s supporting one of your legs with his left hand—and thumbing over your clit with his right. “And then? What else—dick got yer tongue?”
“You fuckin’ wish.” You snipe back.
“Yeah.” Toji simply replies. Without a single warning, he’s craning his head up and signalling you to open your mouth- instinctually, your tongue sticks out. Perfect for him to spit—a heaping mess between your lips. “You looked so pretty with my cock stuffed down your throat, too.”
Grumbling - though it was just for show - yet you swallow. “That was a B- since you almost missed.” One of your hands reaches up to swipe at the splattered saliva piled on the edge of your mouth.
“Oh, no.” With such a loving glint in his eyes, he’s leaning up and kissing the mess he’d just left behind. “That was totally on purpose, doll.”
“F-filthy…”
“You know it, teach.”
Both of your bodies were slick with sweat and glissading against one another- Toji himself was especially frenzied with his movement. His thrusts. His battering rams. The way his pointed tip struck the end of your cervix—bottomed-out, and then smeared apart your channel to drag aaaaaaall the way back down. Aaaaaaall the way back in.
And through it all- you’re sputtering out the same ruthless grading of his cock. Red-hot and ruining your insides with every thrust. Pump after pump- “Deepness…B.”
Bruising his tip’s circumference at the very back of your pussy. Dribbling out ribbons of pre.
“Hmmm, alright a B+.” Pleasure runs through your body the more n’ more Toji grows irritated- because that meant the more he was trying to prove himself. The harder he was fucking you. “And the- hah, curve: an A.”
“Damn right.” That, he could most certainly be proud of. That slightly upwards curve of him was the perfect shape to mold your walls- to let his honed tip be the searchlight.
And your sweetest spots were what he was aiming for.
After a few more vulgar strokes, Toji’s rediscovering and ramming himself into none other than your g-spot. That throbbing bundle of nerves that’d just kept on and on waiting for him to probe you with his shaft—perhaps a bit too long at that…“What took you so long to find that spot again, Toji?”
“Take it easy on me…” He pleads with a slight hint of amusement. “Your pussy was to- mmm, hypnotizing. You can’t blame a guy for taking a little time…needy fuckin’ pussy.”
That last bit was said to himself- underneath his breath, in fact.
And yet, your proximity means that you’re catching onto every single word - and without a split-second of hesitation you’re countering back. “Oh? What was that…I’m sorry, maybe I was- hngh, hearing things? Because it just sounded to me like you wanted all your g-grade to plummet to an F?”
His lips part. “You wouldn’t…”
You peck him on the mouth. “Try. Me.”
And fuuuuuck—it’s clear he’s not expecting the way that sends pangs of excitement coursing through every inch of him. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to fucking do with himself- once he propells his ruddied cockhead to hit against the door to your womb.
And Toji’s thighs are left shivering at the way your walls immediately rush to embrace him.
Suctioning him.
A ribbon of drool drips slowly from the edge of his mouth, “A-and what do I have to do to make it up?”
“Hmmmm?” The fact that you made the Fushiguro Toji stutter so blatantly like this…it was driving you wild. It was making the cockiest smile plaster across your face- he wanted to kiss it away so bad but you were teasingly inching your lips away, making him work for it.
He growls and repeats- “What do I have to fucking do to get- hah, extra credit? To make up for my…” Toji’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs. “-mistake.”
“There now. Was that so hard to- hah, admit?” You coo. “Gimme a D.”
“Huh?” Toji gapes. “Aren’t you the one supposed to be- ngh, giving out the grades?”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just telling you to shut up and fuck me harder with your fat dick—”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He lightly stirs his hips in semi-circular motions to get the most out of his veiny cock- to make sure that those prized n’ precious vessels were massaging your insides just right. “Fuck-” Your entire upper half is shaking from stimulation - “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—just like that.”
“Hngh, oh yeah?” Honed canines beared.
“Faster-” And he listens.
“Harder.” And he listens once more.
“Fucking-” You’re it escape you in a trilling tone. “-b-breed me…”
Toji’s breathless once the words register to him. “Yes, ma’am…”
Pumping up into you - meeting your bouncin’ cadence - like he was angry with you. Like he was trying to shove to your deepest depths n’ then probe his erect cock even further. Like he was trying to meld your bodies into one—
He was fucking you in a way that was so animalistic.
And Toji can’t help it- fuck, he can’t help but throw his head back—it just feels so good. Eyes shuttering. Brows furrowing. His hips unsticking from the now-dampened bedsheets to arch properly up into you-
But that’s when he feels those familiar fingers ‘round his throat again.
“Ah ah ah—” You tut. Your vision was just a little bleary from all the tears and pleasure clogging up your mind- “And who said you could- hah, move, hm? Seems like you’re the one running away, not me. What? Scared m’gonna milk you too hard, Fushiguro Toji?”
He growls. “You little…”
“F- for handling yourself.” Remembering just how much he’d teased you earlier for similar reactions just made these words so much sweeter on your tongue. “In fact…”
Toji looks eagerly up at you through his bangs.
To which you’re taking your lazy time changing your sloppy cadence into figure-eights instead. It swerved n’ stirred his pussy around your depths; and made it so that the most sensitive parts of Toji’s veins - that pinkish line underneath his slit, the frailest of his veins, where his balls rested - were being stimulated. Making him pour out wads of precum into you as though it was a waterfall—
“See me after class.”
“Fuck yes.” Toji grunts to himself- his hair was flying into his face, and every bit of his skin seemed to be furiously flushed. “Fuck—fuck, I need to cum inside you.”
Plap after plap after plap! of his hips hitting yours. “Mhmmm—”
“I n-need to fill you up until here-” His thumb briefly detaches from your clit to graze your lower stomach, where your womb was wont to be. “I need to feel it pouring out of you- then fuck it all back in.” And he was pistoning into you like it, too.
“Shit, m’close-”
Hard. Fast. The wads of his sappy precum only get stronger and more frequent - “I n-need to…”
Toji’s voice hatches into nothingness in his throat, and you’re cooing down at him cutely. “What’s thaaaat?”
“Need you to make me a f-father for a second time.” Toji utters.
And then with a particularly hard press on your heart-shaped, swollen clit—you’re both tumbling into your highs together. Tumbling into one another as you both hold each other through your strong orgasms - even stronger than the one you’d had prior.
Zaps and twinges of pleasure.
Goosebumps dapple across your skin.
Your spine arches into him.
Now you have Toji’s ravenous cock bulging into your walls- his globular tip searchin’ for every sweet spot and pinpointing them using his shape. That only elongated the sparks of your high until it felt never-ending; and dopamine washes over your body and leaves you wracking. Hands clawing down wherever you could latch onto the older man. Your knees squeezing tighter around his waist to milk him through his own euphoria. “Yes—yes, just like that.”
“Oh…oh, look at the way m’dripping out of you…” Toji’s mouth unfastens. Your cunt had already been bloated around his cock- now with his volumes of cum being webbed up inside, it was almost too much for you to handle.
And Toji’s orgasm rips through him strong—even his powerful limbs were wrapped around you as he powered through it. His thumb tremblin’ as he rolled and rolled.
He breathes out hot and heavy when those fingers of his dare to wonder…right along where a sheen was spreading along your inner-thighs. Every satiny drop of cum he was pouring out gets slid down your cervix- and then trickles deep inside of you. “So messy, this pussy o’ mine.”
“Yours?” You gasp. Though even that tiny reaction meant you feel his warm wetness splosh! inside you.
“Mhmmm—” He nods drunkenly. Left arm wrapping behind you and pulling you to him - resting you against his chest. “But don’t worry…this cock is yours, too.”
You scoff. “The audacity. Didn’t I give this cock an F?”
“Yeah, you sure did give me a fuck.”
You decide that the only way to shut up him is to overstimulate him by fuckin’ him—perhaps unfortunately for you, Fushiguro Toji seemed to have had the same idea.
“Mmm, now what about the parent-teacher meeting? We already- oh, handed out the grades, didn’t we?” He’s whispering in your ear once he’d somehow manhandled you into a doggy position. Sculpted abs pressed against your spine. Beefy arm wrapped around your throat in a headlock—
“T-to say what?” You’d wheezed out.
“That m’not done fucking this pussy pregnant.”
.
.
.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE FIVE: 𝕲𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖚𝖕…
It’s so over.
Today was the day of the talent show; and Fushiguro Megumi had never felt more untalented.
And no…it wasn’t because of any of the other competition—if he had any idea how these things go, at the end they were going to say that everyone won and everyone gets a prize. This was elementary school, after all. And he was quite grown up.
Anyways—the point is his, Itadori, and Kugisaki’s magic show had been quite the hit amongst parents especially.
And that wasn’t why he was feeling untalented.
It wasn’t because Todo’s PG-censored version of a Megan Thee Stallion song had been honestly…quite good. It wasn’t because Yuta’s puppeteering act had been something that’d drawn endeared laughter from both kids and parents alike. It wasn’t even because of the act that was happening right now…where Inumaki was standing alone on center stage with a notebook opened up in his hands. The last act of the night.
The rest of the show had gone swimmingly.
Inumaki was a bit more of the quiet type, but at this moment he speaks into the mic loud and clear.
“For my talent today, I am going to read out vocabulary words taught to me by Fushiguro-san. Thank you Fushiguro-san!”
The audience coos and turns to try and find the aforementioned man.
From his position peaking-in from backstage, Megumi watches his father pale from the first row. And then sink deeper into his seat.
Deeper.
And deeper.
And deeper-
“Bud.”
Though the rest of the audience nods in sweet endearment- Toji’s damn-near jumping out of his seat in surprise. That was…clearly not what he had been expecting.
Not at all.
Inumaki continues.
“Cookie.”
And Toji has gathered enough bravery to…perhaps properly sit up in his seat. Clapping along with the other parents- looking around to make sure that he wasn’t just hearing things. And this was actually what Inumaki was reciting.
“Concussion.”
That one draws some admiring sounds. Such a big word for such a small kid—good on Fushiguro Toji, right?
He might just be safe…
“And divorce.” That one draws mixed reactions- but Inumaki closes his infamous blue notebook, and Toji lets out a sigh of relief - one that was nearly audible backstage.
Along with the rest of the parents, he can whole-heartedly start clapping now. Maybe even throw in a cheer or two.
Let the audience know that he was the mastermind behind such academic advancements. Yeah, maybe they should pay him.
But Inumaki wasn’t done yet.
“And my favorite yet—” Which one was it? Which other important vocabulary word had Toji so graciously bestowed upon this kid? Which other aspect of his life had Toji alleviated by the sharing of precious, precious knowledge? Inumaki firmly grips the mic. “Is fuc-”
Megumi leaps onto stage and snatches the microphone out of Inumaki’s hand before he can complete that specific word…
But the implication must have been evident either way, because then each set of eyes turns behind to the black-haired man. And glares. Toji flips them off. The applause is more polite than willing now. Then he decides that he’s never showing his face ‘round here again, he’s never stepping a foot through those damn multi-colored doors if it fucking kills him, he’s never—
Just then, you’re stepping onto the stage and graciously taking the mic from Megumi. He’s so back.
“Hello? Is this thing on?” You chuckle into it.
And Toji…Toji knows. He knows he wouldn’t mind being thrown a dirty look from every single person he meets- so long as you’re there to spot him out in a crowd. Tugging his son close to you—as you beckon all the other kids on-stage and start your speech.
It’s mostly thanking those that made it possible; the parents, the staff, and especially the students. Toji isn’t quite ashamed to admit that he’d been too busy drowning in your gorgeous tone to even register your words—
Expectedly, you were telling the kids that everyone won - and Principal Yaga had been called on-stage to hand out prizes to every one of the kids. And as Fushiguro Megumi holds his prize - a custom trophy with his name, a certificate, and a bunch of art supplies - he’s suddenly remembering why he’d been feeling so untalented.
It had been a week since Phase Four of the mission to get you and his father together. And it had been a few days since parent-teachers meeting and Toji had come to pick him up the next day, smiling dopily.
Megumi’s sure his father’s losing his marbles.
And he has the strange, sinking feeling that after tonight- they’d either forget about the plan or abandon it altogether. Feeling so hopeless—it’s so over.
“Hey, Fushiguro…” Itadori not-so-successfully whispers to the black-haired boy, ultimately drawing attention from whomever was around the two of you. “Fushiguro, isn’t that your dad coming up the aisle?”
“And why does he have such a big bouquet of flowers?” Kugisaki adds on.
Though…once Toji reaches the foot of the stage everything becomes very clear.
Because with a hand coming up to your mouth, and the spotlight shined on you, he lovingly hands you the plush bouquet of roses from below. Roses. Red, red roses.
With a silent thank you—you’re kissing Toji on the cheek.
Every. Single. One of their jaws drop-
Inumaki starts scribbling something down in his notebook.
Yuta sticks an approving thumbs-up.
Even some of the parents in the audience whisper to one another - most nod approvingly.
And Toji catches Megumi’s eye to wink. “We’ll talk later.” He mouths.
Megumi nods mutely- excitement thrums through him so fast that his fists clench—and Itadori has to clasp onto them. They succeeded? They really, truly succeeded?
His eyes are glimmering as he turns to Itadori and Kugisaki- both nodding excitedly in agreement. They couldn’t squeal like they wanted to right now with Yaga’s speech droning on in the background, but after…after, they had a loooot of questions for the new couple.
Together; they loop their arms together in a silent victory.
They’re so back.
Though being silent was never something for Todo Aoi.
Yelling.
“Fushiguro Toji rizzed Ms. Teacher before GTA 6—?!”
Synopsis: When you return to your hometown to visit your aunt for the summer, you plan on finding a suitor and marrying into money the way your family has prophesied for you for years. You just don’t expect that suitor to be Gojo Satoru, cocky, popular country artist and heartthrob. And the man whose heart you broke years ago after he got you pregnant. You weren’t ready for his world then and you tell yourself that you’re not now. But when he offers you a friendly drink after his show, how can you refuse the starlit hottie? And how will you tell him that he’s the father of your child?
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse AU; Small Town Romance AU; Country Boy!Reader x Country to City Girl!Reader; Exes to Lovers; College Romance Trope; Accidental Pregnancy; T/W for Abortion Talk; Highkey Flirting; Sexual Tension; Love Confession; Public Sex; Outdoor Sex; Cunnilingus; Mommy Bod Worship; Sundress Season; Spanking; Tittyfuck; Deepthroat; Riding; Fucking From Bottom; Mating Press; Daddy Kink; Tongue Piercing; Dick Piercing; Switch!Gojo x Switch!Reader; Breeding Kink; Raw Creampie; Aftercare
Word Count: 13.4k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: I finished this early lmaooo so here's my VERY FIRST INSTALLMENT FOR MY GOOD BELLE SERIES!!! I hope y'all enjoy reading!! <3 -love, Jazz
Credits: Gojo art above by 1004_shvn! Dividers by @chachachannah & @kodaswrld!
Read on AO3 HERE!
“Utahime, why the hell are we at a concert venue? You said we were goin’ out to dinner!”
You sit next to your friend in the concert venue, somewhere close to the front on the ground level but not quite dead in front of the stage. You glare at the long-haired girl among the crowd of eager country fans in their cowboy hats and boots, mostly women and girls, from high school students to college girls to older ladies in their golden years.
“We just did!” Utahime protests, barely looking away from teasing her long, black locks in her phone under her cowboy hat that she bought from the merch station. “A very hearty steak dinner if I can remember correctly. Those BuzzBallz are talkin’ to me.”
The BuzzBallz she consumed in your Uber ride on the way to the concert that she didn’t tell you about when you thought you were going to see a movie. You should’ve known something was up since Utahime was wearing her sexy halter top, denim mini skirt, and told you to dress in your “MILFy best” for tonight’s festivities.
You threw on your favorite wedges and sundress for the occasion, the kind with spaghetti straps and skater ruffles that compliment your curves given to you by your baby. Why didn’t you question Utahime then? “Oh, no, no,” you groan, pinching your sinuses. “My aunt is gonna kill me! She thinks we’re out havin’ a fancy, quiet dinner and a movie!”
That was why you aunt had you take a break from her “lessons” about finding a suitable husband—lessons that included attending endless parties around your small town in the upper crust world of Southern society with your daughter in tow (for some anyway; for others, your aunt had her personal maid watch her).
“And she can still think that!” Utahime argues, wrapping an arm around her neck. “If you look at it my way, this is a movie…just with a really hot country singer in his jeans flexin’ his cute butt and his big d–”
“Utahime,” you firmly say, cutting her off. “Don’t even. My aunt would have your head if she found out how you were talkin’ to her niece.” Your friend laughs, waving off your warning. “Oh, please! That woman adores me!”
And it’s true. Your aunt doesn’t like many people in this world, but she likes your longtime friend Utahime. She considers Utahime to be someone that was 100% there for you during your pre material pregnancy and the dark time afterwards fueled by postpartum depression and transiting from small town to city life.
“Plus, this will getcha a chance to come out and have some fun, girl,” she giggles with a wink at you. “And find your pretty ass a suitor. Ya think your folks will appreciate any of the fine cowboys in this crowd?”
“Please,” you chuckle and take a sip of your beer, feeling the alcohol’s affects; you had a BuzzBall in the car so you feel a slight throb and a comfortable flush. “My aunt is lookin’ for the highest payin’ bidder for me and mine. If he wants me then he’s gonna have to want my baby too.”
Utahime applauds that, raising her beer high. “Oooh, so we cruisin’ for a brand new daddy for little Tara too! I’m on board!”
Then you feel your phone vibrate in her crossbody, already knowing who it is. “Speakin’ of which…” You answer the phone, smiling. “Hey, Auntie!” you shout. “How’s–”
“Y/N, where ever are the juice boxes you provided for Tara?” she immediately snaps, her Southern accent twinging her words. You have to hold the phone away from your ear because of how loud she is. “She keeps askin’ for me these God-forsaken apple juice packages!”
You giggle at your daughter’s antics, knowing your aunt would have her hands full with the little 5-year old. “Check her Hello Kitty duffle in the guest room. It’s full of her snacks.”
Your aunt scoffs, ever the haughty older Southern belle through and through, wearing her church hats and every piece of jewelry she owns. “You’re spoilin’ this child too much, you know. Soon, she’ll be as plump as a tomato and hard to control!”
You roll your eyes at her lecture, knowing damn well your aunt insisted you bring Tara along for the trip to her estate for the summer. Your aunt spoils everything she loves, including her poodles. “I’ll keep that in mind, Auntie. Sorry.”
There is a sudden whoop from the background and a beer bottle breaking, making you flinch. “What was that?” she asks. You feel your blood run cold and quickly, you look for an escape. “Nothin’, Auntie! Gotta go, love you and Tara-bear, bye bye!” Then you hang up and huff in relief. “That was close. I was in for an earful.”
An earful about how being at a concert with a bunch of drunks and girls in daisy dukes isn’t “proper”. Your aunt is very old school—and rather internally misogynistic—, so she swears up and down that to be a sophisticated young woman in high society is the way to get men…at least the type of men she and your folks are trying to pair you with.
Doctors, lawyers, politicians, councilmen, etc. You only went along with this trip not in the hopes of finding a respectable man to eventually marry but to come back home and get out of the city for the summer season. And to finally hush up your folks who keep asking you, “Y/N, when are you gonna find a daddy for Tara and get married?” Not that you told your aunt this though.
“Well, she’ll be less rough with you once we getcha a new man.” Utahime wiggles her eyebrows at you while you just sigh, pinching your sinuses. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this, Utahime. I ain’t interested in no man but my family swears it’ll benefit me and Skylar.”
“Then maybe you should trust ‘em,” Utahime suggests with a comforting smile. “City men are different from the ones here, honey. You know that!” When she turns away to take photos of the stage, you frown at her statement, thinking of one Southern man in particular. “Tell me about it,” you grumble.
Luckily, she doesn’t hear you. “And if you don’t get a relationship or a shiny diamond ring, there’s always somethin’ else you can get out of a Southern man here.” She gives you an not-so-friendly smirk that’s so suggestive that it would make a nun blush. “Shut up, you slut,” you snort. “You’re so nasty.”
“Lady, when’s the last time you got yourself some dick, girl?” she scoffs. “Seriously! You’re a fuckin’ MILF and no city guys were bustin’ your door in?”
“A woman with a kid ain’t as hot as you think,” you laugh. “And besides, I wasn’t interested. I only came here to get out of the city and introduce my daughter to my hometown.”
Utahime is that friend that swears that sex is the answer to everything, especially sex with no strings attached. Though she is a romantic like you, she participates in weekend hookups and swimming through dating apps for her latest catch of the night.
You used to do the same, but after realizing how fucking weird men act around women with kids—either fetishizing them or ghosting them entirely—, you decided that you were better suited to be alone. However, you can’t deny the loneliness that creeps in late at night when Tara is fast asleep and it’s only you.
No school, no PTA meetings, no trips to the ice cream parlor or the park to keep your 5-year old occupied during the summer. Just you and your tiger strips, full breasts, thick thighs, and an aching need for companionship and affection.
“Well, just think about it,” Utahime says, tossing an arm around you. “And have some fun tonight! You deserve some time off from bein’ a mommy!”
You smile, raising your beer to match hers. “Cheers,” you giggle, clinking your beer bottle with hers. You turn back to the stage, noticing that instruments have been set up and the staff is done testing the pyro, smoke machines, and the microphones. “Now where’s this heartthrob everybody’s here for? Who is he anyway?”
Utahime looks excited to tell you. “You remember that kid from homeroom back in college?” she asks. “The one who left for California after we graduated?”
But before you can answer her, the lights shut off and the entire venue explodes in frenzied cheering and excited screams that make you cover your ears where your gold hoop earrings dangle. Even Utahime is screaming, holding her phone up to record.
“Ladies and gents!” a disembodied female voice yells into the mic. “Introducin’ the one you’ve all been waitin’ so patiently for…the heartthrob with the ocean blues…the reason for ‘everythin’ is big in Texas’...Gojo Satoru!”
Wait…Gojo Satoru? Your Gojo Satoru? The man whose heart you broke into two all those years ago before you left for the city? “Oh, no,” you gasp. Utahime looks over at you, concerned. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
You can’t answer her. It feels like there is a ball in your throat that won’t go away no matter how much you swallow. It only gets worse when the man you’ve been thinking about for five years pops out of the stage in the most sinfully tight denim jeans and white tank top known to man, each muscle on full display.
He wears a leather jacket with a black cowboy hat and matching boots with his outfit along with dangling dog tags that he used to wear back in college when you started secretly dating. He has ditched the glasses, now wearing contacts that make those intense, attractive blues pop, and he is so confident and self-assured whereas in college, he was just putting on a front.
He was the small-town college boy who played guitar during his free time and had big dreams of being a singer. Dreams that you believed in. But when he started getting recognized after blowing up on YouTube and asked you to come with him to California when he got a record deal, you got scared. You backtracked.
Especially after you found out you were pregnant with his baby after that night. The night he asked you to leave with him. The night you broke things off with him for good. The night your love was forever fractured and you promised to never tell him you were carrying his baby.
Then you graduated college and headed for the city, he left for Cali, and you never saw him again…until now, five years later. Looking at him now, all those old memories and feelings you thought were long buried come rushing back.
He smiles that white-toothed, dimpled smile that always gave you butterflies. His silvery-white hair and blue eyes startle you, especially since your Tara has inherited both. “What’s goin’ on, y’all?” he hollers into the mic. “Y’all come to party with lil’ ol’ me tonight?” The crowd erupts into frenzied screams and cheering. Gojo laughs, strutting up to the mic where his guitar is waiting for him. “Aww, thank you kindly! I’ll make sure it’s an extra special show for y’all ‘cause I’m back home!”
He then straps the guitar to his slim waist as his band comes out onto the stage. He introduces them all: Shoko on the bass; Nanami on the secondary guitar; Geto on the drums. And as the strumming of guitars and the banging of the drums hit your eardrums, vibrating through your body, Gojo begins to sing.
His voice is silky and sweet yet seductive, sweetened by his Southern accent that never left him despite Cali. It makes you tremble and your heart pound as you sit there, rigid, your beer in hand. The worst part is that you’re forced to sit and watch all of it.
Well, you’re not forced, but you also can’t move due to the bodies pressed tight against you in the seats. You’re also too transfixed to look away. Gojo is truly a star, moving across the stage with his long legs; doing choreography and belting out all kinds of impressive vocals; strumming his guitar with those long fingers that used to touch your body.
He is meant for this world, as you thought so long ago…and you’re not.
Thirty minutes later, Gojo has changed into a simple black wife beater that sinfully hugs his muscles and faded jeans. He dabs his face drenched in sweat with a towel, all of his band and dancers gone backstage. “My goodness, y’all are makin’ me sweat!” he whistles. “I’m gonna have to strip a lil’ bit…y’all don’t mind, do ya?”
He gives a cheeky smile to the crowd that squeals and screams for what’s coming next. Turning around, Gojo flexes his back muscles as he strips off his wife beater, showing off the back tattoos inked into his tan skin. You swear, you nearly choke on your beer.
“God, he’s so hot!” Utahime groans, smiling at you. “Ain’t he hot? Now that’s a man you should make your new suitor, honey!” But you kind of already did that. He was hot even back in school, but now? The motherfucker is walking sex. California and fame did something to him.
You can barely breathe when he turns around, revealing the lipstick print on his right hip where his jeans are dangerously low on his V-line. He tosses his sweaty towel into the crowd where two middle-aged women begin to fuss over it. “No fightin’ now,” he chuckles. “We’re all grown folk here. We all family tonight, right, y’all?”
He grins wider when the crowd erupts in agreement, cell phone lights flashing like stars at him. “Then allow me to make myself a lil’ more comfortable. We’re gonna slow it down a bit while my dancers get a break….but not me. I can go all night.”
Oh, he most definitely could. ‘Stop it!’ you think to yourself.
Gojo then drags the stool closer to the edge of the stage. If you weren’t sitting three aisles away from the stage, you’d be right in front of him. You swear, you go completely catatonic, unable to speak or breathe as he sits on his stool with his guitar, completely stripped down and intimate, the spotlight illuminating his handsome face.
“This next song is about a very special someone,” he says silkily. “A lot of you may know this one, but not about its backstory. This is for someone that I used to be with many moons ago that left for a life without me in it.”
Oh, no. You grip your beer and go to drink more for liquid courage, but you realize that you drank it all.
“It’s about bein’ in love with someone you shouldn’t be ‘cause they ain’t with you no more. It’s about forgivin’ that person for breakin’ your heart, but never truly…” And then his eyes lock on you. Somehow, as those ocean blues are grazing the audience, they land directly onto your face after so long of looking and not quite seeing you. Now, there is no hiding.
Gojo’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you and you know that he recognizes you immediately. “Forgettin’,” he finishes. “Holy shit.”
The fans surrounding you immediately turn to either look at you or around you, wondering who the hell has got Gojo Satoru so starstruck. You can’t breathe or look away, too locked down by those pretty eyes that have haunted you for so long.
“Is he lookin’ at you, Y/N?” Utahime gasps. You don’t answer; you can’t. Finally, the moment passes when Gojo blinks and clears his throat, smiling at the crowd. “U-Uh, sorry. Thought I saw somebody I knew…probably. Looks like my old teacher is in this crowd too!”
He points into one of the upper seats where, sure enough, a man wearing a shirt with Gojo’s face plastered on it is screaming while his two daughters look entirely embarrassed. Gojo laughs as he recovers while you haven’t, still standing there dumbfounded. “Y’all sing the words if you know this one. This is ‘Once In A While’.”
He begins to play and the song is slow, sappy, and sweet. The lyrics are poetic and beautiful yet sorrowful, his silky voice curling around each word. You stare, unable to look away, as he croons into the mic. “Girl, you okay?” Utahime asks, holding your hand. You turn to her, noticing her worry. “Yeah…this song is just really sad.”
It’s a good lie because it’s also true. You manage to hold back your tears as Gojo continues to sing, looking so in his element and passionate as he sings. It tears at your heart and makes you want to bolt, but you stay, letting the song wash over you.
Thankfully, the show is over thirty minutes later. Gojo and his dancers take a big bow as the stage erupts into streamers and confetti, everyone wearing pink cowboy boots. Gojo looks so sexy in pink, the fuchsia tank top and boots bringing something feral out of you.
“Y’all have a good night now! See ya soon!” He blows kisses and raises his beefy arms to wave as he is taken down from the stage, tossing a guitar pick at a random fan before he is finally gone.
You and Utahime wait until a good portion of the seats have cleared out before you venture out into the stadium to get something to eat. You decide on something small and get in line for the fry stand, famous for serving fries with all kinds of toppings, cheeses, and sauces. While Utahime is still beaming about the show, you just want to head home and tuck your head under the covers for good.
“What a show!” she dreamily sighs. “And what a fuckin’ man. How’d you like it, honey?” She looks at you expectantly and her smile pains you. How can you tell her that the whole time, you were regretting your life choices staring into the ocean-blue eyes of your ex? “U-Um…it was–”
“Omigod, Y/N?!” someone shouts from behind you. “Utahime! Girls, I can’t believe it’s really y’all!” You turn around, finding a slender, fit girl standing there in cut-off shorts, cowboy boots, and a snakeskin tank top. You recognize her dark green bob and instantly being screaming in excitement. “Oh, my goodness, Mai!” you squeal. “You’re one of the dancers?!”
You wrap your around her tight, feeling her dancer muscles. Mai used to be a cheerleader back in college, so it makes sense that she’d become a backup dancer for a career choice. “Yes, ma’am! Been on the road with Satoru for months now; he hired me last year for his tour.”
She gives Utahime a big squeeze too, your old friendship renewed after so much time and different paths. “So you girls are still livin’ here?” she asks, a hand on her hip. “Y/N, did you move back? Last time I heard, you moved to the city.”
Utahime proudly answers that she’s still living in town, not being able to drop her gig at the children’s hospital. “I’m just here for the summer with the little one,” you explain and Mai melts at the mention of your daughter. “Oh, yeah, little Tara! I hope I can see her before you leave us again. Oh, before y’all leave, come meet the crew real quick!”
Despite your better judgment, you follow Mai backstage away from the chaos of fans trying to leave the stadium and enter the world of the business of fame: stage staff, towel people, and the beautiful dancers and instrumentalists that Mai introduces you to. Though you’re happy to meet them, you’re also scared to run into Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. You find yourself looking down each corner and behind you as if he’s fucking Freddy Krueger ready to slash you in the back.
“Hey, if you girls are down for some more fun, me and the crew are goin’ to the bar later for some drinks,” Mai says, rolling out the welcome wagon for some more fun with the famous people. She gives you a wink that she was famous for back in college, meaning that you’re in for some trouble tonight.
“Bet, I’m down!” Utahime squeals, down for the chance for some drinks with the band. But you, however, are already planning to excuse yourself from the festivities in fear of running into your baby daddy. “Uh, actually, Mai, I think I should–”
“Mai, you flirtin’ with my fans again?” Suddenly, a silky voice hits your eardrums as it explodes down the hall. All of you turn and suddenly, you’re staring into the handsome face of the one you were trying so hard to avoid tonight.
Gojo is standing there in the flesh, no longer a memory or a dream conjured by a moment of horniness in the dead of night. He is in sweats and a tank top that hangs off of his muscular body, a towel wrapped around his neck. Seeing him is like a slap in the face and you can barely breathe.
The singer looks momentarily starstruck at the sight of you, but then that cocky smirk comes sliding back onto his lips as he saunters up to you. Almost as if he’s been waiting for this moment to arrive. “Oh, my God!” Utahime gasps, grabbing your arm rather roughly. “He’s even hotter in person!” You don’t reply, too cottonmouth to do anything but stare when the country hottie finally stops in front of you.
He casually smiles at you, those blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Well, well...look who snuck backstage and decided to come crawlin' back to her favorite country boy. Guess city life wasn't as pretty as me, was it, darlin'?"
And just like that, the regret you felt for breaking his heart earlier goes right out the fucking window. “Still cocky as always, Satoru,” you sigh.
Mai looks between you both. “Hold up…y’all two know each other?” she asks, looking confused as all hell. “Am I missin’ somethin’?” Even Utahime looks clueless. You meet Gojo’s eyes and silently plead with him to not tell. To give you mercy.
And he does. “We went to college together before I dropped out,” he explains. I’m an old friend of Y/N’s back when she lived here. He lies for you and that immediately makes you feel bad. So you come clean. After all, you’re adults, right? “We used to date,” you admit. “Then after I applied to Master’s school after college, I moved away to the city.”
Utahime gapes at you, shocked. You try not to look at her, feeling guilt for never telling her this. “Wow, really?!” Mai gasps. “You never told me that, Gojo!” She nudges him hard in the ribs, making him grunt.
“Didn’t know I had to,” he grumbles, playfully swatting Mai away like she’s a fly. "So y’all ladies enjoy the show?” He gives you that white-toothed smile again that seems to hook you the same way it used to.
Utahime eagerly nods. “Absolutely! This one cried durin’ one of your songs.” She nudges you and you contemplate murdering her with your cowboy boot. Gojo places a hand on his heart, playfully poking his pink bottom lip out where his lip ring dangles. “Aw, damn, my bad. Wouldn’t wanna make a pretty lady cry…with my song anyhow.”
You catch the glint in his eye at his little slip of a sexual innuendo but you ignore it…and the throb in your panties. This isn’t the time to be thirsting after your ex AND your secret baby daddy!
“I invited them to come with us for drinks,” Mai announces to the singer. "It’s not everyday you bump into some old friends.”
Gojo’s eyes widen a bit, surprised at the prospect of you coming along for drinks…and then a satisfied smirk plays on his lips. Uh-oh. “No, it ain’t,” he agrees, his eyes sliding over to you and Utahime. “Y’all should! I’ll gladly get a car for you girls or you can hitch a ride on my tour bus.”
Utahime starts to reply, obviously wanting a personal ride in his tour bus, but you stop her. “A ride is fine,” you defeatedly say. “Just one drink will be nice.” You emphasis the number mostly for yourself; alcohol brings nothing but trouble. And you have enough trouble running into Gojo.
The singer nods, happy with your answer. “I’ll get y’all that car then…but I’m gonna need your number for that.” His satisfied, smug smile is so irritating that you want to smack him. Begrudgingly, you give him your number along with Utahime who is way more eager and even adds emojis when Gojo lets her.
“Great! See you two tonight.” He gives you a small wink that only you catch before he saunters off, that firm yet bubble butt that could make male models cry swaying in his jeans.
Mai bids you farewell before Utahime turns to you, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “I know, I know, I’ve got a lot of explainin’ to do,” you sigh.
Your friend grabs your arm, pulling you to the nearest exit. “Damn right, missy,” she tuts. “The hell do you mean you used to date Gojo Satoru in college?! Why didn’t you tell me this?! And how didn’t the whole town know?!”
This was gonna be a very long night.
When you finally finish telling your friend your story, you feel like you should sell it to a Hollywood agent for a movie.
Utahime sits in the ride share with you that Gojo ordered to transport you to the bar—a nice sports car with blasting AC, complementary water bottles, and comfy seats—, staring at you like you just finished telling her that you’re God.
“Okay, wait,” she says. “So you’re tellin’ me that you and Gojo secretly dated back in college ‘cause you didn’t want your family findin’ out about him, he got you pregnant before he dropped out of school and went to Hollywood, so you lied about goin’ to school in the city just to get an abortion?”
You nod, nervously toying with the loose thread on your sundress. “Yeah, that’s the gist of it.” Utahime huffs, shaking her head in awe. “Jeez, honey…and I thought I had men problems.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you say, feeling horribly guilty. “You know my aunt would’ve killed me if she found out I was datin’ in college and—“
“Girl, I don't care about that!” she scoffs. “But didn’t you tell me about that other thing? I would’ve gone to the city with you!”
You feel your eyes bubble with tears, loving that your friend doesn’t blame or bash you for your decision. “I didn’t tell anyone. Only my family knew and my aunt paid top dollar to get me the procedure out of state. After that, I just made my life in the city.”
Initially, you planned to get an abortion and your family decided out of state would be better since your small town liked to talk like high school girls in a locker room. But once you got a look at the little blip in your tummy, you changed your mind and kept the baby…but you never told Gojo.
You hid your relationship with him back in college to avoid it getting back to your parents and wealthy aunt who paid to put you in the best school in your town. Originally, it was just a fling that turned into something more. You fell for Gojo and his talent.
But overtime as his popularity got bigger and his world was becoming a little too big for you, you got scared. You jumped ship. You couldn’t think of a life with him in fear of him getting sick of small-town you and leaving you for a Hollywood bombshell.
You thought that breaking things off was for the best—he could focus on his career and you could focus on your future…and your baby girl. But still, as years passed, the temptation to check online to see how he was doing stuck around. You wondered if he ever made it his dream come true; now, years later, you see that he absolutely has.
“And you’re still okay with seein’ him again?” Utahime wonders aloud. “We can always turn around and get that hotel.” You smile, affectionately patting her hand. “Nah, I need the drink. Plus, I wouldn’t wanna ruin your fun with my sob story.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Please! How often do you fuck a famous country singer and get knocked up with his kid? Your life is literally a country song, doll!” You knock your knee with hers and you two laugh among each other as the car suddenly comes to a stop. “Ladies, you’ve arrived,” the driver announces.
And just like that, your heart falls into your ass. Utahime gives you a comforting smile as you get out of the car and stand in front of the glowing sign of the cowboy-themed dive bar. “And don’t worry; Gojo won’t know. Your secret is safe with me, always. Now let’s go getcha that drink!”
She interlaces your fingers as you walk into the bar together, immediately bombarded with the sounds of loud country music, chatter, and the clinking of pool cues against the colorful balls as they roll along a pool table on your left. On your right is a mechanical bull and darts. In front of you is a bar where Gojo’s crew is situated, sitting on stools among the fake bull head mounted on the wall over a rack of booze bottles.
“They’re here!” Mai shouts, the first to greet you and Utahime in her cowgirl outfit. She gives you both a hug, already buzzed from a couple shots. “Let’s get y’all some drinks!”
For the next ten minutes, you don’t see Gojo even though you search for him. You can’t seem to calm down despite the cool beer in your hand and the sweet company that he keeps. You chat with his bandmates about living in the city while Utahime is busy blushing around Shoko, the bassist, as she smokes her cigarette before he finally arrives, causing his crew to cheer and raise their glasses to him.
“My bad, y’all,” he huffs, grinning that perfect grin. “Agent was in my ear about the next stop. Managed to get us two days off, so let’s get fucked up and enjoy ‘em!” But as he looks towards the bar, his eyes lock on you instantly, almost as if he was waiting for you.
You swallow hard, gulping down more beer in an effort to drain your nerves as he takes a seat next to you on the stool. He is wearing a crisp white tee, jeans, boots, and dog tags that make you think of some sinful things. He smells of pine and spiced cinnamon, the tempting aroma driving you to insanity.
After hailing down the bartender—who isn’t too busy since Gojo rented out the entire bar—for a drink, he slings one beefy arm over the bar and gazes at you. “So you actually showed up,” he scoffs. “Didn’t expect that since you seemed so horrified to see me.”
You side-eye him, sipping your beer and tapping your fingers to the music on the bar. “I’d beg to differ,” you retort. “But then again, I wouldn’t be too happy ‘bout seein’ small town folk from my past either. You’re a big star now.”
Gojo chuckles, the sound too sexy for words. “On the contrary, darlin’; I’m always happy to see some old friends. You girls want some shots?” You now notice that Utahime has come wandering over, tipsier than earlier. “Yes, please! And your bassist’s number too.”
You gape at her while Gojo tosses his head back and laughs, the sound making your tummy flip. You know that you probably shouldn’t mix drinks, but you can’t resist the temptation of some liquid courage around your old boyfriend. You don’t know why you feel so jittery and jumpy around him.
After Gojo gets a personal round of tequila shots with some lime slices on the side, he places them in front of you and Utahime. You go for a particular glass at the same time as Gojo, causing you to brush hands. Utahime doesn’t notice, too busy swaying to the music. Quickly, you tear your hand away from Gojo’s as if you’ve been burned, his soft skin and the veins running through his palm shocking you to your core.
If Gojo is hurt, he doesn’t show it, instead picking up a different shot glass. “My bad,” he murmurs, his eyes gazing into yours. You avert your eyes, not wanting to see what’s in his. Then he raises his glass and clears his throat. “Cheers. To old and new friends.”
Clink go your shots before you down them. You relish the delicious burn of the tequila before it instantly goes to your head, making it feel light while the rest of you feels heavy. You have to back up off of the booze for a moment to recuperate while Utahime wanders off to chat some more with Shoko.
Leaving you alone with Gojo. It is awkward and odd, the tension thick like Southern heat. But also comfortable. You’re afraid of that. Gojo was always easy to talk to and things haven’t changed. He clears his throat, trying to start some conversation since you won’t. “So how’d ya wind up back here? Last time I heard, you were in the big city doin’ big girl things.”
He gives you an easy smile that almost makes you crack. “I still am; I’m just here for the summer with my aunt.”
He nods, downing his shot in one go. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob. Damn him. “Ah, the epitome of Southern etiquette. She always hated me.” You chuckle to yourself, nodding. “Mmm-hmm. Said you was trouble…and she wasn’t wrong.”
Gojo raises a brow at you. “Whatchu mean?” You smirk knowingly at him. “Did you forget about all the skinny-dippin’ and ditchin’ class for joyrides?” you chuckle. The singer grins wide, his eyes sparkling from the memories. "Ya got me there, darlin’. Not to mention the ‘study sessions’ too.”
You squeeze your thighs together at the mention of those hot, forbidden sessions where books were forgotten.
Your aunt saw Gojo before you did—at a opening house for the college. “Stay away from a boy like that, dear,” she hissed to you. “Underneath that dimpled smile and sweet talk, he’s the Devil.” You just waved off her lecture, figuring that it was just crazy talk.
But then word of your secret dates got back to her and while she didn’t tell your parents, she forbade you from ever going around Gojo again…of course, you didn’t listen. You just got smart. Hence the study sessions.
“So how’s it feel bein’ back here after travelin’ the world on your tour?” you ask, curious.
Gojo pauses, thinking for a moment, and then exhales with happiness. "Like a breath of fresh air. I right outside our town now, so comin’ back home after jumpin’ from country to country is always a warm welcome.”
You couldn’t agree more and sip some beer to drink to it. “What about you? What’s it like bein’ back in a small town compared to the big city?”
The look he gives you is too warm. Too happy. Like he really is joyed to see you. “Warm. And cozy,” you answer. “My aunt swears that it’ll be a good place to find a husband.” Whoops. Maybe you shouldn’t have mixed your drinks after all.
Gojo gives you an incredulous look, scoffing with laughter. “She’s lookin’ for a husband for you?” he chuckles and whistles, shaking his head. “Good luck with that, honey. I find that the fellas are alike all around.”
“Oh, so ya do now?” you scoff, cocking your head at him. “And how’s that? You an expert in men?” The booze has made you too mouthy. Too bold. But Gojo goes toe to toe with you and it’s undeniably hot. “I should be. You dated me, right? From my perspective, I did a pretty damn good job at it before ya left.”
You feel a slight dip in your stomach at the mention of you leaving town, but you ignore it. “Watch it, cowboy. I’ll give ya props, but don’t get too cocky.” The singer just smirks at you, giving you a look dripping with a molten hot promise that makes you feel hotter than the tequila. “Have you met me, darlin’? That’s all I do.”
Suddenly, your smile fades and you can’t tell if you’re just playing anymore. This is quickly edging towards some dangerous territory. So what do you do? You run. Like always. Like you did before.
You get up and fix your dress as you head to the dance floor among Gojo’s crew, the warm lights washing over you. Gojo watches you, his eyes grazing your ass. You feel them and you hate that you like it. “Where ya goin’?” he wonders. You don’t look back as you saunter to the floor, the guitars and drums calling your name. “I wanna dance!” you call over your shoulder. “You gonna come along, cowboy?”
You don’t know why you ask. You’re supposed to be trying to get away from him, not reel him in for more! But the beer and the tequila are talking for you, making you feel reckless and irresistible. With every electric strum of the guitar strings and beat of the drums in the country song blaring from the overhead speakers, your blood grows hot and you feel alive the more Gojo watches you.
You turn away from him as you begin to dance, swaying to the beat, your sundress swishing around your hips and thighs. The dance floor is packed, making the air feel sticky with sweat and alive with energy. You stand right in it, becoming lost in the tide. It feels good to dance alone but you know dancing with Gojo would feel even better, even if you don’t want to admit it.
Then you feel a touch on your wrist and turn with a smile, only to see that it’s not Gojo but one of the bartender who is off duty. “You need a partner, stranger?” he chuckles, giving you a sloppy grin that gives you the impression that he was sipping AND mixing on the job.
But before you can politely tell him no, your white-haired cowboy appears beside you, his sheer height making you feel protected enough. “Nah, she’s with me,” he says with a finality, but he wears s mile. “Better luck next time, bro.”
The bartender lifts his hands in defense and moves onto the next girl. You turn to Gojo with your arms crossed over your low cleavage. “You speakin’ for me now?”
The singer side-eyes the bartender, looking indifferent to his presence. “You don’t want that asshole. He was reekin’ of whiskey; woulda thrown up all over your pretty dress.”
His blue eyes graze over your form in your sundress, making you feel naked. You hate that you relish it, shivering from his molten gaze, drunk off of the booze and you. Then he stretches his big hand out for you, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Dance with me?” he offers.
You know you shouldn’t, but temptation wins. You take his hand and let him pull you into him, just like you used to. As you place one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder, he places his big hands on your waist just like used to. Instantly, flashes of those dance slow dancing with him in your dorms come flooding back, nostalgic and troubling.
You fit into him like a missing puzzle piece, feeling at home surrounded by everyone dancing in their boots thumping against the hardwood floor. Feeling like you’re the only two in the world. Your hand finds his dog tags, the metal cool against your fingertips, but you also feel his heartbeat thumping against them too. Thumping for you.
“I missed this, y’know,” he whispers. “Dancin’ like this. Kinda makes us feel like the only two people here.” You don’t know why you look up. You shouldn’t because all you see in those eyes is affection that he shouldn’t have for you. “Satoru,” you murmur. “We shouldn’t…”
And then you’re kissing. You don’t know who leans in first, but he doesn’t matter: he’s kissing you and you’re kissing him, slow and steady. No rushing. No push and pull. Just a slow, lingering seduction that draws you in with every drag of his soft lips and coolness of his lip ring against yours. He tastes and feels just as he did before, but better.
You feel dizzy as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing lightly with yours where you taste his tongue ring. He never had one before and it arouses you. You find yourself pushing yourself into him, needing more, and he pushes right back, giving you a feel of the unmistakable outline of his thick, long c—
Bzzzzzz! You gasp, pulling away when you feel your phone buzzing in your bag against your leg. “S-Sorry,” you stammer. Gojo stares at you, lips flush from kissing and eyes hooded as you answer the call, clearing your throat. “Hello?”
“Mommy!” Tara yells into the phone, so loud that you have to take your phone off of your ear. “I can’t find Applejack!” You sigh, trying not to get mad at your daughter for interrupting a kiss that you shouldn’t have had. “Look in your duffle bag, baby girl. I packed it with your My Little Pony PJs.”
Painfully, you stand there with Gojo, afraid to look at him, as you hear Tara scuffling around on the phone for her plushie.
“Found it!” she squeals. “Auntie’s mad you’re not home yet.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for your aunt to kill your buzz from miles away. “Tell Auntie that I’ll be home tomorrow. Love you, lovebug.”
“Love you more, Mommy! Buh bye!” Finally, the call ends and you breathe a sigh of relief. You turn to Gojo, still not looking at him. “That was my…daughter,” you sigh when you can’t think of a good lie.
“You got a kid?” he asks, sounding surprised and you feel your heart pummeling in your chest. “You ain’t tell me that.” Before you can stop yourself, you feel irrationally agitated and fumble with your bag, trying to shove your phone in it.
“I didn’t know I had to,” you snap. "We’re not together anymore, Satoru; it’s been five years since we…” You pause, feeling tears well up as the guilt piles on, making you feel like a pile of donkey shit. “I’m sorry. I-I have to go.” But as you turn to leave, Gojo grabs your hand, stopping you. “Wait, don’t go,” he pleads. “I’m sorry, I just–”
“Let me go, Satoru,” you whimper as if you’re in pain. He releases you, looking positively wounded, like that night you told him you weren’t going to Cali with him and broke his heart. You ignore it.
"Tell Utahime there was an emergency and I got an Uber.” Quickly, still fumbling with your bag, you storm off the dance floor and away from Gojo, struggling to hold back tears. “Wait, I’ll get you a car! Y/N, hold up!”
But you’re racing for the exit, trying to make it outside before the tears start coming. You manage to make it out of the bar in the sticky summer night, the night alive with activity. But you don’t call an Uber. Instead, you go walking, needing to be away from everyone and everything for a while.
You decide to curve around behind the bar where there is nothing but dirt roads, grass, and fireflies. Nothing but you. However, you also somehow find yourself standing in front of Gojo’s tour bus parked smack-dab on the grass. You stare up at his beautiful face on the side of the bus; that white-toothed grin; those pretty eyes.
And then you begin to cry. You softly sob into your hands as fat, salty tears drip down your cheeks, ruining your mascara and shimmery eyeshadow that you spent an hour perfecting. You don’t feel beautiful or sexy or desirable. You feel like dirt. Trash. Nothing but scum under your sandals.
Gone is the intoxicating feeling you initially felt from the alcohol. Now, you only feel tired and regretful. The memories hit you like a train: you, see twenty two-year old Gojo’s hopeful expression five years ago standing in your luxury dorm, his hands in yours after telling you about his record deal offer.
“You can come with me, darlin’!” he exclaimed. “We can go to California together! And once I sign this contract for my deal, our relationship will only—“
“Our relationship?” you scoffed, snatching your hands from his. “Satoru, we don’t have a relationship, remember? How do you expect me to tell my folks that I’ve been secretly datin’ you for months when I’m supposed to be focusin’ on my studies?”
Gojo’s smile faded, now looking utterly confused. “We’d just tell ‘em…unless you don’t want to.” His eyes grew steely and you didn’t like it. “You don’t want ‘em to know about me,” he realized. “Even now.”
“They can’t!” you snapped, frustration in your tone. “They forbade me from datin’ in college, Satoru, and this town talks! Plus, I can’t just up and leave my life here for a life in Cali. What if we broke up?”
That hurt Gojo more than you realized; you could see it in those beautiful, blue eyes. But you ignored it, retreating emotionally, guarding your heart. “I just think we need to be realistic,” you mumbled, hugging yourself tight. “I just don’t think this is gonna work for us anymore.”
The look Gojo gave you made you feel like a murderer; like you stabbed him right in the chest. “You’re breakin’ my heart, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice clogged with emotion. You didn’t say anything in fear of breaking down in tears. Instead, you stayed silent and watched him leave, taking all of your love for him with him.
“Y/N!” You suddenly hear someone shout, ripping you out of your memory. You turn, finding Gojo standing there as if conjured by your thoughts. He strides up to you in his boots, looking concerned. “What are you doin’? Come back inside.”
He goes to touch you, but you flinch away, waving him off. “No!” you whimper. “Please, Satoru, just leave me alone! You don’t want this!”
Gojo looks wounded, but doesn’t push it. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, his pink lips a thin line. “You dropped this inside.” He then produces you with a photo of you and Tara that escaped your phone wallet.
Quickly, you snatch it back and slide it back into your bag. The silence is thick and tense; you’d need a chainsaw to cut it. “She’s beautiful,” Gojo softly says. “She looks just like you. Prettiest thing in the world.”
He gives you a small, almost sardonic smile that pains you to your core. “I’m sure she looks like her daddy too.” The words make your stomach pit and your blood run cold. When you look at him, his gaze is intense and knowing. Without a doubt, he knows your secret now. “She mine?” he bluntly asks.
You don’t answer, your heart pummeling so fast that you’re afraid you’ll have a heart attack. Gojo grows irritated at your silence, his jaw tensing. “Y/N, answer me.” Still, you can’t, and turn to walk off, unable to tell him the truth out of your mouth.
But Gojo ain’t having it this time. “No,” he growls, grabbing your hand. “No more fuckin’ runnin’ from me. You did that before when you left me with a broken heart.” You try to wrench your hand out of his grip, pulling away from him. “Stop it, Satoru!” you weakly protest. “I don’t wanna talk about this!”
Gojo releases you, but still gives you that sharp, hurt look. “So you were just gonna come back here and not tell me about my own baby?” he scoffs.
You glare at him, furious with yourself more than him but still unable to swallow your pride. “How do you even know she’s yours? Plenty of guys have white hair and blue eyes, you dick!” Even when you think it, you know that it’s BS.
“How old is she?” he growls. You harshly bite your lip, staring down at your painted toes. “Five,” you whisper.
“Mmm-hmm,” he replies, crossing his beefy arms over his broad chest. “You left five years ago, so unless you had someone else around that time, I know that little girl is mine. I ain’t that dumb, darlin’.”
You turn away, unable to focus on anything but the internal battle inside of you. One side screams at you to tell the truth while the other insists that you keep your heart and Tara’s heart on lock. But as you stare into Gojo’s ocean-blue irises and see the pain in them, you can’t help but feel guilt engulf you. “Tell me,” he begs. “Tell me the truth.”
Finally, the tension breaks and you release. “Yes, okay?!” you snap. “Yes, she’s yours! I ain’t been with anyone else like that since you got me pregnant! Is that what you wanna hear?!”
Gojo stands there for a moment. Silent. Taking it all in. Five years of never knowing. You never telling.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, looking oh-so sad. It breaks you. “I could’ve been there. I would’ve been there.” He sounds so sure, like he would’ve promised at twenty-two years old that he would’ve been a daddy.
You scoff, rolling your wet eyes stained with running mascara. “Oh, please, Satoru! You had a life that was just startin’ and I wasn’t ready for it! You weren’t ready for a kid, so I made the decision for you…or I would’ve if I hadn’t kept her.”
Gojo blinks at you, confused but still tender. He knows you’re trying to tell him something. “You confusin’ me, darlin’. I’m not good with cryptics.”
You bite your lip, a lump in your throat and your body flush with humiliation. Why is this so damn hard? “I lied about goin’ to Master’s school,” you admit, staring at your toes. “I went to get an abortion, but then I changed my mind and kept the baby.”
Silence swells between you, thick as the hot Southern night and so intense that it’s unbearable. You’re sure that Gojo will hate you even more now. “I know you’re mad about me, but I-I didn’t think I was ready for a baby! I was so young a-and–”
“Baby, baby, slow down,” Gojo coos, taking your hands in his. This time, you don’t pull away. “I’m not mad about the abortion. Hell, not even about California. I’m upset that you left and didn’t think to tell me what was goin’ on. Fuck the fame–I wanted you and I wanted our daughter too. Nothin’ was more important to me than you.”
His eyes are firm and passion, softened by his love for you still blooming after five years. You stand there, melting from the soft, safe love that you still don’t believe you deserve. “And there still ain’t,” he confesses, impassioned. “You were my first and only love. Nobody else came after you, but I was so convinced you had someone else in your life.”
His words make you come apart and when he cups your wet cheek in his hand, you stop fighting. You stop running. You want to crash right into him and his love, and drown in it. “No one,” you softly confess. “It’s always been you too, Toru. It’s only Tara and me.”
A hopeful smile stretches onto his dimpled cheeks. “So does that mean I've still got a chance with you? We can still try again?” His thumb runs over your bottom lip, making your arousal peak. “Satoru,” you whisper. “We shouldn’t–”
“We can,” he murmurs, pulling you close against him. “Stop fightin’ this, darlin’. It’s just me.” Yes, just him. Just your love. The one you’ve been thinking of for years now.
And so you let his lips descend upon yours again, kissing you deeply and passionately. You drink in his cologne and how his chest feels against your fingers as you lock lips, softly moaning into each other’s mouths.
Gojo used to be a good kisser back in college, but now? He’s had practice and you can tell from the way he falls into rhythm with you, swooping your tongue up in a private dance that makes your panties wet.
He presses himself against you, making you feel his hard bulge pressing against his jeans. He stutters out a groan as you grind down into him as his big hands slide under your sundress, possessively grabbing your ass. You whimper, hot sparks of pleasure swirling inside of you.
“I missed you,” he moans against your lips. “Missed ya so goddamn much.” You feel his tongue, hot and pierced, slither down your neck to your breasts where his hands trail to grip and grope, massaging them through your thin sundress. “M-Missed you too!” you stammer. “God, Satoru, don’t tease!”
The country star smirks at you, the act so familiar and oh-so sexy. “It’s been a while for ya, huh?” he teases. “Don’t you worry, darlin’; this cowboy can help with that. Just tell me ya want it.”
You stare into his eyes, no longer afraid. No longer running. You need this. “I want it,” you mew, your legs turning to jelly the more you stand here with him. “Taste me, Satoru.”
Your ex is happy to oblige. He guides you over to the back of the tour bus, out of sight of the bar, the road, and other buildings, giving you some privacy. Gojo pins you against the tour bus and gives you a hot, sloppy kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. “You’re so perfect. How I missed this body…”
His hands glide over your soft skin, his touch leaving trails of fire, as he playfully nibbles on your bottom lip. “These lips…” He pulls the lush lip before popping it back into place, grinning when you whimper.
“These tits…” He peppers your tits in wet kisses, pulling down your spaghetti straps for better access but not taking them out to toy with your nipples. Not yet. He teases you, making you gush into your panties as he kneels down before you, his expression hungered. He trails your sundress up to reveal your soft inner thighs, slightly sticking together from the heat, and your panties. “That pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he growls. “Look how wet you are for me, baby, shit!”
He can see it from the front—that wet spot growing in the pink lace fabric. He takes two fingers and glides them along your slit, making you gasp, before sticking them in his mouth to suck off your taste.
You flush, biting your lip. “It’s been awhile.” Gojo raises a brow at your confession, hope twinkling in those ocean blues. “You ain’t been with anyone else?”
You’re inclined to tell him what he wants to hear when he begins rubbing your clit with his thumb through your panties, sparks of pleasure shooting through you. “It’s been a slow summer,” you softly exhale.
And it has—you haven’t had a man knock the cobwebs off your pussy all summer long because you had no interest in it. But now, all you can think about is Gojo knocking your screws loose and fucking your brains out to make up time.
“Don’t worry, darlin’; no other man will compare once I’m done with you. Just keep it down…if ya can.” He gives you a smirk before he pulls your panties aside, exposing your glistening, puffy pussy lips to him and the summer air.
You grit your teeth at him and his arrogance even as it turns you on. “You cocky little—oh, fuck!” You have to cover your mouth when Gojo finally gets his mouth on you, hot, wet, and juicy. He is perfect—just as he used to be, but better.
He is more precise and skillful yet still has that sloppy eagerness that makes your pussy wet with his spit because he keeps coating your slit in it, allowing for his tongue to slide between your swollen lips. He moans at your taste as if he can’t get enough of your honey.
Each moan sends vibrations throughout your cunt, making you shudder and quake against his mouth. You can’t help but whine and whimper over the magical feelings your country star ex and baby daddy gives you.
His blue eyes lock with yours as he hooks your thigh over his shoulder, pulling his plush, pink lips away to speak to you. “Touch me, mama. Put those pretty hands on me.” You begin to caress his white locks of hair as he continues to lap at your pussy before hooking his tongue inside of you.
Your eyes widen at the feeling, your mouth falling agape as a loud moan escapes you. “Oh, my God,” you gasp. “T-Toru, fuck! Right there!”
Gojo smirks against your clit, nuzzling it with his nose. “Right here?” he teasingly asks. He does the same move again, the coolness of his tongue piercing melting against your molten pussy as you grind yourself into him. “That’s real good, mama. You sound so fuckin’ good f’me.”
Zzzzzip. You suddenly hear the sound of him unzipping his jeans with one hand, but you have no chance to look down because you’re too busy squeezing your eyes shut from the sheer, intense pleasure the country heartthrob is giving you.
Finally, Gojo pulls away to breathe, his lips glistening in your taste and eyes lust-blown for you. “Turn around. I wanna eat this pussy from the back.” The order coming from his silky voice makes you shudder in arousal.
Quickly, you turn around and brace your hands against the tour bus, sticking your ass out for him. Gojo groans at the sight, hypnotized as he hikes your dress up to reveal your full, plump ass in your lace panties.
SMACK!
“Oh!” you gasp, taken aback by the sudden, pleasurable sting of his hand against your ass. Gojo chuckles, laying a kiss on your asscheek. “Sorry, mama, but you bought that on yourself. Guess our baby filled you out.”
His hands glide down your full hips and over your tummy, softer and fluffier from the baby. You bite your lip, suddenly self conscious. “I-It’s somethin’ I’ve been workin’ on.” Pilates, cardio, dieting, you name it. Though you’ve lost weight since having your daughter, you still have the curves that being a mommy has awarded you.
Gojo shows you how awarded he feels by gripping your ass lovingly and kissing it, making you hum in pleasure at the wet trail of kisses. “Don’t. You’re so fuckin’ hot like this. All these hips and that ass…” He hits your ass again, the sharp smack making your pussy throb.
He then stands up and you hear a soft smack-smack-smack of something hard and hot against your pussy, teasing your clit. “Feel that, baby?” he silkily asks. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to push back into him and sink back onto his cock. “Uh-huh.”
Gojo hums in pleasure, running the bulbous head of his dick against your swollen, wet lips where you feel something else. Something cold. A dick piercing. “I would do this for no one but you. You know that, right? Only you can make me this hard.”
Finally, he kneels behind you and proceeds to eat your pussy off the bone, his tongue slipping, sliding, and swirling around your dripping hole. You have to clap a hand over your mouth to avoid screaming in pleasure and alerting people.
He just so perfect. He turns you into an eager, needy slut, freeing her from the prison she’s been in for so long. “Oh, f-fuck, Toru, yes! More! I-I need more!”
Gojo smirks into your pussy, using his index finger to rub your clit in semi-circles. “So you want me to make ya cum your pretty brains out?” You nod, looking back at him behind you. His eyes glitter with mirth, his smirk molten lust. “I can do that. Make up for lost time.”
And then there is no more talking from you as he hooks his pierced tongue up to caress your G-spot as he rubs your clit, the lewd, sloshing sounds of his tongue flicking in your soaked pussy drifting through the summer air. “Shit!” you moan. “Faster! Please, Toru!”
You begin to ride his face, pushing your ass into his face as you begin to rock back on your heels, needing to cum. Desperate to cream all over his tongue. Finally, you feel that tug in your core and you reach back to grip his hair, much to his enjoyment. “Fuck, I’m gon’ cum, Daddy!” you moan.
“Uh-huh!” Gojo moans into your pussy, repeating it like it’s a mantra as his tongue flicks get faster. His finger rubs a little harder, just enough for you to feel that pressure. And in one split second, like a string growing thin and bursting, you release.
“Oh, shit, Toru, yes!” you gasp as you cream all over his tongue. You muffle your loud, pornographic moans and whines with your hand as you cum hard and intense, your head growing foggy from the euphoric feeling.
Gojo greedily slurps every drip of your cum up, groaning at the taste. Like it’s the best thing in the world. After your moans turn into cute little whimpers and sobs, Gojo pulls away and stands, that big thang swinging between his thighs like a pendulum.
You turn to him, giving him a goofy smile that can only happen after a good orgasm. “Thank you,” you sigh. You wrap your arms around him, kissing yourself off of his lips. “Don’t mention it, mama. It’s always been a pleasure.”
His cock throbs between you, agreeing with that statement. You stare at it hungrily, needing it in your mouth. “Now it’s your turn~”
But before you can kneel, he stops you, kissing your knuckles with a searing promise in his eyes that makes you melt. “Not out here, you little minx. I’m freaky but I’m also possessive. Let’s getcha inside so we can really make up for lost time, huh?”
You giggle as he suddenly scoops you up off of your feet and carries you into his tour bus, locking it with a simple click of a button, before carrying you to the back of the bus to a comfy black couch to continue your “activity”.
Minutes later, Gojo is buck ass naked and you’re on your knees titty fucking him, the soft, beautiful tig ol’ bitties slick with coconut oil. His big, thick dick pierced at the tip glistens between your tits, standing up at attention. "You are no one’s gonna find us?” you pant, looking at the bus doors.
Gojo cups your chin and forces to look at him. All of him, right down to his washboard abs and V-line. “Positive. I locked the door. Now hush and keep rubbin’ that oil on you.” He reaches over for the little bottle and pours more onto your tits, making them slick and slippery. “You’re such a perv, Satoru,” you tsk, but you love it.
You proceed to jack him off with those luscious breasts that seem to hypnotize Gojo, his lust-blown eyes flicking between his cock disappearing between them and your pretty face. “It’s good, Daddy?” you coo.
You can tell from his handsome face screwing in pleasure, his muscles tense from the sensations. Your country star tilts his head back against the cushions, throat exposed and mouth open as he moans and pants for you. “Oh, my fuckin’ God, yes!” Gojo groans. “Look so good between ‘em. I belong there.”
You can’t agree more watching his cock strain between your breasts, pulsating and throbbing against the soft globes slick with oil. “Yes,” you moan. “I’m all yours, Daddy. Go on, fuck them titties for me.”
He does so, lifting his hips and letting out straight pornographic moans as he fucks your titties, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Fuck,” he groans, his blue eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. He’s never looked hotter and you’ve never been wetter.
Finally fed up, he pauses, staring dead at your mouth. “Put your mouth ‘round me,” he growls. “Lemme see them lips stretch.” You give him a lewd smile before wrapping your lips around his cock, tasting the coconut oil dripping off of his thick shaft.
He moans loudly and sluttily at the feeling of your hot, wet mouth entwining him, sucking him off. “Oh, God, yes,” he groans, his eyes fluttering closed. You pump your head up and down, pushing him in and out of your throat, hollowing your cheeks for more suction. How you missed this! Especially how he sounds: so needy and desperate for you.
Gojo laces his piano long fingers in your hair, gripping the locks as he guides your head down. “Fuck yes, ah!” he gasps. “Deeper, mama. Take me deep…yeah, just like that!” His moans become louder, not caring about anyone hearing, as your throat gags and flexes around him.
He’s still so fucking big after all this time! You struggle to take him at first, but quickly, your throat adjusts and opens for him, allowing him deeeeep down the tight, wet tunnel. Gojo’s toes curl and his abs tense as you work his cock with your luscious, heavenly mouth, your spit dripping down his balls to stain the couch.
Finally, you pull away and smile at him, pressing his wet cock to your cheek slightly streaked in mascara. “Wanna give me a nice souvenir?” you joke. The country star smirks, eyes glittering with lust. “Sure, but not in your throat. I wanna be inside you.”
A delicious shiver runs through your body at the thought of this sexy ass man fucking you deep and cumming inside of you, fulfilling something inside of you that you thought was going to be long empty forever. You nod, smiling as you giddily bite your lip in anticipation for what is to happen.
Gojo opens his arms for you, making your heart flip. “C’mere,” he coos. You crawl to him and he has you sit in his lap, his cock grinding against your asscheeks and slit, making you moan as his dick grows sticky and wet from you dripping onto it. Staring down into those blues, you see nothing but a growing heat just for you. “Ride me. I know you need this too.”
Oh, like he wouldn’t believe. Your pussy has a damn heartbeat of its own with how aroused you are. You ache for him.
So you can’t resist bracing yourself on his chest and raising yourself up to slide down his achingly hard, delicious dick. He securely holds your curvy hips, eyes flicking from your tits to your face like he doesn’t know what to stare at more. “Ready, mama?” he asks. “Come down when you’re—“
Before he can even finish, you’re sliding down that soaked pussy down onto his cockpit taking just the tip first. As soon as you do, you both share a gasp and your eyes widen like you just took a shot of the purest drug in your system. “Shit!” you both moan in unison.
Gojo continues to hold you tight as you adjust and then surely begin to alternate between rocking your hips and slowly bouncing on his dick. Your moans are soft and slutty, just as his are. He watches you through slits of his eyes, teeth clenched and face flushed. “Just as I—ah, fuck, baby—thought. You still fit me like a fuckin’ glove.”
As if in agreement, your pussy squeezes tight around him, happy with the praise. Your country singer lets out a groan fit for a porno and leans his head back against the cushion, mouth agape and eyes rolling back.
That sexy look on his face makes you bounce a bit faster, taking him deeper. Moans, gasps, and whines escape you, filling the tour bus along with the sound of your curvy ass smacking against his thighs. “O-Oh! Oh, fuck! God, Toru, you’re so fuckin’ big!”
Gojo grins at this, training those eyes on you. “Just like old times, right, darlin’?” he softly chuckles, gripping you so possessively that you’re sure he’ll tattoo those fingerprints into your flesh.
You shake your head, still gripping those pecs as you bounce up and down, making your full titties bounce with you. “No. Better. You fill me up so much.” And he does—you feel so full and stretched, every inch of him making you whimper and your pussy spasm. Gojo’s eyes grow darker and he begins to fuck you from the bottom, slowly. “Keep bouncin’ on me. Take what you need.”
You do just that, fully hopping on that dick, making your titties bounce more freely and your ass recoil against his thighs. He lets you use him, his moans growing louder and sluttier, his voice mixing with yours to bounce off of the tour bus walls. “That’s it, darlin’! Ride me! Fuck, I love your fuckin’ pussy!”
He starts to fuck you from the bottom again, this time much faster and rougher. He jackhammers his hips up into you, going so fast and gripping your ass so hard that you see stars as you bounce like a bunny on his dick.
“I-I love you, Toru!” you gasp. The words explode out of you like fireworks, unable to be contained or kept hidden the more you ride his fat cock.
As soon as they are out, you can't take them back—both of you know that. Gojo stares at you, shocked, his blue eyes wide. Then he splits into a big, white-toothed grin that makes butterflies swarm in your tummy. “Ya do?” he asks.
You nod, unable to take it back…but you don’t want to. You want him to know that you love him and you always have. This is not just some hot fucking; this is making love too. At least to you, it is. “Yes. I never stopped. I’m so sorry that I—oh!”
You can’t finish the rest of your heartfelt apology because Gojo is suddenly picking you up with ease, causing you to lace your limbs around him. You squeal when he scoops you up and carries you to the far back of his tour bus where his bed is and tosses you down onto it. No tour needed right now.
He then proceeds to put you in mating press, putting his full body weight on you as he dangles your ankles from his broad shoulders and keeps your arms locked around his neck. “You must’ve said that just to get put into this fuckin’ bed,” he grunts, a feral look in his eye. “You’re fuckin’ with my head, darlin’. Drive me crazy!”
He then proceeds to fuck you dumb in mating press, drilling his dick into your satiny, puffy pussy over and over again, fucking you to tears. The sounds that escape your lips are downright slutty and lewd, but you can't help it! His dick is just too good! “Oh, shit, shit, shit!” you babble. “God, Daddy, yes! Fuck me! Fuck me just like that!”
He is so deep, filling the deepest part of you, his abs rubbing against your clit, sending parks of pleasure through your toes up to your head. His pretty face hands above you, a sight to behold. “Say you love me again. Say you want me.” His tone is laced with desperation, his cock pulsating inside of you.
With a whimper, you reach up to cup his face, shivering when he leans into your touch. “I love you. I want you so bad, Toru! Need you with me and our daughter!” He smiles and kisses your palm, nuzzling his cheek into your fingertips. “I love you too, darlin’. I never ever stopped. Every fuckin’ love song I make is about you.”
Your heart swells at his words as your pussy pulsates and throbs around his dick, oozing and gushing down your asscrack to stain his balls and bedspread.
But he doesn't care. He keeps fucking and fucking, pounding your cunt into the bed like it’s his job. And with the way he stares into your eyes, fucking the deepest parts of your soul, you can tell he means every word he utters to you through stuttering moans.
“I’m gonna go wherever you go. You stay here, I’ll get you a farm. You go to the city, I’ll get us a fuckin’ penthouse. I don’t give a fuck if your folks are rich; I take care of mine.” He locks a hand around your throat and squeezes, just the way he used to, and you feel it—that tug on your core.
“Toru,” you whine. “I’m gonna cum again!” With every thrust that knocks you up the bed, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your end. Gojo whimpers as you squeeze him, his thrusts becoming sloppier the wetter you get around him. “M-Me too, mama. I wanna give you this load so bad!”
Yes. You want that more than anything. And it isn’t just the sex talking. “Do it! Gimme another kid, Daddy! Make me a mama again!” A switch flips in Gojo and he grins his hips faster, harder, pistoning into you with the fury of a thousand horny fires. “So my baby wants to be bred? You want your country star to fill ya up with his babies?”
You nearly sob over how good he feels, gripping his muscular forearms for dear life as your orgasm grows near. “Yes, yes, yes! Cum in me, Daddy! Please get me pregnant!” With every slam of his hips against yours, going plap-pla-plap as he pounds himself into you, you know that you’re sure to get bred with another baby.
Another baby belonging to your love. “Get pregnant f’me, baby,” he gasps. “C’mon, cum with me! Give it all to…oh, fuck!” He leans down to swallow your moans as you both get closer, sloppily kissing and sharing your pants as you both come crashing down. With a groan, Gojo empties himself inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum.
You feel it pouring out of you, shooting into you, hot, creamy, and sticky. It makes you gush and you cum all over his cock with a sob-like moan, pleasure crackling in your veins like firecrackers. His spunk fills a void in you that has long since been vacant and you smile, feeling an execrating amount of joy and euphoria that takes you higher than a drug ever can.
You hold him tight as you cum, arching your back so far off the bed that you’re afraid it will break, still sloppily swirling your tongue with his. It is all so perfect. Heaven on earth. But after a few minutes of Gojo slowly fucking his cum up into you, he grows tired and sighs, pulling away from you. He whistles, staring down at you with a satisfied smirk. "You worked me out, baby girl,” he chuckles.
And vice versa. You feel achy and winded already yet totally and supremely satisfied…and sticky. You can feel his cum dripping out of your pussy, soaking your puffy lips and inner thighs, slipping down to your ass crack. Gojo softly laughs, leaning down to give your slit a long lick to slurp up his cum, making you moan. “Damn, I made a real mess. Stay there.”
You giggle as you stay laid out on your back, legs to the ceiling, cum dripping out of your pussy. Gojo shortly returns with a towel soaked in warm water and lavender-scented soap. He gently cleans you up and you hum in relaxation at the sensations.“Thank you. For the towel and the load too.”
Gojo clicks his tongue at you, playfully smacking your ass with the towel. “Silly girl. No need to thank me. I’ve been dreamin’ of doin’ that for years now.” He presses a soft kiss to your tummy, making you flush. To think he has been dreaming of making love to you again makes your pussy throb again.
But before you can go round two, you need to rest. After Gojo gets you a cool water bottle from the mini fridge, he snuggles with you under the covers. His big body fits so nicely with yours…almost like you were made for each other. Your fingers glide along his abs, pecs, and beefy arms while he traces shapes over your curves, his big feet playing footsie with yours.
In the comfortable silence, something snags you and you can't help but ask him, “Did ya mean whatcha said? About livin’ with me and Tara?” Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation his response. You’re afraid that it was just sex talk.
But to your relief and joy, it wasn’t. “‘Course I did,” Gojo replies, kissing your cheek. “Sure, I’d have to work my way up to buildin’ trust with Tara, but y’all are my world. Nothin’ else matters if I don’t got my two girls in my life.”
You split into a grin and turn around to face him, holding his face in your hands. “I’m gonna make ya so happy,” he whispers. “I promise. Your aunt is gonna be so glad you chose me, baby, I swear to y—“
You don’t give him a chance to finish before you’re kissing him, pouring every ounce of happiness and love you have into him. But before the kiss can move onto something else, you hear your phone ringing. “Damn,” Gojo groans, pouting, but he picks your bag up from the couch and hands it to you.
You dig into your phone, checking the caller ID. “It’s Utahime,” you announce. You answer, preparing to explain yourself to your anxiety-induced friend. “Hey, girl, I’m not dead. I’m so sorry that I—“
“Fuck, Shoko!” she moans. “Oh, that’s so good!” You hear a feminine giggle in the background and a soft popping sound like someone tearing their lips away from a very soaked pussy.
“Yeah? You want it faster?” Shoko teases. Then Utahime is moaning her head off, so loud that Gojo can hear it too. At least you’re both getting what you want tonight.
You both give each other a knowing look as you slowly hand up the call, struggling to not laugh. “Must’ve been a butt dial.” But when Gojo erupts into a fit of laughter, you join in, giggling hysterically. “She’s fuckin’ my bassist? I’m NEVER lettin’ her live this down!” he cackles, holding his stomach.
After recovering from your laughing fit, Gojo suddenly reaches back behind him and retrieves a guitar. You giggle, figuring that, of course, as a country singer, he’d have a guitar ready on hand. “Speakin’ of guitars, let me give ya sneak peek of my new stuff.” He gives you an irresistible smile and a wink as he sits up cross-legged, still naked with the guitar in between his legs.
You giddily grin at him, propping a hand up to hold your chin as you stare up at him from your side. “You’re gonna serenade me?” you tease, but you’re blushing all over at the idea of such a hot singer wanted by all serenading only you.
He nods, playing a few strings with his guitar pick, steady and skillful. “Hell yeah; I’ll do this forever if you want me to.” You feel a delighted shiver run through you at that, figuring that tonight can’t get any better for you. “Send a lil’ video to Tara. She needs to know that her papa can sing.”
You giggle and reach for your phone before Gojo begins to play, the sound of his silky voice combined with the sweet strumming of his guitar filling the tour bus. And just like that, you are proven wrong: tonight can get better for you. Sometimes, all it takes is a serenade.
mdni- Law professor! Higuruma x law student! reader
Your law professor Hiromi Higuruma is exhausted, he'd asked you to come for a meeting to discuss your upcoming internship with him - you were a top law student, after all, but he had no damn sleep and his coffee is too weak. He's eased back with his dark eyes shut, hands over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to see you.
It's hard to see you too, hard to even look at you, how fucking pretty you are makes his job difficult to say the least. You're a good twelve years younger, not that its' that much of an issue, the problem is you're his student.
He certainly can't cross that line, and he certainly can't jerk off every time he sees your thighs in your little pencil skirts, all professional and smiling as you bring him breakfast, lunch, fuck you're always bending over to give him something - and making him feel like a fucking depraved pervert. He tries not to think of you when he jerks his cock at night, but you flit through his mind.
How he'd fuck you right here on this desk, pump all his cum inside your pretty cunt. How he'd eat your surely cute little cunt, have your squirt all down his dress shirt, his tie, every inch covered in you. Fuck he'd bathe in it if he could.
Even now just thinking of seeing you has his cock throbbing, he's so tired he can't stop it like he usually can, jumping up when you walk in, clearing his throat and quickly sitting up, praying you don't get close enough to see the tent in his slacks. You smile all pretty, today your blouse is unbuttoned too much, hints of your tits peeking out as if to taunt him.
"Mr. Hiromi," you say softly, shutting the door behind you and holding two cups precariously. "I got your favorite espresso."
"Oh fuck I love you," you giggle when he panics, tired eyes lidded as they gaze down at your lips.
How would they wrap his cock?
"I mean..." He starts stammering just a bit, but you smile.
"I will take that," you tease, handing it to him, your fingertips brushing together when he takes it. You feel that heat shoot down into your tummy, a gnawing ache that's just constantly there for your professor -months of having to watch him lecture, watch him in court, your vibrator hates to see you coming after days you join him and watch him argue.
When he gets angry? Fuck.
He seems so calm but it's just brimming underneath the surface, he takes a sip and moans. "God that's good, so much better than the shitty coffee here."
"I figured so," you sip your own drink - much more foamy and sweet, handing him the documents he asked for. "Here you go."
"They can wait," he tosses them to the side now, sighing and leaning back in his chair. "It's the weekend, don't you have some party to go to or something? A date?"
"Nah I was just gonna watch Bridgerton and cuddle on the couch," you sit on his desk, crossing your legs, his gaze darts to them, fingers damn near twitching with how badly he wants to grip them.
"You're twenty three, shouldn't you be having fun?"
"As if you're so old," you tease, uncrossing them and swinging your ankles around just a bit. "But no, not my thing."
"I see," he tilts his head and leans close. "What season are you on?"
"You do not watch it!"
"Who says I don't," you're giggling all cute, ruining his muddled mind even further. "Okay I don't but I have heard of it."
"It's really good! You probably just rewatch Lincoln Lawyer on repeat."
"Tch," you're giggling again and drinking your cup. "You're right."
"Called it!" You hop down and nearly trip, he catches you buy your hips quickly, the coffee precariously falling but you some how catch it with both hands. "Oh I'm so sorry."
He says nothing, not when your tits are right in his face, and he can feel the curve of your waist, he hardly holds back a gutteral moan, not letting go. You set the coffee down with a shaky hand, heart hammering in your chest, stepping between his spread thighs now.
"Are you all right, Sir?"
"Don't fuckin' call me that," he rests his head on your waist now, exhaling and tugging you closer, nuzzling the little buttons of your bodice when your hand brushes back his messy dark locks. "You really should go."
"Oh? Why's that?" he chuckles just a bit, looking up at you underneath those lidded eyes, black from his pupils being blown out.
"If you stay I'll put a fucking baby inside you, how do you think your law career will be then?" You suck in a breath, thighs pressing together, filthy images fill his mind - pumping so many loads of cum in your cunt you can't walk without them dripping down your legs. "Go."
Your answer is to sink to your knees, he barely holds himself back when your fingers undo his zipper. "I don't want a baby yet but you can certainly say you wanna, you can cum inside me."
"God," he's hissing when you pull out his cock, the tip already leaking all that white he wants inside you. He holds your hair in a ponytail when you're flicking your tongue on his tip. "I won't give you special treatment in class, but I will fill you with all the cum you want."
"Mmm," you take him in your mouth now, sucking and watching him with your pretty eyes, he tugs your hair into a better ponytail, watching as you glide your throat down him. You're touching your clit over your panties as he starts to get mean with it, desperately rutting his hips up, hardly able to keep quiet.
"F-fuck, your slutty throat is that good? Sweetheart," he's mumbling now, your drool is spilling down his balls, tight and heavy, your nose brushing that dark pubic hair as you gag and choke on it. "Touching yourself? No."
He yanks your fingers off, you pull back with a wet pop, lips dripping with saliva and pre. "I need to cum, please Sir."
"You're asking for it," he grumbles - every time you call him that more pre spurts from his red, swollen tip, sucking you off your fingers, you gasp at the action, just to get tugged up by your hair to stand. "Turn around and lift your skirt f'me, hmm?"
This isn't meticulous, exhausted law professor Hiromi, this is dominant, commanding Hiromi with his big cock leaking, you eagerly obey and he sighs, sinking to his knees as you tug that skirt over the curve of your ass. He buries his face against your cunt, panties on and all, soaking wet already.
"You're already this wet? From sucking me?" Your answer is a muffled whine, trying not to let the entire college know that Hiromi is about to bury that long nose inside your cunt. "Prop that leg up - atta girl, there you go. Good job."
"F-fuck," you're clinging to his desk when he tugs your panties to the side, tongue lapping a fat stripe from your clit to your ass, slipping down to fuck into your quivering hole.
God you taste good - he can't get enough of it, the slick coating his tongue and lips, dripping down his chin. He parts your swollen folds to look at it winking right at him, cunt just gushing arousal in clear little drips that leak down your thighs. He licks it up greedy as it spills, and you're arching, begging for him.
"Please, inside," you're barely able to form a word when he nudges your twitchy clit with his nose, his papers just fucking scattering as you start clinging to the desk. "Mnh, please!"
"Shh, I'll give it to you," he leans up, turning your face to his - he's a gentleman and he hasn't kissed you yet, that just won't do. "Open."
You eagerly do what he asks, cock slapping against your ass with a loud thwack, your tongue out, he spits your juices right on it, closing your mouth and urging you to swallow, tip nudging that messy cunt, pressing in, she's so wet she's soaking his cock, dripping down onto the polished hardwood underneath.
He sinks his cock deep inside your walls, your head falls back, ragged little breaths escaping as your tongues swirl all messy, one of his hands tugging your thigh up even higher, bottoming out in one stroke. You can hardly take just how girthy his cock is, the tip kissing your cute cervix as he lets you adjust for just a moment.
"Feel better than I even imagined," you blush now - how cute you blush with cock inside you, walls quivering around him, his spit down your throat, when the door knocks and you tense up Hiromi just slams inside you harder.
"Ah!"
"Shh darling," he covers your mouth with his hand, fucking inside of you deeper, the wet squelch just echoing in his office. "Yes?"
"I need to talk about class tomorrow," it's professor Nanami, as soon as he talks your cunt pulses, Hiromi gets unreasonably jealous, his other hand toying with your twitchy clit.
"You're getting that wet from him?" You shake your head, but Nanami talks again and you're soaking his cock as it shoves fully in, balls smacking as he moves, the wet sounds obscene. "I don't share."
"Hiromi?" Nanami asks, his lips are on your ear as he lets your mouth go and you bite on your lip.
"Want him to know you're getting bred by your professor, pretty girl?" You do in fact, filthy thoughts are racing of fucking both your professors, though Hiromi is pounding your cunt so good you don't think you could handle more, his finger roughly pressing patterns on your clit faster. "Go ahead, cum."
"C-can't, psycho," you glare and Hiromi just smirks all tired, wrapping an arm around you to drag your messy hole right down him. "Mnh!"
"Is everything all right in there?"
"It's fine Nanamin, I'm just... wanting a nap, you know? Can I come see you in a f-fuck..." You're clenching too tight, he almost can't take it, cunt milking him for all he's worth. "In a few?"
"Always fucking napping and shit," Nanami sighs and stomps off, just in time for Higuruma's curved cock head to nudge your spot, you spasm and gasp out, barely able to cover your mouth in time, cunt squirting all down your thighs as your orgasm hits.
"Oh fuck, and you're a messy little law student, huh?" He's fucking you harder, pressing your back down so you arch even more, his fingers slipping inside your mouth. "Squirting just for me?"
"Mhm," you're nodding, letting him pin you down, your face next to those law books as he fucks you through it and into another orgasm, Hiromi's pinning your wrists down behind your back, moving harder, until you can't see.
No amount of masturbation prepared him for your needy, messy hole, nor how pliant and eager you are, letting him use your body however he wants. He hovers over you, lips brushing your temple tenderly as he moves his hips so goddamn mean. "I'll w-watch Bridgerton with you if you let me fill your cunt up."
You barely manage a laugh, turning your head as he lifts it by your hair and kisses you. "All seasons?"
"God anything, j-just wanna fill her up so full," you nod and Hiromi busts as if on cue, his messy white ropes all puffy and sticky in your slick walls, he's moaning desperately not even trying to be quiet. "Fuckin' taking all of it, want your cunt bred by me, hmm?"
You didn't think Hiromi would be filthy.
You didn't think he'd spit in your mouth, tell you he was gonna breed you or finger his cum back inside you. And you absolutely didn't think he'd actually come watch Bridgerton with you in your little off campus apartment, but he does. Though you're cockwarming him and he's torturing you, not letting you move.
Maybe Hiromi Higuruma is just a little sadistic.
****
that episode has me unwell
tagging my bbs @cupidstrace @kamiflix @uhnosav hehe
mdni- Law professor! Higuruma x law student! reader
Your law professor Hiromi Higuruma is exhausted, he'd asked you to come for a meeting to discuss your upcoming internship with him - you were a top law student, after all, but he had no damn sleep and his coffee is too weak. He's eased back with his dark eyes shut, hands over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to see you.
It's hard to see you too, hard to even look at you, how fucking pretty you are makes his job difficult to say the least. You're a good twelve years younger, not that its' that much of an issue, the problem is you're his student.
He certainly can't cross that line, and he certainly can't jerk off every time he sees your thighs in your little pencil skirts, all professional and smiling as you bring him breakfast, lunch, fuck you're always bending over to give him something - and making him feel like a fucking depraved pervert. He tries not to think of you when he jerks his cock at night, but you flit through his mind.
How he'd fuck you right here on this desk, pump all his cum inside your pretty cunt. How he'd eat your surely cute little cunt, have your squirt all down his dress shirt, his tie, every inch covered in you. Fuck he'd bathe in it if he could.
Even now just thinking of seeing you has his cock throbbing, he's so tired he can't stop it like he usually can, jumping up when you walk in, clearing his throat and quickly sitting up, praying you don't get close enough to see the tent in his slacks. You smile all pretty, today your blouse is unbuttoned too much, hints of your tits peeking out as if to taunt him.
"Mr. Hiromi," you say softly, shutting the door behind you and holding two cups precariously. "I got your favorite espresso."
"Oh fuck I love you," you giggle when he panics, tired eyes lidded as they gaze down at your lips.
How would they wrap his cock?
"I mean..." He starts stammering just a bit, but you smile.
"I will take that," you tease, handing it to him, your fingertips brushing together when he takes it. You feel that heat shoot down into your tummy, a gnawing ache that's just constantly there for your professor -months of having to watch him lecture, watch him in court, your vibrator hates to see you coming after days you join him and watch him argue.
When he gets angry? Fuck.
He seems so calm but it's just brimming underneath the surface, he takes a sip and moans. "God that's good, so much better than the shitty coffee here."
"I figured so," you sip your own drink - much more foamy and sweet, handing him the documents he asked for. "Here you go."
"They can wait," he tosses them to the side now, sighing and leaning back in his chair. "It's the weekend, don't you have some party to go to or something? A date?"
"Nah I was just gonna watch Bridgerton and cuddle on the couch," you sit on his desk, crossing your legs, his gaze darts to them, fingers damn near twitching with how badly he wants to grip them.
"You're twenty three, shouldn't you be having fun?"
"As if you're so old," you tease, uncrossing them and swinging your ankles around just a bit. "But no, not my thing."
"I see," he tilts his head and leans close. "What season are you on?"
"You do not watch it!"
"Who says I don't," you're giggling all cute, ruining his muddled mind even further. "Okay I don't but I have heard of it."
"It's really good! You probably just rewatch Lincoln Lawyer on repeat."
"Tch," you're giggling again and drinking your cup. "You're right."
"Called it!" You hop down and nearly trip, he catches you buy your hips quickly, the coffee precariously falling but you some how catch it with both hands. "Oh I'm so sorry."
He says nothing, not when your tits are right in his face, and he can feel the curve of your waist, he hardly holds back a gutteral moan, not letting go. You set the coffee down with a shaky hand, heart hammering in your chest, stepping between his spread thighs now.
"Are you all right, Sir?"
"Don't fuckin' call me that," he rests his head on your waist now, exhaling and tugging you closer, nuzzling the little buttons of your bodice when your hand brushes back his messy dark locks. "You really should go."
"Oh? Why's that?" he chuckles just a bit, looking up at you underneath those lidded eyes, black from his pupils being blown out.
"If you stay I'll put a fucking baby inside you, how do you think your law career will be then?" You suck in a breath, thighs pressing together, filthy images fill his mind - pumping so many loads of cum in your cunt you can't walk without them dripping down your legs. "Go."
Your answer is to sink to your knees, he barely holds himself back when your fingers undo his zipper. "I don't want a baby yet but you can certainly say you wanna, you can cum inside me."
"God," he's hissing when you pull out his cock, the tip already leaking all that white he wants inside you. He holds your hair in a ponytail when you're flicking your tongue on his tip. "I won't give you special treatment in class, but I will fill you with all the cum you want."
"Mmm," you take him in your mouth now, sucking and watching him with your pretty eyes, he tugs your hair into a better ponytail, watching as you glide your throat down him. You're touching your clit over your panties as he starts to get mean with it, desperately rutting his hips up, hardly able to keep quiet.
"F-fuck, your slutty throat is that good? Sweetheart," he's mumbling now, your drool is spilling down his balls, tight and heavy, your nose brushing that dark pubic hair as you gag and choke on it. "Touching yourself? No."
He yanks your fingers off, you pull back with a wet pop, lips dripping with saliva and pre. "I need to cum, please Sir."
"You're asking for it," he grumbles - every time you call him that more pre spurts from his red, swollen tip, sucking you off your fingers, you gasp at the action, just to get tugged up by your hair to stand. "Turn around and lift your skirt f'me, hmm?"
This isn't meticulous, exhausted law professor Hiromi, this is dominant, commanding Hiromi with his big cock leaking, you eagerly obey and he sighs, sinking to his knees as you tug that skirt over the curve of your ass. He buries his face against your cunt, panties on and all, soaking wet already.
"You're already this wet? From sucking me?" Your answer is a muffled whine, trying not to let the entire college know that Hiromi is about to bury that long nose inside your cunt. "Prop that leg up - atta girl, there you go. Good job."
"F-fuck," you're clinging to his desk when he tugs your panties to the side, tongue lapping a fat stripe from your clit to your ass, slipping down to fuck into your quivering hole.
God you taste good - he can't get enough of it, the slick coating his tongue and lips, dripping down his chin. He parts your swollen folds to look at it winking right at him, cunt just gushing arousal in clear little drips that leak down your thighs. He licks it up greedy as it spills, and you're arching, begging for him.
"Please, inside," you're barely able to form a word when he nudges your twitchy clit with his nose, his papers just fucking scattering as you start clinging to the desk. "Mnh, please!"
"Shh, I'll give it to you," he leans up, turning your face to his - he's a gentleman and he hasn't kissed you yet, that just won't do. "Open."
You eagerly do what he asks, cock slapping against your ass with a loud thwack, your tongue out, he spits your juices right on it, closing your mouth and urging you to swallow, tip nudging that messy cunt, pressing in, she's so wet she's soaking his cock, dripping down onto the polished hardwood underneath.
He sinks his cock deep inside your walls, your head falls back, ragged little breaths escaping as your tongues swirl all messy, one of his hands tugging your thigh up even higher, bottoming out in one stroke. You can hardly take just how girthy his cock is, the tip kissing your cute cervix as he lets you adjust for just a moment.
"Feel better than I even imagined," you blush now - how cute you blush with cock inside you, walls quivering around him, his spit down your throat, when the door knocks and you tense up Hiromi just slams inside you harder.
"Ah!"
"Shh darling," he covers your mouth with his hand, fucking inside of you deeper, the wet squelch just echoing in his office. "Yes?"
"I need to talk about class tomorrow," it's professor Nanami, as soon as he talks your cunt pulses, Hiromi gets unreasonably jealous, his other hand toying with your twitchy clit.
"You're getting that wet from him?" You shake your head, but Nanami talks again and you're soaking his cock as it shoves fully in, balls smacking as he moves, the wet sounds obscene. "I don't share."
"Hiromi?" Nanami asks, his lips are on your ear as he lets your mouth go and you bite on your lip.
"Want him to know you're getting bred by your professor, pretty girl?" You do in fact, filthy thoughts are racing of fucking both your professors, though Hiromi is pounding your cunt so good you don't think you could handle more, his finger roughly pressing patterns on your clit faster. "Go ahead, cum."
"C-can't, psycho," you glare and Hiromi just smirks all tired, wrapping an arm around you to drag your messy hole right down him. "Mnh!"
"Is everything all right in there?"
"It's fine Nanamin, I'm just... wanting a nap, you know? Can I come see you in a f-fuck..." You're clenching too tight, he almost can't take it, cunt milking him for all he's worth. "In a few?"
"Always fucking napping and shit," Nanami sighs and stomps off, just in time for Higuruma's curved cock head to nudge your spot, you spasm and gasp out, barely able to cover your mouth in time, cunt squirting all down your thighs as your orgasm hits.
"Oh fuck, and you're a messy little law student, huh?" He's fucking you harder, pressing your back down so you arch even more, his fingers slipping inside your mouth. "Squirting just for me?"
"Mhm," you're nodding, letting him pin you down, your face next to those law books as he fucks you through it and into another orgasm, Hiromi's pinning your wrists down behind your back, moving harder, until you can't see.
No amount of masturbation prepared him for your needy, messy hole, nor how pliant and eager you are, letting him use your body however he wants. He hovers over you, lips brushing your temple tenderly as he moves his hips so goddamn mean. "I'll w-watch Bridgerton with you if you let me fill your cunt up."
You barely manage a laugh, turning your head as he lifts it by your hair and kisses you. "All seasons?"
"God anything, j-just wanna fill her up so full," you nod and Hiromi busts as if on cue, his messy white ropes all puffy and sticky in your slick walls, he's moaning desperately not even trying to be quiet. "Fuckin' taking all of it, want your cunt bred by me, hmm?"
You didn't think Hiromi would be filthy.
You didn't think he'd spit in your mouth, tell you he was gonna breed you or finger his cum back inside you. And you absolutely didn't think he'd actually come watch Bridgerton with you in your little off campus apartment, but he does. Though you're cockwarming him and he's torturing you, not letting you move.
Maybe Hiromi Higuruma is just a little sadistic.
****
that episode has me unwell
tagging my bbs @cupidstrace @kamiflix @uhnosav hehe
Synopsis. “To the esteemed and venerable House of Gojo,
Hereby is your formal invitation to the Choosing Ceremony; our proudly ancestral tradition in which an eligible candidate is put forth by every clan in high society—and out of them all, only one shall be chosen as future husband to our Madam.
And for that, the Madam has specifically requested the presence of Gojo Satoru. Specifically.
It does not matter to her that your candidate has no cursed energy so to speak of, and it would be our greatest honor to start bridging stronger relations between our two dignified clans.
We hope for your good health, and a reply from Gojo himself soon.”
Or in which if Gojo Satoru hasn’t manifested his powers yet, you know a way to make him…snap.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, heir!Gojo Satoru, no powers AU, for now…, Gojo with no cursed energy, the eIders are awful, arranged marriages, Choosing Ceremony, suitors, outcast Gojo, your technique, tension, oraI (fem rec.), pússydrúnk Gojo, GOJO’S POWERS, making him SNAP, vibrations, Six Eyes to find your spots, fíngering, spítting, p talking, p sIapping, cIit bitíng, FÉRAL Gojo, matíng presses, manhandIing, Infinity as a cóndom, shattering, making you count, DESPERATE Gojo, needy s, he’s a Iittle crazed, creampíes, cúmpIay, marathons, overstím, cúmming bIanks, making him CRY, UNLlMITED VOID, teIeportation, sIight vioIence at end (NOT to or from reader), the eIders, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.9k
A/N. Oh Gege how can I ever thank you ENOUGH for these powers-
Gojo Satoru was born without cursed energy.
December 7th. Twenty-eight years ago. He had been a strangely quiet baby- to the extent that it’d scared the midwives, and they’d fussed-over and checked him from every angle before ultimately realizing that that was just the way…he is. But strange was good.
Strange meant powerful.
And thus came the higher-ups that breathed down the poor infant’s neck. They were the first to see when he’d cracked his eyes open, twenty-eight years ago; and gave those peering higher-ups a glimpse of those cloud-flecked summer skies he held within—they thought he’d been destined for greatness. Those eyes of his…they just seemed to glow.
Six Eyes. So it had touched this generation of Gojos too, right? Right?
But there was only one problem: they couldn’t feel a single lick of cursed energy emanating from the boy.
Gojo Satoru was born without powers.
An outlier. An anomaly. A disgrace.
Which is why, twenty-eight years later, he’d been surprised when the marriage proposal came.
“Throw it out, Ijichi.” Gojo snarled, tapping his long tobacco stick against the low table. The kiseru was made of polished bamboo, its sleek body donning the silver emblem of the Gojo clan—it had been scratched out. It gleamed like a blade.
The heir to the Gojo clan - at least in name - had his back turned to his audience. Soft morning sunlight filtered through silk curtains and illuminated his strong figure, draped in Gojo-blue. It was almost against everyone’s will, including his own, that he had grown tall. Broad. Traditional woodblock prints. Sandalwood incense from the local temple. Books upon books of high literature surrounding him. He’d read them over hundreds of times.
Seated upon a plush blue zabuton cushion with silver threading; he was surrounded by opulence and even more loneliness. Most days, Gojo sipped his time away with that damn bamboo stick and his books—training and convening with others had long been banned since it became obvious that the heir had no talent in cursed energy. Which wasn’t supposed to be- he was supposed to be The Strongest. He was supposed to be…something else. Someone else. So they hid him away.
They forgot about him.
Out of sight, out of mind. Right?
Except for Ijichi Kiyotaka, the one resident at the Gojo Estate that knew the enigmatic Gojo son beyond just whispers and the occasional flash of white hair ‘round hallway corners. Disappearing quicker than one catches it.
The envelope crumples in Ijichi’s hands as he speaks, “But master-”
“Do not call me that.” His voice isn’t too loud. And yet, it cuts through the attendant’s voice with its simple simper—“What have I told you, Ijichi?”
“M-my apologies…Gojo-san.”
Gojo had his head semi-turned over his shoulder. And from that brief profile, Ijichi sees that even that title manages to make the other man’s lip curl—though he doesn’t say anything more. He merely turns back to his tobacco as the bespectacled man starts to blubber once more.
“I-I just meant to say…” Tone wavering. Tone beseeching. He’s shuffling forward on both knees with the envelope held out, “-that this might be something of interest, ma- Gojo-san.”
“What? A marriage proposal?” Gojo scorns after a deep exhale. The tobacco at the end of his pipe still remains inflamed when he sets it down on the table, and finally turns properly towards his attendant. His only. Gojo isn’t so presumptuous as to call him his only friend- but sometimes he can’t help but feel that way. Steely blue eyes narrow. “Does it look like I have the patience to entertain what is so-obviously a joke, Ijichi?”
“But—” Ijichi can’t help but stir. “You’ve been leaving this proposal without reply for four days, Gojo-san. And it seems that in that time, they’ve contacted the Estate five times just to make sure it was delivered.”
He raises a ghost-pale brow, “Then it seems they don’t know I’m without cursed energy.”
Ijichi squirms uncomfortably. He pushes his glasses up, “I-it seems that in that time, the council of elders had taken…liberties to inform them of this circumstance.”
Gojo takes his tobacco and taps it impatiently on the table. “And?” He runs a hand through his hair—what else could he have expected from them? Fucking bastards.
To his surprise, Ijichi ducks his head down ever-so-slightly. And though the Gojo heir might not have those special eyes that deemed him as part of the family - he could still see that the other man seemed to be hiding a faint smile. “And…it seems they were still interested, Gojo-san.”
There’s a pause.
Gojo takes another deep inhale.
“Is that so…?” His words were low and lazy—but Ijichi could see right through them. He could discern that faint furrow between his master’s brows as he mulled over the thought, let it twist and turn and take over his mind. Everyone he knew didn’t spare him a second glance at him once they found out about his predicament.
They would fawn over him and his blue eyes during those stuffy social functions he was dragged to as a child - back when the elders still seemed to think he had a chance of his cursed energy showing up as he grew - and then ‘discreetly’ be pulled aside by some attendant or the other to be…told. ‘Normal eyes’ was what he commonly heard. Then they’d avert their eyes from him all night.
It took him some years before he understood why, and then he’d started refusing to join these functions. After that, they stopped asking.
Visitors from far-off lands would bring him gifts and candies whenever they visited the Estate on official business; and he’d stand outside the meeting hall as they requested to see the ‘little one’. Only to be told by his very parents that there was nothing to see - he had no cursed energy. There was nothing impressive about him.
He never saw a single one of those candies.
The dojos of the Gojo Estate would be in an uproar morning after morning; and once - just once as a child - he had asked to join. The head instructor had shared a pitying gaze with his top student, and Gojo had sprinted out of the place before they could utter a single word. They can keep their pity—he didn’t need a single one of them.
He didn’t need anyone.
Not the tutors, nor the attendants, nor the kids of those higher-ups that all looked at him with pity in their eyes- that’s part of why he latched onto Ijichi and made him his only attendant.
He never did so.
That, and Gojo liked his glasses.
Wherever news of Gojo’s lack of power spread, it became infected like a disease.
Which is why he couldn’t understand you.
“Gojo-san?” Ijichi’s tentative voice breaks through his torrent of thoughts, and Gojo’s still slightly dazed as he looks up at the other man - how long had he been silent? Shaking off whatever had come over him - it’s not quite like him to reminisce - he stands and walks to one of the open doors—facing a private section of the Gojo gardens. Butterflies flicked from flower to flower, and trees swayed serendipitously in the winds. He watches one of those multi-colored wings flap to foxglove and then off into the sky. Watching such a sight, he couldn’t help but feel so small.
The Gojo Estate was beautiful, but deadly.
And so were those with its name.
“Write them a response apologizing for taking so long.” Gojo keeps staring out at the summer day as he speaks, and the other man jolts to attention. “And tell them…” He wasn’t sure who he was waiting for: Ijichi who was noting this down, or himself. He swallows and clasps his hands behind his back—“Tell them that I accept.”
He has always hated feeling small.
“Let’s see how they truly like The Strongest.”
.
.
.
The elders were prepping and poking at him like some dessert the next evening.
News of his acceptance had spread like wildfire.
And before he knew it, they were rubbing his skin red and raw - until milk-water seeped into his every pore. Dousing him in clouds of perfume. Painting his plump lips just the faintest cherry-red—just enough to be enticing, or so they said. Smoothing down the invisible creases on his expensive cotton hakama; threaded cranes and reeds took flight from their hem, the silver emblem of the Gojo clam burned deeply into his back. He couldn’t find much of a difference between this and a dog collar. Play nice. Don’t bite.
Do tricks for the pretty lady.
Or so he assumed he would have to.
At some point, he wondered whether they were oh-so-fervently preparing him in the hopes of getting rid of him. And his hypothesis was only exacerbated when those elders caught each others’ eyes and smiled as they were bidding him farewell. “Make our family proud.” His father had told him.
Farewell. Farewell.
The towering, palace-like gates of the Gojo Estate grew smaller behind him, and he determined that even if he wasn’t getting picked - he was never coming back.
And so he was here.
Gojo was escaping one Estate and being led straight into another; grander, more gilded. The prestige radiated off of it in waves and made his stomach turn to knots as he was led inside - Ijichi by his side - past winding hallways and antiques displayed, then singled out and told to sit in the meeting chamber amongst a row of handsome men. Ijichi nods reassuringly at him and steps outside.
Gojo’s sighing greatly before sitting at the very end of the row - attempting to twist his legs into the poised positions that the others were taking on top of the tatami. There were about twenty of them; backs straight, legs tucked, proudly dressed in robes with their family names. They stood out in their multi-color robes and reminded Gojo of old-fashioned puppets. And even among these handsome men they were attempting to out-handsome one another.
It was almost pathetic- really.
As they wait for you to arrive, your suitors would jut their heads out and take a good look at the competition—then if they assess that one seemed to be giving them too much of a run for their money, they’re primping their hair n’ polishing off their jewels. The Gojo Estate had given him none - probably didn’t trust him with them.
He feels a laugh bubbling up in his throat as, one by one, they snuck glances at him and sat just a little taller. And yet, they couldn’t meet his height.
That didn’t matter, however.
In this society, all that mattered were one’s powers - and should one not have strong powers, then it’s the connections. Gojo had none.
Ah, to get this over with…
Soon, footsteps resound and the sliding doors rattle. Gojo gets the urge to look up as they open, but he’s tampering down the temptation and keeping his eyes fixated on the ground as he always does. It came as second nature to him. Next to him, he feels the other candidates stiffen and do the same.
“The Madam enters.” Wheezes out a male voice, old and reverent.
There’s another step as someone - presumably you - steps inside the meeting hall, and then they’re all placing their hands in front of them and bowing. Bending in unison at the waist. It wasn’t common to bow to someone he knew was just a year or two younger—but you were already the Madam of your clan, and they were mere heirs after all.
Him, not even that.
“At ease, please.” Your sweet, sweet voice echoes out and sends goosebumps skittering across his skin. Gojo’s not sure what he expected - but this…”Thank you for coming. Your presence shall be rewarded plentifully.”
“We’re grateful, Madam.”
“W-we’re grateful, Madam…” Gojo follows up belatedly. His pulse quickens. His thighs squeeze. He feels stares hone in on him at that exact moment, and he’s sure that one of them was yours.
Gojo attempts to press himself down on the tatami even deeper- to fold himself in half and make himself invisible. His eyes widen and the smooth woven surface stares up at him. His palms sweat where they were clenched. It’s not that he cared about what anyone here would think of him - but if he were to get out of here and escape, then drawing any attention to himself doesn’t help.
His heartbeat thunders in his chest—ba-dump!
But you don’t single him out. And Gojo’s unsure whether or not to breathe out a sigh of relief once he hears what seems to be a soft chuckle coming from your direction—he can’t risk it twice.
And after a beat, Gojo hears your footsteps start to make their way down from the other end of the row. Step after step. Stare after stare. Second after second, he assumes you’re taking your time assessing each candidate before moving onto the next. And behind your nearly-soundless steps were your gaggle of elders- “This is a descendent of the Kamo clan—” They’re not quite whispering to you, “Very powerful. Very respectable family.”
“I see.” You say, and you’re walking past the Kamo descendent.
“O-oh and this one…the Fujiwara clan. Not the wealthiest but-”
You hold a hand up, “Yes, thank you.”
“Zenin Nao-”
“Not at all.”
Whoever that was - Gojo’s heard of the Zenin clan in bits and pieces through the walls of meeting chambers he wasn’t let into - withers in his bow. Whatever he’s heard of the man hadn’t been favorable in the first place, so he has to bite his lip to hold back a faint chuckle—so caught up in the action that he nearly doesn’t notice the shadow padding over to him. He nearly doesn’t notice that you’ve walked right up to him.
It’s the elders that get his attention before you do.
“Ah- and this is the…” Gojo doesn’t need to strain his ears to hear what they’re saying about him. He’s heard it time and time again: that slight hitch in their tone, the way they bring up a hand to cover their mouths but still look at him. “The heir to the Gojo clan.” Spat like a curse.
“The hair gave it away.” There’s none of that derision in your tone. “How beautiful.”
A shiver runs down Gojo’s spine.
And it’s not long before yet another one of your council members is tugging at your sleeves, “Madam, this is the…”
Another speaks up- “The note that was delivered—”
“That forgotten son.” And another.
“Silence.”
You’re saying it so serenely, and yet it manages to get every single damn one of them to shut up. Every single one of them—that were hungry and clamoring for your attention; frothing at the mouth to reveal his open secret. If only it was so easy for him. The silence stretches terribly, until the tension was so thick that it was hard for him to breathe.
And before he knows it, Gojo’s feeling a soft hand touch his shoulder.
Lightness fills him. Just ephemeral and fleeting.
And your voice speaks out in a much warmer tone, “Please. At ease.”
Something seems to uncoil inside him as he straightens- why he was following your every word, he has no idea. But soon enough, he’s back in his resting position and looking down the row of other candidates that ogled him.
You chuckle kindly once more, “The others have long since been sitting. You may go easier on yourself.” Through his peripheral vision, he senses you crouching down in front of you.
And so he’s finally looking up—
Now, Gojo Satoru could describe your features, or your clothes, or the color of your eyes- or even the degree of your smile. He looks back on this moment - not even in the far future, mere split-seconds later - and thinks he could pinpoint the exact angle that the light flooding into the chamber struck the side of your face. But the only thing he registers right now is that if heaven were real, then this might just be the place. And he’d run straight into its awaiting arms-
Your awaiting arms.
Then as quickly as that flare of madness appeared, he’s shaking his head. Trying to clear his mind - whilst you wear a look of slight bemusement on your face as if you could read his thoughts.
Gojo’s just able to pull himself together and flicker his sapphire eyes open—when you’re standing up and addressing them all. Speaking loud and clear- “I have chosen.”
Cold water douses him- or at least feels like it. And the other candidates in your row of suitors shiver like they were experiencing something similar.
One of the elders shifts his gaze nervously between him and you, “Y-you have chosen, Madam?”
Another one clasps his hands in delight and beams, “As per my recommendation- the Kamo boy, Madam?”
“No no—it should be the Abe boy.”
“The-”
One hand raised to signal silence. You’re running your serious stare down the row of men that sat rigidly awaiting your decree.
Each one blenches a little as it reaches them, as though it sent bolts of electricity through them.
Eventually, they’re stopping on him.
On Gojo Satoru.
And he meets your gaze shyly- with bated breath.
“It’s him.” The calmness before the storm. “I choose him.” Before the chamber seems to explode into the indignant noises of the other candidates, the pleas and coos of elders attempting to stop you from making any rash decisions. The air seems to still. The pipes seem to burst. Outside, it’s evident that some of the house staff had been peering through the cracked-open door and eavesdropping on the ceremony- and their surprised squawks add to the cacophony.
And in the middle of the noise - the center of attention - you and Gojo share a look in silence.
Your hand raises once more.
“Silence. I will not repeat it.” A slight hardening in your tone. It’s there to remind them all that you are the clan leader, after all; amongst the youngest to be handed the mantle, amongst the most successful to make your Estate surge in social and economic standing. “He is to be my husband—” Turning to look at him. “-if he so wishes it.”
And you had chosen him to be your husband.
There’s a terse silence- and everyone turns their heads towards Gojo before he realizes that they were waiting for his answer. Most of the other men glower at him as if to say he was stupid if he messed this up-
“Y-yes.” Nodding unsteadily. It seems like the kind of thing that he’d have to ponder over - but it comes to him as though his mind had already been made up, without him knowing. “Yes.” Yes, he was sure.
“Yes, Madam.” The guy next to him hisses.
One of your head council members all but begs at your feet, “B-but master, he has no cursed energy…”
“Elder, must I repeat myself once more?” It seems like an off-hand question—almost jovial. But clearly the elder knows better than to push, and he’s shrivelling back up once more.
With a wave of your hand, you’re dismissing them. “And so if that is all, the other candidates shall have to forgive me- but I wish to spend some time getting to know my future husband. I hope you understand. Refreshments will be available in the East gardens.” As they start to exchange glances and stand, you turn to your balking elders—“And that goes for you, too, dear elders.”
They stir.
They look at each other- as if for confirmation.
Before one nudges the other - and they can do nothing but walk. Walk away with a mere glance—past the ogling house staff, following the murmuring young men.
Despite how much your attendants try to take a peek at him- the sliding doors shut.
Rattling; those trundling vibrations soak into the walls and reach all the way down to Gojo’s toes. Making them curl as you sit in front of him: close enough that his heart thunders, far enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear it. Though by the look on your face, he almost has his doubts…
“So…” You’re placing your face in your hands and taking a good look at him. “Something tells me you’re not one for small talk?”
“Why have you chosen me?” He jerks his peripherals to meet yours, and stares at you squarely. “They were right- you know—” Gojo gestures at the doors behind you, “I don’t have any cursed energy.”
“I was right.” You mutter to yourself, “And as for why I chose you…hm…”
He almost thinks you won’t answer the question, when you’re cupping your hands in front of you and letting them emanate a soft golden glow. Gojo knows what it is instantly- he’s spent so many years wishing he had the same, after all. Even the tiniest ember of it.
You’re shaping the air in your hands as though molding the radiance; it fractures and bends like sunlight between tree branches. Beautiful. He’s never seen anything more beautiful. As if his thoughts caught your attention, you’re half-smiling up at him. “Do you know what this is?”
“Cursed technique.” He whispers.
You nod, “And can you take a guess what it does?”
“Something to do with darkness and light? Vanquishing darkness?” Gojo cocks his head.
“In a way…” You’re gesturing for him to reach out—and he brings his arm out somewhat tentatively. The moment your fingertips touch his skin, that radiance seeps warmth throughout his body- it floods him with that same light feeling from earlier. “Feel that? It’s your mask being taken off you.” Gojo looks at you in confusion. “My cursed technique reveals people’s true emotions and thoughts- the good and the bad. The honest. I can read them all.”
“And mine…?” He gasps. How wondrous. Those of the Gojo clan were often stuck on bending space and the physics of it all. Your technique just seemed so…human.
You smile, “Something like cursed energy doesn’t matter to me. You were the only one that didn’t want me for my name or status.” Fingers sliding across milky skin - feeling more of him. Reading more of him. His gasp catches in his throat as you continue, “You were angry. And tired…” Brows furrowing. “-and a little scared.”
“I am.” He swallows- throat dry. “I was. But what’s that to you?”
“And then there was something else…” Bolts of lightning seem to explode wherever your fingertips traced, and he’s feeling his pulse heighten. His half-lidded gaze bores into yours—“You were aroused calling me ‘Madam’.”
And then Gojo Satoru just seems to melt-
“I wasn’t-”
“You were.”
“I was-” There was no use hiding it. He’s leaning backwards—even though his hands remained where they were, aching for your touch. Gojo’s words come out in jagged pants, wet and blistering; perspiration starts to formulate on his skin. “I was. And it’s all your fault I had to hide a boner from some damn elders.”
“You were…what?” You tilt your head coyly. Gojo Satoru. From the moment you saw him, you knew you wanted him.
And one wouldn’t need a cursed technique to know how he felt- a rosy blush rises to his cheeks. “I was, Madam.”
Was it getting even hotter inside this damn room? Gojo’s almost subconsciously letting those expensive robes of his flap open, just the barest slivers of pinkish skin.
“How perverted.” You’re tutting. Starting to lean in now, “But that’s alright. Because right now, you’re feeling something else, too.”
Whispering. Octaves higher. He looks like he’s in for a battle- there’s a carnal glint in his eyes that’s hard to mistake. “And that is…?” Challenging.
“You wish to kiss me so badly.”
And so he does.
He does, he does, he does- he’s not sure who’s reaching for whom first. But suddenly your lips are on his and he’s moaning into your mouth—loud and openin’ up in a gasp before you’re capturing his lower lip between your teeth and teasing him just a little.
Nibbling.
The chamber light flickers for just a second- but neither of you notice it as Gojo bucks. Straight off the smooth tatami and reachin’ his carnal hips up into yours. The simple action is enough to make Gojo fist at the fabric of your clothes, white-knucking them until he’s hearing a little riiiiip—!
You’re breaking the kiss with a gasp- and his lips still chase yours ravenously. “Now, now…we aren’t even married yet. Not that I care, but what would the council say?”
“I don’t care.” Gojo pants out hot n’ heavy into your mouth. Before one hand snakes up the back of your neck to guide you into a deep kiss once more- “I don’t fucking care.”
“E—mmpf.” He’s sucking sloppily on your tongue, dragging the tip of your tastebuds between his lips n’ tasting. Like it’s the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted. Brows crinkling in frustration whenever you’re attempting to half-heartedly break off and continue speaking- “Eager- oh, are we? Something tells me that someone’s a little…inexperienced, hm?”
And you didn’t need your cursed technique to read him - Gojo blushes straight down to the roots of his ivory hair.
His nose crinkles, “I am. I’ve never touched a woman- anyone before.”
“And that’s perfectly alright.” You’re reassuring him, hands coming up to caress his heaving chest. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can take it slow-”
“No—” Gojo gasps as though you’d just cussed him out. Hands trembling on your body - fabric bunching, fingers white-knuckling. He’s holding onto you like you were a lifeline. “No no no no- I would rather…if you would like to—”
You’re letting your warm cursed energy out.
“I want to taste your lips.” He admits, wincing at the way it sounds so crude being said out loud. “Your…other lips.”
“Oh.” Your mouth parts. Before a rush of pleasure seeps through you- “Then why don’t I get on my back, hm? I want to see your pretty face.”
He almost feels faintish just hearing the words.
In next to no time; you’ve positioned yourself flatly against the tatami mats—and dragged him right on top of you, of course. Gojo’s body eagerly climbs up your own, the light from above creating a halo-like effect on him, and admires you for a few seconds- kisses your lips once more- before he’s pressing a thorough trail of open-mouthed kisses down your body.
Between your tits. Down the side of your hips.
Gojo’s then moving back and chastely peckin’ up your inner-thighs before he’s reaching that wetness in-between. The heat of your cunt just radiates between your legs- you were already so drenched n’ pulsing.
That tick-tick-tick of your cunt presses against his face as Gojo shuffles aside your layers and nuzzles in. Even through your underwear, it was making his mouth water already.
Without a single warning, Gojo lets his greedy tongue drip out and gives your clothed pussy a gooood lick. From bottom to top.
His tongue flickering back in. That damn light inside the meeting chamber flickers against once more- and you’re immediately bucking up into his touch. “G-Gojo—”
“That’s my father’s name. Instead call me…” He murmurs, throat smoky. With a sudden squelching kiss—placed right where your swollen folds were the plumpest, the heir to the Gojo clan struggles to push himself even deeper. Even closer. Even more desperately. “Satoru.”
“Satoru.” You repeat.
And he looks as though he’s in ecstasy.
In what seems like the far-off distance, there’s a sudden burst of something sharp- shards. The observation lingers in your mind and you’re realizing that it sounded like a lightbulb or one of the antiques being dropped.
But there’s no time to think about it too deeply—because in the next few seconds, you’re weaving your fingers through Gojo’s dampened white hair. Twisting them into a grip so deliciously painful for him, and dragging his pretty face back between your legs. A sudden moan rips from your throat- “Your future wife wants you to eat her out, Satoru.”
He’s on you so fast - nudgin’ his head nose-deep - that you think it might’ve been teleportation. “Yes, Madam.”
And how could he ever deny a command from you?
It’s the only thing that whirls in Gojo’s dazed mind- it’s the only thing his body even seems to be running on. Before he even registers what he’s doing, his fingers are reaching up to swipe aside your soppin’ panties. Fuck…you’re so pretty he feels a moan slip out. Muttering a ruined prayer between your legs- before the slender tip of his tongue darts out and slobbers.
A lick straight down your wet crevice.
A lap around the outer area where your slick had accumulated.
“Mmmpf—” Gojo breathes through his nostrils n’ lets them flare. He lets his eyes widen. He lets his jaw drop.
Just the faintest glimmer of your essence trickling down the side of his mouth.
And Gojo’s going crazy.
With a croaked, crackling groan at the back of his throat- he’s hooking a bulky arm around your left leg and tugging—manhandling you to him in a surprisingly primal way. Your pussylips are slammin’ against the edge of his chin, and he’s probing his tongue even deeper. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Why is she so sweet…”
Feeling the pressured intrusion of his tongue - the way his slippery muscle expands the first inches of your muscle so well - you’re merely arching up into his mouth with a keen. “Ohhh, just like that—”
“Huh? What- that’s not…” And for a few seconds there, you think he’s merely babblin’ away to himself. But when Gojo fishes his sloppy tongue back out and thrashes it even harder- nose pressing up determinedly against the nub of your clit - that’s when you’re realizing that something else might be at play here.
That’s when you’re letting your chin drop to your chest, and discovering Gojo already staring at you with large, hallowed eyes- straight up at you.
That’s when he’s becoming even more frenzied as he sandwiches his lips between your puffy folds and makes out with them. Those girthy inches of his tongue drawing out languid slurps and sounds that make his cock twitch. “Th-that’s not what I asked, Madam.” He’s rubbing up against the sensitive inner parts of your thighs, “That’s not the answer to my question, right?” From the way he looked, you genuinely couldn’t tell whether he was joking or dead serious.
“Satoru, what do you…” Getting on your elbows to look down at him.
But it’s almost too late. Because Gojo has his mouth hooked ‘round your sweet, sweet pussy and his zig-zagging tastebuds driving you wild—“Why are you so sweet?” Almost as wild as Gojo was driving himself. “Why are you so hot? So ready takin’ my tongue? Just fucking—stickin’ to me like that- your pussy’s trying to chase me when I kiss her.”
“O-ohhhh—you’re sure this is your first time?” You can merely sob.
Those sky-blue eyes of his flash with some amusement.
“So fucking…” And you’re not sure if he even hears you - you’re not sure whether Gojo can register anything other than the dessert platter in front of him right now. As if on cue, that leaky hole of yours empties out numerous wads of sap that smear down his cheeks. He welcomes it with what almost feels to you - and your technique - like a purr. And this last word is spat out in what almost feels like a growl- “-addictive?”
It’s almost accusing.
Though not really, and Gojo’s honed canines jut out as he lavishes a few kisses on your clit. Soakin’ it up enough to reach a hand up and pinch.
That glistening nub of yours grows even fatter n’ needier as he squeezes it between two cold fingertips. His thumb and his index. Just the sight of it is enough to make his mouth salivate once again, and all those gluey ribbons of saliva end up getting spat on your pussy once again.
Gojo’s pluggin’ it up with his crowned fingertips before it can get the chance to trickle out. Like a waterfall. “You must have done something to me…” The realization hits him.
“E-excuse me?” You ask.
“It’s your cursed technique- isn’t it—?” Gojo’s then scissoring two digits inside you and starting to pummel your gooey insides with them. Each movement causes the prettiest orchestra of squelches that enter his eardums like fucking music-
“It wasn’t.” Squealing. Soaring your hands through his hair. He scours every inch of you with a single thrust- the sheer length of his fingers, ending off with those knobbly swollen tips.
They were so moldable n’ he’s gluing them to your softest orifices like adhesive. “I p-promise it wasn’t…” Saliva starts to stream from one side of your mouth—your mind’s turning to mush with every passing second. Without even thinking, you grab him by the scalp and guide his face closer between your legs. The cavern of his pretty pink mouth opens with a soft ‘yes, ma’am’ and Gojo then latches onto your throbbing clit. “Why? Do you feel any different, Satoru?”
“Feel different?” At that question, Gojo has to physically lurch away from your pussy to look up into your face n’ make sure that you’re serious. You were. “Feel different?”
“Y-yes…?” Slightly taken aback.
Gojo genuinely lets his head tip backwards- with a bout of crazed laughter.
Short. Breathless.
It echoes around the room; and you’re sure of it—this doesn’t sound anything like the Gojo Satoru you’ve known. Until now. There’s a feral twinkle in his eyes that you can’t quite discern once Gojo surges his head forward and kisses your pussy once more. French kisses.
This time, his pupils were mere needlepoints around a sea of faintly-gleaming blue as he wraps his lips around your clit and peers up at you. A grin plastered across his face- he knows you can feel it, because you’re just squirming so much. “Sweetheart, I don’t just feel different…” Those roverin’ tips of his enter your hole once more, three of them propelling inside your slippery channel. “I think I am different.”
A shiver runs down your spine. What did he mean by…
Gojo’s eyebrows raise—“What do I mean by- hah, that? Well…I can feel your pussy reeeeeeal good-” His nose crinkles as yet another wave of slick slips down his throat, “-I can feel every clench, every pulse, every bead of slick.”
And then he increases the pace of his thrusts, until the brutish knuckles of his fingers were reddened.
Starting to swell.
Pump after pump.
Hit after hit.
The most ruthless swipes that messed up your insides. Leaves his mark on there like a last name; Gojo adds in a fourth finger just when you think you’ve been stretched-out to your maximum limits—
“And…” That flexible end of his tongue lifts off of your clit. He curls it tenderly in front of your entrance- just in time for a pearly bead of slick to escape you and end up dappled straight on his tastebuds. “I can predict wherever they start to drip.”
Your mouth gapes open.
And though that was impressive, your mind’s occupied with something else entirely.
You yelp and sit up on your elbows straighter. How did he know? He read your mind. He’s reading your body. You thought he didn’t have cursed energy?!
But as though reading your mind was something he did everyday, he continues.
He’s using those special antics to slash his mouth near-vertically across your own slit and end up draaaaaagging his textured tastebuds on top of your clit. Making you shake with every single spark of pleasure running up your body, whilst his fingers only prod ‘round even deeper. Swivelling around. Stirring you up from the inside. Squelch after squelch. “I can sense where you feel the best.” Gojo’s lips are flappin’ away animalistically between your legs. “I can tell just how good you feel—”
A sudden bite at your clit.
You’re yelping, “Fuh-fuuuuuck!”
““See? I can tell your pretty pussy liked that.” Gojo’s fluttering his pale lashes playfully. A smirk upon his maw. “I can tell that you like it when I do- ngh, thiiiiis—” Scissoring his fingers and flickerin’ his tongue on top of your clit, “And especially when I do this.” Making you throw your head back as he nibbles on your knob once more. Just as he had predicted - you shiver underneath his tongue, and he’s gapin’ his mouth wide to let those droplets cascade into his mouth. Those blue eyes of his nearly glow in excitement—“And I can tell…actually, I can see that you’re feeling good all the way from here—”
He presses down on your clit using the tip of his handsome nose.
Then glides his left hand up your front- as far as he could reach, he’s soon squeezing your left tit. Then the right. Alternating. There’s a strange buzzing sensation floating over your nipples whenever he touches them…“To here. Even higher up to that- hah, pretty head of yours, the way s’lighting up.”
“Lighting up…?” Just to make sure, you spare a glance down at yourself. “Satoru, what are you talking abou- oh.”
But then he’s hittin’ his fingertips damn near your g-spot, and it feels good enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, your entire body’s on fire because of how good you feel. And I haven’t even gotten to it yet.”
“My g-spot?” You babble.
He’s nodding like a drunken man. “She’s been waiting for me- pulsing, y’know?” Gojo trundles out through his husky breaths, “Throbbing. Needing. Just aching for my attention.”
“Th-this really can’t be your first time…” You mumble weakly, barely audible enough.
“And guess what?” He breathes- octaves away from normal.
“What—?”
Gojo was staring at you with wide, almost-bulging eyes. His gaze was glazed over and yet- still so frenzied, enough so that you swear the irises surrounding his pupils were glowing—“I can see where she is.”
With that said, you’re feeling the hardest- sloppiest thrust of his fingers yet.
A direct hit onto that cute heart-shaped button of your g-spot. Gojo doesn’t need to move his fingers ‘round to feel for where that particularly soft area was—he knew where it was instantly. And the most crazed smile splashes across his face, twisting his lips, as he’s watching you shatter underneath him. He knows when you’re reaching your high before you yourself do.
“You’re cumming for me…” He inhales hollowly.
Eyes widening, “I am?” It’s suddenly hitting you then: that spread of warmth from the pit of your stomach, up your spine, n’ fogging up your mind. Your pussy was just battering away at a staccato- your legs were thrashing where Gojo pinned them down with his upper half. “I am.”
Gojo merely crushes his face deeper and fucks you through the best orgasm you’ve had in your entire life. Fingers nothing but a blur. Nose nuzzlin’ deeper. “I would never lie to you, Madam.”
“Fuck…”
Tongue dipping straight into your slippery hole, then alternating between rolling over your clit. Wave after wave.
The bliss is almost too much to bear - it washes over your body, setting your limbs alight with the electricity of your orgasm. That dopamine. Those white stars. And Gojo’s pressing on your g-spot accurately upon every single peak, such dogged need. “Oh, and I can s-see it—”
“Satoru-” You’re keening out. Your hands reach up to muss up Gojo’s ivory strands, grabbing and lavishing his mouth across your clit. He’s sucking it inside and hollowing his cheeks out—“Th-that wasn’t anything my cursed technique did. This was all you, baby.”
“Oh…”
And with that awed expression upon his attractive features, he’s finishing up with the last few dredges of your orgasm. Letting the bliss course through you - Gojo then unlatches himself from your sensitive cunt with a loud pop! The last thrust of his fingers ends off with the faintest flicker of blue lightning…
You both catch it and gasp-
Gojo’s meeting your eyes with his frenzied ones. It’s then that you’re getting a good look- a proper one.
Gojo Satoru’s eyes were always such a beautiful blue. But now…they had a wreath of so many different shades - sky-blue, cobalt-blue, denim-blue, indigo, some almost as pale as white - playing within them that it looked like jewels. Like something out-of-this-world. It glowed with power.
“Oh my god-” You’re immediately attempting to surge up - and Gojo firmly presses you back down on the tatami. As if he already knew what you were going to say. “Satoru, we need to inform someone—we need to send summons to your Estate elders immediately-”
“Maybe.” He cocks his head with something akin to a pout.
And you’re staring up at him in disbelief, “Don’t you want to prove them wrong? Don’t you want to take your rightful mantle as head?”
“Maybe…” Gojo murmurs once more, and his brows knot in the middle. “But more than that- there’s something else I want to do first.”
His first time, that is.
Before you know it, Gojo hovers his body upwards- then he’s tugging open your robes. He’s leaving you half-bare. And then moving onto his, Gojo stares you straight down as he damn-near tears through the four attached straps of his hakama, the belt, the pieces tucked. Harsh. Almost violent.
It makes your cunt quiver just for a moment—and Gojo’s letting his jaw drop as though he could feel the fucking thing.
As though he’s listening to it. Worshipping it. He then manages to free his red, ravaged cock - glistening at the top with so much slick, and then turning into a peachy pink towards his base. Girthy tip, even girthier middle. His shaft was looooong and oh-so-proudly decorated in numerous zig-zagging veins, disappearing into the tufts of curly white at his hilt. He’s so damn hard that he twitches in the air a few seconds after release.
Almost immediately afterwards, Gojo’s tall frame collapses on top of yours. Body wracking with shivers.
Gently folding both your legs over his shoulders; they trembled with the aftermath of your previous high, and a wicked smile plays upon his lips as he bends and bends you until the top of your knees hit your chest.
He gazes down at you through the gaps in his ivory hair, “May I fuck you using my powers, Madam?”
Your mouth parts.
Gojo had flushed cheeks. Damp skin. His eyes faintly a-glow- and the most primal glimmer flickering within them.
Bolts of lightning dart from the edges of his peripherals and crackle in the sensual air between you two. The newest user of the Six Eyes in the Gojo clan. You’re wrapping both arms around Gojo’s clammy neck and pulling him to you - instantly, a whiff of jasmine hits you. “Please do, future head of the Gojo clan.”
He shivers.
And then he’s entering.
Just the large, globular tip of him—the very edge of it that feels almost scorching against your entrance. He doesn’t even need to sink all the way inside to stretch your hole ‘round himself, gluing his slit to the channel of your cunt - those walls that seem to just gulp him up. It’s heavenly enough that Gojo’s letting his head duck into the crook of your neck, mouth opening up in turgid gasps. “Oh- I’m fucking my Madam.” One jerky thrust. “My wife.”
“Sh-shit…” Your teeth clench. Your toes curl. And your pussy’s clenching around him like a vice. The stretch of him…it was like nothing you’ve felt before.
“Feels good?” Gojo asks, through strikes. His swollen shaft drags in n’ out at a dizzying rate, and with those Six Eyes of his - you knew when they were about to activate down at you, because the fizzes of lightning would grow more concentrated - he’s managing to point out your g-spot instantly.
Directly mazin’ between your fluttering wall. Pushing his rounded tip against that bundle of nerves- still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that even the merest brush sets your body alight…
Gojo reels his hips back n’ starts fucking you in quick, thorough thrusts that echo out into the room as plap! after plap! He’s cementing his toned v-line to the front of your pelvis, and letting out drunken giggles at the way your g-spot quivers for more after every whack—these damn Six Eyes really did manifest at the perfect time.
In no time, you’re feeling your walls turn to a gummy mess- ruined by his cock. Moaning out, “Go even deeper, husband-”
“O-oh.” His hips stutter mid-thrust. Not even bottoming out yet. “Ohhhh, don’t just say that-”
“Why not?” Fluttering your lashes up at him innocently.
Gojo then trembles- he clamps his jaw shut as though he didn’t know how to respond…or didn’t trust himself to. His knees hike up the tatami floors as though attempting to burrow himself even deeper—and then back n’ forth again as if conflicted. Conflicted. Gojo grazes his pearly whites down the side of your throat and murmurs, “Because c-call me that again n’ m’gonna cum…”
Just a few thrusts.
Not even bottomed-out.
An he was going to fucking cum- just because you called him that?
Your interest piques. “Maybe I want you to-” Angling your head so that his hair tickles your face, and your lips graze his ear lobe. “-husband.”
“Ohhh, I beg for mercy, Madam.” And he genuinely sounded serious.
“Husband?”
But it was too late- Gojo sprints his right hand down to clasp his hilt. But it was too late.
No matter how tightly he’s squeezing right there - where he was suddenly bulging even thicker at the thought of going inside you - Gojo’s ruddied tip leaks out a singular drop of ivory sap. And then another. And then another.
Until soon enough, he was coverin’ the entire front of your cunt. Eyelids shuttering. Throat cracking.
Gojo’s dipping his head down and watching as the mushroomy tip of his shaft almost explodes in a downpour of his cum- so much of it stored up. The warm wetness trickles over your pussylips like a glaze and ends up getting smeared by his blushin’ cockhead, stirring it around with the hand at his base. “Sh-shit.” Gojos takes his lower lip between his teeth, in an effort to keep the whimpers out of his voice. “Shit, I can’t believe you made me- ngh, cum before you. What did I tell you?”
“And I said I wanted it, didn’t I?” You’re grinning.
“And I can never deny my Madam- ngh.” The prettiest noise at the back of his throat- he’s breathing it into you as you two kiss. Once you’re breaking apart, Gojo’s finding himself bucking short, stunted semi-thrusts without his hazy mind having even realized it—“B-but about this mess…can I fuck it inside?”
“Hm? I don’t feel a mess.” It’s true - you felt the initial splosh! of his creamy white cum leaking out. But after that you didn’t feel it streak or dribble.
You’re both looking down and finding- “What’s…” That the large majority of his sap had accumulated around his fat tip, and though it was deliciously thick—there seemed to be another barrier that kept the cum from leaking. An invisible forcefield.
Gojo’s breath catches once he realizes, “Infinity.”
“What?”
But without answering, he’s merely swervin’ around the crowned head of his cock and watching as the glistening cum moves ‘round it. Doesn’t exactly touch it. “Infinity.” All the air seems to escape his lungs- and electrify around you two. Gojo looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “I can manipulate Infinity- I have Limitless.” Blue lightning scatters across his skin.
“Both? Both—?” Awe pumps through every atom of your being. It was impossible not to recite just what you’d learned in your jujutsu lessons years ago: “There hasn’t been a Six Eyes and Limitless user in the last 400 years.”
“I know.” He probably knew more than anyone else. And his lips twitch at the edges- he presses his sweaty forehead to yours. “I know.”
“Satoru, you’re probably one of the strongest sorcerers of two- maybe even the strongest.” Tone picking up in pitch and volume- and frenzy. The ends of your sentence wavered just a little bit at the fresh intrusion of his cocktip, twitching and glazed in cum—and something far more powerful. A layer of Infinity that pushed your sodden walls apart even further. “A-and you’re using it to fuck me—?!”
Another rugged thrust. “What else would I use it for?”
But of course, the suggestion of anything other than feelin’ your sweet, sweet pussy wrapped around him felt almost like blasphemy.
Gojo’s snowy brows furrow at the sudden rush of power- and it takes a little getting used to the ebb and flow of cursed energy, the urge to bend and mold space at his will. But right now he had more important things on his mind. And no matter how much his mind raced—it halted for one thing. One idea.
And the most crazed - almost bemused - grin breaks across his face.
Crooked and slightly off-kilter; he’s focusing all his energy on lacquering that long, looong cock of his with a shatter-proof layer of Infinity. Almost like a…“Condom.” Gojo utters without meaning to.
The half-shocked half-aroused look on your face is enough to make him continue.
“Like a c-condom.” The girth of his tip starts pressing in once more—this time with the added, minute measurement of his Infinity layer. And if you thought that he was big before, then now…and with the added fuzziness of cursed energy? The slight buzzing vibrations that penetrated your inner walls? You’re being driven absolutely insane—
And he’s just fuckin’ to fit inside.
“It feels s-soooo—ngh.” Your voice cracks almost pathetically. “Big.”
“Just big?” Gojo shovels in just a few more inches- almost like it’s never-ending.
Your toes curl. “Long.” You babble. Wringing your moans into the column of his throat - Gojo’s immediately turning his head and capturing your lips with his. “And so- ngh, veiny.”
“Oh? You can still feel them past Infinity?” He asks.
“Y-yes?” As if you could ever not feel those prominent lines imprinted onto his shaft. They formulated the most lecherous patterns that seemed designed to massage your sweetest spots specifically. Just rubbin’ and rubbin’ and making explosions of pleasure burst behind your eyelids—“I can feel e-each and every one-”
“Count them.”
Your eyes flutter open, “What?”
Another few more vicious thrusts- pointed. “Count them.”
Then Gojo’s pressing a chaste peck onto your cute cervix- loving. Pressing a heart-shaped indentation with his cockhead, it squishes ever-so-slightly against the very back of your cunt—and Gojo glides his shaft exhaustively back and forth. Making sure you’re split open on every single vein and indent, and even stimulated by the soft hairs at his base that tickle the top of your folds.
Perhaps The Strongest trills, “I’m waiting~”
“Oh- please.” You’re suddenly brought out of your cockdrunken reverie. Spending every remaining speck of sense in you to count- “There’s a really big one down the middle and…ngh…” Though with the added layer of Infinity coating him, you’re thrown into a frenzy attempting to accurately feel for how many veins decorated his thick shaft. “And then one more- two—?”
Lovingly, he kisses your lips…“Incorrect.”
Your jaw drops.
“Try again.” Gojo smiles sweetly.
And then you’re being fucked even harder- even deeper into the tatami floors until you’re sure the grounds of your Estate would be tattooed against your back. The mats lift and creak as he pummels a few more repeated- thud-thud-thuds against those velvety orifices. “Three-” You manage to gasp. “No- five.”
“Hmmm, wrong again.” Almost with a pout- the fucking nerve of him to pout.
And then he’s holding you to him as he funnels you even harder. The scruff of his happy trail dragging down your clit.
With a huff, you have nothing else to do but hold onto his sweaty, thrashing body for dear life. And with a monumental effort; you’re pushing your thighs ever-so-slightly together and clenching—as hard as you could, you’re suctionin’ off his pistoning cock. Milking him.
Gojo’s brows immediately furrow, and a crack appears in his irresistible grin. He’s letting out what almost sounds like a whimper- before nipping at the sensitive skin on your throat. “Oh…”
“Is it- hck! I think I got it…” You’re uttering. Everything about the way he was fucking you now was just messy and sloppy- from the way his clammy skin stuck to yours, to the way his precum was now drivelling through the layers of his Infinity, to the thump! of veins brushing against where you needed him the most. “It’s six- fuuuuck—”
He’s staring at you with dazed, tear-filled eyes. Unresponsive.
“It’s six, isn’t it?” You ask. Squeezing your heaven-like walls around him once more just to make sure- hard. “It’s six- fuuuuck, can feel six of you just massaging me inside.”
Breathing ragged. Brain ruined.
Gojo stows in his silence as his hips keep rammin’ away into you - he doesn’t need to think about it. He just can’t stop.
You’re running a hand across your stomach, feeling for where he was exerting the most pressure inside your goopy cunt. Shapin’ you to him from the inside out. “A-all the way—here- oh.”
“Correct.”
Rudely, Gojo smacks your hand away and replaces it with his, instead.
Lightning sticks to his fingertips like a second skin, just the most miniscule display of it. And yet, not in the least less powerful. You already know that Gojo’s using his Six Eyes before he starts to speak, “Here. Your walls. Your g-spot. Your womb—they love my cock s’much. All six veins, and all nine inches. Feel that twitchin’ there?”
Stupidly, you’re nodding.
“That’s your pussy begging for more-” Slapping his hips to yours with such aggressive thrusts- each one felt incredible. Each one was hitting eeeevery single spot he needed to and more. Curvin’ the luscious tip of his shaft against your drippin’ wet cervix, “That’s your pussy begging for it- even harder Faster.”
“P-please—” You’re keening. Hands racing up to claw at his bulging biceps.
“Again and again-” Without a single warning, Gojo reaches his free hand down and slaps! your neglected clit. The buzzing cursed energy there makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. “She’s begging to be filled up by me. To feel the seed of the Gojo heir dripping out of her…” Lovingly, he caresses your clit. “She aches until she can keep feeling me between those pretty legs as she walks.”
Another spank.
“She’s obsessed with the strongest, isn’t she?” Whatever quivering, twitching sensations that he can sense with those heightened powers of his—it makes him croon. “You make me so- hah, honest. Good thing m’obsessed with her, too.”
“Enough- I need you to do it.” You sob. “Do it, Satoru- ngh, I want you to cum inside me.”
“I would, it’s just that…” He trails off- just the faintest bit of rationality in his face. “I don’t know how m’gonna take this damn infinity off, sweetheart.” It’s just then that you remember his little ‘condom’ experiment. “Can you try squeezing?”
“Squeezing?” Gawking. But you do.
Just like before, you’re clenching your soaked walls- and it makes the powerful sorcerer buck. Even though he closes his eyes, you can discern his peripherals moving haphazardly behind them—affected. And Gojo pummels out a few more vicious battering rams before he gasps out. “Again.” Head falling into the crook of your neck. “Again- harder.”
And so you do. “L-like this?”
“Harder.”
Practically keeping his cock hostage.
Just one - one - stuttered probe of his ravaged length thereafter- and he’s entirely shattering. Not just in terms of the Infinity that scatters into nothingness—but because the faintest sensation of your tender walls, and he whispers. “I-I think m’gonna…”
“Shut up and cum inside me.” You retort.
And with a single thrust- Gojo dribbles out hot, white cum for the second time tonight. Hard. Powerful.
The minute his splatterin’ cum breaks through his Infinity to end up stirred inside your walls—an emission of powerful cursed energy emanates from his body. It singes his skin. It makes the air tense between you two.
The sudden spike in pressure makes the lightbulb above you shatter-
Only to rain down on the two of you, getting safely discarded by the forcefield of Infinity that Gojo had mindlessly cast as it began falling. And after every single plunge into your gooey, hot depths - scattered bursts of lightning bolt from Gojo’s eyes; eventually skittering around his body and making antiques around the two of you crack the further he crescendos into his euphoria.
Just like before, he was losing it. Except, this time, it’s ending up seeped at the very back of your pussy.
Glistening down your walls and ended up plastered to your cervix.
Using his Six Eyes, he’s managing to fuck every single webbed wad until they’re reaching deeeeeeply at the very back. The very back. Until not a single ounce was left leaking between your legs, and he could see every droplet of it puddled right at your womb- Gojo would rather die than waste a single drop.
And through it all as he fucks you, you’re crashing into your nth high- one after the other. More than just your second.
You dig your nails into Gojo’s muscular shoulders and moan out his name. “Satoru- Sa—” Kissing him deeply. Soft echoes of it still crackle at the back of your throat as he keeps pushing you through peak after peak, wave after wave. “Oh, it feels so- ngh, keep going. It feels so good.” One after the other.
“I can…tell…” So dazed that it was getting hard to speak even. Gojo was overstimulated and working his body to the bone.
The Gojo heir finally opens his eyes again- and you’re feeling a carnal jolt go through you as you’re taking in just how much power whirled beneath them.
Ravenous.
Raging.
His Limitless and his Six Eyes seemed to be battling one another for predominance. Both of them were winning - which just meant that every spark of pleasure he felt was another lightbulb cracked, or a handprint seared into tatami flooring, or a piece of furniture hovering.
So overstimulated.
“I-I need to think of…” Gojo’s eyebrows knit together, and he keeps his gaze downturned to where the two of you were connected. A sheen of sap spread between your inner-thighs, and you’re tugging him even closer. “Need to think of a way-”
“A way to do what, Toru?” You’re asking, after he trails off.
“A way to do…” Those hands twiddlin’ with your clit then form a complex array of signals; not quite practise, but more so just going with intuition. His cursed energy must have a lot to say to him after being cooped up in there for so long. “-this. Unlimited Void.”
There’s a mantra- then a flash.
Then you’re feeling space and time itself bend between your legs. Between your legs. It was like the twisting of air around you, the strange feeling of a vacuum running through your entire body.
And the lights of your entire Estate seem to be shutting down; before you blink through the darkness and make out the shape of Gojo staring lovingly down at your stuffed cunt. The way it bloated around his girth. The loads of cum that kept on trickling out. Your pussy that had a…strange tingling surrounding it that had nothing to do with your own cursed energy-
“Unlimited Void.” Gojo helpfully explains, “That way, I can cum inside your pussy forever.”
“Forever.” You breathe out. “Oh.”
Nuzzling you, “Such a complex mantra. I could only do it because of you.” He highly suspects that it was your honesty technique that helped him face his powers, after all.
You’re unsure how long it takes - but Gojo’s then buckin’ the two of you through another one of his orgasms. Then another one. Then another one- he twists his arm behind his neck and keeps your ankles interlocked, manhandling you backwards whenever he needed to.
Whenever he felt like movin’ you instead of his fatigued body.
Again and again.
He just can’t seem to fill you to the brim now. Squelching between every stuffed thrust.
Cock rock-hard still and doused with so many layers of his own cum. It was just the messiest experience to be stuffing you full like so - no Infinity would’ve been able to hold this back.
Eventually Gojo’s limbs were heavy, his hamstrings aching, his bangs sticking to his forehead. Knees pushing up against the floor in an attempt to clamor upwards—though he just kept sloppily dropping and falling and fucking you as best he could. He was practically collapsing his large body on top of yours n’ merely rutting his cock sloppy in and out - not even proper thrusts. In and out. “Ngh- feels like you’re going to cum again.” He eventually utters.
Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your head. “I can’t possibly-”
But a twist of his cursed energy-covered fingers on your clit, and you’re feeling your next orgasm soar through you. Flashing fast.
“Oh…Satoru.” As he’s churning your insides through another one- you feel a sudden splat! of something wet hitting your shoulder. Eyes snapping open.
That’s when you see that the oh-so-enigmatic Gojo Satoru was crying from overstimulation.
And you didn’t need his Six Eyes to see that he was cumming again- only, this time, he was cumming blanks.
Pretty face scrunched up.
Cheeks glistening with tears. Chin wrinkled.
Choking out sobs at the back of his throat.
His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and he’s gagging out a few thick sobs as translucent sap empties out from the end of his cock. His heavy balls having had enough—Gojo’s body was practically forcing himself to stop…but he couldn’t.
No matter how much he was cumming, it still wouldn’t be enough to fill up the Unlimited Void he’d casted on your fucking pussy.
And after a few more ruinous strokes, Gojo’s lurching his head up.
By now, you could reach that look in his eyes. “What?” You ask suspiciously.
“I read this- hah, don’t squeeze me like that I’ll…” Too late, he was pumping out a few more drivelling wads before continuing. “I read this extract in a textbook about Limitless once- that some users have the- ngh, ability to bend space and make a sort of…clone of themselves. Multiple.”
Your jaw drops. “C-clones…” Your cunt already quivered with excitement- letting out a lecherous sound of cum sprayin’ out.
He could read those feelings in you instantly- and he nods. You always did make him so honest.
“How about it, Madam?”
.
.
.
The elders already knew that a new user of Limitless and the Six Eyes had manifested.
Because at that very moment, the world had shook.
It had been impossible for anyone but the two lovers to ignore. And perhaps it was already time when that lone silhouette had stalked all the way to the Gojo Estate: shoulders tense and his blade glinting in his hand. They could say that Gojo Satoru hadn’t been born with cursed energy, but no one could say that he hadn’t clawed himself a reason to live.
Something to live for - someone.
And now, the cruelty of those that had come before was redundant.
That night - after leaving you wiped-down and tucked-in - Gojo had donned his robes and stepped outside into your sprawling gardens, still sore. There, he’d experimented with the rumored teleportation that Limitless users were said to have—and perhaps it really was true what you’d said.
Maybe he really was The Strongest.
Because in no time, Gojo was trained enough to teleport to the Gojo Estate had thought he’d never come back to. Certainly not to finish the job.
With his silver blade, decorated with the silver emblem of the Gojo family, he made those sleek floors run red. Between trees, he was a shadow. He stained the gardens with the foxgloves and the trees he’d always loved - he supposed that no butterflies would be visiting these gardens ever again.
At least he wouldn’t be.
And as Gojo cut down the last one of those elders, he memorized the look on his face. Nothing of the pity and hatred he’d seen all throughout his life—they all wore the same expression now.
Shock. Fear. Knowing - so this was the power of The Strongest.
Some were happy to merely witness it before they died. What an honor it was, to die by his hands.
Gojo wondered whether it scared them more that he’d found his powers, or that he’d come to hone them. Whichever it had been, he hoped they knew now - he was always someone strong.
He was always strong. The last swing of his blade.
Everyone was gone now - his relatives, his elders, his tutors. It was just the outsiders to the Gojo clan that he commanded to run—Ijichi himself had likely taken up quarters at your Estate, and he was determined that no harm should come to the innocent.
But did that make him just as cruel?
He cares not.
Overnight, Gojo Satoru became the head of the Gojo clan, he became a myth: The Strongest. Said to be talked about for centuries to come.
But that was for later.
Gojo steps back on the edge of the portico overlooking the gardens - a sunrise before the Sun could make an appearance. Then he focuses his newfound cursed energy and prepares to teleport right to your side, he couldn’t bear the thought of you waking up alone—everything else could be thought of later.
Your roommate grew up on a ranch before moving to the City and now she INSISTS that you come along with her to one of the biggest rodeos around. Having moved in not too long ago, you reluctantly agree even though dusty, wide open spaces are a foreign concept to your polished City girl demeanor. By chance, you meet one of the biggest names in pro-rodeo complete with a belt buckle as big as his ego. A cowboy through and through, he hates the City and the people that reside it. Little does he know that lasting eight seconds on a bull is easy compared to fighting feelings for a girl he’s supposed to hate.
Content Tags/Warnings Throughout Work: slight enemies to lovers, eventual smut, Sukuna is a rodeo cowboy, reader is a city girl, slight mentions of blood/injury from rodeo activities, happy ending, kissing, oral male!receiving, unprotected sex, pulling out
AN: Dividers by @/saradika-graphics. Inspired by @indiewritesxoxo He's Not My Man.
Thankfully your crew was taking it easy today because you were up until late into the night thinking about everything that had happened yesterday. It was impossible to get your heartbeat under control as you replayed that kiss over and over, letting your mind wander to what could have happened afterwards.
He’d wanted you to spend the night with him. No matter how many times you tried to rationalize him meaning something different, there was never a good enough justification to change your mind. What else could ‘come back to my hotel with me’ possibly mean? Surely he didn’t just intend for you to come back and watch TV.
It was probably just the heat of the moment. Making out and getting handsy can do that to a man and he’s probably looking for someone to warm his bed after a grueling day getting tossed around by large animals.
It wasn’t something you could easily just forget though. The rough skin of his hands still lingered where he held your hand, the heat left behind by his lips on yours persisted long after you hopped off that tailgate, and the way his thigh brushed against your own burdened you with an almost permanent, dull ache in your gut.
That empty feeling seems to have persisted throughout the night and only ramped up even more the following day while you all were grabbing some breakfast at the diner before going over for the rodeo finals. It was the last full day for all of you considering you were planning to hit the road back home tomorrow morning.
Normally you weren’t one for one night stands or getting involved with men you hadn’t known for long. Most of your hookups were guys you’d known for some time through friends, so the thought of doing something with someone famous you’d just happened to meet a few days ago was daunting. He was hot though, so so so hot. There was no denying the physical attraction you felt for him.
Even beyond his looks, he seems like a good guy. A little rough around the edges, but charming in his own way. His flirty insults have grown on you this weekend and you can’t help but fantasize about a life where the rodeo star plays a leading role. Even though things were rocky at first, after hearing what he’s been through, you can’t really blame him for being skeptical of you.
The pang in your chest starts to flare up once again. A nagging feeling that he was going to become a missed connection keeps popping into your mind. For some reason the thought of never seeing or talking to him again fills you with anxiety and a heaviness that you can’t shake off.
“You okay girlie?” Shoko’s voice jolts you out of your zoned out state. Apparently you’d just been staring at your eggs without actually eating.
“Yeah! I’m good,” you try to give a cheery answer, but she sees right through it.
“It’s him huh?” she says softly.
You gulp hard, reaching to take a long sip of coffee to buy you some time before answering. The shakiness in your voice is just bound to show itself.
“Mhmm. I feel like an idiot, but it makes me sad to never see him again. I feel like I’m fantasizing about something impossible,” you play with your napkin in your lap.
“Like, a relationship? Or…” Shoko trails off. She must have seen how you flinched so she stopped talking.
You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the useless idealization.
“Yeah. Or at least something more than this.”
It would never work though, who were you kidding. You had a job and life back in the city, a place he had no desire to set down roots. And speaking of roots, there were none to be cultivated when you were on the road nine months out of the year, surrounded by beautiful women throwing themselves at him.
What would be the point of waiting around for a girl like you.
“I wish I had better advice,” Shoko rests her hand on your arm. “Truthfully though, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I know, I feel the same way,” you sigh, glancing away towards the busy diner, eyes stinging as you try to hold back the storm inside of you.
Nothing good could come from this. Even if you were just trying to have a good time, you know inevitably you’d struggle to set aside emotions and feelings for physical gain.
Nothing good could come from this.
Sukuna stares lifelessly at the ceiling of the suite from where he’s collapsed on the couch. White and black specs dot the panels above, reminding him slightly of the speckled bull he was going to have to ride very soon.
He’s ready to go. He has his lucky jeans, just loose enough to move but tight enough to hug his muscular legs and thighs so they wouldn’t catch on anything. He’s won enough championships clad in the light blue denim to at least believe there was something special about them.
The blood red chaps he always wears lay on the back of a chair near the door, usually not putting them on until the last second because that shit was impossible to walk comfortably in. He’s got a matching red collared shirt, unbuttoned so he can still tend to the gash on his side. It hasn’t opened up since yesterday, but his medical staff was still monitoring it until it was time to go out there.
Speaking of going out there, were you somewhere in the stands? He’d asked Gojo earlier if he saw you when he took a walk to watch some of the other events, but he hadn’t looked.
He had fans…so many fans. More than he ever imagined possible when he first started rising in the ranks of pro rodeo. He never expected to one day have a stadium full of people cheering him on at Cheyenne for three days in a row. They were all faceless to him though, just a sea of denim, boots, and hats desperate to watch their favorite rodeo star make it through the hardest eight seconds known to man.
Kids looked up to him. Why? He’d never know. He wasn’t exactly the poster child of good decisions, in fact, he hopes his future son god willing doesn’t end up like him. Succumbing to the vices of fame in such naive fashion is something he cringes about regularly, going so far as to wishing sometimes that he never got into rodeo. He could instead be on the plot of his family’s ranch in the mountains that his dad gave to him, married to a girl from his hometown with a couple of kids. His days could be spent checking on and repairing fences on the property line or chasing down a stray cow that wandered away from the herd.
Preferring to keep a lower profile was so much easier these days. Life was methodical: get money from his sponsorships, do a few commercials and promotional interviews, show up and ride without any of the pageantry that he used to crave, maybe fuck around lowkey with some girl that he’ll never see again, and hopefully win the bag, moving onto the next.
A part of him liked the satisfaction of winning though. Doing something so flawlessly that so many people wished they were even halfway decent at stroked his ego in a way that boring farm life just couldn’t.
“Ryomen, they’re ready for you to come up,” his manager Toji calls from the door, interrupting him from his thoughts.
“Alright,” he grunts, exhaling loudly as he sits up.
Time to get in the zone.
Sukuna buttons up his shirt and situates his cowboy hat so it flattens his pink locks in a flattering way. Shit is just going to fly off anyways, so he doesn’t know why he bothers getting it perfect.
Well, he knows. If you’re out there, he wants to look his best.
As he pulls his chaps on, he starts to remember last night. It’s been baked into his mind ever since he finally found out what your lips felt like on his. He’d wanted so badly to just lay you down and fuck you in the back of his truck, but he also had no intentions of your first time together being out in the open where someone could have seen you.
And yes, he very much intends for there to be a first time. How?
He hasn’t figured that out yet.
If it was just some random slut, he couldn’t have cared less if someone saw. But it was you, and you deserved so much better than some stranger hearing your pretty moans and cold metal under your back. Sukuna was the only one who wanted to know what you looked and sounded like when you came. He knew he’d pull one out of you, preferably more, and no other schmuck out there was worthy of getting that experience.
And now his dick was so fucking hard. He ponders whether he should go rub one out quickly?
Probably.
But there really wasn’t any time for that. He’d just have to win and try to get that blowjob you’d propositioned him last night.
He chuckles as he walks towards the door out to the arena. The thought of what you’d look like with his dick down your throat was more motivation than the million in prize money that was up for grabs.
Sukuna already knows what it’s like to walk away with a million, but he’s dying to know how it feels to have your lips wrapped around his cock. That’s worth more than any monetary sum at this point and he’d probably beat the shit out of anyone who takes that opportunity away from him.
Pushing out the door, the harsh sun from the afternoon is starting to lessen as the early evening settles in. The damn jeans still feel so constricting, but he knows it’ll go away eventually. Sukuna wanders back behind the bucking chutes, obscured from the public eye, but he has a pretty good view of everything. His assigned speckled bull is off to the side, so he walks over to it, intending to do his usual ritual of talking shit to the animal.
“Better fuckin’ take it you piece of shit,” he grumbles at the creature, leaning against the fencing and watching how it’s nostrils flare when it catches sight of his red attire. “My girl is gonna suck me off if I win. If you do something to compromise that, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Traumatize all these women and children with a bloodbath.”
God that sounds unhinged, he smirks to himself. Losing his shit about getting some head like he’s in high school when he could probably have some random girl on her knees in the next five minutes.
But it wouldn’t be you though.
The announcer is calling out the score of another rider. Eighty-eight. Child’s play numbers. Sukuna doesn’t even bother listening half the time, concerning himself with the competition doesn’t do any good. He’ll play his game and do what he does best, regardless of how some other loser performs.
The crowd groans a moment later, likely on account of someone getting pummeled by their bull. Something Sukuna hopes doesn’t repeat itself again today. He’d like to actually be able to drag you off to the after party tonight among other things and not be confined to a hospital bed.
He meanders back over to the bucking chutes, eyes darting over to the grandstands that are chock full of people. He scans the crowd for some sign of you, but he’s so far away that he can’t really discern any distinguishing features from person to person.
He spits a wad of saliva out onto the dirt, grinding his boot over where it lands. It’s hot as fuck out here, feeling the sweat trickle down his neck and down his back. He’ll be glad to get this over with.
Toji appears at his side.
“Chute three is gonna be you,” he murmurs, gesturing towards the one at the end.
“Hmph, had that one when I won a few years back. Maybe it’ll be good luck,” he grunts, striding over to the fencing. He climbs up onto the top of the chute, getting out of the way as the other staff start herding his bull into the enclosure. The beast is thrashing around already, giving the men hell trying to get him where they need him to go.
Sukuna feels his blood heat up. He loves a challenge, never content to have a good ride on an easy bull. Seeing this one being rowdy already is exciting, eager to beat the creature at its own game.
“Feisty already huh?” his manager grins.
“Fuckin’ love it,” Sukuna feels the adrenaline pumping through his blood, cracking his neck in anticipation. The enclosure door slams shut, trapping the bull inside much to its chagrin. The animal throws its weight against the side wall where Sukuna is sitting, causing him to leap away at the last second.
“Tch, you’re gonna make me work for this huh,” he sneers down at the bull, challenging its gaze. Usually if you intimidate them enough, they’ll look away.
Sukuna scans the crowd one more time in hopes of catching some glimpse of you, but the results are fruitless. A nagging image claws into his mind of having you back here with him in the future, giving him a deep kiss and wishing him good luck, never having to look for you again.
Maybe someday. For now he needs to focus on winning this ride before turning his attention to winning you.
You watch as Sukuna leaps off the side of the enclosure for some reason, more agile than you were expecting. From where you sit, you don’t have a great view of inside the chutes, so you aren’t sure exactly what caused that to happen.
This was the last round of bull riders for the championship, so you’d know very soon whether Sukuna was going to be winning it all. You can’t take your eyes off of him as he looks out into the crowd. A stupid part of you wants to wave, but there’s no way he would see you.
One by one, each chute opens up to a rider hoping to change his life by winning one of the most well known rodeos in the country. Some fail to last the whole time, others do succeed but don’t crack the top three. The current top score is a 92 which was made by a cowboy from the first heat of riders.
Finally it’s Sukuna’s turn.
“ANNNND finally, we have world champion rider Ryomen Sukuna in chute number three. As you all know, he won at Cheyanne two years ago and placed third last year. He’s ready to take back the title for another year!” the announcer yells, earning a roar from the crowd.
Your heart thumps wildly, suddenly nervous for him. You of course want him to win, but you also know how dangerous this sport is after seeing multiple men, including Sukuna, sustain gruesome looking injuries over the weekend.
“Gooooo Sukuna!” Shoko cheers, pulling you back to the moment as you cheer alongside her.
“Please do well and be safe,” you whisper to yourself as you see the bucking chute fling open and Sukuna atop a speckled bull launches out into the arena. The animal is violently thrashing about, jumping higher and making more erratic movements compared to all the others.
All the while, Sukuna looks like he’s getting thrown around, but ultimately stays on. He stays upright, successfully adjusting to each wild movement of the beast beneath him. At one point you swear he’s going to slide off, but he’s able to hold on even though his hat goes flying, revealing that slicked back pink hair hidden beneath. The maneuver earns a roar of applause from the crowd just as the buzzer sounds at eight seconds.
The crowd is on their feet and Shoko grabs your arms.
“That was incredible! If he doesn’t place I’ll be shocked!”
“Oh my gosh I know, he really is amazing,” you smile, wildly impressed by what you just saw.
The man kicks off the back of the bull, the rodeo clown coming to his side to distract the creature while Sukuna jumps up onto the metal arena side walls. He pumps his fists in the air, firing up the crowd even more. Clearly he’s happy with his performance, so that must be a good sign right?
The crowd goes silent as the announcer comes back over the loudspeaker.
“Wow folks, what a way to end off the bull riding huh? Ryomen is always a treat and with the way he handled that bull, I’m excited to get the final score!”
The crowd hushes, on pins and needles as they await the announcement.
“Ryomen Sukuna, finishes off the round with a score of 94! Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this year’s Cheyenne Frontier Days and his second overall, THE Ryomen Sukuna!!” he excitedly announces.
Sukuna jumps off the fencing, tipping his head to the sky and seemingly yells. The crowd drowns out anything he does, but it’s obvious he’s celebrating himself. A black haired man about his size comes out and claps him on the back and Gojo joins, doing the same.
“Yessss!” you and Shoko shriek, adding to the applause all directed at him.
“You said you’d give him head if he won,” Shoko jokingly whispers in your ear.
“No way he remembers that!” you feel your face get hot, recalling your words before you walked away last night.
“Babe, there’s no way he forgot that,” she laughs, making you burst out laughing too.
Sukuna gives a short little victory speech, trying to catch his breath as he speaks.
“Thank y’all for comin’ out. Cheyenne has the best fans and there’s nothing else out there like it. I hope to be back next year to do this all over again! Oh, and come get your dolphin back, you know who you are, come get it,” he closes out his speech, making you and Shoko both gasp in surprise.
“Yeah he definitely didn’t forget,” she snickers, earning confused looks from both Nanami and Geto.
“Should I go??” you squeal, feeling shy all of a sudden.
“You can’t leave mister dolphin all alone,” Shoko shrugs. “We’ll wait for you, we wanna see Gojo anyways!”
You approach the VIP booth just outside of the building where you met Sukuna yesterday. Sure enough, your name is the only one on his list, like he was expecting you to come by.
Winding your way through the halls, lots of people are in here now. Family and friends are all celebrating their various cowboys. Some are somber, others are excited to keep the party going. All the while, you think about what you’re going to say.
Your stomach is in knots, getting more and more anxious to be around him. You’d made that comment yesterday as a joke, you really didn’t want to suck his dick in such a public area. Noting that you were only concerned about the locale, you chuckle to yourself how the tables have turned. Going from hating his guts to wanting him to rearrange them was not on your radar this weekend, but you decided that you’ll just leave the rest to fate.
His door comes into view, sitting slightly ajar. You knock as you push it open and see the medical staff packing up their bags on the table.
The black haired man you saw in the arena with him calls your name when you walk in.
“He’s in the shower, you can get something to drink if you’d like. He should be quick,” the man explains, gesturing towards the fridge.
“Oh thanks,” you respond, pulling a beer out and cracking it open.
“Do you know Sukuna from somewhere before? Oh, name’s Toji by the way,” the man holds out his hand to shake yours.
“Uhh, I met him a few nights ago at a bar,” you explain, taking a swig of the cold drink in your hand.
“Interesting. He never has guests back here, so it’s a bit of a big deal to be entertaining someone,” Toji chuckles.
Your heart starts to beat harder again, trying to determine what he’s insinuating. Sukuna was definitely prickly, so you weren’t surprised he didn’t willingly invite people into his space. For some reason you’ve been allowed to enter his abode and take up the space he was so stingy with offering to others.
“I’m gonna go, see you around,” Toji’s deep voice interrupts your thoughts. He waves before shutting and locking the door behind him.
You take a seat on the same plushy couch you spent time on yesterday. Pulling up your phone, you lean back and start texting Shoko that you made it over okay and to let you know when she was ready to leave.
Heavy footsteps coming down the hallway draw your eyes away from the screen and the sight before you practically takes your breath away.
Sukuna appears with a loose pair of jeans low on his hips, boxers just peaking out at the waistband, and no shirt on. His abs and chest are absolutely shredded and the black ink accentuates every ridge and muscle as it trails down his body. His tanned skin is full of old nicks and scars along with leftover water droplets from the shower he just took. Sukuna runs a hand through his damp, pink hair, pushing it up and back out of his crimson eyes.
You take a quick sip of your beer to wet your mouth which feels parched right now.
“Congratulations!” you smile, watching as a dimple pops on his cheek, grinning back at you as he grabs his own drink from the fridge. As he approaches, you can’t miss the dark happy trail that starts on his stomach and disappears into his pants and the scent of his cologne has your mind getting hazy.
God the things you’d let the man do to you. You’re a girl who appreciates a hot man and you can’t deny that if given the chance, you’d love to run your hands all over those abs of his.
And maybe your tongue.
“C’mere,” he stands a few paces away, taking a swig of the beer in his hand.
You stand up slowly, moving over to him. He’s massive and his height dwarfs yours. Pressing yourself against his chest, you wrap your arms around his back, feeling the muscles flexing beneath your fingers as they press against his damp skin.
Sukuna wraps his own around you, pulling you tighter against him. You stay like this for a moment, letting your body weight lean into him. He smells amazing and his skin is hot against your cheek, but then again that could just be your own skin flushing from the intimate position you find yourself in. The wall of muscle between you and him gives you a better idea of how he’s able to stay up on those damn bulls.
One of his hands comes back around to tip your chin up, forcing you to stare into those crimson eyes.
“Didn’t you say you were gonna give me something if I won?” His voice is low and smooth, lips curling into a smirk as you immediately get flustered.
“I can,” you swallow hard, feeling your eyes widen at the insinuation.
He sighs, giving you a warm smile.
“A kiss will suffice. Not gonna ask you to do all that in here,” his voice rasps, much to your relief. Instead, he tilts his head lower, lips just grazing yours. His breath smells like the beer he just drank as he waits for you to meet him halfway.
Which you of course do, molding your lips to his as you kiss him back. A faint groan rumbles up from his chest once you push your tongue into his mouth, trailing along his gums and teeth before his own tongue intercepts you. You both lazily fall into a rhythm, knowing there is nothing to rush for given you were in the privacy of his suite.
His still damp hair presses against your forehead, a few droplets dislodging with your movements. His lips are so soft, quite the contrast from the rugged man you just watched dominate a violent animal not long ago.
Suddenly, Sukuna’s tongue pushes your own back into your mouth, making you giggle in surprise. His lips curl into a smirk, but he doesn’t break the connection, letting you chase that warm muscle throughout your mouth.
Your fingers dig in harder into his back, feeling your nails press into the skin of his muscular shoulders. Sukuna’s own fingers thread into your hair, allowing him to reach even deeper into your mouth with his tongue as he deepens the kiss. Your movements become more fervent, the blood rushing through your body sounding like static in your ears. Sukuna starts to guide you backwards, the backs of your legs hitting the couch which you don’t hesitate to fall back into.
Momentarily, your lips unlock, staring up at him while he stands over you. He adjusts himself in his jeans, completely unbothered. The way his pecs jut out from where you sit make your mouth water, imagining what it would be like to kiss and lick all over his body.
You were expecting him to join you, imagining that this was going to progress beyond kissing, but now you aren’t sure.
“What?” you ask softly, cocking your head to the side.
Sukuna is biting his lower lip, body tense like he wants to pounce on you, but he’s holding himself back.
“Just thinking about all the ways I wanna take you, but I don’t have the time,” his cheeks flush, almost grimacing.
You giggle, assuming he’s fighting a painful boner at this point and by the looks of the bulge in his pants, you’d be right.
“We can be quick,” you murmur, reaching out to grab his ass, pulling him towards you. “I said I’d reward you, didn't I?”
He swallows hard, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking at the time.
“I have like three minutes, just don’t really wanna rush it…”
You make quick work of his zipper and button, his words trailing off and morphing into a string of curses as you fish him out of his boxers.
“Tell me to stop…”
He’s so hard in your hand, realizing how thick he is before you even see it.
“Fuck woman,” he groans, helping you shimmy his pants just low enough for his erection to spring out of his jeans.
“Want m’cock that bad hmm - ohhh.”
You shut him up when you take him all the way to the back of your throat, gripping his bare ass to help steady yourself. Your nose brushes against his pelvis, inhaling the sharp scent of his body wash. You pause to adjust to the thick girth of his cock pressing against your gums and cheeks just as Sukuna’s hand gently fists in your hair, helping keep it out of your face.
Then you start to move, bobbing your head along his full length. You swirl your tongue around his tip, the salty taste of precum coating your tongue just before you take him deep again. You don’t ease into it, knowing you’re on the clock for whatever it is he has to get to. Right now you don’t really care. Even though you’re practically choking, it’s worth it to hear the breathy moans coming out of the man each time he hits your throat.
The extra spit produced by your gags is worth it anyways, helping keep everything more lubricated. When you hollow your cheeks out and increase the pressure, he can’t help but thrust deeper into your mouth, making you gag even harder at his momentary loss of control.
“Fuck, m’sorry,” he immediately apologizes, pulling his hips back.
“It's okay, just not as deep,” you briefly pull back to answer.
His hands come down to wipe away the tears that have inevitably formed, now opting to meet your movements halfway. Hollowing your cheeks again, you hold still and just let him fuck your mouth. The smacking sounds of your lips fills the space along with the deep groans from Sukuna.
Reaching up, you cup his full balls, feeling his cock stiffen up in your mouth.
“Fuck, feels s’good,” he rasps out, snapping his hips faster.
“Shit. M’close,” he warns, his dick becoming extremely hard and balls tightening. He moves his hand off of your head, giving you the choice to remove your mouth if you wanted.
You instead force his cock as deep as you can handle and once he realizes what’s happening, he groans loudly as that first spurt of cum hits your throat. His hips stutter with each pulse of his cock pumping another hit of his thick load to your mouth.
You keep sucking well after he finishes, earning a gasp from Sukuna as he just lets you keep going. Finally he pulls away, chuckling as the overstimulation finally gets to him. You release his dick with a pop, looking up into his lidded eyes as he just stares down at you with a dopey grin. Sukuna’s hand comes down to cup your cheek, thumb swiping across your lips to help gather the stray fluids at the corner or your mouth.
“That was better than winning a million dollars,” he grunts, tucking his soft dick back into his boxers before collapsing onto the couch next to you. His jeans still hang below his ass, but he doesn’t care, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you into a deep kiss.
He surprises you by shoving his tongue into your mouth just as you gasp at his admission, kissing you hungrily where his cum was just released.
“Hold on hold on,” you push his chest away. “You won a million dollars just now??”
“Mhmm,” he answers nonchalantly, his eyes lidded and dark still staring at your lips.
“I’m sorry, I like to think my dick sucking skills are decent, but there’s no way they’re better than receiving that much money,” you chuckle, staring at him dumbfounded.
“Tch, helluva lot more than decent,” he grits his teeth, fingers tightening on your shoulder.
Oh is he a jealous man?
“And, I’ve already won that much money before. Already know what it’s like. Haven’t had my cock in your mouth before though. Felt way better,” he grins, trailing kisses up your neck to your ear.
“Ahh,” you sigh when he hits a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear.
“What’re you doing? Didn’t you have somewhere to be?” you murmur, pulling away before you get too invested.
He groans loudly, throwing his head back into the couch that resembles a small tantrum.
“I do. Just feel bad I wasn’t able to reciprocate.”
You laugh softly, earning a curious side eye from Sukuna.
“I wasn’t expecting anything, I promised you something and I followed through,” you shrug, which is the truth. You enjoyed yourself enough watching him succumb to the pleasure you gave him. Even the rich and famous can still be brought to their knees the old fashioned way.
He suddenly grabs you, pulling you into his lap. You squeal in surprise when he forces you to straddle him, hands reaching for his muscular shoulders to help steady yourself. Sukuna’s strong hands latch onto your hips, fingers digging into your bare skin as they disappear under your loose tank top.
His dark, crimson eyes are still full of lust, staring up at you longingly.
“I want you to come out with me tonight. There’s an afterparty at one of the bars exclusively for the participants and select guests,” his deep voice states.
Your eyes widen at his request, not expecting to go to something so exclusive.
“Like, as your date?”
“Mhmm. I’ll come pick you up from your friend's place. Just send me the address.”
His tongue pokes his cheek as he awaits your response. Your eyes trailing the ink that slides down his jaw, finding it accentuates his sharp cheekbones perfectly.
“I want all the time I can get with you,” he adds, blinking up at you. The small circles his thumbs are drawing on your skin just pull you under his spell even more.
The rational side of you stops to think. You’ve only known him for a few days but you already hold an affinity for him that you can’t quite explain. Wouldn’t spending more time just make the separation that much more painful?
Then again, maybe just making the most of this spontaneous encounter is the best course of action. You know it won’t turn into anything more and it’ll hurt no matter what. Might as well just live in the moment and it’ll be a fun memory to look back on.
“Sure, why not,” you finally answer, earning you a boyish grin from the man beneath you.
“Fuck yeah,” his eyes light up just as a knock on the door makes you jump.
“Press conference,” he explains, giving your ass a few taps as a sign to get up.
You panic, not wanting to be caught so publicly with him.
“Oh, um, what should I do?” you ask as you stand up, trying to smooth out your clothes and hair. Sukuna however seems unbothered, his pants still unbuttoned and hanging off his hips as he stands up with you.
“Hang on a sec,” he answers, bounding quickly away to the bathroom and reappearing in a loose fitting Justin Boots shirt and a Yeti hat.
Oh yeah, his sponsors. Wild to think you gave head to a guy who has sponsorships and just casually won a million dollars. He grabs a belt from the table and slides on a large buckle, noticing it was the champion stamp for the rodeo he just won.
“Oh, the dolphin is in my truck. I’ll give it to you tonight?” he grins as he tries to pull on his boots. He seems all giddy now, trying to get dressed but still hovering around you.
“Sure,” you respond, still unsure of what you should be doing.
Sukuna moves over to the door, looking through the peephole.
“Hmm, just my publicist,” he sighs, unlocking and opening the door to reveal a well dressed woman. She nods at you with a smile before turning to the cowboy.
“Congrats Ryomen, ready for your favorite part now?” she laughs, making him roll his eyes.
“I reckon I have to,” he groans, gesturing for you to come over.
“Are there a lot of cameras out there?” he asks.
“Yeah a few. Want me to take her out the other way?” the woman answers, making you cringe internally, wondering how many times this has happened before.
Sukuna looks over to you, resting his hand on the small of your back before leaning down.
“I recommend not going out the main entrance with me unless you want to get plastered all over the media. They aren’t friendly to women I’ll just say that and I don’t wanna put you in an uncomfortable situation,” he explains, making your stomach feel queasy. The last thing you want is to be labeled as some cheap whore for the rodeo star to pass the time with.
Knowing what kind of women he’s been involved with, you don’t think you could take the critiquing and comparisons that would be thrown your way.
“Yeah, I think that’s for the best,” you say softly, looking down towards the floor.
“Alright, miss, follow me. Ryomen put your damn hat on,” his publicist snaps at him, going into business mode.
Sukuna grabs his cowboy hat from a rack by the door.
“I’ll walk her out and meet you back here,” he grunts at the woman, guiding you forward with his hand on your back again. You walk wordlessly down the hall towards a dark corridor opposite the direction you came.
“I’m not doin’ this for any other reason than to protect you,” he breaks the silence, tipping his hat back to get a better look at you. “The press is ruthless and you don’t deserve that.”
“No I get it, no worries,” you respond, knowing it’s for the best.
Eventually you make it to a door that opens up to a path leading up the side of the arena. Your friends should not be too far away.
“Send me your address, don’t forget. I’ll pick you up at eight,” he reminds you, spinning you around to cage you against the wall.
Just as you start to regain your balance, he presses a harsh kiss to your lips, surprising you again. He stays like that for a few seconds, feeling his lashes flutter against your cheek as he tips the hat sideways to get it out of the way.
He finally pulls away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
“See you tonight brat. It’ll be a welcome relief after fuckin’ around with the press for a few hours.”
You find yourself in the same bar as the other night. It pretty much looks the same: some shitty country band is playing for drunk people on the dance floor, the bar and booths are crowded with a sea of denim and boots, and everyone is fawning over Sukuna incessantly.
The main difference is that you are willingly spending time with Sukuna whereas the other night every other word out of his mouth was about to send you spiraling into a rage.
You’d both agreed that he’d introduce you as his friend if anyone asked. It seemed that being a rodeo cowboy was more wholesome than you realized. Almost half of the guys you met had wives or long term girlfriends while the other half seemed to be living their best lives as single guys with no shortage of women vying for their attention.
Sukuna was a bit of a mystery. He clearly had a girlfriend in the past, but he didn’t seem all that interested in attracting female attention now as a single man. Quite frankly you didn’t really want to witness that, fully accepting your attraction to him at this point.
“So you must come to a lot of these huh? Always winning it seems,” you say to him as you both find a place at the end of the bar to sit. He’s wearing the same clothes as earlier, just now in a more casual t-shirt instead of something collared.
Sukuna turns to face you, letting his arm rest on the back of your chair.
“It’s hit or miss honestly. When I was younger I liked the attention and having a good time. Now, sometimes crawling into bed seems way more appealing after getting my shit rocked by a bull,” he answers, mouth twitching with a smirk as he grabs his beer bottle and takes a sip.
“Well it must have been worth your while to come out tonight,” you tease, earning a cocked brow from Sukuna in response who takes a long sip before speaking.
“Eh, we’ll see.”
“Ugh!” you smack his arm, pulling a mirth filled laugh from him.
“Kidding brat. I wouldn’t have invited you if I knew you’d be no fun,” he rolls his crimson eyes in amusement.
“So what’s next for you? What’s your typical routine after you win a big competition?” you ask, curious as to what his life is like outside of these three days you’ve gotten to know him.
“Hmm, well my manager kinda keeps track of all that. Usually we see when the next gig is, then book a nice place to stay for the week before to relax before competing again. Just easier than spending time traveling all the way back to my family’s ranch just to fly out again. The only requirements are a good gym and a jacuzzi tub,” he explains.
“Is the loneliness hard?” you ask. “It seems like a lot of these guys have families.”
Sukuna chews on his thumbnail, pausing before speaking.
“Like I said, when I was younger it wasn’t really a concern of mine. When we were together, my ex would come visit and watch sometimes and while I did enjoy it at the time, thinking about her doing stuff behind my back just put me in a bad headspace,” he mutters, nodding at the bartender to get him another beer.
“Do you think you’ll ever try the whole dating thing again?” you lean closer, not wanting to speak too loud.
He chuckles lightly, running his hand through his hair.
“I’m not exactly looking, but I wouldn’t be opposed if the right one made herself known. No more famous models though, done with that shit.”
You laugh at his comment, bare shoulder accidentally brushing against his arm on the back of your chair. The contact sends a sharp jolt through your body.
“I’m sure you could have your pick of the cowgirl carbon copies that are hovering around in here,” you giggle, nodding your head at a group of girls just on the periphery who are staring at the pink haired cowboy next to you.
“Nah, they get obsessed and entitled, it becomes their whole identity and they won’t leave you alone,” he laughs, “not worth it for some mediocre sex.”
“Okay mister too good for the average person.”
“Not what I said brat,” he clicks his tongue a few times but he never stops sporting that boyish grin that you’ve grown so accustomed to. Sukuna gets up briefly to use the bathroom and in the seconds after he disappears, a different cowboy you don’t recognize comes up to you.
“Wanna dance?” he asks casually. The man has a few obvious scars on his face and his hair is longer than you expected.
“Oh, I’m here with someone,” you quickly answer.
“Sukuna? He’s not a long haul kinda guy. Don’t think he’d mind.”
You just laugh awkwardly and try to turn away without responding. The guy seems a little intoxicated though, reaching out to grab your hand.
“C’monnnn. It’ll be fun-”
“Why’re you touching my date Mahito?” you hear Sukuna’s deep voice behind you, clipping his words in annoyance.
“C’mon Sukuna, you and I both know you don’t date. Just asking the pretty lady to dance is all.” Mahito tries to tug on your arm but Sukuna lunges forward first, grabbing Mahito’s shirt in his fist.
“Not true, back the fuck off,” Sukuna growls, the reds of his eyes flashing starting to darken.
That’s all it takes for Mahito to throw a punch at Sukuna, fist colliding into the side of his cheek. Sukuna doesn’t even flinch, making the other man wince as he realizes his attempt didn’t do jack shit.
“Ohhh-ho ho, you done it now you piece of shit,” Sukuna glares at Mahito, cracking his neck and knuckles. Sukuna looks like a giant compared to the other man.
“So possessive over some stupid slut-”
Mahito can’t finish his sentence because Sukuna violently shoves him into some empty barstools, causing the furniture to crash onto the floor. The crowds all stare over at your area, observing how Mahito shakes his head as he tries to climb out from the mess of chairs he’s tangled up in.
“Are you okay?” Sukuna comes to your side, unbothered by the man on the floor. He grabs your wrist where Mahito had grabbed you, inspecting it closely.
You’re glad Sukuna put a stop to everything. Mahito putting his hands on you after you’d politely declined had your skin crawling.
“I’m fine,” you say softly, still in shock that Sukuna could lay someone out so easily.
Sukuna doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, even asking one of his fellow cowboys if his wife could accompany you to the bathroom so you wouldn’t have to go alone. Both of you take it easy on the booze, having a good enough time dancing and teasing each other.
His hands become an almost permanent presence on your body as the night goes on. What started as a casual arm around the back of your chair morphed into tender caresses of his hand on your thigh. Sukuna is respectful, not sliding too high up, but giving just enough pressure that lets you know he’s interested.
The way his cheeks flush after each joke you throw his way makes your heart stutter. Sukuna’s eyes deepen with longing as he watches you talk, never interrupting, but listening intently to every word. Sometimes his large hand will give your thigh a squeeze if someone walks over to where you both are seated and begins talking to him. It’s like a constant reminder that even though he’s preoccupied, you’re still on the forefront of his mind.
You try to forget that this is all for one night because you are having a blast with a man you will probably never see again. Your chest aches at the thought as you slowly watch the clock inch towards midnight. Sukuna’s own gaze flickers over to the clock on the wall, lip twitching into the beginnings of a frown.
“It’s almost time to leave huh?” you comment, watching his jaw tighten ever so slightly before he collects himself.
“Seems that way.”
Final call is announced and at that time, you start to gather up your bag and slip your jacket on. You were tired as it was and figured Sukuna was too. Sukuna closes his bar tab and threads his fingers in yours one more time as he leads you towards the exit. It’ll be nice to beat the rush before everyone tries to leave at one time.
He helps you up into his truck given you are just a tad bit tipsy, but he assures you he would have done it anyways.
The ride back to Shoko’s is quiet, both of you ignoring the fact that the further from town you travel, the closer you get to saying goodbye. His hand still holds yours, resting on the center console. Whenever your hand trembles ever so slightly, you’re met with a rough squeeze of his own. The callouses on his palms feel rough, but comforting. It’s a feeling you’re trying to memorize and carry with you for as long as you’ll remember, but like all things, with time it’ll fade.
You only hope you’ll at least recall how this night made you feel, even if the individual scenes and moments blend into each other like stars into dawn. The exact positions are something you can’t recall, but you know that like the fabric of the night sky, being with him right now brings relaxation and peace.
The road surface changes as gravel crunches beneath the tires. You’ve turned onto her family’s driveway, the porch light a speck in the distance. The stuffed dolphin from the carnival lays in your lap, the one memento you’ll take away from this weekend.
Maybe it’ll help you remember all this as time drags on.
You wonder what he’s thinking, if you both are experiencing the same storm in your minds. Sukuna seems tense, but his stoic expression gives nothing away, eyes trained on the road. So badly you want him to just turn the truck around, find some reason to extend your time together no matter how trivial it might be.
You aren’t picky right now.
The truck suddenly lurches to a stop and for a moment you believe he somehow read your mind. Unfortunately it's just a racoon darting across the road, but you can’t help but be happy he didn’t run over the poor animal.
Instead of continuing on, Sukuna just falls back against his seat, sighing loudly. He cocks his head towards you, revealing a hint of sadness on his face. It catches you off guard, he doesn’t seem like the type to display anything close to vulnerability.
“What are we doing?” he mutters, thumb lazily sliding back and forth across your knuckles.
“You’re driving me back, no?” you answer him, unsure what kind of answer he’s looking for.
He huffs out a laugh, eyes closing briefly before looking back at you.
“You know what I mean.”
You search his face for a sign that he’d welcome what you really want to say like his words aren’t obvious enough.
Swallowing hard, you build up the courage to speak your mind.
“I don’t want this night to end.”
“It doesn’t have to,” he quickly responds.
“I’ll turn this car around right now, just say the word.”
You stare straight out the front windshield, watching the prairie grasses billow in the headlights.
“You up for one more ride?”
Sukuna fumbles to turn the hotel room light on while he supports your weight with one arm. Your legs are locked around his waist and once he finally succeeds, he shoves your back against the wall, teeth clashing with the devouring nature of the way your lips are locked.
It was comical how fast Sukuna had driven back to town, shocking you that he didn’t get a ticket. Then he’d practically grabbed you up in his arms and raced up to his room, stopping to press bruising kisses into your lips in the stairwell more than once.
Now he’s moved to your neck and your hands are in his hair, sharp canines dragging down your skin interspersed with his tongue soothing the areas he bites. He groans when you dig your nails into his scalp, grinding his erection against your waist as he presses you even harder into the wall.
“Sukuna, hurts,” you gasp, wanting him to stop before he actually molds your body into the paint.
“Sorry,” he mutters, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are lidded and dark, lips puffy and red from the rugged exploration of your exposed body. Sukuna’s hair is a disheveled mess courtesy of your wandering hands, but altogether the sight makes your chest flutter.
It feels like mere seconds pass before you are under him on the bed, all of your clothes haphazardly thrown in the floor like a trail leading from the entrance where this all started.
“Shit,” he growls, eyes roving all over your body like he can’t decide what he wants to focus on first. “So fuckin’ sexy.”
You’d say the same thing if he wasn’t already pushing your knees up to your chest and rubbing his tip through your soaking folds. Every instinct is telling you to slow down, it’ll probably hurt with the thick cock he’s palming right in front of you, but the little spark that jolts through your body when he presses against your clit says otherwise.
You just can’t be bothered to pump the brakes, not when you burst into the room like two wildfires chasing gasoline, consuming every ounce of oxygen available in the enclosed space.
Sukuna’s rough hands find your tits, rolling your nipples with his fingers. He’s rough and insistent, but somehow gentle, pulling lewd moans from your lips that you feel no shame in giving him based on the cocky smirk blooming across his face.
“Need it Sukuna,” you hook your legs around his hips, earning a look of surprise from the man when you pull him closer.
“Now? Y’don’t want me to warm you up?” his husky voice and caring words just exacerbate the situation, making the ache for him inside of you even harder to contain, desperate to quench the fire within.
“Been warming me up all weekend,” you giggle, pulling him down and forcing your tongue into his mouth. At the same time, you reach between your bodies, gripping his cock and guiding him towards your entrance.
“Shit woman,” he murmurs against your mouth, forehead pressed against yours. “Y’sure?”
“Mhmm, just pull out kay?”
His cock twitches in your hand like the mere thought of being inside of you is about to make him combust.
“Yeah, I will. Hold my shoulders.”
Thank god you do because the stretch is insane as he pushes inside of you. Even with how soaked you are, you feel every ridge and vein against your walls as he pauses to let you adjust.
“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, spreading your thighs further apart to try and help work you open without causing more discomfort.
Meanwhile your fingers dig into the skin of his shoulders as you suffer out the initial pain. You’re sure there will be marks leftover, but that’s just the cost of doing business with a cock this large.
He slowly starts to thrust in and out, all the discomfort slowly fading into simmering pleasure once he gets all slicked up. The muscles beneath your fingers harden with each slow roll of his hips as he holds himself up above you.
Sukuna drives himself deeper, now beginning to move faster with each deliberate snap of his hips. The grimace on your face has quickly disappeared and now you’re moaning his name as he finds your sweet spot.
“Fuck, right there,” you gasp as he drags his tip against that pleasurable area that drives you wild.
“Tch, yeah? Like that brat?” he’s grinning as he watches you clearly falling apart underneath him. His chest and abs tense and flex with each thrust, tattoos rippling with his movements as he drills into you harder. You can’t even respond, completely in the throes of pleasure as your mind tries to keep up.
It’s almost embarrassing how fast you feel the coil of desire threatening to burst and when his thumb comes down to find your clit, you know it's imminent.
“Gonna come f’me?” he grunts, reading you like a book. Each slap of his hips against your pelvis only adds to the sensory overload he’s giving you.
Shattering beneath him gives Sukuna his answer, eyes widening as he watches your orgasm tear through your body. You feel yourself clenching around his hardened length, earning a sharp intake of breath from Sukuna as you just let your body ride it out. A flood of warmth gushes from your core, now causing each thrust to emit a clicking sound as his cock glides through your release.
Sukuna pulls out without warning, eyes screwed tight and cock pulsing in his hand as he tries to regain control. Your chest meanwhile heaves as you come back down from your high, sitting up on your elbows to watch him while trying to calm your breathing.
“You gonna come now?” you tease, trailing your foot up his inner thigh to poke his balls. “Gonna last as long as you do on those bulls?”
He narrows his eyes at your comment insinuating he can’t go longer than eight seconds.
“I’ve ridden enough this weekend, it’s your turn,” he grins and before you can respond, he has you both flipped around, you now straddling him with your hands on his chest.
“How do you know I haven’t been riding this whole time?” you joke. The way his jaw clenches is enough to tell you he didn’t like that, roughly grabbing you and shoving you down on his slicked up cock.
“Ohmygod I was joking,” you cry out as he thrusts up into you from below, the full feeling overtaking everything. He plants his feet on the bed and fucks you hard, finding your sweet spot once again, the slapping of his balls against your ass echoes through the room. If he has people in the rooms next to him, there’s no way they can’t hear this.
“Well I didn’t care for your joke,” he gives you a devilish grin as he watches himself disappear into your pussy with each harsh thrust. “Now fuckin’ ride me,” he abruptly stops, slapping your ass with a sharp crack.
The sting spurs you on to start riding his cock, your breasts bouncing in time to your movements. Sukuna seems mesmerized, eyes following the way they jostle and move. His large hands find your hips, digging into your skin as he bites his bottom lip.
“How’s it feel? Ridin’ the fuckin’ cham?,” he starts running his mouth again and you can’t deny that his words spur you on. You’re riding a guy who just earned a million dollars who shouldn’t be allowed to have a body this fine.
Riding him harder, you start to feel the familiar heat in your core as your pleasure builds. He just fills you up sooooo good, every inch of him pressing against your walls while his defined head plows that spot driving you towards the brink of ecstasy.
Sukuna licks his lips before you guide his hands to your tits.
“Fuck,” he groans the second his hands touch the plush skin of your breasts. He squeezes them with no plan, completely at your mercy as you use his length to push yourself over the edge again. Your whole body jerks and contracts and Sukuna takes over to fuck you through your orgasm.
“Shit I’m close,” he pushes you off in the middle of your climax, positioning you on your stomach prone bone as he swiftly enters you again. He doesn’t even ease into it, fucking you harder than you even knew you could handle, vision going white as you continue to ride the high. Sukuna chases his own release, plunging himself somehow deeper as his rhythm starts to falter.
The next slam of his pelvis against your ass doesn’t come as he pulls out, groaning loudly when his hot, damp cum starts to coat your back.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Sukuna grunts your name as each warm spurt hits your spine. He exhales loudly once he’s finished, falling forward to prop himself up on one arm, chest pressed to your back to kiss your shoulder. He’s careful not to crush you, peppering your skin with his soft lips, inhaling deeply against your neck.
The bed dips as he stops momentarily to climb over you.
“Hold on, lemme get a towel.”
Sukuna returns quickly and begins to gently wipe you down, running a warm washcloth over the sticky spots which feels so refreshing. He dries off your skin with the towel one more time before he chucks them both onto the dresser across the room.
He wastes no time manhandling you to lay on his chest. It was unfortunate that you couldn’t see his face when he came, but you know he’d been trying to get you in a position so he could pull out easier like you asked.
His face right now was flushed red, eyes a deep, dark crimson from his lingering desire. The fluffy, pink strands of his hair were a mess, giving him a cute look about him.
“What?” he rasps, smiling at you.
“You just look cute,” you chuckle, earning a laugh from Sukuna.
“You look cute too. All fucked out and glowing,” he caresses your cheek, planting soft kisses on your head.
Your eyes feel heavy and your body content. All the tension from the weekend seems to have unraveled and been replaced with comfort, like something that had been lost was finally found.
Or you were finally home after a long time away. His strong arms make you feel safe and the way he clings to you helps you commit to memory the way his body melds with yours.
You don’t really want to go to sleep, wanting to make the most of your night together. Maybe you’ll just doze off and then after a nap you can get back to it again. There’s so much more you want to experience with him.
Given how good the sex had been in this first round, you can’t imagine what he could do if you let him take his time.
Lucky for you, you’d end up finding out over and over again throughout the night until the sun started breaking through the gaps in the curtains, marking the final day.
Comments/likes/reblogs appreciated ☺️ Also if you guessed Cheyenne Frontier Days was the real life rodeo you would be correct! TY for reading!!
Synopsis. On campus? Choso Kamo’s the sweet, shy nerd you share film class with - the one who can barely meet your eyes without blushing. Online? Choso Kamo is really @cursed(your)wombz—the #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends with 820k followers to see his…nine inches. And he might just be looking for a partner.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, streamer!Choso, (sort of) B́J Alex AU, cámboy!Choso, college AU, he’s a nerd, film nerd!Choso, secret identities, masks, píercings (ears, tóngue, D), tattoos, chat, streaming, you’re a fan, identity reveal, exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), again PlERCINGS, tongue f, spítting, p sIapping, p talking, letting the viewers choose, fíngering with rings, overstím, dúmbifícation, Jacob’s Ladder, rough s, fiIthy s, he’s sIightly mean, tummy buIges, making it fit, pressing down, talking you through it, cIit pinching, pússydrúnk Choso, matíng presses, chokíng, manhandIing, mocking, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, chat Iove you, cúmpIay, getting together, Phantom of the Opera references, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.9k
A/N. Hehehehehe-
Sunday was the night you’d found him; sprawled out on your bed and thumbing through the Internet. Some glitzy pop song you couldn’t name blasted from your speakers, and the room was saturated in the tingly excitement of having speedy Wi-Fi, no assignments, and the night to yourself. LED lights pink.
You’re checking some of your messages - doling out a few hearts, a few reposts - when that bell-shaped button bursts in blue. A new notification.
@cursed(your)wombz liked your repost.
It was on a photograph of the Sun—big and yellow, seemingly melting over a grey horizon.
Which was perfectly ordinary- this was the Internet, after all. And though your list of followers was modest, of course you’d interact with a stranger here and there.
The problem was in the way the notification disappeared as soon as it came.
An…accident maybe? This person had liked and unliked your repost. And without a second thought, you’re typing their username into the search bar.
And clicking on their profile.
@cursed(your)wombz huh?
He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating:
I know what you want…
- C.
And beneath that was a link.
It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield.
You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.
0 Following.
581k Followers.
Now that makes you blink.
Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on.
Now that was a little strange.
And so you’re scrolling down.
And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg.
Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.
The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.
Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…
The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.
The photo is almost vampiric in nature.
Somehow.
Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is.
Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.
The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout.
Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.
Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more.
The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel.
And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan.
Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls.
And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.
Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it.
The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.
And you click on it.
Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.
Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.
“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”
Ah- you’d guessed right.
Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.
It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.
This time, it was a stream.
@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3
0 Subscribed.
820k Subscribers.
455k Currently watching.
This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.
Perfectly angled.
Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down.
Again and again.
Getting faster by the second before he arches-
The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.
You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.
And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet.
Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.
Pearly white droplets of cum.
Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.
You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.
And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?
You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?”
A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.
“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline.
The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”
There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.
“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”
You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!
@vampzo333: me too ME TOO
@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT
@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~
@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE
@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.
“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge.
Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?
You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked.
Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”
Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.
Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?
Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…
Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.
Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.
“The first time?”
Fuck.
You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.
You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.
Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.
“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.
“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”
@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.
@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~
@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!
You giggle to yourself.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?
“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”
The chat explodes in agreement.
He cocks his head, “Movie?”
Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-
@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.
“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”
Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.
Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.
Hard and fast.
The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him.
It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.
Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.
You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.
He mouths, “Movie—”
Part of your username.
Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…
Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.
Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you.
Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…
And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.
By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!
@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~
@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…
Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.
@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.
@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.
“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”
You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.
“Heh- bye, sluts.”
And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off.
Yet your heart still thunders.
Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…
.
.
.
It was your fault that you kept dozing off.
Honestly.
You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.
And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.
Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…
You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.
Why was the Sun coming up?
And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture.
Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those.
By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.
Just-so-happening to be in the very last row.
At the very forgotten corner.
Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.
Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through.
If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.
Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?
Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns.
Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.
Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.
You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.
Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.
The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.
Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything.
But if he did, he shows no indication.
Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying.
And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…
Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.
And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low.
Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.”
“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”
He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.
And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…
Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy.
Heavy.
Heavier.
Tap-tap-tap.
A shake.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified.
You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”
“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”
You’d seriously slept through all that?
And Yaga had left you alive?!
No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”
He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”
You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…
And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”
You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-
“Wait—!”
Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”
And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”
That makes you pause.
Was he…
“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”
Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.
And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”
Probing him gently, “But?”
“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”
“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”
He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”
“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”
“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.
And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”
“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”
.
.
.
The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms.
Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.
You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.
This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-
Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”
“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…
He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”
“Thank you.”
And you rise upwards in silence.
Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast.
He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.
“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside.
And you can’t help but follow.
A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.
Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”
“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”
He smiles.
That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.
.
.
.
The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.
And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.
It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder.
So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.
Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.
And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.
Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.
You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now.
Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.
Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs.
It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.
Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.
You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more-
Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”
@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.
@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?
@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that.
@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^
@0003h0lesforCurse: ^
“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”
@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-
@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!
“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-
@bipplruletheworld: so down.
@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!
@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.
The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…
Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”
You jolt—at being called out.
He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.
But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard.
Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!
Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.”
He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible.
You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).
.
.
.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?
That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.
You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.
The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.
He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”
His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”
“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”
“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”
“O-oh, of course—!”
And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—
You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom.
Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”
And you jump-
Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”
“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!
And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.
Body just resting on the plush comforter before-
“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.
And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…
Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.
Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.
Heavy.
Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-
“Ah, so you’ve realized.”
And then his voice permeates the room.
The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea.
He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.
One by one.
His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre.
You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”
He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.
“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”
“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.
He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame.
His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”
And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body.
Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”
“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”
He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…
“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”
You step a little closer.
“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”
He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-
And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own.
He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”
It was. It fit perfectly.
And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.
Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.
And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him.
“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!
@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??
@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3
“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”
@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…
“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”
@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^
@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-
@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…
“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”
You’re sheepishly walking into their view.
Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”
“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”
@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu
And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?
Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.
And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.
Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.
Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”
“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off.
And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”
@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…
@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!
“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.
And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack!
“Please-”
“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”
Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera.
And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet.
And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.
Right down your sopping wet slit.
Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.
And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive.
Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.
Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.
And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.
Your only warning.
Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—
It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.
Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”
Oh, shit.
You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-
You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second.
“I—oh, I um.”
Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.
You admit, “M-maybe…”
“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”
And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.”
“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”
Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-
And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.
@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-
@daddytoeknee: WOW.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!
@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon
The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it.
Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.
Like a man starved.
Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.
“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.
More, more, and more.
Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-
And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”
“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”
“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”
“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.
@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE
@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.
“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”
@vampzo333: 3
@bbynohuuuuzz: 14
@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29
“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.
To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:
@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.
Oh.
Your blood runs cold.
Your cunt grows heated.
And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”
Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.
@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-
And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus.
Tentacles flared out.
“Shit, not that damn ring again.”
And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!
Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-
Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.
This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way.
@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??
@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-
@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.
And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…
In and out.
In and out.
Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.
Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit.
Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.
With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”
“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”
“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat.
@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!
@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH
@daddytoeknee: Me next <3
And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?
Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.
He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.
Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.
“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”
“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting.
Perfect on camera.
You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!
“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”
The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.
Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…
@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!
@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn
It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.
Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.
That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.
And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.
Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed.
Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”
“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”
Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-
“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”
@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.
@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.
“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!
One.
Two.
You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—
“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”
A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.
“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”
At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”
“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”
And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.
“Or C…” You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”
And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.
C floods your vision.
You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.
And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.
Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.
Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”
Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-
So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.
Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.
You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”
And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.
In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-
Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos.
With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.
And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.
@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.
@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK
@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.
@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^
@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??
Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.
They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing.
When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere.
Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.
And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.
He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.
And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”
“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”
“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”
You gulp.
@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…
@vampzo333: ^^
@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^
“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”
There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.
Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…
And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle.
He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”
The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.
“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle.
A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.
He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.
“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”
You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”
“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”
He trails off.
He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.
Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.
And he doesn’t even seem to notice.
He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-
You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.
“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.
Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.
@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…
@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??
@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this
@Fishygurodad: Whatever…
Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”
Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.
And suddenly you’re understanding.
Oh—he was toying with you.
And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.
But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.
Big and thick.
Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.
And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”
@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.
@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…
@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?
You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”
“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it.
“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”
“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”
Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”
“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”
“Fuh-fuuuck-”
“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks.
You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”
“Does she really have my mark on it now?”
“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.
His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?”
“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.
Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?”
Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera.
“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”
“I do—I do-”
Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.
The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor.
Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes.
@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33
@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!
@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?
@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.
@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up
“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.
Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…
And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.
Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering.
He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.
“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-
But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—
And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.
The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it.
Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”
“N-never—”
“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”
“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.
Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”
Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”
“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”
His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated.
And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.
Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits.
You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?
Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.
And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”
And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—?
“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”
“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.
“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”
“Not in the l-least…”
And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s.
Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.
A thrust even harder than the ones before it.
Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.
And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”
He gasps dramatically-
Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.
The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”
You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure.
@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.
@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe
@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM
Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”
“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.
His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”
“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.
And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”
And that proved it.
That proved it.
Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more.
When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.
His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.
His hair drenched in sweat.
His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you.
Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy.
Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—
“Curse, baby…” You hum.
“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.
This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”
He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”
@Fishygurodad: Yes.
@Curse’swifey: YES.
@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~
@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-
He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.
Luckily for you, they liked you.
And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.
For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…”
Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”
“Mhmmmm.”
Unable to even find the words.
The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.
Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.
The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.
Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”
Wave upon wave.
Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.
If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.
He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—
You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before.
Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”
He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”
“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.
“So um- coffee after this?”
“It better be dinner.”
He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”
Your eyes widen.
And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”
You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.
And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??
@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-
@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-
@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?
@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.
@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??
@Fishygurodad: Damn.
@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.
@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.
@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3
A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-
NASA advertising "do you want to be an astronaut" to tumblr users surely means something. What have you found out there, NASA? What have you found that you believe tumblr users, specifically, are best equipped to handle?
wc: 17k || art creds: @/winterrbluess @/su2kuna || 18+
frat!sukuna x shy!nerd!reader
A/N lowk this fic is much more toned down compared to what i usually post but fuck it we ball it's cute
summary ! sukuna doesn't give a shit about chemistry, that is until the big red 8% on his last test threatens to get him kicked out of his frat. desperate, he turns to the only person who can save him: you, the adorable, shy girl who aces every quiz. you agree to help, but only if he helps you get the attention of your hallway crush, his best friend, toji. what starts as a deal between you slowly turns into a spiral of love and jealousy. (18+, fluff, slight toji x reader (?), no angst for once omg go me)
the big red number stares back at him from the top of the paper like a brand burned into his pride. 8%.
sukuna exhales through his nose, the sound rough, annoyed. the paper crumples in his hand before he tosses it onto the desk. he leans back in his chair, the metal legs creaking under his weight as his jaw works.
normally, he wouldn’t give a damn about a grade. it’s not like chemistry was ever something he cared about. but this time, it’s different. one more fail and he’s out. the frat has rules, grades too low and you’re done. and he knows exactly what’ll happen if that happens.
tojis smug laugh. satoru’s endless teasing. the guys calling him “brain-dead” for weeks. no more parties. no more sorority hoes. no more lazy afternoons drinking on the porch with his friends.
he runs a hand down his face, dragging his fingers over the faint scar under his eye and the sharp tatted lines on his cut face. he can’t let that happen.
at the front of the room, their professor is rambling about averages and assessment weightings, something about the next major project. sukuna tunes back in when he hears the words “sixty percent” and “partner work.” that catches his attention.
the next gruelling assessment is a two-month long research investigation worth sixty percent of their final grade.
he was on the verge of strangling himself to death or jumping out of the top story window when he realised.
that’s it.
that’s his way out. he just needs a smart partner who can carry his hopeless ass.
sukuna’s eyes sweep across the room, scanning for anyone who looks like they know what the hell they’re doing. most of the people he usually talks to in class are as useless as he is, too busy flirting or sleeping through lectures.
but then his gaze catches on someone sitting right up the front.
you.
the quiet girl with the tidy notes and the neat handwriting, the one who always answers when the professor asks a question no one else dares to.
you’re sitting there now, head slightly tilted as you jot something down, your pen gliding across the page with that easy confidence of someone who actually understands this shit.
you’ve always sat alone, tucked near the window. you never talk during lectures unless you have to, and even then your voice is small, hesitant. you wear oversized sweaters, keep your hair pinned up, and avoid eye contact with anyone who looks remotely like they belong to his world.
still, he’s noticed you before. everyone has. it’s hard not to. you’re the kind of girl that seems untouchable, not because you’re trying to be, but because you’re so far removed from everything he knows. soft, focused, real sweet.
and right now, you look like salvation.
he pushes up from his seat, ignoring the curious glances from a few classmates as he moves down the aisle. his tall frame blocks the light for a second when he stops beside your desk. you glance up, startled, your pen pausing mid-sentence.
"yo, my names sukuna. and you?"
"uh, hi? it's y/n." he smirks at your shy response, but continues.
“you’re like, a chem genius, right?” his tone is low, rough with disinterest, though his eyes linger on you a little too long.
you blink up at him, hesitant. “oh, um… i guess? why?”
“i need a partner, like, real bad,” he says, dropping the failed exam onto your desk with a dull slap. the red ink almost glows. “i'm gonna be honest, i completely fucked myself with this last exam. i can’t afford to fail again.”
you stare at the paper, then at him. up close, he’s intimidating. messy pink hair, dark eyes sharp and unreadable, tattoos trailing up his arms, his face, and peeking out from under his shirt collar.
he looks nothing like someone who’d ever ask for help, especially from you, and the fact that he’s doing it now makes your mind reel.
“i- look, don't take this the wrong way, but... theres a lot of people in this class,” you manage softly. “why pick me?”
he shrugs, leaning one hand on the desk beside your notes. “because you actually know what you’re doing. and i’m not looking to get stuck with some idiot who’ll drag me down, i'm already so fucking cooked."
you hesitate, glancing away. you’ve never really talked to him before. actually, you’ve barely even noticed him beyond the times you’ve seen him walking across campus with toji. that’s usually when your stomach does that stupid fluttering thing. watching toji laugh, his arm slung lazily around sukuna’s shoulders, both of them looking like they own the place.
it’s strange seeing one of them standing here now, asking you for help.
you fidget with your pen. “that's fine, sure. but… if we’re partners, wed have to split the workload.”
"yeah,” he says. “i can pull my weight, don't stress it, sweetheart. mostly just need someone to keep me from bombing it.”
it’s almost funny. he’s trying to sound casual, but something about the way he’s watching you feels uncharacteristically careful. like he’s actually waiting for your answer rather than being the overbearing dick he usually is.
maybe it’s because you’re cute. or maybe it’s because he knows you hold his fate in your small, nervous hands.
you chew your lip for a moment, then nod. “yeah, okay. i’ll help you out.”
his mouth tilts in a grin that’s half smug, half genuine relief. “good. 'preciate it, babe.”
you look down instantly, pretending to organize your papers so he doesn’t see the way your face warms. you weren't used to such casual name calling.
he drags a chair over from the next row and drops into it beside you, leaning back like he’s been sitting there all semester.
the professor’s voice fades into the background again as you stare straight ahead, trying to focus on anything but the fact that sukuna ryomen, the most notorious guy in beta tau, is now your project partner.
a few minutes pass in silence. the lecture drags on, your notes filling another page. but your mind’s racing the whole time. sukuna, meanwhile, can’t stop sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye.
he hadn’t expected you to actually agree. and he definitely hadn’t expected to find himself curious about you. you’re so… different. not the kind of girl who shows up to parties. not someone who flirts back when he smirks at her. just quiet and sweet, head buried in your work, the type that shouldn’t even be in his orbit.
and yet here you are.
when the professor dismisses the class, people start packing up. you hesitate, fingers tightening around your pen. then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn to him.
“hey… sukuna?”
he hums, eyes flicking toward you lazily. “yeah?”
you look nervous, the words almost tripping over themselves before they leave your mouth. cute. “i’ll help you pass. but… can you help me out with something too?”
his brow arches. “hmm. depends what it is.”
you take a quiet breath. “it’s about your friend. uh.. toji.”
that gets his attention. his posture stiffens a little. “what about him?”
you look down at your notebook, like it’s safer than looking at him. “i just… i think he’s really attractive. and he looks nice. i know it’s kind of stupid but i was wondering if maybe... you could help me get him to notice me.”
for a second, sukuna just stares at you.
out of all the things he expected you to say, that wasn’t it.
you, the shy little thing sitting up front, blushing and tripping over her own words, want toji fushiguro. one of the biggest assholes on campus. his best friend, sure, but a guy who barely remembers girls’ names after he sleeps with them.
he leans back slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “you’re serious?”
you nod, eyes still fixed on your notebook.
he studies you for a long moment. you’re fidgeting again, twisting your pen between your fingers, your voice so soft he almost misses it. “you don’t have to if it’s weird, i just thought… you two are close, so maybe…”
sukuna exhales through his nose. part of him wants to tell you it’s a bad idea. that toji doesn’t deserve someone like you. that you’d get hurt trying to chase a guy like that.
but he doesn’t.
instead, he tilts his head and says, “yeah, fine. i’ll help you out.”
your head snaps up, eyes wide. “huh? really?”
“yeah. but only because you’re saving my ass with this project,” he says, smirking a little. “guess we’ll call it even.”
you smile, small, bright, genuine, and something tightens in his chest.
you're so cute.
“thank you,” you say quietly.
he grins again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “don’t mention it, honey.”
and as you pack up your notes, he watches you go, already trying to ignore the strange feeling crawling up the back of his neck.
he tells himself it’s just a deal. a trade. nothing more.
but as you disappear out the door, he can’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s gotten himself into more trouble than he realises.
~
music blasts through the frat, heavy bass shaking the walls, bodies moving in rhythm across the living room floor. someone’s yelling over the noise, someone else is laughing too loud.
the air smells like bad beer, smoke, and sweat, the classic friday night cocktail that means beta tau is alive and wild again.
sukuna leans against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, watching a game of beer pong play out in front of him. the noise is deafening, but it’s a familiar kind of chaos. toji’s across the table, grin sharp as he sinks another ping-pong ball into the last cup.
“hell yeah,” toji shouts, hands raised. “that’s another win for me, baby!”
someone hands him another drink, and he downs it in one go, slamming the cup down as the room cheers. toji fushiguro lives for this kind of night, beer, bets, and easy company. sukuna’s used to it, the routine almost comforting.
he joins the next round, barely losing after a stupid bounce, then lets himself collapse onto the sagging couch beside toji. the music’s pounding through the walls, but the corner they’re in feels quieter, almost like the noise fades around them.
toji stretches out, arm slung over the back of the couch, shirt sticking to his skin. “you’re slipping, man,” he says, smirking at sukuna. “used to be able to hold your own in beer pong.”
“fuck up,” sukuna mutters, head tipped back, eyes half-lidded. “that last shot was rigged.”
“rigged?” toji laughs, deep and unrestrained. “you’re just rusty.”
sukuna grunts, tossing his empty cup onto the coffee table. his head’s buzzing, not from the alcohol, just from thoughts, mostly the image of you, the way you looked earlier in class, keeps floating up uninvited. you sitting at the front of the room, your careful handwriting, the little way you’d fidget with your pen when you were nervous.
he doesn’t even realize he’s been quiet until toji elbows him. “yo, what’s got you zoning out?”
sukuna runs his tongue over his teeth, deciding. screw it. “you ever heard of someone named y/n?”
toji raises a brow, blinking like he didn’t catch that over the noise. “who?”
“y/n,” sukuna repeats.
toji shakes his head, lips quirking. “nah. that some new chick you’re banging?”
sukuna sputters, choking on air. “what? no. i’m not-” he cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. great. smooth start.
toji’s smirk widens. “come on, man. don’t get shy on me. you’re stuttering like some freshman.”
“shut up,” sukuna mutters, glaring at him. “it’s not like that.”
“then what’s it like?”
he hesitates, watching the light flicker off the beer bottles on the table. there’s no way to explain it without sounding weird. he’s not even sure why he’s bringing you up at all, except that he made a promise, and now he’s gotta start somewhere.
“she’s just… in my chem class,” he finally says. “smart as hell. the kind that actually knows what she’s doing, y’know?”
toji snorts. “so, a nerd.”
“yeah,” sukuna says, ignoring the way toji says it like it’s an insult. “but, like… cute. shy, quiet, nice, i guess.”
toji’s grin widens. “bro. you’re seriously telling me about a crush right now? what the hell happened to you?”
“it’s not a crush,” sukuna says quickly, though his voice comes out sharper than he means. “she’s just..” he stops, running a hand through his hair. “she’s helping me with chem, okay? and i told her i’d help her with something too.”
“what, she want free alcs?” toji laughs.
“no.” sukuna exhales through his nose. “she wants you.”
that earns him a pause. toji tilts his head, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to decide if he misheard. “me?”
“yeah.”
“as in… she wants to, what, date me?”
“basically.”
toji’s silent for a moment, then he breaks into a bark of laughter so loud it turns a few heads. “you’re kidding, right? some shy nerdy girl wants me?” he grins, tapping his chest. “guess she’s got good taste.”
sukuna grits his teeth. “don’t be an ass about it.”
“what? i’m not being an ass,” toji says, still smirking. “just saying, that’s not really my type, man. i like girls who can actually keep up, y’know?”
“yeah, i know,” sukuna mutters. “that’s kinda the problem.”
“problem?”
sukuna leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping low. “look, she’s… she’s sweet. like, actually sweet. the kind of girl that probably still says ‘sorry’ even when someone bumps into her first. you’d break her in half.”
toji shrugs, unbothered. “then maybe she shouldn’t be into me.”
“she doesn’t even know you,” sukuna says, frustration creeping into his tone. “she just saw you around. thinks you’re… i don’t know. hot and nice.”
“ha,” toji barks out a laugh, finishing his drink. “then she’s definitely got the wrong idea.”
sukuna sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. this was going nowhere.
he tries again, his tone careful. “i just figured maybe you could give her a chance. she’s not like the other girls you mess with. she’s…” he hesitates, searching for the right word. “different. the kind you’d actually like if you gave her five minutes.”
toji side-eyes him, clearly amused. “you trying to sell me a girlfriend or something? what’s in it for you?”
sukuna’s jaw tightens. “nothing. i told her i’d help her out, that’s all.”
toji grins, eyes glinting. “you sure about that? you sound kinda like you wanna keep her for yourself.”
sukuna’s silent for a beat, his pulse ticking faster than it should. “i don’t.”
“right. and i’m the pope.” toji laughs, leaning back. “are you high? tellin’ me about how cute and shy she is… just fuck her and move on, bro. no need for all this emotional shit.”
sukuna drags a hand down his face, groaning. “i wish i was fucking high. jesus, you’re impossible.”
the music gets louder again, another chant rising from the kitchen as someone calls for shots. toji stands, stretching, grinning down at him. “come on, man. stop thinking so hard. let’s go get wasted.”
sukuna waves him off. “nah, i’m good. go ahead.”
toji shrugs and disappears into the crowd. sukuna sinks further into the couch, head tipping back, letting the noise drown out the frustration burning in his chest.
this was going to be a nightmare.
.
the next morning, the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall feel like punishment. the air smells like stale coffee and paper, and the chatter around the room grates on his nerves. sukuna slouches into his seat, sunglasses hiding the exhaustion clinging to him.
you’re already there, of course. neat stack of papers beside your laptop, pen in hand, posture perfect. you glance up as he approaches, offering a small smile.
“morning,” you say softly.
“hey,” he mutters, sliding into the seat next to you.
the teacher doesn’t waste time, telling everyone to start working on their projects. pairs scatter across the room, some staying behind, others leaving for the library. you glance at sukuna, uncertain.
“should we…?”
“yeah, library,” he says before you can finish. “less noise.”
you nod quickly, tucking your notes under your arm as you follow him out.
the walk’s quiet. you keep close but not too close, fingers gripping the strap of your bag. sukuna glances at you once or twice as you walk, the sunlight catching the edge of your hair. there’s something weirdly calming about you, like your presence forces the chaos in his head to settle for a bit.
when you reach the campus library, you pick a small table near the back, away from the groups of whispering students. the morning light filters through tall windows, catching dust motes in the air. it’s quiet enough that every turn of a page feels loud.
you sit across from him, pulling your laptop from your bag. “um, before we start, maybe we should exchange contact info?”
he nods, pulling out his phone. “yeah. what's ya' number?”
you rattle it off, and he types it in. his phone pings a second later when you text him, and he adds your contact with a lazy swipe. then you both exchange social media.
you open your instagram to show him, but he’s already found it. your account’s small. cozy, soft colors, pictures of coffee cups, notes, and the occasional selfie that looks like you were trying not to take one.
then you look at his. thousands of followers, stories from parties, shirtless gym photos, snapshots of him and toji grinning like idiots with red cups in hand.
you blink, then smile politely. “ours are… really different.”
he huffs out a quiet laugh. “yeah. just a little.”
he doesn’t tell you that he finds it kind of adorable, how small and peaceful your corner of the internet looks compared to his chaos.
you both settle in to start discussing the project, papers spread between you. you talk about ideas, your voice growing steadier as you get into the topic. you explain concepts easily, your hands moving as you describe how you could structure the research, how to divide the work.
he listens. or tries to. mostly, he’s just watching the way you light up when you talk about something you love.
after a while, you pause, glancing at him with a small, hopeful look. “did you… talk to toji?”
he freezes for a fraction of a second, mind flashing back to last night. the laughter, the teasing, the absolute disaster of that conversation.
“yeah,” he says after a moment, forcing a smile. “i did.”
your eyes widen, curious. “what’d he say?”
he hesitates. you’re looking at him so earnestly, waiting for an answer, and he can’t bring himself to tell you that toji laughed it off, that he’d said something crude about just sleeping with you and moving on.
so he lies.
“he seemed interested,” sukuna says smoothly. “asked who you were. said you sounded cute.”
you go still for a moment, then your cheeks flush, and you duck your head. “really?”
“yeah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “told him you were smart, nice. he said that’s rare.”
your shy smile makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t understand.
“that’s… really nice of you, sukuna,” you say softly. “thanks.”
he shrugs, forcing a grin. “told you i’d help.”
but as you turn back to your notes, still smiling faintly to yourself, he can’t look away. he doesn’t know what’s worse, the way lying to you actually hurts his heart, or the way part of him’s starting to wish that toji never finds out who you are.
because the thought of you smiling like that at anyone else makes his stomach twist.
~
the frat house is quieter than usual when sukuna pushes the door open.
no bass pounding through the walls, no laughter echoing down the hallway, no beer pong table clattering in the kitchen. just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant muffled sound of someone’s tv from another room.
it’s strange. unsettling, almost. he’s gotten used to the constant noise, the never ending roar of people that filled the house from dusk till dawn.
he kicks off his shoes at the door, shoulders rolling back as he heads for the stairs. his head still feels heavy from the long day, the faint scent of your shampoo stuck in his memory.
it’s weird? he’s been around a thousand girls, maybe more. girls who practically threw themselves at him, who laughed too loud at his jokes and leaned in too close.
but somehow, you, sitting across from him with that shy smile and your soft voice explaining inter molecular relationship, manage to stick in his head longer than any of them ever have.
his room’s dark when he steps inside, save for the light bleeding in from the street through the blinds. he tosses his keys onto the desk and falls back onto his bed, exhaling. the ceiling stares back blankly.
he doesn’t even mean to grab his phone, but his hand moves before he can think. he unlocks it, thumb hovering over instagram.
just checking something, he tells himself.
his fingers type your username into the search bar without hesitation.
your profile opens instantly.
the same cozy layout he remembered. a few new story highlights. your bio, something simple, maybe a quote or a flower emoji. his thumb scrolls down slowly, eyes following the grid of neatly arranged photos. you, a few landscapes, coffee cups, snippets of sunlight through your window, a cat that might not even be yours.
he stops when he sees a picture from about a month ago.
you’re holding a tiny puppy in your arms, your face caught mid laugh, like someone had said something funny right before snapping the picture. the puppy’s paw rests against your chest, nose tucked near your chin. in your other hand, you’re holding a paper cup of coffee, a little swirl of foam peeking through the lid.
he stares at it for longer than he should.
it’s just a photo, nothing special, but something about it hits him hard . the little details, the way your fingers hold gently under the puppy’s paw, the sunlight catching on the curve of your cheek, the way your smile looks completely unposed.
he catches himself wondering stupid things.
was that your dog? probably not. maybe a friend’s. or some random one you met at a cafe.
was the coffee yours? it looks like something you’d order, something simple. maybe vanilla, maybe something with caramel.
where was that taken? some small corner cafe? a weekend morning somewhere quiet?
he doesn’t know. and that bothers him more than it should.
his thumb hovers over the photo for a second before he double taps it. the little red heart fills in on the corner of the screen.
great. now you’re going to see that he liked a post from a month ago. real smooth.
he tosses his phone onto the bed beside him, covering his face with his hands.
“what the fuck am i doing,” he mutters.
he’s never been that guy. the one who scrolls through a girl’s profile like he’s studying for an exam. the one who cares enough to wonder what her favorite coffee order is, or if she likes dogs or cats more. he doesn’t ask those questions. he doesn’t want to ask those questions.
but he can’t stop himself.
he scrolls again, back up to your most recent post, another candid shot, you’re wearing one of those oversized sweaters you always seem to wear to class, sleeves pulled over your wrists.
you look peaceful. and sweet. and so painfully far from the world he lives in.
his throat tightens unexpectedly, he looks deeper, really looks at you.
you’re really fucking pretty.
he’d always known that. he’d noticed, sure, he’s not blind. the first day you’d agreed to work with him, he’d thought you were cute. adorable, even. but now, staring at your pictures, seeing the small glimpses of your life beyond those chemistry notes and shy smiles, he realizes it’s more than that.
you’re beautiful.
and that realization sits heavy in his chest, thick and uncomfortable.
because he knows exactly where this is supposed to go.
he still owes you. he still promised you something.
toji.
the thought of his friend’s name makes him exhale hard through his nose.
he can already picture it. if he brings you up again, toji will laugh the same way he always does. say something crude. maybe shrug and agree to meet you, just for the hell of it. and maybe you’d smile that soft, nervous smile at him, and maybe you’d fall for him harder than you already have.
and that image, that thought? makes sukuna’s jaw clench.
he shakes his head, forcing the phone screen off.
“get a grip,” he mutters, rolling onto his side.
but it’s no use. even as he closes his eyes, the image of you laughing with that puppy burns into the back of his mind.
~
two weeks pass withf lectures and late-night text exchanges about project deadlines.
you’ve met up three times since that first day at the library. each time, sukuna’s noticed small things. how you seem to relax around him more, how you’ve started teasing him lightly when he messes up an equation, how your laugh sounds quiet but genuine when he actually manages to make you smile.
and now, on the fourth meeting, he finds himself heading to the library again, trying to ignore the way his stomach feels weirdly tight.
you’re already there when he walks in.
same table. same corner near the back.
but this time, something’s different.
you’re standing by your seat, waving slightly when you see him. and in your hands, you’re holding two cups of coffee.
“hey,” you say, your voice bright and clear in a way that makes him pause.
he blinks, momentarily thrown off by how cheerful you sound. “hey,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as usual.
you hold out one of the cups toward him. “i, um, got this for you. black coffee, right?”
for a second, he just stares.
it’s stupid. it’s a coffee cup. but his mind stutters anyway.
“yeah,” he says, voice quieter than he means it to be. “yeah, that’s right.”
“i wasn’t sure how you take it,” you admit with a small laugh. “you seem like the kind of person who drinks it straight. no sugar, no milk.”
he huffs out a small laugh, taking the cup from you. “you got that right.”
“lucky guess.”
you sit down, cheeks faintly pink. he watches you for a second longer than necessary before clearing his throat and dropping into the chair across from you.
“thanks,” he says finally, lifting the cup slightly. “for the coffee.”
you smile, soft and genuine. “you’ve been helping me a lot with this, so i thought it was the least i could do.”
he wants to tell you that you’ve got it backwards, that you’re the one keeping him afloat, not the other way around, but he bites his tongue.
instead, he takes a sip, the bitter taste grounding him.
“you didn’t have to, y'know.”
“i wanted to,” you say, eyes flicking down to your notes.
and for a brief second, he feels his pulse skip.
you wanted to.
he tries to shake the feeling, pulling out his own notes. “alright, so. what’s the plan for today?”
you talk about the experiment data, what needs to be written up, the references you still have to gather. he listens, but part of him’s distracted.
it’s the way you’re talking now, louder, lighter. you’re not tripping over your words anymore. you’re not afraid to meet his eyes. the shy girl who could barely look at him two weeks ago is now smiling at him between sentences.
and fuck if that doesn’t make something twist in his chest.
as the minutes pass, the project talk starts to blur into something else. he’s the one who changes the subject first.
“so,” he says, leaning back slightly. “what’s with you and coffee? every time i see you, you’ve got one.”
you look up from your laptop, blinking. “i just like it, i guess. i go to this little place near campus almost every morning before class.”
“the one with the green sign?”
“yeah, that one.”
“figured.”
you laugh quietly. “you go there too?”
“sometimes,” he says. “after workouts. they’ve got good espresso.”
you tilt your head. “you work out every morning?”
“almost,” he says, smirking faintly. “gotta keep my sexy frat guy aura in tact.”
“oh, right,” you tease, eyes glinting a little. “wouldn’t want to disappoint your fans.”
he blinks, caught off guard. “fans?”
“your instagram,” you say, trying not to laugh. “you’ve got, like, a thousand girls following you. i saw.”
he groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “don’t remind me.”
“why?”
“because half of them don’t even go to this school,” he says, grinning a little. “they just… show up.”
you laugh, the sound soft but real, and he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.
after that, the conversation drifts. you talk about random things. your classes, your favorite kind of music, the dog from your photo (“that’s my friend’s puppy,” you explain. “he’s named mochi.”).
sukuna finds himself asking questions, more than he’s ever asked anyone before. not just because he wants to fill the silence, but because he genuinely wants to know.
you tell him about your hobbies, your part tme job at the campus bookstore, how you’re saving up for a trip after graduation.
he listens. really listens.
and for every small thing you share, he feels himself drawn in deeper.
when the session finally ends, the clock showing that two hours have slipped by without either of you noticing, you start packing up your things.
“same time next week?” you ask, glancing up.
“yeah,” he says. “same spot.”
you smile again, that soft, shy one that makes his chest ache.
and as you wave goodbye and walk out of the library, sukuna stays seated for a moment, staring at the empty chair across from him.
he should be thinking about the project. about grades. about keeping his promise to you.
but all he can think about is how the smell of coffee still lingers faintly on his fingers and how, somehow, that’s become his favorite part of the day.
~
the frat house always feels heavy on monday mornings. air thick with the smell of stale beer and cheap cologne, empty red cups scattered on tables like small grave markers from the weekend before. sukuna drags himself through the hallway, towel hanging around his neck, hair still damp from a quick shower.
toji’s already waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a protein shake in one hand and his phone in the other. he looks up when sukuna walks in, flashing that familiar cocky grin.
“yo, you down to hit the gym?”
sukuna doesn’t even hesitate. “for sure.”
mondays are brutal, but skipping a session isn’t an option. not when you’ve got someone like toji keeping score. they finish off their drinks, grab their bags, and head out.
the campus is still quiet. early morning sun stretches across the pavement, birds chirping somewhere above. their sneakers hit the concrete in sync.
“bro, did you see the game last night?” toji asks, tossing a smirk his way.
“yeah,” sukuna mutters. “you owe me twenty.”
toji groans. “bullshit. that last call was garbage.”
“still counts.”
they go back and forth for a while typical talk. girls, workouts, who pulled who at the last party. toji’s loud, animated, the kind of guy who fills silence with his own voice. sukuna listens, laughs when he should, but half his mind’s somewhere else.
they’re cutting across the main quad when he spots you.
you’re walking toward one of the lecture halls, tote bag slung over your shoulder, hair catching the light in a way that makes his breath hitch.
you’re wearing something simple. a cute shirt and nice jeans, your hands wrapped around a coffee cup, but somehow it makes you stand out more than anyone else on the path.
you don’t see him, too focused on your phone, but his chest tightens anyway.
for a second, it’s like the rest of the campus fades away.
then he remembers who’s walking beside him.
toji’s still talking about some girl he hooked up with over the weekend, words fading into the background as sukuna’s jaw tightens. he forces his eyes away, tells himself to stop being weird. this is stupid. you’re just his lab partner.
except he’s not supposed to be thinking about how good you look in the morning light. he’s supposed to be thinking about the deal.
the one with toji.
his throat feels dry as he forces himself to speak.
“hey,” he says suddenly. “you remember that girl i was talking about the other night?”
toji glances over, raising a brow. “the chem one?”
“yeah. that’s her.”
he nods toward you before he can second-guess it.
toji slows immediately, his attention shifting in your direction. you’re still walking across the path, the sunlight brushing over your face as you look up for a moment, squinting.
sukuna watches as toji literally stops in his tracks.
“no way,” toji says, eyes widening. “that’s her?”
“yeah,” sukuna mutters.
“holy shit.” toji’s grin spreads, sharp and impressed. “you didn’t tell me she was that cute.”
sukuna doesn’t respond. he just keeps walking, pretending to be unfazed, but every word toji says feels like it’s digging deeper under his skin.
“seriously, bro,” toji continues, still staring after you even as you disappear into the building. “you made her sound like some dorky little nerd. i was picturing ugly glasses, messy bun, the whole thing. but she’s, damn. she’s adorable.”
sukuna’s stomach twists. he forces a smirk, because that’s what’s expected. “yeah, she’s not bad.”
“not bad?” toji laughs, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “she’s gorgeous. you holding out on me, man?”
“nah,” sukuna says quickly. “just didn’t think you’d be into that type.”
“what type?”
“the smart, quiet type,” he says, voice flat. “thought you liked girls who could ‘keep up,’ remember?”
toji scoffs. “yeah, well, she’s too cute to pass up. shit, you should let me tag along next time you’re studying with her. see what she’s like up close.”
sukuna forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “yeah, sure. whatever.”
inside, he’s cringing so hard he feels sick.
they head into the gym, the sound of clanging weights filling the space. he tries to focus on the burn in his muscles, the rhythm of his breathing but his thoughts won’t shut up. toji’s words keep echoing. she’s adorable. she’s gorgeous. you holding out on me?
this was what he was supposed to do. this was the plan. introduce you to toji, let things fall into place, make good on his end of the deal.
so why does it feel so wrong?
~
the next study session comes faster than he expects.
the day’s overcast, the library quiet except for the soft hush of the air conditioning. you’re already there when he walks in, sitting in your usual spot by the window, books neatly stacked, pen tapping absently against your notebook.
you look up when you hear his voice.
“hey,” he says, slipping through the aisles toward you.
your face brightens instantly, that small, warm smile tugging at your lips.
“hi,” you say, already starting to greet him.
then your voice falters.
because right behind him, towering and broad-shouldered, is toji.
your words die halfway out of your throat, eyes going wide. he’s impossible to ignore, dark hair, sharp grin, that easy confidence that radiates from him like static.
sukuna can see the exact moment you freeze. your fingers grip your pen a little too tightly, your posture going stiff.
“this is toji,” sukuna says, trying to sound casual. “he wanted to tag along today.”
“hey,” toji says smoothly, pulling up a chair without asking. “nice to meet you, y/n.”
you nod, cheeks pink. “h-hi.”
it’s awkward from the start. painfully so.
sukuna tries to start things off, opening his notebook and asking about the data you collected last week, but toji’s already jumping in with his own questions, none of them relevant.
“so,” toji leans forward, elbows on the table. “you’re really good at this chem stuff, huh? always been a little nerd?”
you laugh nervously, eyes flicking between the two of them. “i… guess so?”
“yeah, i could never,” he says, shaking his head. “i barely passed last year. too many parties, you know how it is.”
you nod politely, but the look on your face says it all, you have no idea what to say.
sukuna grits his teeth.
toji keeps going, oblivious. he talks about the last frat party, about the time he benched two hundred in front of half the football team, about some girl who texted him last night. you just sit there, smiling faintly, giving small nods and quiet hums of agreement.
it’s brutal.
every word toji says feels like a slow car crash sukuna can’t stop. he knows he should’ve expected this. this was always how toji was but now that it’s happening in front of you, he can’t stand it.
you’re sitting there, trying so hard to be polite, cheeks flushed, fingers fidgeting with your sleeve. and for the first time, sukuna hates how loud the other guy is. hates how he’s filling the space that’s always felt quiet and easy with you.
after what feels like forever, toji’s phone buzzes. he glances down, reads the message, and stands up.
“gotta head out,” he says, smirking. “good luck with your project, sweetheart. maybe i’ll swing by next time, yeah?”
before you can respond, he gives you a wink.
you freeze again, murmuring something that barely sounds like a goodbye.
he leaves, whistling under his breath, completely unaware of how painfully awkward that was.
the second he’s out of sight, sukuna exhales hard and runs a hand through his hair.
“fuck,” he mutters. “sorry about that.”
your eyes widen a little. “oh, um, it’s fine.”
“no, seriously,” he says, glancing at you. “i should’ve told you i was bringing him.”
you hesitate, then smile, shy but real. “it’s okay. i was just… nervous, i guess.”
he tilts his head. “why?”
you look down at your notes. “he’s just… kind of intense. i didn’t expect that.”
“yeah,” he says quietly. “he’s like that.”
the silence that follows isn’t awkward, though. it’s calm. steady.
you’re visibly more relaxed now, shoulders no longer so tight, your voice softer when you start talking again. sukuna listens, his chest loosening with every word.
you don’t mention toji again.
and he doesn’t either.
for the rest of the session, it’s just the two of you again. back to the easy rhythm he didn’t realize he’d missed until it was gone. you explain a reaction mechanism, he teases you about your handwriting, you roll your eyes and laugh.
when it’s time to leave, you pack up your things slowly, almost like you don’t want the moment to end.
“see you next week?” you ask.
“yeah,” he says, smiling faintly. “next week.”
you give a small wave, and as you walk out, sukuna watches you disappear between the shelves, that same quiet warmth settling in his chest.
he should feel relieved, he did what he was supposed to. he introduced you to toji. he followed through.
but instead, he just feels like he’s made a mistake.
because the whole walk back to the frat, the only thing running through his head isn’t how toji couldn’t shut up or how awkward the whole thing was.
it’s how your voice had softened when you told him it was fine. how your eyes met his, even for a second, and he felt that stupid little spark again.
he doesn’t know what to call it. doesn’t want to.
but deep down, he knows one thing for sure.
the next time you two meet, he’s showing up alone, keeping you to himself.
~
music pounds through sukuna's chest, pulsing out of the open doors of the sorority like a heartbeat on overdrive. laughter spills down the steps, mixed with the sharp scent of alcohol and perfume and that sticky-sweet haze that always clings to these kinds of parties.
banners hang crooked above the door, fairy lights tangled like spiderwebs. the sorority girls really went all out.
it’s a mixer. one of those invite only things, where every girl in greek row tries to get noticed by the “right” house. and sukuna’s frat, their house, was always the right one. full of grade A hotties like sukuna and toji and successful athletes like gojo and geto.
he spots toji near the entrance, already in his element. white t-shirt, chain glinting at his throat, grin carved sharp enough to cut through the noise. every few seconds, someone calls his name. girls from different sororities, guys from the rugby team, even one of the organizers waving him over.
toji was built for this. sukuna knew it. hell, everyone did.
“about time, man,” toji says when sukuna steps up beside him. “thought you’d bailed.”
“nah,” sukuna mutters. “just took my time.”
“yeah, well, tonight’s supposed to be wild. let’s make the most of it.”
they shoulder their way through the crowd, music pounding overhead, the smell of beer and sweat and too much perfume thick in the air. sticking together like usual.
a few girls call out sukuna’s name as they pass, and he just flashes that lazy grin he’s perfected, the one that says he’s not interested, but he might be later.
it’s all automatic now. the smirk, the eye contact, the way his shoulders roll when he laughs. it’s all muscle memory.
but tonight, something feels off.
maybe it’s the way every laugh sounds fake. maybe it’s the way the lights flash too bright, painting everyone in the same plastic color.
maybe it’s because all he can think about is you.
they end up in the kitchen, where the music’s still loud but not deafening. beer pong’s already set up on the long dining table, cups half-filled, ping-pong balls scattered across the sticky surface.
toji grabs a ball and grins. “let’s go. loser does a shot.”
sukuna smirks, rolling up his sleeves. “you’re on.”
they start playing, drawing a small crowd of girls who cheer and giggle at every throw. toji’s competitive as always, talking shit between shots, while sukuna plays quiet and steady. the rhythm feels familiar, the weight of the ball, the sound of it hitting the cup, the way everyone leans in to watch.
after two rounds, they’re tied. toji wins one, sukuna the other. the girls watching don’t seem to care who’s winning they’re too focused on the way the two of them look, the easy confidence that comes with knowing the room revolves around them.
and then they descend.
a blonde slides up beside toji, pressing herself against his arm. another girl, brunette this time, drapes herself over sukuna, laughter dripping from her lips like honey.
“you guys are, like, scary good at this,” she says, voice high and flirty.
“practice,” sukuna says automatically. his smirk looks real enough. it always does.
her nails trace the edge of his sleeve, and she leans closer. “bet you’re real good at other things too.”
normally, this is the part where he’d lean in, let the moment pull him under. he knows how this goes, shots, dancing, slipping upstairs when the music gets too loud. normally he'd do anything for a quick fuck.
but tonight, it doesn’t land.
he looks down at her, at the perfect makeup and glitter around her eyes, and all he can think is how different she is from you.
how you’d never lean on someone like this. how you’d never grab at someone you just met. how when you talked, you actually meant what you said.
his jaw tightens.
toji’s already got two girls around him, laughing loudly, drink in one hand, the other at someone’s waist. he looks like he’s having the time of his life. and for the first time, sukuna feels nothing but exhaustion watching it.
the brunette keeps talking something about the psych department, something about a pool party next weekend but her words fade into static.
god, he can’t stop thinking about you.
he pictures your small smile, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous. the way your voice lifts just slightly when you talk about something you love. the way your eyes meet his only for a second before darting away again.
then he thinks about how you’d react if you saw this.
if you saw toji right now, grinning, drunk, hands everywhere.
you’d look crushed. maybe not outwardly, but he knows you’d feel it. he can see that tiny flicker of hurt in his head, your lips pressing together, pretending not to care.
and for some reason, that thought hits him like a punch.
you’d be heartbroken over a guy like toji. and he hates that. hates it enough that his fake smirk starts to slip.
because toji’s the one you wanted. and toji’s right there, laughing with some random girl like you never even existed.
it makes his stomach twist.
the brunette leans in closer, her perfume cloying and too strong. she presses her lips against his neck, and something cold floods through him instead of the usual heat.
he stiffens.
she pulls back, confused, maybe even offended, but he just steps away, shaking his head.
“you good?” she asks, pouting a little.
“yeah,” he mutters. “just need a smoke.”
he grabs a beer from the counter and makes his way outside.
the air’s cooler out here, cleaner. it hits his lungs in a way that almost feels like relief. he digs into his pocket, finds his pack, and lights up. the first drag burns his throat, grounding him a little. he thinks back to the time you'd seen a flash of the packet in his pocket, the look of concern plastering your cute face.
"you smoke cigarettes? y'know that pretty bad for you, sukuna..."
he sighs and takes another drag, he knew you were right, hell, he even cut down after that little statement.
inside, the party’s still raging. someone shouts, laughter echoing off the walls. he hears toji’s voice above the rest, loud and easy and so damn sure of himself.
sukuna exhales a long stream of smoke and stares out at the street.
why’s he even thinking about you like this?
you're just a girl. just a project partner. you needed his help, he needed yours. that’s all it was supposed to be.
but then he remembers how you'd smiled when he showed up on time for once, how you’d brought him that stupid cup of coffee just because you thought he’d like it. how careful you’d been, shy but trying.
and now he’s here, surrounded by everything he used to want, feeling nothing but restless.
he thinks about the library tomorrow morning.
you’d be there early. you always are. waiting at the same table, your notebook open, your pen tapping as you concentrate. you’d look up when he walks in, offer that small, quiet smile like you’re genuinely happy to see him.
the thought of showing up hungover makes his stomach knot.
he can’t let you see him like that. not reeking of beer, not bleary eyed and dead from a night he didn’t even enjoy.
he flicks the ash off his cigarette, curses under his breath.
“what the fuck am i doing?”
he looks back toward the house. the windows are glowing with golden light, silhouettes moving inside. laughter spills out again, shrill and wild.
that used to feel like home.
now it just feels loud.
he takes another drag, the ember lighting up in the dark.
this isn’t him. at least, it’s not the version of him you’ve seen. the one who actually listens, who tries, who stays sober enough to remember what you said about catalysts and reactions. the one you’ve somehow turned him into without even knowing.
he huffs out a quiet laugh, bitter and low.
you’d probably never believe it if someone told you sukuna ryomen left a mixer early because of a girl.
but here he is.
he stubs out the cigarette, tosses the butt into the gutter, and pulls his jacket tighter around him.
he steps back inside just long enough to find toji at the beer pong table, a girl perched on his lap now, and rolls his eyes.
“yo,” toji calls over. “where the hell’d you go?”
“m' heading out,” sukuna says. “got shit to do tomorrow.”
toji raises a brow. “it’s friday, man.”
“yeah. i know.”
“whatever,” toji laughs. “your loss.”
sukuna just shrugs, already turning toward the door.
the music fades behind him as he walks out again. the night air hits him, cool against his skin. campus is mostly empty now, streetlights flickering.
he lights another cigarette as he walks, the smoke curling up into the cold.
his mind won’t stop racing.
he thinks about you again, about how small you look sitting behind your laptop, about the way you focus so hard you don’t notice him staring sometimes. about how quiet the world feels when it’s just the two of you in that corner of the library.
you’d laugh if you saw him now. the guy everyone calls a monster, walking home early from a party just because he wants to look sober in front of some shy chemistry nerd.
but it’s not just that anymore.
he doesn’t want to look sober. he wants to look good for you.
he wants you to think he’s better than this. better than what everyone thinks he's like.
he blows out smoke and watches it fade into the dark.
when he gets back to the frat, the house is nearly empty—most of the guys are still at the mixer. it’s quiet for once. he climbs the stairs, every step heavy, and stops at his door.
he stares at the handle for a second before going in.
the room smells like cologne and laundry detergent. his desk’s still a mess, papers and dumbbells scattered everywhere. he drops onto the bed and stares at the ceiling, cigarette burning low between his fingers.
he should sleep. he should forget tonight.
but all he can see is you.
your smile. your voice. your eyes when they meet his and flick away just a second too fast.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
he ashes the cigarette in the tray, lets his head fall back, and closes his eyes.
the thought of you lingers like smoke in his lungs. intoxicating, slow, impossible to shake.
and for the first time in a long time, the idea of tomorrow doesn’t feel like just another day. it feels like something he’s waiting for.
~
the sun crawls through the blinds too early for a saturday.
pale light drags itself across the room, landing on the mess of clothes and empty bottles scattered over the frat floor. everyone’s still passed out.
bodies everywhere. some sprawled across couches, others snoring in corners, heads tipped back with half-empty beer cans slipping from their hands.
but not sukuna.
he’s awake.
he’s the only one who doesn’t feel like he got hit by a truck. no pounding head, no sour stomach. just the faint trace of smoke on his tongue and the quiet buzz in his chest that’s been there since last night.
he sits up, rakes a hand through his hair, and exhales. the air smells like sweat and cheap vodka. he looks around at the disaster that was his frat house, sticky floors, someone’s shoe on the counter, a guy in nothing but boxers drooling into the carpet, and shakes his head.
he’s not sticking around for the aftermath.
there’s something about this morning, something clean, light, strange. he grabs his hoodie, slings his bag over his shoulder, and checks his phone. too early for most people. not too early for you.
he smiles a little at that.
when he walks into the hallway, a few guys groan from the couch.
“yo,” one of them croaks. “where the hell are you going? it’s like… eight?”
“got plans,” sukuna says, slipping on his sneakers.
“plans?” another mumbles, half-asleep. “with who?”
“no one,” sukuna says quickly. “don’t worry about it.”
he’s already halfway out the door before they can start asking more questions. the last thing he needs is toj or anyone, really catching wind of this and deciding to tag along like last time.
the air outside hits him cold and fresh. campus is quiet, only the occasional sound of birds or a bike rolling past. everything’s washed in soft gold light, the kind that makes the world look cleaner than it really is.
he starts walking.
there’s a bounce in his step that he tries to ignore. it feels stupid to feel this way. giddy. like he’s got something worth looking forward to. he tells himself it’s just because he didn’t drink last night. he’s clear-headed. alert. that’s all.
but he knows it’s a lie.
the café comes into view just down the block. it’s the one you always go to, the one with the green sign. he remembers the first time he saw you there, hunched over your laptop with a coffee that had already gone cold, scribbling in your notebook like the world might end if you looked up.
the memory makes his chest feel weird.
he pushes open the door, the little bell chiming. the barista greets him with a sleepy smile. he glances over the glass case, scanning the pastries. croissants, muffins, a few danishes. then he spots the one he remembers you ordering once, faky and soft, sugar dusted over the top.
“one of those,” he says, pointing.
the barista wraps it up neatly in paper. sukuna hands over the cash, then hesitates when she asks if he wants a drink.
he almost says yes. almost orders a sweet coffee for you.
but then he remembers.
you’ll already have one right now, you always do.
“nah,” he says, shaking his head. “js' the pastry.”
he walks out with the small paper bag in hand, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
he feels ridiculous. it’s a fucking pastry. but somehow it feels like more than that. like he’s carrying a confession.
when the library comes into view, he spots you right away.
you’re there, in your usual spot. that back table near the window, the one you’ve claimed without ever really saying so. your coffee’s beside your laptop, steam curling up faintly. you’re biting your lip, eyes narrowed in concentration as you read through something.
and god, you’re cute.
it slaps him all over again.
the way your hair falls forward, the soft sweater you’re wearing, the tiny crease between your brows. you’re not trying to be anything. you’re just there, focused, quiet, real.
he stands there for a second, just watching.
then he remembers himself and walks over.
“g'morning,” he says.
you look up, startled, then your whole face softens when you see him. “oh, hi! you’re early.”
“yeah,” he says, dropping his bag into the chair across from you. “didn't wanna sleep in today.”
you laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “fair.”
he pulls the paper bag from his hoodie pocket and slides it across the table.
he holds it out to you. “for you. figured you might want breakfast.”
you blink, startled. “wait, really?”
“yeah. it’s from that cafe you like.”
your mouth falls open slightly, and your cheeks go pink in that way he’s starting to adore. “you... remembered that?”
“guess so.”
you take the bag from him carefully, like it’s something fragile. when you peek inside and see what it is, your expression softens even more.
“oh my god,” you whisper, smiling so hard your eyes crinkle at the corners. “this is my favorite one.”
he watches, almost helpless, as you keep talking, thanking him over and over. your voice stumbles with embarrassment, your fingers fidget with the bag, and the more flustered you get, the more something warm spreads through his chest.
“you didn’t have to! really, that’s so sweet of you.”
“it’s nothing,” he says, but his voice is rougher than he means it to be. “just figured you might be hungry.” he softens.
you look down, still smiling. “thank you.”
and it hits him, how long it’s been since a girl said that to him and meant it.
you break the silence first, switching to the assignment, pulling up your notes and explaining something about the next section. he nods along, but he’s not really listening. he’s watching the way you push your hair behind your ear, the way your brows furrow when you focus.
he forces himself to pay attention. still, the moment feels easy.
you talk for a while about the project, comparing notes, trading small jokes. he feels himself relax into the rhythm of it, like it’s become a routine.
and then, without warning, you bring up toji.
you clear your throat first, eyes flicking down to your notes. “so, um... toji.”
he stills, one brow lifting, you were finally gonna talk about him since that awful run in last time. “hmm?”
“he’s… very…” you trail off, searching for the word. “loud.”
he snorts. “that’s one way to put it.”
“and, um, big. like, physically. and personality-wise. very… confident.”
he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “yeah. sorry about that. he’s… a lot. again, i didn’t mean to unleash him on you like that.” he was apologising again, so out of character for him but he couldn't help it. not with you.
“no, no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “he’s just… different than i expected.”
“different how?”
you hesitate, chewing your lip. “i guess i thought he’d be more like you.”
the words hang between you for a second. his pulse stutters.
“like me, huh?” he says, teasing, leaning back in his chair, spread wide as he looks you up and down. “what’s that supposed to mean, hm?”
you go red instantly, trying to drag your eyes away from his man spread legs. “i just meant- you’re, um, thoughtful. more focused. not overbearing, you're nice...”
he grins. "nice, huh?"
you hide your mouth behind your hand and look off to the side. "nicer than toji, yeah."
he laughs, "that's not a very high bar to clear."
you giggled in response, letting him continue.
“so you like my type better?”
“that’s not what i said,” you mumble, covering your face with your hand again.
“didn’t have to.”
you peek at him through your fingers, and he has to bite back a laugh. your cheeks are so pink it hurts to look at you.
“you’re bullying me,” you say, your voice small.
“maybe.”
you shake your head, still smiling, and reach for your coffee. he watches the way you hold it, the delicate tilt of your wrist, the little sigh you make after a sip.
then, quieter, he asks, “so… you still interested in him? toji, i mean.”
you freeze.
“i.. uh.” your voice falters. “i guess so? i... i don’t know.”
“you don’t sound sure.”
“he’s just, not what i thought he’d be. i thought he’d be a little calmer.”
“he’s not really the type to surprise you in a good way,” sukuna says.
you smile faintly, eyes on your cup. “yeah. maybe not.”
the way you say it, soft, thoughtful, uncertain, it makes his chest ache.
you’re too sweet for this. too genuine. you deserve someone who actually listens, who doesn’t treat you like background noise. and for some reason, he hates that the person you’re hung up on is his best friend.
he sighs, rubbing his jaw.
you look up, curious. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” he says, forcing a smile. “just tired.”
you nod, and the two of you fall back into quiet work. it’s peaceful again, the only sounds the soft click of your keyboard and the scratching of his pen. time blurs.
when you finally close your laptop, stretching your arms, he realizes two hours have passed.
“we got a lot done,” you say, smiling.
“yeah,” he says, though he can’t remember a thing you just studied.
you start packing your things, tucking the empty pastry bag into your bag. before you can leave, you hesitate. then, shyly, you step closer and wrap one arm around him in a little side hug.
“thank you,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “for breakfast. and for helping me.”
for a second, he forgets how to breathe.
you smell like coffee and sugar and something faintly floral. your hand rests briefly against his side, and he swears every nerve in his body lights up.
then you pull away, smiling up at him, oblivious to the chaos you’ve just caused.
“see you tomorrow?”
“yeah!” he says quickly, way too excited. “d-definitely.”
you wave and head out, the door swinging shut behind you.
he stands there for a full minute, still staring at the spot you’d been standing, until he realises his hands are clenched and his pulse is hammering.
he grabs his bag, mutters something under his breath, and heads outside.
the moment he’s in the open air again, he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
the breeze does nothing to cool the heat crawling under his skin.
he walks fast, head down, eyes on the pavement.
every step feels heavy with restraint.
because all he can think about is how soft you felt, how small your hand was against him, how much he wanted to pull you in, bury his face in your neck, keep you there for hours.
he curses under his breath, tugging his hoodie lower, hoping it hides the problem growing in his jeans.
“get it together,” he mutters.
he tries to think about anything else the assignment, the game tomorrow, the half finished paper on his desk but his mind keeps circling back to you. your laugh. your blush. your hug.
by the time he reaches the frat, his heartbeat’s finally starting to slow, but the feeling stays. that dizzy mix of guilt and want.
he steps inside quietly, the house still a mess of hangovers, and slips upstairs to his room.
the first thing he does is sit on his bed, elbows on his knees, and let out a long, shaky exhale.
he’s in trouble.
he knows it.
because he can’t stop smiling.
~
the gym in the frat house isn’t much. it’s a dim room tucked behind the kitchen, with cracked mirrors and rusted weights, the air always heavy with the stale scent of sweat and cheap deodorant.
the guys call it a “home gym,” but it’s really just a collection of mismatched dumbbells, an old bench press, and a speaker that always buzzes when the bass hits too hard. its nothing like the fancy campus one him and toji visit, still, it works for sukuna.
he’s halfway through a set, sweat sliding down the back of his neck, when his thoughts start slipping away from the burn in his muscles and land right where they always seem to go lately.
he tries to ignore it, focusing on the motion, the rhythm, the push and pull of the bar in his hands.
but the harder he tries not to think about you, the more vivid you become. your voice, soft but steady, your shy little smiles whenever he cracks a joke, the way you always tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re trying not to blush.
it’s infuriating, how easily you creep into his head.
he exhales sharply, finishing the set with a grunt, letting the bar clang down harder than he means to. it rattles against the frame, echoing in the small room.
“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, sitting up and grabbing the towel draped over his shoulders.
he wipes his face, breathing hard, his reflection in the mirror smudged with fingerprints and dust. he looks exhausted, not just from the workout but from everything sitting in his head.
you and toji.
you and that stupid, innocent crush you’d confessed to him like it was nothing.
he leans forward, elbows on his knees, towel hanging loosely around his neck. he can’t keep fucking around pretending like this is going to work anymore.
he can’t sit through another study session with you knowing that toji knows you're into him.
toji doesn’t even remember half the girls he flirts with, so why should he get to occupy that sweet spot in your brain.
that thought alone makes his blood boil.
you’re too good for that. too damn good.
he picks up the dumbbell again, trying to lift through the frustration, but his mind keeps racing. toji’s face flashes in his mind—the obnoxiousness, his interest in you only after finding out what you looked like.
the memory makes his jaw clench.
toji doesn’t deserve to know you exist, let alone be someone you lose sleep over.
his grip tightens around the handle. he lifts again, but it feels pointless now, his muscles burning for a different reason entirely.
finally, he slams the weight down and stands up, chest heaving.
he’s done.
done thinking he can stomach this, done keeping that deal, done lying to himself.
without even thinking about it, he walks out of the gym, towel still slung over his shoulder. his feet move on instinct, carrying him through the hall, up the grand stairs, straight to toji’s room.
the door’s half-shut, light spilling from the gap, and he doesn’t bother knocking. he pushes it open, the wood hitting the wall with a dull thud.
toji’s sprawled across his bed, shirtless, scrolling through his phone. there’s a protein shake on the desk, a game controller tangled in the sheets. he looks up lazily when sukuna appears.
“yo,” he says, grinning. “you look pissed. what, satoru stealing your shirts n' shit again?”
sukuna doesn’t answer. he stands there for half a second, jaw tight, and then the words just fall out before he can stop them.
“y/n has a boyfriend,” he blurts. “so you can forget the whole crush on you thing.”
toji blinks, confused. “uhm?”
“what,” sukuna says, crossing his arms. “shes got a guy.”
toji sits up slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “who’s y/n again?”
the silence that follows is deafening.
sukuna stares at him, the vein in his temple twitching.
“are you actually deadass right now?”
toji shrugs. “bro, i talk to a lot of girls, you gotta be more specific.”
that’s it.
sukuna drags a hand down his face, muttering something that sounds halfway between a growl and a groan. he doesn’t even bother explaining. it’s not worth it.
“don't worry, man,” he snaps, spinning on his heel.
he slams the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame.
by the time he gets back to his room, his chest is tight, the frustration boiling over into something heavier. he paces once, twice, then finally drops onto his bed, letting his head fall back against the wall.
“who’s y/n again?”
the words echo in his mind like a bad joke.
he can’t believe it. he can’t believe he ever thought this was a good idea, trying to set you up with that idiot.
it’s not even about the deal anymore. it’s about you.
because now he knows what it feels like to be around you, to hear you laugh, to see the way your eyes light up when he remembers the smallest things. he knows what it feels like to walk beside you through campus at night, the air cool and soft, your voice quiet but steady.
he likes you.
really, really likes you.
and it’s not just because you’re pretty, though god, you are. it’s because you’re kind. because you make him feel human again, in a way that nothing else ever does. because you talk to him like he’s worth something more than the reputation that follows him.
he doesn’t know when it happened, but it’s there now, and it’s not going away.
.
the weeks that follow move in a blur. the two of you keep meeting for study sessions, but they’ve shifted. so subtly that neither of you seems to notice.
you’re more relaxed now. you smile more, laugh easier. you’ve started showing up with little things for him too. chocolates, protein bars, a can of cold brew. every time, he teases you about it, but inside, he’s having a spaz out.
and every time he brings you something in return, you light up like he’s handed you the world.
you’ve started talking about more than the project. now, it’s everything. random things. favorite youtuber, weird scandals, childhood fuck ups, "yeah, i used to be one of those devious lick kids in middle school, me and gojo stole an entire sink".
sometimes, you talk so much you forget the assignment altogether, and he never stops you.
he lives for these moments.
sometimes, when you’re sitting side by side at the library, your knees brush under the table. it’s barely a touch, accidental every time, but it makes his pulse stutter.
you’ve started giving him hugs too, real ones. not just quick, polite ones, actual, full-bodied hugs that make him want to forget how to breathe. all he wants to do is bundle you up and take you back home, lock you away where no one could possibly taint that beautiful smile.
he pretends to be chill and nonchalant, but inside, he’s crashing out so hard.
one afternoon, it’s raining outside, and you show up in a damp tank top, hair slightly damp. he nearly forgets how to speak. you hand him a hot chocolate and giggle when he stares at it like he’s never seen one before.
“it’s not that weird,” you say, smiling. “i thought you might want something warm and sweet for this type of weather.”
he looks at you for a long moment trying not to stare at your see through chest, then takes the cup. “thanks,” he murmurs, and it sounds like something heavier than gratitude.
you shrug, shy but pleased, then sit down beside him, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.
when the session ends that day, he walks you home like he always does. it’s become a quiet habit between you. no one suggested it, but neither of you questions it either. you live just off campus, in a small apartment with ivy creeping up the walls, and every time you reach your door, you both hesitate.
he wants to ask if he can come inside, just once.
you always look like you might invite him, too.
but neither of you ever says it.
instead, you smile, soft and warm, and tell him goodnight. he always watches until you disappear inside, until the light flicks on and frank ocean starts softly pouring from the window.
and every time, he walks back to the frat with that same ache in his chest, the one that’s half longing and half fear.
he knows he’s in wayyy too deep.
but he can't stop.
you’ve started coming out of your shell in little bursts. you tease him now, gently. you call him out when he’s being lazy, roll your eyes when he tries to act too chill. and he eats it the fuck up. every second of it.
you’re different with him now. freer. you trust him.
and that makes everything both better and worse.
because every time you look at him with that open, honest expression, he has to remind himself of the lie he built this on, th e deal, the fake promise to get you closer to toji.
it barely comes up anymore. sometimes you mention toji in passing, usually as a joke, and you both laugh it off. it’s like neither of you really care about it anymore.
and maybe that’s the truth. maybe it stopped mattering the moment you started looking at him like that.
one evening, when the sun’s setting, you’re sitting across from him at the library, talking about nothing in particular. you’re smiling, head tilted, your voice soft. and he catches himself staring, not hearing a single word.
you stop mid way through your sentence, blinking. “what?”
he shakes his head quickly. “nothing.”
“you’re staring,” you say, cheeks pink.
“you’re imagining things, honey."
you laugh, hiding your face in your hands.
he smiles too, but there’s something behind it something he doesn’t let you see.
because in that moment, it hits him all over again, stronger than before.
he’s seriously can't do this shit any longer.
he doesn’t want to help you get to toji anymore.
he doesn’t want to stand by while you talk about someone else, even in passing.
he wants you. all of you.
the quiet smiles, the shy blushes, the little quirks he’s learned by heart.
he wants to be the one who gets to see every part of you, every version of that soft, sweet girl who’s been slowly unraveling in front of him.
and he knows, deep down, that if he ever let himself say it out loud, he’d never be able to take it back.
so he keeps it buried, just for now, as he walks you home again that night. the streetlights stretch long shadows across the pavement, and your arm brushes his once, twice, and each time, he swears of he doesn't concentrate he'll trip over his jordans.
when you reach your door, you turn to him with that same bright smile, the one that always knocks the air from his lungs.
“thanks again,” you say softly.
he nods. “anytime.”
you linger for a second, like you want to say something more, then wave goodnight and disappear inside.
he stands there for a long moment, staring at the door, listening to the faint hum of music from your apartment.
then, finally, he exhales, a small, helpless laugh slipping out.
he’s ruined. completely.
and for once in his life, he doesn’t even mind.
~
the classroom is thick with the sound of quiet chatter, chairs scraping against tile, pens clicking as people jot down reminders before leaving. the fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting everything in a washed-out glow that makes it feel like time’s been stretched too thin. the chemistry teacher’s voice cuts through it all, cheerful but distant.
“alright, everyone, just a quick reminder that your paired assignment is due at the end of this week. make sure you’ve got everything finalized. i’ll be checking submissions on friday.”
the words hang in the air like a quiet ending bell.
you look up from your notes at the same time sukuna does, and for a moment, your eyes meet across the shared lab table. he’s already watching you, elbows resting on the counter, twirling his pen between his fingers.
he gives you this crooked half-smile, something between fond and nervous, and you return it, though yours falters just a little at the edges.
it hits both of you at once. this thing between you, this rhythm you’ve fallen into, the study sessions, the walks home, the quiet coffees before class? it’s been built around this assignment. and when the assignment ends, what happens then?
he taps his pen against his notebook, looking away first. “guess we’re almost done, huh?”
you try to sound light. “yeah… crazy how fast it went.”
but it doesn’t feel fast. it feels full. it feels like a lifetime compressed into a few short weeks, every minute threaded with something unspoken.
he hums in agreement, glancing at you again. “we should probably go over everything one more time. make sure it’s perfect.”
you nod, pretending to check the notes in front of you. “mhm, library after class?”
“yeah,” he says. “one last session.”
one last. the words make your stomach twist.
.
sukuna drops his bag on the chair across from you, stretching his arms as he sits down. his hair’s a little messy from the wind, and he smells faintly of the sexy cologne he always wears, something clean and manly that clings to his skin.
you open your laptop, trying to focus on the document in front of you. it’s almost done, just small edits, formatting, double-checking citations, but the words keep blurring. you can feel his presence across the table, solid and steady, and it’s impossible to think about chemistry when he’s right there.
he’s quieter than usual too. his knee bounces under the table, a restless rhythm, and every now and then you catch him glancing up, like he’s about to say something but decides against it.
the silence stretches between you, thick and loaded. you can’t stand it anymore.
“so…” you start, voice softer than you mean it to be.
he looks up instantly, like he’s been waiting for you to speak. “yeah?”
you open your mouth, close it again, glance at your hands. “never mind. it’s nothing.”
he frowns slightly. “come on. what is it?”
you shake your head, forcing a small smile. “seriously, it’s nothing. just focus.”
he watches you for a second longer, then sighs and leans back, crossing his arms. “fine. but you’re acting weird.”
you let out a soft laugh that sounds too nervous. “i could say the same about you.”
that gets a real smile out of him, crooked and teasing, but it fades quickly.
you both go quiet again, typing half heartedly, neither of you really working. the tension builds, unspoken and unbearable.
you can feel the words sitting on your tongue, begging to be let out. you want to tell him everything. how the crush on toji fizzled out weeks ago, how stupid it feels now, how you can’t stop thinking about him instead. how every time he looks at you, your whole chest feels like it’s about to give out.
you glance up. he’s staring at his screen, jaw tight, eyes unfocused. and somehow, you can tell he’s holding something back too.
finally, you both move at the same time.
“i have to tell you something,” you say, right as he says, “there’s something i should tell you.”
you both stop, eyes locking.
you laugh softly. “you first.”
he shakes his head. “nuh uh, you first.”
“no way,” you say, smiling now despite the nerves. “you looked like you were about to explode. go ahead.”
“ladies first,” he shoots back, that teasing lilt returning to his voice, though his eyes are still serious.
you roll your eyes, but your heart’s hammering. “fine,” you breathe.
he leans forward, forearms on the table, watching you carefully.
you swallow, your fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve. “okay. so, um… this is kind of embarrassing, but.."
you stop, take a breath, try again. “it's about toji.”
his expression flickers for a second, something unreadable crossing his face. “yeah,” he says slowly. “what about him?”
you toy with a pen to keep your hands busy. “i don’t really… feel that way anymore. about him.”
his brow lifts just slightly, his voice careful. “ts' that so?”
you nod, cheeks warm. “yeah. i mean, it was kind of silly, wasn’t it? i barely knew him. i think i just liked the idea of him. and then when you brought him to that one session, i realised he’s… kinda clapped, nothing like what i imagined.”
he lets out a small sound, something close to a laugh, but it’s quiet, almost nervous. “yeah, that sounds like him.”
you smile faintly, tracing a finger along the edge of your notebook. “the truth is, i think i was just projecting. when we started hanging out, i didn’t know you that well, and i guess i thought maybe toji was like you. you know? confident, funny, easy to talk to.” you pause, your gaze flicking up to his. “but he’s not you. not even remotely close.”
his breath catches slightly, and for a moment, he forgets how to speak.
“i don’t know,” you go on, voice softer now, almost trembling. “i kept thinking i wanted someone like toji, but… the whole time, i was really just wishing he’d be more like you, sukuna.”
you meet his eyes fully now, and the world seems to narrow around you both. “and then i realised maybe i don’t want someone like you. maybe i just, you know, want you.”
the silence that follows feels endless.
he’s staring at you, completely still. you can see the realization hit him. the tension in his shoulders easing, his expression softening in disbelief and relief all at once.
you bite your lip, instantly flustered. “that sounded so stupid, didn’t it?”
he shakes his head quickly. “no. no, not at all.”
he leans back in his chair, letting out a long, shaky exhale. it’s the biggest breath of relief you’ve ever seen someone take. he runs a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath, a sound that’s half disbelieving, half overwhelmed.
“holy shit,” he murmurs, still smiling. “you have no idea how good it is to hear that.”
you blink. “uhm, what?”
he laughs again, softer this time, his hand still pressed to the back of his neck. “that’s what i was gonna tell you. i’ve been losing my fucking mind these past few weeks because i’ve been trying so hard not to say it.”
you stare at him, your heart pounding. “say what?”
he meets your gaze again, eyes warm and honest. “that i like you. like, really like you. i’ve had this massive crush on you for a while now, and it’s been killing me trying to act normal.”
you can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, part disbelief, part giddy joy. “you’re deadass?”
he nods. “one hundred percent.”
“but… the deal,” you say quietly. “you were supposed to help me with toji.”
“yeah, about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “i kinda… just didn’t.”
you tilt your head. “uhhm, what?”
he laughs again, nervously this time. “i told him you had a boyfriend.”
your eyes widen. “you did?"
he winces. “yeah. i told him that weeks ago. i just... i couldn’t do it anymore. couldn’t keep pretending i was helping you get with him when all i wanted was to keep you all to myself.”
you blink once, twice, then cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. “you told him i had a boyfriend?”
“yep.” he grins now, a little cocky, a little embarrassed. “guess that’s me sabotaging the deal.”
you drop your hand, still smiling. “that’s so stupid.”
“i know.”
“but…” you pause, your smile turning softer. “it’s kind of sweet.”
he leans forward again, elbows on the table, eyes never leaving yours. “you’re not mad?”
“mad?” you repeat, shaking your head. “no. that’s… exactly what i wanted, actually.”
he blinks. “really?”
you nod, heart in your throat. “yeah. i didn’t want you helping me with toji. not anymore. i just didn’t know how to tell you.”
he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “so what now?”
you smile. “i don’t know. maybe we just… stop pretending.”
he exhales, leaning back with a grin that could light up the whole room. “i can do that.”
for a moment, neither of you says anything. you just sit there, the quiet hum of the library around you, the sun slipping lower through the windows, painting his skin in gold.
finally, he breaks the silence, voice low. “for the record, i was terrified you were about to tell me you had a new man for real.”
you laugh softly. “no chance.”
“good,” he says, and the way he looks at you soft, sure, a little possessive, makes your pulse race.
you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re both leaning across the table, closer than you’ve ever been. the distance between you shrinks until you can feel his breath on your lips, his hand brushing lightly against yours.
neither of you say anything. you don’t need to.
the moment stretches, slow and sweet, full of everything you’ve both been holding back.
~
the second you get back to your apartment, your face ignites with the kind of fire only a really nice fireplace could match, the ones in those fancy houses you see on the block.
the guy you'd been crushing on for a total of four weeks now had just told you he felt the same. and ever more, he'd been so obsessed he'd told your ex-crush you'd had a boyfriend in hopes of bagging you himself.
for a girl not used to being in the spotlight, having such a loud, well known frat guy like ryomen sukuna become vulnerable, just for you? it was like the world came crashing and burning down at your feet. he made your stomach swim with love and passion, a feeling you'd only ever gotten from receiving higher grades than everyone else, a feeling so much better than finding a new delicious pastry you couldn't help but order again.
ryomen sukuna was it. he was the kinda guy you'd been dreaming of ever since you'd started college. he was the perfect man, and he was as into you as you were him.
you settled into your living room with an adorably large smile painted on your lips, the sensation of fulfilment taking over your ever thought as you dreamt of what was to happen next.
~
the week after the submission crawls by. you think about both sukuna and the possible grade you'll both get every day. every time you pass the lab, every time you open your laptop, every time you catch sight of sukuna across the courtyard, leaning against the wall with his friends.
you can tell he’s thinking about it too. the way he catches your eye during class and offers a small, crooked smile says everything. neither of you can really stop wondering what the final mark will be, as well as what life has in store for the both of you.
friday finally rolls around, the classroom feels weird. students trickle in with tired faces and restless energy, everyone buzzing quietly with the same anticipation. the teacher walks in, holding a stack of papers in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.
she sets everything down at the front desk, claps her hands together, and gives a small, approving smile.
“alright, everyone,” she says, her tone almost teasing. “i’ve marked your projects. you’ll get the official grades through the online portal, but since i know you’re all impatient,” her gaze sweeps the room, landing briefly on you and sukuna, “i’ll let you know this much: some of you really impressed me.”
a ripple of chatter runs through the class. sukuna shoots you a look from across the room, eyebrows raised. you smile nervously and shrug.
after class, the two of you linger by the doorway, waiting for the crowd to clear out. you’re clutching your phone, refreshing the student portal again and again even though the grades still aren’t visible. sukuna leans close, peering at your screen.
“nothing yet?” he asks.
“no,” you sigh. “probably another hour.”
he tilts his head, thinking for a moment. “want to check it together later? at that little cafe with the green sign?”
you blink. “awe, my favourite. sure!”
“of course,” he says, smirking lightly. “how good am i remembering your favourite things n' shit.”
you laugh, cheeks warming. “what a man. how about we meet there at five?”
“five it is.” he gives a small wave as he heads down the hall. “see you then, partner.”
the cafe smells like roasted coffee beans and sugar, the air humming with quiet conversation and the clinking of ceramic cups. it’s early evening, and the place is wrapped in that warm, lazy glow that makes everything feel softer. the green sign outside flickers faintly through the window, the letters worn from years of weather and sunlight.
you spot him immediately sitting near the counter, wearing a black hoodie and tapping his thumb against his phone screen. his hair’s pulled back, a few loose strands falling into his eyes. he looks up the moment the door chimes, and that grin spreads across his face like it’s second nature.
“hey,” he says as you approach.
“hey,” you echo, sliding into the seat across from him.
he gestures toward the counter. “i already ordered for us. black coffee for me, that thing you like for you, and...” he grins, “...a pastry, because apparently you can’t sit in this place without one.”
you laugh softly, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. “you know me too well, we needa' hang out less.”
“noo,” he teases, leaning back. “i'm just an observer.”
the drinks come quickly, steam curling from the cups. you take yours with both hands, staring at the little swirl of foam, trying to calm your nerves. sukuna pulls out his phone again, refreshes the student portal, and freezes.
his eyes widen. “holy shit,” he mutters.
you look up sharply. “what?”
he turns the screen toward you. there it is, your names side by side, and next to them, the number that makes your breath catch.
98%.
you stare at it for a second, then look at him, and the two of you just burst out laughing.
“oh my-” you say, grinning from ear to ear. “ninety-eight?”
he leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “holy shit- holy shit! can’t believe it,” he says, half-laughing, half-sighing in disbelief. “i actually passed. i can stay in the frat. holy shit.”
you laugh again, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably. “i told you you’d do fine!”
he stands up suddenly, still laughing, and before you can react he pulls you into his arms. it’s a full, tight hug, so warm, so big. his chest rumbles with laughter, and you can feel how much this means to him, how much the stress and pressure have finally melted away.
“thank you,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low, almost breathless. “thank you so much for helping me. i would’ve completely fucking tanked without you.”
you laugh against his shoulder, feeling your own face heat up. “you’re welcome,” you mumble, your words muffled by his hoodie. “you did so good, really.”
when he finally lets go, you can still feel the warmth lingering where he’d held you. he looks just as flustered, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits back down.
“sorry,” he says, half-smiling. “got a little carried away.”
“it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel. “it was… nice.”
his grin widens at that.
you both take a moment to calm down, sipping your drinks in the cozy corner. the sound of the coffee machine hums faintly in the background, and sunlight filters through the leaves outside, dappled across the table. it feels like the whole world’s slowed down just for the two of you.
“so,” he says eventually, voice softer now, “ninety-eight percent. that's so peak."
“yeah, we did that,” you reply, smiling. “you’ll probably get a compliment from the teacher next class.”
“you too,” he says. “you carried me, you're actually so clutch.”
“you helped too,” you insist. “you actually tried, sukuna. that’s what mattered.”
he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, but even if i hadn’t passed…” he pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “i don’t think i’d be too upset.”
you tilt your head, smiling faintly. “no?”
“nah.” he leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “because i got to spend all that time with you. and honestly? that made it worth it.”
your chest tightens, a flutter rising under your ribs. you look down quickly, pretending to focus on your coffee. “you’re just saying that.”
“i’m not,” he says firmly. “you made studying actually fun. no one’s ever done that shit before.”
you look up again, and his expression is so genuine, so open, that you forget how to breathe for a second.
“well,” you say softly, “i liked spending time with you too.”
your cups sit forgotten on the table, the croissant half-eaten, and all you can hear is the chatter of other uni kids and the soft clatter of dishes.
you stare into his eyes, and there’s a question there, unspoken but clear.
he smiles, almost shyly, a rare thing for him. “so… what now?”
you shrug lightly, but your smile mirrors his. “i don’t know. i guess we don’t have to stop hanging out just because the project’s done.”
his grin grows wider, and you can see the faintest pink dusting his ears. “good,” he says. “because i was kinda hoping you’d say that.”
he hesitates for a moment, then sits up a little straighter, as if gathering courage.
“actually,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the edge of his cup, “there’s something i wanted to ask.”
you tilt your head. “hmm? and what’s that?”
he exhales slowly, eyes locked on yours. “i know this is probably cheesy as hell, but… i’d really like to take you out. like, properly. dinner, movie, whatever you want. an actual date.”
the words sink in, soft and certain. you blink, surprised but instantly smiling, your cheeks growing hot.
“you mean… like, a date date?” you ask, teasing just a little.
he laughs under his breath. “yeah. a date date.”
you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “i’d love that.”
his expression softens into something that almost makes your heart ache. “yeah?”
“yeah.”
for a moment, you just sit there, both grinning like idiots. it feels unreal, like something out of a quiet, sunlit dream.
he leans back in his chair, relief washing over him in waves. “good,” he says. “i was worried you’d say no.”
you shake your head, still smiling. “never.”
the light outside shifts slowly, spilling gold through the window, painting his skin in soft warmth. he looks at you like he’s memorising the moment, the coffee, the laughter, the way you keep tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
and as he sits across from you, grinning like he can’t quite believe his luck, you know that whatever comes next, it’s going to be something worth waiting for.
~
months slide by, slow but lovely. what once was a study partnership built on awkward exchanges and quiet glances has become something sooo much more. somewhere between library stops, coffee stops, and tight hugs, it shifted. you shifted. sukuna shifted. the line between school and romance blurred until it disappeared completely.
now, you’re his. officially his. and he’s yours.
the first time sukuna brings you to the frat house as his girlfriend, it feels like stepping into a completely different world. the place is loud, music spilling from bluetooth speakers, guys shouting from the kitchen about who’s out of beer, the smell of cheap cologne and pizza hanging in the air.
you pause in the doorway, clutching sukuna’s hand like it’s an anchor. he glances down at you with that little smirk that never fails to make your heart stutter.
“don’t stress it baby,” he murmurs, leaning close enough that his breath grazes your ear. “they’ll love you.”
and they do.
weather or not that's because he threatened to beat them unconscious if they made you feel uncomfortable before you came over is irrelevant.
satoru’s the first to notice you, perched on the couch with a controller in hand. he looks up mid game, grins wide, and immediately calls out, “holy shit, sukuna actually brought a girl here voluntarily?”
“shut up,” sukuna grumbles, tightening his grip on your hand. “this one’s permanent.”
that earns a chorus of oohs and whistles from the guys nearby. your face burns, but when you glance up at sukuna, he’s smiling,not his usual cocky grin, but something softer. proud.
“hey,” you mumble under your breath, “it smells so bad in here, ryo.”
he chuckles quietly. “you’ll get used to it.”
before you can even respond, toji appears from the kitchen, a beer in hand and a knowing grin on his face. “well, if it isn’t the little chem genius.”
you blink. “you… remember me?”
“of course,” toji laughs, setting his drink down and stretching out a hand. “heard you saved this idiot’s academic career.”
“hey,” sukuna cuts in, rolling his eyes. “i wasn’t that bad.”
“you had an eight percent, bro.”
the whole room bursts into laughter. sukuna just grumbles and flips toji off while you try not to giggle too loudly. it’s strange, seeing them all like this. so loud, so chaotic, so different from the quiet rhythm you’re used to, but somehow, it feels okay. you feel okay.
by the end of the night, you’re sitting between sukuna’s legs on the couch, his arms draped loosely around your waist, your back against his chest. someone puts on an old movie in the background, and the chatter slowly fades into easy quiet. for the first time, the frat doesn’t feel intimidating. it feels warm. welcoming.
satoru catches your eye from across the room, giving a thumbs up before mouthing, she’s a keeper. sukuna just smirks.
later that night, when everyone else has gone to bed and the house has fallen quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of floorboards, sukuna presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“told you they’d love you,” he whispers.
“yeah, you were right,” you murmur, smiling softly. “they’re so nice.”
“you’re even nicer,” he says, his voice barely audible. “that’s why they love ya'.”
and you can hear the truth in his tone. you know he means it.
after that, everything starts to fall into blissful routine. you help him study, drilling formulas and reactions into his head late into the night. he’s surprisingly good at it now, his grades climbing steadily, proof that maybe he was capable all along, he just needed someone to push him in the right direction.
and in return, he helps you come out of your shell.
he brings you to tiny cafes you’ve never been to before, teaches you how to play pool (terribly, but he doesn’t care), and pulls you into spontaneous late-night walks through campus when the air is cool and the stars are bright.
sometimes, you end up sitting on the hood of his car, his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, your fingers tangled with his as he talks about everything and nothing.
he tells you things he’s never told anyone else—about his parents, about the pressure to be someone bigger, stronger, louder. about how he never really cared about anything before he met you.
“you made me start giving a shit,” he says one night, his voice low as he traces lazy circles against your palm. “about school, about the future. about being a better guy.”
you glance up at him, smiling faintly. “you're the bestest guy, kuna.”
he looks at you for a long time, his chest squeezing with the urge to squish you until you pop. then, with a soft exhale, he leans down and kisses you. gentle, slow, like the world could end and he’d still be happy just holding you against his muscular chest.
word gets around campus fast. whispers follow you sometimes. half disbelief, half awe. people don’t really understand how you ended up with him. the shy, quiet girl who sits at the front of every lecture, always polite, always prepared… dating one of the loudest, most notorious frat boys on campus.
but the thing is, neither of you care.
you’ve seen the way people look at you two when you walk hand in hand across campus, his tall frame towering beside yours. you’ve heard the murmurs, 'how long do you think it’ll last, she’s too good for him, he’ll get bored'. but then he catches your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and all of it melts away.
"don't listen to those clowns."
because you know him now. the real him.
the boy who wakes up early to get your favorite pastry from the cafe before class. the one who drapes his hoodie over your shoulders when it’s too crisp. the one who never forgets to text you goodnight, even when he’s exhausted.
the one who stopped showing up to most frat partys because, as he put it, “none of it’s fun without you anyway.”
you see it in the way he’s changed. not because you asked him to, but because he wants to.
he doesn’t flirt with girls anymore. he doesn’t even seem to notice when they do. his focus is all on you. your laughter, your voice, your little quirks that no one else ever bothered to notice.
and it’s not just the big things that show it. it’s the way he always walks on the side of the road closest to the cars. the way he remembers all your orders without ever asking. the way he’ll pull you closer when you’re out together, even if it’s just to rest his big hand on your hip.
he doesn’t talk about feelings much, not directly. but in every gesture, every glance, it’s there.
you’re his world now, and everyone can see it.
his room at the frat house has changed, too. gone are the stacks of solo cups and random gym gear scattered across the floor. in their place are little pieces of you. a throw blanket you brought one day, a mug you left on his desk, your notebook tucked on the shelf next to his textbooks.
he keeps a photo of the two of you pinned on his bulletin board. it’s a candid, one of those moments you didn’t even know he was taking. a shot of you sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing his hoodie, laughing with a half-eaten cookie in your hand. he swears it’s his favorite picture in the world.
“you look so fucking cute, and happy,” he tells you when you catch him staring at it one night.
“i am happy,” you reply softly.
“better be,” he says. “that’s all i ever want for you, y/n.”
some nights, he stays over at your apartment instead of the frat. he always claims it’s because it’s quieter, easier to focus on studying. but you both know it’s just because he sleeps better when you’re beside him.
you cook together sometimes, though “cook” might be a really shitty out of touch excuse for the disaster you two create. he burns half the things he touches, laughs through every fuck up, and still insists on taste-testing everything like he’s on master chef. you can’t stay mad when he grins at you with flour on his cheek, his dimples showing as he holds up a misshapen cookie.
“hey, we’re improvin',” he says.
“barely,” you reply, giggling.
he just leans down, presses a quick kiss to your nose, and murmurs, “yeah, but you’re still here, so i must be doing somethin' right.”
there are still parties, of course, he’s still in the frat, and sometimes showing up is expected. but it’s much different. when he does go, he stays by your side the whole night, a protective hand on your back or wrapped around your waist.
he barely drinks anymore, claiming he doesn’t need to. when people flirt or make comments, he just laughs them off and pulls you a little closer.
and when it gets late, when the music’s too loud and the air too heavy with alcohol and perfume, he’ll lean down and whisper, “wanna get out of here?”
you always nod. and the two of you slip away, walking through quiet streets until you reach your place, where everything feels calm again.
people still whisper, still wonder how it works. how a shy, soft-spoken girl could tame someone like ryomen sukuna. but you know the truth.
you didn’t tame him, you just saw him. really saw him. beneath the tattoos, the reputation, the arrogance. you saw the boy who just needed someone to care, and he saw the girl who needed someone to make her feel brave.
and together, you found something that feels a lot like forever.
months pass, the seasons shifting from late autumn to the first chill of winter. the air turns crisp, the sky pale and bright. the two of you walk through campus hand in hand, your breath forming little clouds in the cold.
“remember when we first started that project?” you ask one day, laughing softly. “you barely knew what a periodic table was.”
“hey,” he says, pretending to be offended. “i knew what it was. i just didn’t give a shit.”
“hmm, and now you’re pulling straight a’s.”
he grins. “guess i had a real good tutor. she's real sexy, too..”
you bump his shoulder lightly. “awe i bet she'd be real flattered to hear that.”
he stops walking for a moment, looking down at you with that same warm, unguarded look that still makes your stomach flip.
“you know something?” he says quietly.
“hmm?”
“i still think that fuckass project was the best thing that's ever happened to lil' ol' me.”
you smile, reaching up to fix the collar of his jacket. “yeah?”
“hell yeah,” he murmurs, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours. “because it led me to you.”
the world fades for a moment, the cold, the noise, the people around you, and it’s just him. just you.
when he kisses you, it’s slow, steady, full of all the fuzzy romantic fire that’s been culminating between you since the day he walked up to your desk with a failed test and a hidden nervous smile.
you remember that moment so clearly now, and you can’t help but think how far you’ve both come. from shy glances and awkward silences to this. a love that feels like home.
and as his hand tightens around yours, you realize something simple, something certain.
you’ve both found exactly where you’re meant to be, with each other.
chemically bonded headcanons <— here!
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