Hello.ᐟ ᥫ᭡ You can call me Teddy. I’m 19 & a fic writer.
I mainly write character fics under another name but once in awhile, I post x readers which is what this account is dedicated to! I plan on posting a mix of tropes, not only smut, through various fandoms. Currently only have a jjk fic out, but DC fics are incoming,,
I may not post very much but I’ll be reposting all my favorite fics and authors on here.
fair warning; i block anyone who posts x reader fics of yuji, megumi, any of the younger characters in the fandoms i interact with. I don’t want to see that content, so. sorry not sorry.
SATORU WAS laying on his back, a lazy arm draped around your waist while you slept against his chest. Your cheek squished against him, your lips slightly parted. He brushed the hair out your face to see you better.
“You’re kidding me,” he whispered to himself, a smirk pulling at his lips. He poked your cheek gently, the overwhelming urge to just squeeze you and kiss you hit him all at once, you just looked so cute in the mornings. His self control lasted about three seconds, his finger gently poking your cheek, giggling to himself. You frowned in your sleep as if even your unconscious self disapproved his actions, but his heart just melted even more.
Unable to stop himself, he wraps his arms even tighter around you, pulling you impossibly closer against him as he rolled onto his side, placing kisses all over your head. “Fucking adorable..”
A muffled groan came from against his chest, your eyebrows knitted together as you started to wake up from all the fuss. Your hands push at his chest, he loosened his arms around you.
You look up at him, blinking several times as your eyes adjusted to the light. “There she is,” he beamed, pinching your cheek.
“..what are you doing?” You slap his hand away gently, clearly not amused from the fact you had been woken up so early because of him squeezing and poking you.
“You just looked to cute sleeping, i couldn’t help it.” He kisses your forehead, then your cheek before placing a kiss on your lips, pulling back to admire you again, looking way too pleased with himself. You look away, going shy from being called cute, a faint blush appearing on your cheeks. “Whatever..” He almost squealed like an idiot from the sight, pulling you close against him again. “I can’t believe your real.”
“Satoru.” The warning in your voice only made him giggle more. Even though you were annoyed, he couldn’t help but feel a little amused by the whole thing. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He kisses your head once more before finally releasing you.
Can you maybe write something about Kara arm wrestling someone for reader like she did for ruthye? (im so obsessed with this scene omg)
I am happy to admit I was shamelessly hoping someone would drop this ask in particular in my inbox, was literally blushing at the theatre the first time I saw the scene….so your wish my command sweet anon. And thank you for the compliment. Truly, very kind. Sorry it’s so short, but I wanted to get this ask out. ❤️
Set in my Heiress x bodyguard Kara Zor El AU
Warnings: Kara Zor el being protective, men being men, snarky confident Kara Zor el, reader who watches Kara break a man’s wrist and loves it, wrist fracture, arm wrestle, that’s about it-
The glinting lights of the downtown club were so bright they might as well have been a yellow sun. They were disturbing to the eyes, sent her eyes in an odd bleary watery way, and made her bones ache. Kara had not been to a yellow sun in ages. Why? Because she had been busy shadowing you, you in all your glory with your sugary smiles and hands that would cling to Kara everywhere you went.
It had been a particularly bad day, one that made you beg and plead, holding onto Kara’s sleeve as you got into the sleek back car after classes, “can we go dancing at the club? Just one dance? I’m absolutely sick and tired of charity events and daddy making me do all those galas” you spoke, twirling your hair, and immediately finding solace in Kara’s arms. Your head resting on her shoulder, looking more like a tired little girl, pent up after days of endless play, than a 21 year old young woman. It was endearing, and so Kara had sighed, a flick of blonde hair cascading into the air, “you’re paying” she let out, and you had smiled so wide, and leaned in to press a kiss to Kara’s nose, “thank you”.
And so, here you were, a few drinks in, Kara stood right by your side like a sentient. Hands in her pocket, unable to let herself have any fun, this use to be her element. Bar hopping on so many suns, drinking whatever alcohol the planet had to offer, solar vodka, red sun tequila, shots that smelt disturbing but worked numbing the pain. Now, after a good few months away from the clubbing experience, Kara Zor el found no pleasure in the act anymore.
“Kara-“ you whined, a few drinks in already, cheeks flushed, tinted, eyes hazy, fingers curious as they held onto Kara’s coat lapels, “dance with me” you whined. Kara eyed you with an amused brow, you were so sweet and cuddly when inebriated, a total difference to Kara, who was usually a bit snarky. Kara lead you to the dance floor, where bodies were moving wildly, Kara being Kara lead you to closer to the wall, where the light wasn’t as bright and you had enough space for a dip or a twirl.
She held your waist in soft hands, fingers cascading softly over the skin underneath your shirt, you didn’t seem to mind, carefree, giggling and enjoying every bit of Kara letting lose. That’s when Kara caught the guy staring. He was shameless. Eyes right on you both, smiling stiffly when you giggled into Kara, and that made Kara tense. Instantly. On alert. Because the guy looked harmless. He looked like the type of guy with a kind heart, and a little too much ego. He didn’t look disgusting, or perverted, or any sort of personality that would make her skin crawl. He looked like he saw two girls having fun, and decided he wanted in.
“Let’s get some water before we leave, your cheeks are a little too red for my liking” Kara spoke into your ear, leading you away with a hand around your waist. Kara made sure you nursed at least half of the water, rubbing your cheeks softly. You for your part simply smiled, that lopsided grin, hands eager as you sat on Kara’s lap, your water in hand, Kara kept an arm around you, kissing your forehead softly, mumbling against your head, “you’ve got curfew in 20 minutes”.
You chuckled, that low laugh, “how ridiculous is it that I’m 21 and have a curfew?” Kara was about to answer, when she spotted the man from earlier, he got up in a way that made Kara tense, and when he approached the same bar table you were at, he sat down with ease. A contented smile on his face, “hello ladies, out for the weekend?”
Small talk. Kara usually thrived on small talk, bar hopping, meeting so many different races that spoke different tongues taught her much, but she didn’t like this. This felt wrong, and so Kara being Kara held you tighter, but looked the man directly in the eyes. Her confident air coming out, supergirl in action.
“Something like that. What about you? Watching the game? I hear it’s 3-1.”
The man nodded, “yeah, games rigged. Say, I saw you two over there dancing the night away, and wanted to know, could I dance with your girl?” He said it so confidently, like it was just a simple question, he pointed to you, and you visibly recoiled, holding tighter onto Kara.
Kara’s lips twitched, once, twice, before she spoke, making a soft ttt noise with her mouth, “yeah, no shot buddy. But nice try” and then she was getting up, hands already escorting you away. You were use to guys making passes at you, with your millions of money, and confident air boys asked every weekend. And then you’d put your hand to your mouth, acting like you wish you could have, but look at your watch and say, “I wish I could. But I have so many engagements to attend to. Perhaps next time?” And you’d give them a playful wink and Kara would swoop in, hand on your arm, and whisk you away through the glass doors. That was the easy part, boys usually would gawk and take a step back when they would see Kara. She had eyes that were calm, firm, but authoritative if needed. She had no problem kicking some young posh boys butts across a charity gala floor.
This wasn’t a boy. It was a full grown man, mid thirties, with a face full of facial hair, and no matter how nice he seemed to be, or down to earth, you wouldn’t have touched him with a five feet poll. And Kara knew that.
“Hey! I’m not asking for much here! Just a dance! You can watch the whole time! What’s the harm? Want me to pay for her? How much do you think you’re worth honey?” He chimed at you, taking out his wallet, which remained empty, save for a few dollar bills.
Kara was halfway to the door, hand around your waist, when he spoke that, and her jaw flexed, immediately she had to make sure her grip on your waist wasn’t slipping, that her fingers weren’t accidentally pulling too hard, and without a second thought, she opened the door, pushed you out, “let me talk to him real quick” she gave you a wink and turned back on her heel, back to the man who eyed her like Kara was just some simple girl trying to defend her girlfriends’ honor. Which she was, but obviously the man hadn’t looked at a newspaper or watched the news lately, he didn’t know the girl who was stalking up to his chair, one foot a time, was supergirl, he didn’t know what she was capable of, she perhaps if he had, he would have ran.
“What did you say?” Kara spoke, words firmly to planted, she looked offended and angry, nostrils rising, trying to keep her cool, to remain calm, but the way the man simply threw cash her way, the green dollar bills flying across the table and landing at Kara’s feet.
“Is 20 acceptable? Perhaps 30?”
Kara’s jaw clenched, and she sighed, rolling her head back, “I promised I wouldn’t do this-“ she uttered, biting her tongue. He spoke, “I won’t go higher than 50. She isn’t worth it” the words were said so callously that Kara sighed, like she knew this man was going to end up with a bloody nose and begging for Kara to leave him alone. But before she could take a step you were grabbing her coat, “Kara-kara he’s not worth it. Let’s just go home” you spoke, voice sweet, comforting, moving to grab her hand, take her warm fingers into your own, leading her away, gently like trying to wrangle a tiger back into its cage.
“Not even 50?? Probably isn’t even a good fuck either-she looks too timid-although the confidence might even it out-“
Kara was back in a flash, gently prying you off, before she moved to sit in the seat across from him, eyes glinting, she eyed the money before gently pushing the bills across back to the man, with firm eyes, and a strong smile, she spoke, “I don’t want your money. She’s not going to dance with you, so let it go”.
The man smiled, like he got some high in the way Kara twitched, “so…not money. What else you got? You’re a tough one huh?” He chimed, at that Kara leaned back, her grey eyes seeming to gleam, “something like that”.
Kara eyed you, your arms were folded, pensive, still drunk, but sober enough to understand. Kara gave you a wink, and immediately you smiled, and then nodded, giving her the green light to play a little game. You loved watching Kara play games, especially when she’d win. You knew she would, she always did, and it made your cheeks blush and heart race. Because she looked like a knight in shining armor.
“Arm wrestle. I’ll arm wrestle you for her. If you win, you get the dance, if I win, you don’t..” the words were said with perfect precision, Kara’s blonde brow rising, a smirk on her features.
The man laughed, laughed in her face, like he was sure he’d win, sure he looked big, had arms that were defined, but he was no match for a kryptonian. He’d find out the hard way.
“Sure this ain’t going to hurt you? Little girl?” He sneered, putting his arm on the table, hand extended, Kara’s lips twitched, her grey eyes alight, blonde hair falling over her eyes, “don’t worry about me.”
Kara moved her arm over the table, fingers sliding into the man’s, eye contact electric, the man smiled wildly, eying all the people who had congregated over, he was a man of great pride, and was so busy eying the other men who whooped and laughed. Kara caught your eye again, toying with her soft bedroom eyes, giving you a small smirk, like she knew how much you loved seeing her so confident, ready to take this man down like a fly. She’d taken down aliens and beat up an alien for a sword, she could to this easy.
On three, the man’s arm pushes, nothing happens. Kara’s arm stays still, she doesn’t flinch, her veins don’t budge Signalling any distress. The man grunts harder, trying faster, his own muscles are buldging, fingers shaking, veins popping out so horribly you want to turn away, but it’s so achingly hot seeing Kara, smirk, and eye the clock, all while the man grunts and turns himself red purple.
“Are you done?” She quips, eyeing him with fake concern, empathy as fake as his money, “you don’t look too hot, your veins are-“ she makes a face, “bulging. Gross”. The joke makes you chuckle, because Kara’s humor is unmatched.
The man snarls, and throws all his strength, Kara sighs, and gently effortlessly, like she’s done this a million times, pushes his hand down. It’s a fast movement, so fast you don’t hear the way the man’s wrist gives out with a sharp clean crack, it reverberates around the room. Makes grown man step back in fear. The man lets out a yelp, “what the hell? What- you bit-“ but before he can even say the word Kara knocks him out, one swift smack across the face, and he’s down on the ground. People part, wanting no part, but clapping as Kara raises her hands, “thank you, thank you, and goodnight” she gives a salute, and makes her way back to you, snaking her arm across your waist and pulling you out of the bar.
“That was uncalled for and totally amazing” you giggle into her chest, “and very-very hot”. Kara opens the door for you, “I would be happy to accept any form of appreciation” she winks.
This man is so fucking irritating in the best way possible.
He loves taunting you when you’re crying under him as his veiny, warm, bulging cock slides inside your little wet, creamy pussy. When you tell him to have some sort of mercy on your already well-fucked cunt, he just mimics your plead and challenge you to do something about it. Knowing you can’t.
“Ohhh!”
He copied your moan again in your ear, grinning smugly. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he’s fucking you like this—his cock is just so huge. You want him to stop teasing you. He’s been doing this for several hours and it’s making you sad. You don’t like this game anymore. “Stop d-doing that!” You sniffled and swallowed. He hums teasing. “Mmmh..” he pretends to think about it and deadpans his voice. “No.”
“Wha?” You look at him with puppy eyes at his answer. He has you in a locked full Nelson, his undeniable strength is keeping you in place. He repeats after you in your whiny tone and exaggerates it. “Wha?” You see his grin grow. Before you can respond he purposely speeds up inside you. You squeal and moan. “H-heyyy!” Now he’s ignoring you and fucks your pussy like a sex toy. “Do something about it. Crybaby.” He says. You click your teeth in irritation and sadness.
You can’t do anything about it.
“Sh-shut the fuck up!” He’s hitting all your nerves.
“No.” He simply denies.
His hips go faster into you and you’re on the edge of sobbing. “Stop it!” You cry, voice raw. “Mh-mhh..” he says teasingly. He knows you hate it when he’s teasing you during sex. Because then it just turns into him just being a meanie to you and your pussy. “Stop ittt!” He mocks you again. He bounces you on his cock and you sob harder, he has to and will make sure you feel it until your wailing. “Just a little crybaby, hm?” You want to just cry. It’s so embarrassing and humiliating. It’s true though, you do cry a lot when you’re overstimulated. So now he’s just pointing it out. You try to defend yourself but then he’ll just go faster and further prove his point when more sobs come from you.
“I hate YOUUUUUHHH!!”
“Oh please, cry me a river. Crybaby.”
And he makes you take it—you scream and squeal until all you can do is cry pathetic sobs as he fucks your pussy into a sickening orgasm. And then he makes you take more because your cries are so cute.
“Are you ready?” You ask your boyfriend, looking down at the hot pink strap you were wearing.
Satoru was on his hands and knees in bed as you stood behind him. He’d only given into this because you’d been begging to fuck him this way for months.
You squeezed some lube onto the rubber dick, taking a step closer to your boyfriend’s entrance.
“You better be nice to me. I’m the sweetest boyfriend on the planet for letting you do this. And.. I shared my kikufuku with you yesterday,” Satoru reminded.
The strongest would never admit that he was slightly nervous by the idea of being pegged. On the other hand, he’d also never admit how fucking into this he was.
The idea of his pretty little girlfriend fucking his asshole until he was in tears was a pretty thought. It made him hard just thinking about it.
“Are you ever nice to me?” You raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not fair! You like it rough! I’m just-” Gojo was cut off by the feeling of you lining the colored dildo up in front of his hole.
The cold lube made him twitch slightly. He groaned as you pushed yourself in slowly. “Tch..” Gojo grunted, his teeth bared as he took the silicone toy inch by inch.
Gojo was already trembling when you’d bottomed out. Seeing him this way was making you drip with wetness.
“You good..?” You asked your boyfriend after not hearing a playful comment from him since you’d pushed yourself inside.
“I’m fine,” he breathed out, his shoulders dipping slightly. His forehead was already dripping with sweat.
“Alright..” you replied, taking his words as a sign to start carefully moving your hips.
Your thrusts started off slow, careful not to hurt him.
Gojo grunted again, his arms struggling to hold up his own body weight.
The sight of him falling apart this way made you smile. You picked up the pace of your thrusts, grabbing ahold of his hips.
“God… you-” your boyfriend whined, his face falling into the pillow as his hands clawed at the silky black bedsheets, desperate for anything to grasp onto.
“What is it baby? Use your words..” you encouraged in his ear, bottoming your strap out inside of him.
He was enjoying this way more than he’d anticipated. His cock throbbed with need and desire. You’d barely even started, yet Satoru also felt his orgasm building.
This was so new. So.. pleasing.
“Baby I-” Gojo cut himself off with a whimper, tightening his grip on the sheets.
“You like it?” You asked him.
He nodded in reply. He liked this very much.
The speed and depth of your movements picked up, getting lost in the moment and the pleasure of your boyfriend.
Before you knew it, he was practically begging to cum.
Satoru’s cock throbbed as his semen stained the sheets below him.
The second you gently pulled out of him, he flopped onto the bed.
“You’re so evil..” he pouted.
“You loved it,” you replied.
“You wish,” Gojo rolled his eyes, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.
————————————————————————————————
I hope u guys like this I felt overly freaked out :3
Also tysm for 200 followers im glad you guys like my writing!!
1.1k words , kara zor-el x fem!reader , suggestive (16+) , implied vigilante!reader , established relationship , reader mentioned to be chatty and mouthy (like once) , reader wears a dress .
synopsis: kara finds out something very interesting about you and how you react when she says the words 'my girl' ; aka pari self indulging for a thousand words straights (not) because i need her so viciously.
notes: this is . fully self indulgent and also very gay because . i am very gay. erm, yes, this movie has revived me and my will to write but i have no idea how long it's going to last so please enjoy! as usual, expect grammar mistakes bc i do not have a beta reader and in true wattpad girl fashion english is not my first language.
The first time it happened, Kara honestly thought it was a fluke.
Your breath hitched and your heartbeat picked up the second she called you “my girl” but you never said anything about it, so naturally, Kara assumed it was the hand on your waist and her lips on your neck.
She didn’t think much of it; honestly, all she could think of at that point was the way you leaned into her and your voice calling out her name—like it was the only thing you could say. So she went back to kissing along your neck, not really thinking about the specific words at all.
The second time it happened, the two of you were arguing about something stupid. Something along the lines about you getting hurt and Kara dropping her post on the mission to come and rescue you. And it isn’t that you’re not grateful—as you try to tell her in the middle of the screaming match—it’s just that she can’t keep leaving her post during an active mission for you.
Kara yelled back, “Well I don’t care! If my girl is getting fucking shot at, I’m going to run to her—”
She cut herself off as she narrowed her eyes at you, because Kara is always perceptive, especially when it comes to you, and she heard the spike in your heartbeat again, and the way your eyes widened very slightly—almost unnoticeable to the human eye—and your breathing got shallower.
But there’s still not a lot Kara could do about it that time because it was only for a second and then you were yelling at her about how you could take care of yourself again and she had to push that out of her mind.
Really—the third time it happens is when Kara can actually take advantage of it and actually push the limits to see how far your little . . . quirk can go. And of course she does exactly that; why not see her baby get all flustered over her?
Clark is hosting a stupid barbeque and for once Kara attends because it’s her stupid cousin’s birthday, and she can be nice (sometimes). Of course, she drags you with her, because she doesn’t want to be there, she just wants to be home with you. Of course, you look gorgeous in a long floral dress. Of course, Kara has to physically stop herself from touching you all the time because Clark is right there and she really doesn’t want to deal with his nagging.
Like all events that include Clark, this one includes a lot of socialising. A lot of introductions of herself as Kara Danvers, Clark’s cousin from Smallville. The only thing that makes it tolerable is the fact that you’re there, smiling and nodding along and every time someone asks who you are, Kara can grab your waist and tug you closer and introduce you as “my girl.”
This time, slight hitch in your breath, the pickup of your heartbeat and the way you try to suppress your blush is very evident and there’s very little distracting her from it. And yeah, Kara is having the time of her life watching you try to hide it from her, even though she’s literally got superhearing. Especially as you cough behind your arm as her thumb brushes against your waist, or when you quickly volunteer to help Lois any time you catch her staring at you.
It’s very close to the best thing ever: watching her normally composed and mouthy girl turn into a stumbling mess because of her, because of two words that she mutters like it’s habit—because that’s what it started off as. Of course, she’d call you her girl, that’s what you are (alongside with pretty girl, pretty baby, her gorgeous baby, her sweet girl and so so many more that Kara has not stopped taking advantage of).
It’s a little funny—very funny to Kara—how that’s all it takes (yes, Clark is side-eyeing her with his stupid ‘omg my cousin’s in love’ grin. No, she does not give a shit).
As the night begins to finally wind down, with most of the guests either leaving or choosing to get wine drunk with Lois, it’s very easy for Kara to corner you at the kitchen as you’re putting some of the dishes away so that her cousin has one less task to deal with after everyone’s gone (and she won’t admit it, but seeing you do something for her family? That tugs on her heart strings and makes her smile want to kiss you stupid).
You’re near the cabinet when Kara suddenly appears behind you, hands caging you in with her chest pressed into your back. She kisses along your neck, starting at the base and making her way up to your ear. You’re already blushing, breathing gotten shallower, as you lean into her embrace, letting go of the plates so you don’t accidentally drop them. But then her hands move to your waist, gripping them and her mouth moves to your ear, and in that low voice of hers that she knows you love, she whispers:
“How’s my girl doing?”
And Kara can feel the way you freeze. With the way your breathing staggers and your heart rate picks up and she has to hide her absolutely jovial smirk with another kiss against your neck.
“What?” she asks again, “cat got your tongue?”
You can’t do anything, really. You’re caged in between the counter top and your way too smug girlfriend right now, with another super with super-hearing literally not that far away. You really don’t want to give anything away more than you already have, because this little secret of yours is out of the bag.
“Kara,” you say, tone a bit bashful as you try to stand up straight. She doesn’t let you, of course, pulling you back into her.
“Yeah?” she mutters again, kisses on your neck resuming.
“Clark—” You try to remind her that her cousin also has super hearing and you really don’t want him to catch you two getting frisky in his kitchen, but it seems like your girlfriend doesn’t really care right now.
“Not my name, baby,” she says as she bites your earlobe, slowly dragging her teeth down. “Or is my girl suddenly shy? Hmm?”
There it is again—those two words. Your absolute undoing. Kara isn’t sure if they’ll have an effect on you right now, with the neck kissing and the teasing, but she’s pleasantly surprised when you shudder and close your eyes, like out of everything else it’s those two words that get to you the most.
Clark calls her name out, and she takes a step back, still with the biggest shit eating grin on her face. Doesn’t matter if her cousin’s found you two out, doesn’t matter if she had to stop this show—because now she knows exactly what gets you, and god save you because Kara Zor-El is about to use that weakness.
If only confirmed by her quick kiss and a promise for taking care of her girl later tonight at home.
Thinking about how girls nights out always end up with at least one of your girlfriends complaining about their dating lives.
You try to be supportive, humming and agreeing with their complaints, but it never takes long for one of them to jokingly point out that you have no reason to complain: your boyfriend is perfect.
And truth is, yes, Dick Grayson is the perfect boyfriend.
At first you were convinced that he would change overtime, once you both got out of the honeymoon phase. But three years have passed since he officially became your boyfriend, and he never changed. If anything, he only improved.
Take tonight for example. When you mentioned that you would be going out, without even looking up from the dishes he was washing, he offered to drive you to the bar and pick you up. No questions asked.
As you were getting ready, he never hurried you, opting for sitting at a careful distance: enough to give you the space you needed, but still close enough to admire you.
Just as you were about to add your finishing touches, he came up behind you, resting his hands on your hips. His lips traced slowly the side of your neck, making you shiver at the sensation.
"Can I taste you, pretty please?"
The request was nothing unusual. Dick loves eating you out before you have to go out somewhere. Or at any time of the day, for that matter. He insists that it makes you glow. And who are you to deny him?
You didn't have to repeat yourself any further. He draged you to your shared bed and made you lay on top of it, careful not to mess up your hair.
Gently, and with barely concealed eagerness, he lifted your dress and moved your lace panties to the side, before diving in and eating you out like a man starved.
After drawing at least one orgasm out of you — preferably two — he cleaned you up, pulled down your dress and drove you to the bar, making sure you were not even a minute late.
The kiss you gave him — after he asked for one with his puppy dog eyes — tasted faintly of your arousal, but neither of you cared as some of your lipgloss got on his lips.
So when you hear your friend's comment, you can do nothing but agree with her.
Your boyfriend is perfect.
A/N: I once saw a video once of a girl talking about her boyfriend eating her out and driving her to a girls night out immediately after. I haven't been the same since.
bf!suguru loves looking after his busy girlfriend. fluff ◞ mdni ⋮ 2.5k
it’s the busy season in the firm again and you have no choice but to work overtime. a nonstop cycle of morning commute, courteous smiles to your nosy colleagues, and dealing with clients who demand outputs from you before the deadline that they had set even arrives. on top of your boss assigning more clients in your hands, you are also in charge of training an employee that the firm has recently hired.
these increasing work responsibilities were starting to gnaw on you. an utterly demanding pile of load that is slowly causing a detrimental effect on your psyche.
you wake up one day feeling heavy. like a cloud full of rain waiting for downpour—to be emptied out. but it never comes, so you walk around carrying the weight inside of you.
you were sacrificing so much of your time for the job that it had even led to cancelled date nights. and one time you missed an important occasion: your anniversary. but suguru did not get dismayed when you passed out on the bed from exhaustion without greeting him.
you woke up the next day in horror as it dawned on you. suguru just shrugged it off. there will be a next one anyway, he said.
he understands that you need him beside you now more than ever. the date nights and anniversary celebration can wait for all he cares. what matters more to him is that you are well-rested.
suguru is the anchor that keeps things steady, and once you have enough time for him again, you’ll find the boat—that is your relationship—still intact and not swept away.
he tended to everything with an endearing thoughtfulness: heading to the grocery after work to buy food ingredients he will cook for the next few days, all while keeping in mind your current cravings, and ironing your office clothes fresh from the laundry so you won’t have to.
sometimes you would be so focused on a task that you would forget to eat your meal. when suguru unpacked your lunch bag and saw that the food he had prepared remained untouched, he initially felt offended. did you not like the food he packed and decided to eat something else instead? he asked himself. but when he realized that perhaps you had been too busy to even open the bento box, you did not hear the end of his nagging.
now, suguru always gives you a call to remind you of it; you would hear him from the phone describe the composition of your meal with much encouragement to boost your appetite and energy.
he knew better than anyone else that—even though you are right there with him—your mind is somewhere else.
in the morning, you would often forget to return the toothpaste to its right place because you’re already busy making a mental list of your work tasks for the day. and suguru, whose job starts later than yours, would catch the plastic tube resting on top of the sink with its cap still open; he would squeeze it over his own toothbrush and put it back in the mirror cabinet as always.
there was also a time you forgot to mention about the electric disconnection notice; it had been days since it came to your knowledge.
imagine his surprise when he arrived home and was welcomed by a pitch dark apartment. but he didn’t get upset at you, no. pissed, maybe. after all, he was also tired from work.
suguru checked the drawers to search for a flashlight but all he found was old birthday candles—two numbers from when you decided to celebrate in the apartment—just the both of you; it was in that same year that you had moved in together, pockets running dry after the lease payment and buying furniture, but you two have never been happier about the new phase of your relationship.
sitting in the living room illuminated only by the flickering candle lights, suguru reminisced on the memories you shared in that place you now call home. slowly, the silence of the night and the mental flashbacks drowned out his earlier frustration and replaced it with nostalgia and some scattered photographs on the coffee table.
the condiments. you often put and mix sauces or syrups in your meal but when the bottles gradually ran out, instead of refilling, you decided to just skip it and dive straight to the unflavored dish however bland it tasted.
suguru eventually caught on to it. the following day, he made a quick run at the grocery store after work; he grabbed different condiments, the ones that you prefer.
right at home while still in his white dress shirt folded up to the elbows, suguru would carefully replenish the bottles in the cabinet so you can have some on your dinner.
rarely did suguru ever see you weep unless it is in the presence of a romance film with you sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around a throw pillow as you sob—totally engrossed in the emotional scene.
so he felt like his world crumbled when you arrived home crying one night.
you conducted an audit that day and slipped on the wet part of the warehouse as you were counting inventory. you thought it was not a big deal; people fall on their ass sometimes. but as you step inside of your home, the exhaustion must have caught up with your facade. the tears just started falling like a dam had been broken inside of you.
with only a couple of large strides across the apartment, suguru was in front of you in no time. he asked you what was wrong, the concern contorting his face in ways you have never seen before. when all he got from you were more sobs and a sniff, he checked your body to see if you have any wounds. and there, he saw the conspicuous tear on the side seam of your slacks—your favorite one at that.
on the same night, while you were sleeping, suguru slipped out of the bed and tiptoed to the living room. all his movements were featherlight since he knows you’re a light sleeper.
inside the tv cabinet, he took out a tin storage and carefully removed the lid so as not to wake you up. then he took out a needle and a thread that matches the color of your slacks. for half an hour or so, he mended the tear on the garment so that you can still use it.
but the one that broke suguru to a substantial degree: a few weeks ago in the bathroom, an unusually thicker clump of hair strands started pooling around the shower drain. suguru thought that it was his; it made sense to him because he has long hair and some of it might be falling off every shower without him realizing.
however, as he did a closer inspection, the length seemed to match yours instead. without thinking much of it, suguru would pick it up with a tissue paper and throw it in the trash bin every time—until curiosity got the best of him one night.
suguru searched on his phone what causes hair fall, and an article told him that stress can trigger or contribute to hair shedding. all this time, what suguru brushed off as nothing was actually an alarming sign—a result from the severe pressure you were under at work.
from then on, suguru took notes of the possible treatments. he bought hair care products and supplements in his next grocery run. he also incorporated more nutritious foods in your meals. he tried all tips known in the book, even going so far as to give you massages before bed that often end up with his fingers curling in your wet pussy. if it can help lower down your cortisol, he would do it.
suguru is always there, so he has always been and so he will continue to be. he is a true partner and companion—always looking out for you, caring for your health and well-being.
and while you may not be vocal about your troubles from work, suguru can tell how much it’s draining you day by day. so, if doing the groceries, preparing the meals, and ironing the clothes could at the very least lessen your stress and burden, then he would gladly shoulder it for a while.
suguru just cannot afford to lose you.
for most of his life, he had seen everything as temporary, like pencil scribbles in his journal—likely to be erased. people come and go, he often told himself.
but then you came along and all of a sudden, every succeeding page has your name written in ink, with kiss marks in shades of pink; to be able to spend every single day of his life with you felt like he had won a lifetime subscription of love letters.
RING. RING. RING.
your body makes an involuntary jolt as the grating sound of your morning alarm plays. afraid of hearing another loop, your hands immediately reach to the bedside table. you squint when the brightness of your phone hits your eyes.
darkness envelops every corner of the room like spilled ink. among the shadows, you catch suguru next to you on the bed lying on his stomach, topless and only in his boxers; his one arm rests on your abdomen while the other he uses as a makeshift pillow.
you stare at your lover’s face; even in deep slumber, suguru still looks majestic. it’s in these tiny moments where you remember that there is still one good thing in your life.
like spotting a shed in the middle of nowhere, under a heavy pouring rain. the relief and comfort of finally finding a resting place; you take respite in it from the strong wind, your drenched and shivering body slowly getting warm—that’s how it feels when you wake up and see suguru next to you, or when you arrive home and catch him in the apartment doing mundane stuff.
he is your shelter from the inescapable, harsh world.
as if suguru senses you gawking at his face, his eyes open slightly which brings you out of your reverie. a smile appears on his lips and with a raspy voice he says “g’morning”.
suguru rubs his thumb over your exposed lower belly, then slowly, he inserts his hands under your shirt, snaking upward until it rests over your chest; he likes to do this every morning—a level of comfort born only after a long time of being together.
unfazed by your boyfriend’s advances, you whisper to him to stop but there’s no hint of resolve in your voice.
using his forefinger and thumb, suguru plays with the bud of your nipple to elicit more reaction from you, but you just smile—still sleepy. “there you go again,” you say in a reprimanding tone similar to when a preschool teacher is talking to a mischievous student.
right past the bedroom window, you see the skyscrapers; some buildings have lit windows while some don’t. and behind these tall structures, the sun peeks in the horizon, hinting its arrival.
today is your favorite day of the week: friday. your drowsiness immediately disappears in anticipation for the two days of break away from any workpapers. one more day. one more push. then the forty-eight hours of freedom will be yours.
suguru withdraws his hand from your shirt as you try to sit upright on the bed. he later on followed suit. the both of you on your way to do your respective daily routines: while you get ready for the day, suguru works in the kitchen to prepare breakfast and your packed lunch. he usually arranges the dry ingredients on the kitchen counter the night before so it’ll be easier for him to work his way around every morning.
after an hour since the alarm rang, you’re all freshened up and ready for work.
as you step out of the bedroom, your nose immediately catches a whiff of melted butter and the freshly cooked pancakes.
and there he is—your eyes dart to suguru’s back. he’s flipping another pancake on the pan, hair tied into a quick bun and still in his boxers, but a pink apron now covers his chest.
a view you’d never get tired of seeing every morning.
suguru smiles when he feels your arms wrap around his waist. you interlock your fingers over his apron. “hey there,” he says as he gives your hands a gentle squeeze.
you rest your right cheek on his bare back; his body is warm like a cat’s and smells like your bedsheets—of comfort and rest. you tiptoe and give his shoulder a soft bite which makes suguru click his tongue and chuckle, “you want crushed pancakes again huh?”
while you are hugging him, another silly idea crosses your mind.
as a form of revenge from suguru’s playfulness earlier on the bed, you withdraw your hug and with a huge grin on your face, you insert one hand in his boxers—your right palm spread out on his buttocks. “hey!” suguru calls you out.
your laugh echoes in the apartment. unsatisfied by his reaction, you give it a couple of firm squeezes. now the both of you are giggling like two idiots. “you’re so silly,” he says while shaking his head.
“you did it first earlier,” you retort, the smile on your face now replaced by a pout.
a chuckle escapes from his mouth, “that’s fair. touché,” suguru accepts his defeat.
he puts the last pancake on the plate and turns the stove off. then he turns his body around to face you—your hand not leaving his backside, sliding from his right bum to the left one.
“c’mere,” suguru says as he grabs your face with both hands.
even though suguru’s work starts later than yours, he still insists on waking up with you so he can cook your meal and watch you leave for work. and with the time he has left before he also has to get ready, he returns to bed to get more sleep.
suguru sandwiches your cheeks between his palms making your lips protrude. then he gives you a kiss, “time to eat or else you’d be late,” he pinches your nose.
the both of you sit around the table and you eat your breakfast as usual. surprisingly, there’s a bottle of syrup filled to the brim, but the last time you recall, you ran out of it. suguru must’ve bought a new one.
you take bites of the pancake and give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. pleased by your reaction, suguru flashes you an earnest smile, then he wipes the syrup on the corner of your lips and licks it from his thumb.
suguru's gaze softens at the sight of your cheeks full of food. like a cute bunny, he thinks.
his cute bunny.
likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated .ᐟ
Synopsis. Toji Fushiguro: MMA light heavyweight champion, tyrant in the ring, the strongest man in the world. But after a sudden losing streak leaves him without his title, Toji realizes that he suffers from a certain…jinx. The cure: you, his new physical therapist - and what’s between those pretty legs of yours!
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!physical therapist!reader, MMA fighter!Toji, Jinx (the manhwa) AU, he’s mean, matches, slight vioIence (to his opponents), Shiu cameo, jinxes, pússydrunk Toji, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, fíngering, spítting, p sIapping, SO MUCH manhandling, HEADLOCKS, slight chokíng, rough s, cervíx kíssing, folding you, p talking, he’s rude, creampíes, cúmplay, tasting it, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.2k
A/N. PHEW-
“Ouch! Huge overhand right—Toji Fushiguro is on his last leg, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in-between. I repeat-”
Toji scowls as the commentator’s voice bellows in his ears, like lightning flashes of derision through the thunder of the crowd. Those bastards, he seethes, they sure were singing his praises last season…
He sways ever-so-slightly, and throws a punch- misses- then gets hit with an uppercut that he really should’ve dodged.
Should’ve.
“That is some damage- wow! A shocking turn of events for the once-champion, it seems like Toji is already down for the count tonight.”
The hell are they talking about? He tries to glare down at the table of commentators (which would’ve been easier if said table wasn’t so…tilted).
Why was the world spinning?
Before he knows it, Toji’s on the mat. He feels the referee rush to his side, slamming the ground in countdown. He feels the crowd roar as he’s announced his defeat, yet again. And in that moment, he knows.
It’s a jinx.
.
.
.
“—devastating loss for the man that once ruled the octagon.”
“The latest in his recent losing streak, fans are left wondering when their light heavyweight champion will make his comeback. And what changes have to be made in order to—”
“—almost as if he’s been jinxed, hah!”
You hasten to turn down the volume on your phone. Despite having your earphones connected, all those screams n’ cries n’ protests still melded together into a powerful whirlwind, blaring out from the cheap speakers.
Tinny. The disappointment of the vast audience on-screen was far too much for your device to contain.
And not wishing to draw any more dirty looks from the other passengers on your bus, you muted the video and paused it on a still of Toji Fushiguro.
It was right after his defeat in the preliminaries; his skin glistening in fervent sweat, a cut bleeding from his brow, face scrunched as he rejected the help of someone from his own team. Instead, choosing to get up by himself.
Still silenced, you let the video play on a little longer - and you take in the glump slump of his shoulders. Oh-so-toned. You take in the way he stalks grimly off of the octagon-shaped battleground that the MMA was most famous for.
From here, you could tell that Toji towered above all of the crew- hell, he even towered above his opponent.
So why did he lose?
Alright, so you weren’t an expert in all things mixed-martial arts - but as a physical therapist you think you had some sort of say in the matter!
From here, you determine that this should’ve been an easy win for him. Terribly easy. Practically handed to him: for Toji was built considerably larger, stronger, about 6’3 with a ripped physique that made you understand exactly why the fighter had graced every single sports magazine in existence last season. Every TV show. Every sports exclusive. He’d taken the fighting world by storm at his debut, and he’d held that title ever since.
Infamous.
A wonder to watch on the screen.
A deep v-line. Arms the size of your head.
Those sage, half-lidded eyes of his were intense - especially now, as they blazed with injustice. You could remember feeling them follow your every move, prowling, from the athletics section on every magazine aisle. You think you’d picked up those exact magazines a few times, just to make sure that they weren’t somehow actually following you.
One time, you even remember the shop employee nodding approvingly at your choice.
Everyone knew Toji Fushiguro.
If not from his legendary MMA reputation, then from his irresistible looks. If not from his irresistible looks, then from his reputation as a tyrant in the ring.
If from neither then from his recent streak of losses that shook the fighting world.
It’d come out of nowhere. And no athlete quite expects to lose, but this seemed to have come as a surprise especially to Toji and his team, crew to an athlete that should’ve been at the top of his game.
You ponder - perhaps it was some wear on the joints, or maybe he hasn’t been getting enough electrolytes this season…
You’re pulled out of your little reverie by a cough from the kind ol’ lady seated beside you; the type that was less a necessity of the body, and more a pointed intonation of ‘I don’t know what you’re doing and it seems like neither do you’.
And, suddenly, you realize that you hadn’t just been staring into space as you’d thought- no, you’d been staring (quite passionately) at a paused frame of Toji Fushiguro in all his shirtless, sweaty glory. A close-up of his built figure. A close-up of the tattoo on the side of his toned hip.
Which, you had to admit was quite…attractive- pull yourself together! You turn off the phone that you’d pulled out in the first place for research, lest anyone else on the bus start thinking that you were some kind of pervert (it might already be too late for that, the elderly woman was tittering to herself). Ducking your head in shame, you sigh out in relief as you notice that your stop is near.
“The next stop is Sendagaya Station, Shibuya.” The lilting voice of the conductor rings out, “Please prepare your fares.”
You were glad to finally get off this bus, after a long ride spent toiling to yourself. In no time, you’d paid your fare and was stepping out into the bustling city.
Conveniently, right in front of the gymnasium you were supposed to arrive at: TEAM BLACK, TOKYO MMA GYM. 5F.
To work for Toji Fushiguro.
You check your watch—five minutes early. Dressed in your crisp scrubs, you adjust the glinting golden badge engraved with your name and your position as physical therapist.
And then you step in.
The sound of gloves connecting with flesh, of groaning punching bags, and shouts greet you immediately as you enter. There were a multitude of fights that were ongoing in the expansive gym, but there was only one that you couldn’t take your eyes off of - right in the middle, pummeling his bloodied opponent, was Toji Fushiguro.
From around the ring, teammates and coaches were yelling at the dark-haired man to stop. But he doesn’t.
His stone-cold face specks with blood, and he still doesn’t stop. His opponent taps at the mat to halt the match, and he still doesn’t stop. One of the other fighters in the gym runs up to grab him, and he still doesn’t stop.
Ultimately, you watch as it takes about five men to even match Toji’s strength- forget about overpowering.
“What’s wrong with you?!” One of the men cried out, “‘Free sparring’ doesn’t mean you should actually take the guy apart- someone could have gotten injured!”
“You okay? You seemed lost there, man…”
“Is this about the loss from a few weeks ago- eek!” Several of them stumble backwards as Toji glares at them for that particular comment, and suddenly you’re reminded of the match you’d just watched on the way here. That devastating loss.
You look over and can’t help but notice that the man inside the ring right now is much bigger than the one he’d fought during that match. Much stronger, it seems.
And again, you’re wondering - why the hell couldn’t he win?
“The punk wanted to spar, s’not my fuckin’ problem he couldn’t handle it.” Toji grunts, and it’s the first time you’re hearing his low baritone. Slightly husky.
He rolls his eyes as he shoves off the other fighters, and pulls aside the colored ropes ring to step out. Which is when, slowly, magnetically, his eyes meet yours.
“Who’s this?”
Toji’s in front of you in a split-second, his broad shape looming. His twinkling irises staring down. His black t-shirt skin-tight. His scarred lips slightly quirking upwards—
And before you can even think of responding, you hear a call of your name.
From the other side of the gym, a clean-cut man with a slight spattering of scruff was pacing his way over. He was well-built, like the other fighters here, though with an air of authority with which he wielded a clipboard.
In front of you, Toji repeats your name. Like he was tasting it.
“Ah, you must be the new physical therapist!” The man announces once he’s close enough, and you bow politely to which he does the same. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. The name’s Shiu Kong, m’the manager of these animals- so if there’s anything you need to ask, you ask me.”
“Thank you for having me, and for the opportunity.” You smile, seeing Toji’s stunned expression from the edge of your peripheral vision.
He scoffs, “And what do we need a physical therapist for?”
Shiu instantly smacks him with his clipboard, “Have you had one too many blows to the head?” He barks out, in a tone that was the complete opposite of the gentle way he’d spoken to you. “Huh? Have you? Have you forgotten the fact that you’ve done more losing than winning this season-”
“Alright alright-” Toji waves off, “The fuck? They should put you in the ring next.”
And then he turns to you and sweeps his eyes up and down. Deciding to take a chance, you thrust your hand out in the attempt of a handshake- only for him to take it in his much-larger, roughened one. And instead he flips your palm over and bends- almost like he’s bowing, almost like you’re royalty - and grins. “Pleasure.”
He doesn’t introduce himself, he knows he doesn’t have to.
And with only a slight smirk thrown your way, Toji turns on his heel and heads in the direction of one of the clinical-looking rooms in the gymnasium. Away from all the fighting, you assumed that this will be your office going forward.
Toji’s already there when you enter, and he’s-
…shirtless?
His broad back was all on display for you, every curve n’ divot, every one of his eight washboard abs, every flex of his muscles. He was glimmering with a sheen of sweat that brought out just how toned he was- and you think you could see, closer than ever, the inky spirals of a snake on his hip.
“My clothes are soaked in sweat-” Toji turns to look at you, and you feel your heart race at being caught staring. “I can do this in my boxers, right?”
“Ah, yes!” You try to keep your tone even, and help your client - your client - lay down on the examination table. But oh- he really was attractive. Painfully so.
Not even those smokin’ hot magazines and edits on social media (all part of your…research, of course) had done him justice.
But you had a job to do, and you’re getting started right away. “Do you have any specific concerns?” You ask, pulling a thin towel over Toji’s crotch area as he reclines. And he only sighs and rests his head upon his palms, muscles rippling as he does so.
“Just do your thing.”
“Yes, sir.” You nod, “Then, I’ll give you the full body sports oil massage.”
“Mn.”
You start from his broad shoulders, and then down to his pecs.
And he really wasn’t like any of the clients you’d had prior - no one came even close. You could feel the power in his body, the firmness, the training. Any time you glissade your lotionized hands across Toji’s muscles, he grunts- and, oh, you have to squeeze your thighs together to stop from thinking anything stupid.
You kneaded your way down from his bulging biceps, and onto the side of his hips - where you got a really good look at the snake tattoo. You notice that it also had flowers inked around it.
And then onto his thighs…you’re raising them in external rotations. All the while looking up at his ridiculously handsome face to check whether it hurt, you didn’t register the way your hands somewhat struggled to get a proper grasp on his meaty thighs, especially with the sweat.
You didn’t register the way your fingertips slightly scoured downwards-
“Oh, shit!” You hiss, jumping your hand back. In the few seconds that you’d been distracted by his looks, you’d somehow traced the crown head of something long…and hard.
Looking down, you realize that Toji’s erection was throbbing against the thin layer of his boxers. Barely even hidden by the cover of the towel, the lengthy cylindrical outline was there for your eyes to see - and for your hand to accidentally touch.
Your eyes widen.
How was he so big?
“My- my apologies, sir!” You sputter out, resting your treasonous hands against your sides. “It’s a very common physiological response to get hard- ah- an erection during a massage, and it’s completely my mistake for not noticing. Again, my apologies, I completely understand if you wish to-”
“Whaddaya doing just standing there?” Toji cuts you off gruffly, and you look up at his face in surprise. He raises a dark brow, “Aren’t you gonna finish what you started?”
You blink, “Finish what I…”
“The massage.” He cocks his head, though there’s a knowing smile on his lips - how devilish he looked this way. “That damn Shiu’s gonna give me hell if I don’t get it- so hurry it up, will ya?”
That was close. Hastily nodding, you reach over to massage his thigh once more. “Right at once, sir.”
Looking down, you chose not to make eye-contact with him for the rest of the session. Instead, focusing your entire attention on perfectly executing the massage, step by step - you wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened before!
Toji, however, stared at you through his partially-lidded eyes the entire time.
.
.
.
“That wraps up your treatment for today. Thank you for your patience, Mr. Fushiguro.” You step to the side, giving the athlete the space to stretch out his long limbs and feel the effects of your massage- which, you had to admit yourself, was amongst some of the best in the academy.
He takes his time rolling his shoulders, feeling the way the blood vessels on his muscles flow smoothly. Energized.
“Hm, not bad.” Toji muses, more to himself. “Most of the punks here call me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Fushiguro’-” He nods at you, “You can just call me Toji.”
“Oh- I’m honored, sir- I mean-” Your veins blister with heat, and you think that the slight quirk of his lips might have something to do with it. “—Toji.” It felt so wrong on your tongue, and yet so right.
And before you can let anything further slip (because, really, you’d never been close enough to a client to address them by their first name, let alone be told to do so after the very first session), you turn away from the handsome man to grab your bag of supplies, your coat, and step to fumble with the door handle. “And now- if that’s all, then I’ll be going now. Have a nice day, sir- I mean-”
As you make your very evident escape, Toji can only watch. Can only stare.
He feels his massive erection still throb furiously between his legs, still ravenous. Like never before. And one of his hands snakes down to squeeze—“How…interesting.”
Before the door swings open once more and in comes Shiu, prattling away something about how you ‘left in such a hurry’ and what a ‘sweet lil’ thing’ you were- Toji casually throws a second hand towel over his lap as his best friend (and manager) comes to slap him on the shoulder. “Feeling refreshed, eh? I can see it in your eyes- with her, we might just have hope about winning that next match.”
“Yeah.” He rasps out, throat dry. Toji watches where you left, he can still feel your soft hands tingling on his skin. “Yeah, we might just.”
.
.
.
“Fuck-” The champion spits between his clenched canines- well, future champion. But it didn’t hurt to be a lil’ optimistic, did it? “Oh, fuck- I’ve never been fuckin’ harder.”
He didn’t fucking care. Not right now, not when he had his strong hand rested against the glistening tile of the stall. His head bent forwards, his back wet with the pouring shower, his right hand slipped below his v-line and furiously pumping his cock.
Up and down. Up and down.
Fuck, he was jerking himself off like he never had before. Until the friction of his roughened palm left his long, hot length all red n’ raw- and yet, he still wasn’t stopping. Still couldn’t.
He remembers the feeling of your soft hands on his thighs and Toji bucks-
“F-fuck-” The fighter gnaws down on his scarred bottom lip, trying desperately not to make a sound that will echo out in the gym’s empty locker room. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- s’not supposed to feel this good.” Sure, they had stalls - but right now even the slightest flick of his thumb, right underneath his mushroomy tip, felt so good that he might as well moan out loud.
And the worst part was that he’s sure his very first moan would be your name.
“Fuck, mama, s’not supposed to feel this good.” He snarls, entire body wracking with shivers. The bulging biceps on his arms ripple as he glides his hand down to his base. And all the way back up.
Abs tensing. Veins on his pelvis popping.
With a few more vulgar strokes, he’s hoverin’ his thumb right over the divot on the middle of his cockhead. It was all pink n’ needy, dribbling out in syrupy white cum in absolutely no time- “Look what you’ve done to me.” Toji watches himself through his shaggy black bangs, wet with water and perspiration, cumming all over his hands. “I don’t know what blessing- what c-curse you’ve put on me, but…” Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?
He rides out his high on his right hand, fucking his fist like he imagines you might tease him through it- just like the way you’d teasingly grazed his tip. Just grazed.
You’d probably take it like such a good girl. Let him paint his gluey white cum all over your face, and just across your lips - it would probably match your scrubs, heh. Biting back a groan, those lecherous thoughts of his only make him finish even faster.
And once the sparks of his high have finally bated - the fountain of his ivory sap stopping - Toji washes off the remnants of his lewd act. Spurting out some cool body wash and cleaning himself off, he slicks back his hair with clean hands now.
Head throwing back, he knew he had to get his mind in focus for the upcoming match - just in a few hours, actually. The car was supposed to be waiting for him outside the gym by now. It was some sort of rebound match of Legends vs. Rookies that Shiu had managed to scrounge together, and it should be displeased at the fact that he was supposed to fight some no-good, hotshot punk- but, honestly he had a good feeling about this one.
Toji’s thoughts stray back to you, and he finds himself cracking a snicker- “You’ve fuckin’ cursed me, woman. You plague me. But…” A thrill zaps through his strong body, “…I like it.”
.
.
.
Toji Fushiguro won the Legends vs. Rookies event.
A wipe-out so clean that everyone was sure it’d go down in history. A comeback so strong that it had already gone down in history.
After that, it was a streak of absolute demolition: the preliminaries, the co-main events, the PPV matches, each and every single fight that was thrown his way- Toji Fushiguro was sure to win without even breaking a sweat (metaphorically).
Hell, at one point even some of his past contenders from his losing streak had demanded rematches, perhaps thinking that they could put the legend in his place once more.
He’d won those, too.
After a season-long losing streak, it was months of winning. And you were giving him his massages on the days before every match.
And Toji was back on the magazine covers, the interviews, the brand deals. Right now you couldn’t even step outside your humble apartment building without being met with at least four different billboards and several commercials featuring him. It was quite strange - seeing the rugged persona in those mediums, and then his still-rugged demeanour in real life.
Though, slightly less so.
There was a faint gentleness to the way that Toji was (when you’d brought this up with some of the other fighters you’d grown close to, they’d fervently denied and showed off their bruises from the pummelings that Toji gave them in the ring).
But you were sure it was there: in the way that he’d always be first in the office, in the way he’d lightly murmur greetings to you and only you, in the way he’d hold open doors and look away as if he wasn’t, in the way that there was a drink of your favorite preference on your desk every morning. And you’d asked around, wondering if it was perhaps Shiu or any of the rookies that was doing so- but they all denied it.
All but one of them.
Toji.
Even Shiu seemed to have noticed that something had shifted in his best fighter. Hell, he was on a winning streak after so long, so of course there had to have been a change.
The other man couldn’t quite pinpoint it, though he gave most of the credit to you and your massages. ‘They must be some sort of magic work!’ He’d exclaimed to you one day, after a particularly tough opponent that Toji had easily beat.
And you yourself couldn’t quite be sure, though you didn’t want to give yourself all the credit. You were only glad that your favorite fighter (yes, after being around MMA fighters for long enough now, you’d determined that Toji was your favorite) was back to winning again.
Only glad you could help.
Which is why, in the ghost entrails of the early morning, at exactly 2:36AM, when Toji texted you - you answered.
2:36AM - Toji (MMA fighter): I need you.
2:38AM - Toji (MMA fighter): For another one of those full body massages.
2:42AM - Toji (MMA fighter): Please.
2:42AM - You: On my way!
As you jumped out of your bed to get dressed, you noticed that you had several missed calls from Shiu, as well. After calling him right back, he informed you that just last week, Toji had come up on a draw during his last match, which was yet another co-main event for the #1 Contender spot.
Of course, you knew of this, you’d watched the match on the gymnasium television. And though it wasn’t the worst of outcomes (especially considering that this was world-class fighting, at a light heavyweight level), considering his winning streak, you were somewhat surprised. And slightly afraid that he’d go back into his rut of losing, just as Shiu was.
Which was why he, too, wanted to reach out to inquire whether you could do one of your ‘magical’ full-body massages on Toji on the night before one of his biggest matches yet. A rematch for the #1 Contender spot - the audiences loved him.
Shiu told you he’d seen Toji moping around after that devastating draw, and knew that the only one who just might have the ability to brighten his mood would be you. So please, if you could go at 2:45AM to the penthouse apartment of a celebrity MMA fighter to give him a massage?
Of course, you said yes.
It seems that Toji’s team had arranged for everything already, and a flashy black car was already waiting outside your apartment building to whisk you off to your destination. You twiddled your thumbs, slightly nervous (for what? You weren’t quite sure) as the car parked in front of a set of gleaming skyscrapers. Apartment buildings of a calibre that you’d only seen in architectural magazines.
Escorted upwards by a few of Toji’s own personal bodyguards past an entrance larger than your entire apartment, and a lobby that practically screamed luxury.
You didn’t even know that Tokyo had such a place.
Massive. Concierges that bowed as soon as they saw you. An orchestra that still played in the dead of night. Chandeliers like miniature suns that lined the ceiling.
Damn, maybe you should’ve become a famous fighter, you whistled. It made sense, though, he is one of the highest-paid athletes in the country. Even the elevators were gilded, shining so brightly that you could make out every inch of your face on its reflection. And the bodyguard’s, too- you quickly straightened up and tried to look as casual as possible as he led you to the very top floor.
A large glowing button simply labelled with a ‘P’.
The penthouse floor had a wide carpeted corridor leading up to it, all golds and reds like the rest of the apartment. You walked up to the expensive-looking door at the end of it, and buzzed the doorbell on its touchpad.
Bzzzz—!
The door swings open.
And there stands Toji Fushiguro, in all his sweaty, shirtless glory.
It almost reminded you of the first time you gave him a massage. Chest heaving. Vision bleary. A glittering bead of sweat lines the curve of his jawline, ending at his chin and dripping downwards. Down, down, down the valley of his pecs.
There was a lewd little flush that overtook his tannish skin.
Like he was…sex-flushed.
Spreading out across his tense shoulders, and all the way down his chest. The back of his neck. You don’t think it even ends as it follows the line of his dark happy trail, those curly lil’ hairs at the bottom of his navel, and then even further down—
Toji’s grey sweatpants hung low on his hips.
Dangerously low.
And you have to force yourself to look away. You swallow as he raises one big, beefy arm and rests it on the top of the door frame. Looking at you through the gaps in his damp bangs, “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, mama.”
“O-oh.” You immediately close your mouth, realizing that you’d been gawking at him for far too long now (how unprofessional!) Sheepishly, you raise your bag of supplies and shake it ever-so-slightly. “I uh- got your text! And Shiu also called to tell me that you wanted an extra round of physical therapy before your match, sir-”
“Toji.”
“Toji-” You amend. Before taking on a stern tone, “And it looks to me like you’d already been up working out before your match. Overstressing your joints will wear them out, you know!”
He scratches the back of his head, a sleazy smile overtaking his face. “Working out- right.”
Tutting, “What you need now is a nice massage and some relaxation. I’ll do your usual with some added therapy for your blood pressure, how about that?”
“Perfect.” Toji grins, and he cracks the doorway open. Just slightly open. So that you have to squeeze yourself between the doorway and his chiselled body - not that you were complaining. “Come on in and give me a- hah, real workout then, how about it?”
“Relaxation, Toji.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
Ignoring his teasing, you step inside. It’s a luxurious apartment - one of those stylishly modern types, black and white, with flares of Toji’s MMA career. Boxing gloves on the sprawling couch. A TV that takes up an entire wall, paused on highlights from his last match. A cabinet overspilling with trophies and belts.
Led by him, you stumble past towering artworks that likely cost about five of these penthouses - and that’s about ten thousand of your own apartment.
He walks you through winding hallways, and ultimately into what you guess is the master bedroom.
His bedroom.
The first thing you notice as you step in isn’t the rich furniture, or the king-sized bed, or the draping curtains that were cracked ever-so-slightly to let a sliver of the city seep through. No- it’s the mountain of tissues scattered on the wine-red carpet, the bottle of lotion on his bedside table, the way the dark bedsheets looked like he’d just been thrashing on it.
Toji casually lays back down on his wrinkled bed, and rests his clammy head on two hands. Stretching out.
You hasten to set out your work, coating your palms in lotion, and beginning your massage. As you start off warming up his obliques, you can’t help but blurt out- “M-my apologies for assuming it was a workout-”
Fuck.
Why would you say that?
You gasp, “I mean-”
“Why?” Toji croons, tilting his head to look at you. Trying to avoid his gaze, you quickly shift to extending his legs instead. “It was a workout, heh.”
Your veins bubble, “Oh…”
“And it’s a workout I need before every match, y’know?” Looking at you closely, still, you’re too aware of the fact that you’re massaging his thigh. “The fact that m’fuckin’ my fist like some lecher before every match, you don’t think that’s strange?”
“I see. I don’t really…” Your throat is drier than the Sahara, you have no idea what to say - though, you admit, a part of you wants to hear more. So that’s what he’d been doing, in this very room, on this very bed, just before you’d arrived.
Another part of you is thrilled. Another part of you is confused why you’re thrilled- which quickly morphs into understanding once your brain conjures up a sizzling image of Toji Fushiguro alone with his sweatpants at his ankles, hands fisting his rock-hard cock.
Shaking your head free of those lecherous visions, you attempt to lighten the mood- “Is that why you’ve been winning all these matches lately, hah?”
“Exactly.” And Toji sounded dead-fucking-serious. Rising, he looks you squarely in the eyes with his slightly murky ones. “See, the thing is, I have this jinx.”
Your eyes widen.
“That’s why I was on a losing streak- no matter what happens, it turns out I needa have a real good high the night before a match.” Your hands have stopped their movements, yet he shifts to edge them up higher. Closer. “N’ it needs to be truly satisfying for me to win.”
“So- so these past few matches?”
“Mhm, you’re a smart one, mama.” He shifts on the bed, sitting up. Even closer. “You could say it’s my routine, and it’s very important to me.” His verdant gaze shifts from your right eye, to your left, to your lips. A triangle. “And…I’d found my fix. Just fucking my fist to the thought of her was enough- but lately…lately, I dunno if that’s all I want.”
Your breath catches—he was talking about…“I see- th-that must be quite challenging.”
“Heh, it looks like you still don’t get it.”
Before you know it, his hand grasps yours. And he’s bringing it up- to press an innocent peck on the back of your hand, though the burning look in his eyes was anything but.
Scarred lips murmuring against your skin, “Why’d ya think that on the crucial night before a match, I’d go through all the trouble of calling my manager, informing security, and having you come over?” He chuckles, “And if you still don’t get it-”
And that sweet, sweet kiss he was pressing to your hand?
Well, Toji’s canines slip outwards to lightly bite down - just teasingly. He looks at you through his long, Stygian lashes. “I know the way you look at me, ya aren’t slick- hah! If you want - only if you want - you should know.” Sighing out. A confession. “It’s always been you, doll. Always.”
So he really was talking about you earlier.
Your heart stutters, and the only thing you can think to do - let your hand slip up, just the way it had on the first day you’d given him a massage.
And sure as day, there it was, the massive fucking erection that raged beneath his sweatpants. Just as large - if not even larger - than how you’d remembered him.
Just as needy - if not needier.
You gulp, “Well, I am your physical therapist intended to help you…” You stare at him dead-on in the eyes: they were drunk with lust. Looking as if he was on the very urge of shattering if you just say the word. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of him in that way, either. “-win.”
.
.
.
“Oh fuck, you taste so good, mama. Just a lil’ wider now—just a little wider.” At Toji’s throaty beckons, you’re stretchin’ your thighs further apart with a whimper.
Feeling the scorchin’ hot gust of his breath against your core, you arch your back with a yelp once you feel him swat his calloused fingertips against your folds.
Teasingly, he runs his fat thumb right past your pussylips- snagging down on your clit to make you even wetter above him. “Wiiider now- lemme see her properly, mama.” He huffs out, demanding. “No need to be shy with me.”
“M’already stretching.” You’re rebutting, grabbing onto a few tufts of his raven bangs to balance yourself. You knew you didn’t need to be gentle with him- in fact, Toji groans at the feeling of you pulling on his hair, using it as leverage.
After all, he’d been the one to insist on making out with your cunt this way: your thighs straddling either side of his face, your cunt hovering above his mouth.
A beaded droplet of slick dribbles into his mouth and he has his tongue out n’ ready to catch it. Pryin’ your swollen folds even further apart with his thumb, “Atta girl-” As you leak out at his words- “Atta girl, s’exactly how wet I want you.”
“Hmpf- and you haven’t even kissed me yet.” You point out, stubbornly.
To which Toji only grins - oh, how cute you were. “You wan’ me to kiss you? There-” And before you know it, you’re feeling something cold and wet cling onto your pussy. Only later are you realizing that he’d just spat on your cunt, letting the lewd slurp-slurp-sluuuurp ring out for both your ears to hear. “Those lips happy now, or do you want tongue?”
“You’re just so mean- ngh-”
Another probing press of his crowned thumb, once more rolling over your clit perfectly. “Oh, so you do want tongue.”
And Toji says it so casually, as if he’d just stumbled across an epiphany. As if he normally did communicate through the squelching slurps your pussy was giving out-
Because then he’s delving his tongue into you like an animal.
Barely even prepping you, barely even warning you- not before the scourin’ tip of his tongue then enters past your folds. Striking directly against some tender inner part of your walls, before he’s darting it back out and fucking you with his long muscle.
Rutting.
Again and again and again.
You feel your thighs shiver hopelessly at the sheer length of Toji’s tongue - so fucking long that you could feel his ridged tastebuds aim for your very cervix. As if he could reach. “O-oh my god. How are you so big, Toji?”
“Mmm, and I haven’t even put my cock in yet, doll.” He smiles priggishly, his tongue slurping up every wadded ounce of slick that leaves you. “How are you gonna take that then, huh?”
“I don’t know- ngh.” He’s mazing another inch of his tongue in, thoroughly. And it’s enough to leave your body all loose n’ wobbly with pleasure- stupidly, you attempt to hold onto the towering headboard on his bed, but Toji can’t have that, now, can he?
Not when he was the one pounding your pretty pussy with all his tastebuds.
Glued to the slick-filled orifices of your cunt, he’s unhooking your hands from the headboard and bringing it back down to hold onto his scalp. To pull. To rough him up a little. “Don’t even think about it-” He can’t even speak through the rough, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on your puckered hole. Wetly. Gasping for air- for more tastes of your candied cunt. “In fact…”
Your hips flinch ever-so-slightly once Toji raises his head up - which, with his powerful body, was absolutely nothing even with your weight on top of him. And through his long bangs he takes a gooood, long look at you.
At your cunt.
At the way you were still hovering your hips, and then he’s spanking his familiar hand down on the tip-top of your clit. Making you gasp- “Did you just-”
“Whoops.” Faux-innocently, Toji acts all nice then - pinpointing the top of his tongue into each of those tender spots you loved so much. He unhinges his jaw even further to make sure that he isn’t leaving a single spot unkissed. Long and hard.
Smack!
And again, you’re finding the most tender outer part of your pussy slapped. “Aww, not again.” Toji has the audacity to pout on your behalf. Meanly, his free hand slides over to grip your ass and pull you down. “Anyways…why don’tcha properly fuckin’ sit, mama. Maybe then my hands will stop- heh, slipping.”
And as if to prove his point, his prolonged tongue skids all the way from your glossy hole to your clit. “I mean…”
“Like- fuck!” Still urging you to sit properly with his hands, on the verge of manhandling you. “Who the fuck do ya think you are, honey?”
You shyly try to listen to what he says, grindin’ your treacly cunt all over his open mouth. And oh- oh, it was like heaven for him. He has his greedy maw unfastened and his tongue slurping all over, stickin’ into every orifice even deeper than he had before. “I worry- hngh! I just worry that I might-” But he still wanted more. Still had his neck craning up n’ down to take in everything you gave him. “-suffocate you if you go on like this.”
And it was a realistic concern- fuck, you were hovering your waist right now and still Toji wasn’t stopping to take a breath. Wasn’t even slowing down.
He’s burying himself nose-deep between your pussylips and letting his mouth do more stirrin’ than talking. And it’s only after a few more vulgar fucking strokes of his tongue, a few more swabs inside your pussy that he can even wrench himself away to answer you. “Ohhhh, I get it.” Tugging on your trembling thighs, “You think I can’t handle it, huh?”
“I didn’t say- oh, fuck-”
Without hesitation, Toji plants a rude slap on your pussy once more. Letting those glittering beads of slick splatter all over, “You think m’fucking weak?” He seethes, half-joking. But half-wanting. “Let me get one thing fuckin’ clear, doll.”
And you’re listening intently - because if he sensed you were becoming too far one on the way his tongue lavishly licks, then Toji would once again swat your cunt. Drawing your attention once more.
The fighter stares deeply into your hazed peripherals as he lets his lengthy tongue flop out. Slitherin’ that honed tip right in- “No matter what you weigh, I can bench press more than five of you.” And he gives your pussylips yet another sinful spank! “Now- fucking- sit.”
You’re being seated with an unceremoniously loud sluuuuurp.
Of his tongue stickin’ deep inside you, his upper lip practically glued to your clit. With you riding his face, Toji fills out every tiny geysering nook and cranny. Grazing every velvety bundle of nerves that makes you see stars.
“Oh- please-” He was just ruthless. As if you didn’t know whether to fuck back or run forwards, you’re jolting your hips sloppily up and down. Slick, needy drags to match his lapping tongue.
Again and again.
Slurp after squelch.
Before you know it, Toji wants more - needs more. Even having you on top of him like this, his mouth was ravenous. Licking. Leaning up from the pillows to let you ride his face; all the way from the curve of his chin n’ up to the tip of his straight nosebridge.
As you come back down from one of these particular gyrations, Toji holds you still and - before you know it - you’re feeling the sensation of something elongated and thick entering your cunt.
“Sh-shit, that’s not your tongue…” You blink away the tears in your eyes and look downwards, where the protruding edges of his joints were stretching you intensely.
Two of them- even though it felt like four, with how big his fingers were.
As you wail n’ wobble on top of him, Toji crushes you to his mouth ferociously. And you marvel at the stretch that keeps you hostage - you can’t do anything but take it. But let your mouth fall ajar, and your head throw back, at the feeling of his probing thrusts.
Sultry tastebuds flickering over your clit- “Mmm, s’not my tongue- good catch, doll.” He snickers, “Thought that such a goooood pussy deserved a little something m-more-”
You catch the way that his dark brows furrow, a slight flush tinting what little you could see of his ears. “Wait- Toji, did you just stutter-”
“No the fuck I didn’t-” He’s snapping back.
And in response, you’re having your gummy walls pummeled with some of the rudest jackhammers you’ve ever felt in your entire life. Oh, he’s just swabbing his fingerpads in so deep, mouth pursing to spit against your entrance once more n’ lick it all up.
Letting himself salivate.
Toji drools down a waterfall of your slick, his fingers tuggin’ apart your tight hole to squeeze-squeeze-squeeze in a third finger. “Don’t make me lose focus now.” Grumbling from underneath you, the fighter pins you down with a big, beefy arm wrapped ‘round your waist. Tight. You’re in awe of his sheer inhuman strength. “Don’tcha remember? I’ve gotta- ngh- win tomorrow, n’ this pretty pussy is the key to it, mama. So let me focus alllll my attention on h-her…”
You gasp, “So you did stutter-” And soon enough, you feel yourself growing even wetter at the implication that the strong, cocky Toji Fushiguro was so pussydrunk right now that he was slurring his words.
Gone on your cunt. The way you clenched ‘round his rovering fingers- oh.
And, of course, Toji wasn’t complaining about the fact that you were soaking yourself even more. Only gaping his maw further open, “Mmm, tch-” His fingers pull out with a squelch to spank the front of your core, “-these lips are much nicer t’me.”
“Hey—” You huff, “Just because I got you all ngh- pussydrunk doesn’t mean- oh fuck!”
“What were you saying—?” And then he’d bullied in four fingers - four. Four entire, long digits- he ends off by hitting his mountainous knuckles against your folds with a smack! Smack after smack. Until the skin on his hands were rubbed all raw, Toji probes his fingers inside your cunt. “Oh yes, I think someone was talkin’ all big w’me. Do you know who that, mmm, might be?”
You shake on top of him, his cushy fingertips were glissading oh-so-close to your g-spot. With every rapid thrust, they inched in—“I-I don’t-”
“I see.” And then he’s rolling his tongue ruthlessly against your clit with a few wettened noises. “Do you know then?”
“What do you-”
“Shhh, not you.” Toji rolls his half-lidded eyes. And his vibratin’ words zap through your entire body - he always did make sure to lean in reeeeal close whenever he spoke, but right now, he was tracing his canines over your swollen clit and lightly gnawing. “M’talking to her- aren’t I?”
“F-fuuuck–!” Just then, he’s striking your g-spot. Thunderously. Just then, he’s realizing he did- and repeating the motion in quick, frenzied half-thrusts.
Barely even pulling properly to tease your elastic hole, barely even letting you register the way he bashes your bundle of nerves before he repeats the act. Toji was just vicious with how he batters in your poor cunt, “Yeah? Yeah yeah yeah- ya like that?” He spits, “Who’s stuttering now, mama? Got anythin’ else to say?”
You whimper, “Mm-mm-”
“Mhm, I knew she was chattier anyway.”
Talking to your pussy, Toji nods along like he’s part of the conversation. All those pretty, pretty sounds that he almost wishes he could record and listen to on loop.
So it was only a matter of time before he’s feeling the way your clampin’ walls reach a feverpitch, the way your damp noises only seem to get damper.
And the fighter looks up at you with a glint of excitement in his partially-lidded eyes, “Oh, she’s close, doll.”
“How did you-” Your breath catches- fuck, he’s only accelerating his thorough pushes. The only thing you could register at this point was the perfect way he knew how to work your pussy, all those deepest, most fragile spots.
Quickly enough, those twinges of pleasure at the pit of your stomach are turning into waves.
And you can feel your thighs tremor on top of him, struggling to support your body when your orgasm quakes. “Toji, m’close-” You tug on his sweaty hair, “I think m’gonna c-cum soon.”
“So cum on my face, then?” He answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Determined, you don’t even need to hold up your own self anymore - he’s doing so with one hand glued to the side of your hips, the other pressing and probin’ until you’re being fucked by both his mouth n’ his fingers- straight into your high.
Crash-landing into your orgasm, it takes you entirely by surprise.
You jerk your cunt against his mouth, and Toji groans with delight. Back arching. Toes curling. You close your eyes and see entirely white as the surge of euphoria takes over your body.
“Oh my- ngh, fuck. M’cumming, m’cumming m’cumming and it feels so good-” He’s just digging his veiny fingers against every sensitive ridge on your walls, just the way you liked. “Right there, keep going just like that, Toji.”
And usually this would be the point where he says something to tease you. The point where he says something to make you whine n’ try to shut him up with your bloated pussylips.
But he was fucking you so thoroughly through your high that he doesn’t even have the time for that anymore, doesn’t have the patience.
With his scarred lips smoochin’ away at your clit, Toji lets his plump fingertips hit your g-spot. Constantly. With those keen senses of his (honestly you blame the reflexes from MMA), he pinpoints the exact tempo of your high.
Every peak- he bashes in with a swat! at your bundle of nerves. Letting his mouth salivate all down your runny slit, drinking up every sip of your sweet, sweet juices. Like honey. “And you called me p-pussydrunk, heh.” Toji titters away, noticing the glazed look in your eyes. “As if you’re not the one gone on my tongue, doll. As if you’re not the one salivating all like that. As if you’re not the one with the pussy that’s fuckin’ ruined me- fuck.”
Both of you register what he’s said at the same time.
Toji with a sudden gasp, and you with a smug smirk. The strongest of your high has bated by now to nothing more than a few tingles, and you have half the mind to look down at him and ask. “So…ruined you, huh?”
“Sh-shut up.”
That pussydrunkness - oh, Toji Fushiguro was fighting against it. Trying not to cave in. But alas, he couldn’t be in denial any longer after your orgasm has ended, and you’re trying to pull off of his mouth- only for Toji to hold onto your thighs and chase after your cunt.
You whimper from overstimulation as he licks at your teary crevice a few more times, before you the pleasure is too much and you really have to push his sweaty crown away.
“Toji- ngh, m’sensitive.” You squeal, to which he grunts in nonchalance. Still addicted to tastin’ you. Realizing this, you finally huff, “If you let me go now, then maybe I wanna take a shot at- hah, paying you back…”
And that finally makes him pull off. With a raised brow, “Cheh, go easy on yerself- you can’t take me that easily.”
“Oh? Scared?”
“You wish.”
In fact, there was a hint of challenge in Toji’s dazed eyes. In no time, you’re plopped off of his mouth with the most lecherous noise. Seated on the edge of the bed, he got off and tugged down on the flimsy fabric of his sweatpants.
Resting his fist on the dark curls at his base, you’re being introduced to Toji’s proud length.
Tanned. Rock-hard.
Even larger than you’d imagined from all his…accidental erections during your sessions. Long. And he wasn’t lacking in the girth department, either - the plumpest tip, all covered in a layer of creamy pre. It dripped down the nozzle of his cockhead, n’ allllll the way down his shaft.
Body moving before your mind, you’re reaching out to grab at his tannish cock. The flatness of your thumb easily smears the lines of precum he was leaking out, letting them glide along the veins that decorated either side of his shaft.
So textured, you wondered how it would feel inside-
“So?” Toji grunts out from above you, peering down. You notice that he still has the remnants of your slick plastered all across his chin, mouth, all the way up to his cheekbones. Worn like some medallion. He sinks his fangs into his lower lip to stop from making too many needy noises as you inspected his sheer size, “Not too late to back out now, doll- heh- oh.”
You’re making him swallow that cocky laughter of his back.
Because in a few sultry split-seconds, you have your mouth pointed right above the divot on his shaft. Spitting. You let the dollop of spittle ooze down his shaft for a bit, before immediately taking his tip into your mouth.
Oh, he’s reaching for the roof of your mouth instantly.
So thick. So plump. You shut your eyes and groan at the salty-sweet taste that greets you, it’s surprisingly not unpleasant.
And Toji lets off a low whistle at the slobbered display, “Oho?” Looking at you through his lashes, you stare up with doey, teary eyes and he feels himself throb at near the back of your throat. “Sh-shit- dooon’t fucking look at me like that. Oh, you know what you’re doing, woman.”
“Mmmpf-” You moan, your lips ‘round his sensitive slit. They send sinful vibrations that makes the larger man hiss.
“Fuck yeah, you do.” With a mean hand, the fighter grips onto the back of your scalp. Manhandling you slightly, “C’mon, doll. C’mon- let’s see if that slutty mouth o’ yours is just talk.”
And then he’s rutting slightly upwards - gently.
At least, for him. But for you, you’re clawing down the lines of his toned pelvis, struggling to catch your breath-
“Oh? Some claws on ya, girl. Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already? I haven’t even fucked ya dumb yet.” And he has the audacity to make that mocking pout again, “Y’know I’ve been fuckin’ my cock to the, mm, thought of you for months now. And- oh, fuck- keep doing that with your tongue—ngh.”
Your jaw aches, and yet you unhinge it even deeper to let the tip of your tastebuds trace patterns all across the line of his slit. All pinkish and slicked with precum.
He continues, “You wanna know a secret?” It was such a heavenly sight, watching you try to nod with Toji’s fat cock stuffed between your lips. Hell, you hadn’t even taken him all yet. “Right before you came here-” Leaning in, whispering. “-I was jerking my cock- oh-”
“Mhmm—?”
“-to your text, doll.”
Oh, fuck.
You’re plucking yourself off of Toji’s thick crown to gasp- but he doesn’t let you get too far before grabbing you with one hand at your throat. Lightly putting pressure at your sides, he’s crashing his lips onto yours.
“Mmm—” He groans against your lips, tasting you, tasting himself, tasting you. “Get on the middle of the bed, all fours. Wanna see if those other lips of yours are just talk, too.”
“They’re not.” You huff, but do as he says anyway.
Those overworked bedsprings creak as you both reposition yourselves: you on your hands and knees, your face pushed into one of the pillows, and Toji right behind you.
His rough hands bend your spine into a cute lil’ curvature, and then proceeds to bang the ends of his fingertips against your weepy pussy. “Easy there, mama.” Toji coos once you buck with a whimper, “Toji’s here n’ you just have to be my good girl and take it, alright?”
You’re nodding, “Just shut up and fuh-fuck me already.”
“Tut tut, greedy girl.”
But he’s doing as you say anyway - oh, he’d do anything you say, to be quite honest. You’re inching your needy cunt closer to where his erection was upright, and Toji holds onto the base of his cock to just slightly eeeeease his way in.
His plump, puckered tip pries apart your folds.
From his honed end, all the way down to where his cockhead swells, you’re feeling him stretch you wiiide open as he enters. “Oh my- fuck! You feel even bigger than you looked-”
“Why, thank you…heh.” And you swear you can feel his red-hot girth throb even bigger. Wider. Since Toji was rock-fucking-hard, you could sense any and every change in his size. “Now don’t run, alright?”
“Why would I-” You’re cutting your own self off, feeling him give the slightest half-thrust from behind. And it’s enough to make you lurch your hand out and grab onto one of the spindles of his headboard. “-oh- oh, I get it now.”
“Mhm—knew you’d wanna run, all talk.” Shaking his head and his shaggy strands, Toji had to have some extra, extra precaution, you see.
Just a warning wasn’t enough. So without further ado, his beefy forearm reaches out to hold tightly onto your neck. Squeezing either side of it, he feels the way your pulse thunders underneath his touch.
Throat strangled with spittle and whines. “Oh my god-” Even more so when he starts rutting his hips like an animal.
“Easy there, eeeeasy there.” He’s reassuring you from behind, as if his achingly hard cock wasn’t splitting you open incredibly. “S’just the tip, doll. You can take it- shhh, you can take it.”
“Whaddaya mean this is just the tip?” You gasp, feeling your body being pulled into his like a ragdoll. He manhandles you as if you’re nothing, constantly grinding your hips back against that scruffy happy trail of his.
“Well, just the tip aaaaand…” You’re quickly learning that whenever Toji elongates his words, he’s dragging out his thrusts, too.
Letting the thick, vein-covered length of his shaft gliiiide all across your walls and then right back. Baaaack and forth. Baaaack and forth. With a sensual pace, he’s inching his way in- the fat, bulbous end of his shaft acting like the headlight. Spearing. He snickers, “-an inch more. Two.”
Tears stream down your cheeks, and Toji’s lavish tongue careens out to lick at them deliciously. “A-and- oh, how much more is there?”
He casually leans his weight back to check, and the fighter’s greedy gaze gets stuck on the sight of your pussy suckin’ him up. Slurping him.
It’s like your pussylips were stretched apart so widely and struggling to take his merciless pace- yet still clamping down, still glistening with wetness after each one of his rugged strikes. “Oh, just about two inches…three…four-” Toji whispers hotly against your ear, “Y’know what- how about I just tell you after you’ve taken all, mm, nine inches, doll?”
Nine inches?
Oh, you were done for.
You weren’t walking out of this very penthouse.
“Yeah, you’re not.” He confirms your thought- shit, you’d said that out loud. Just so dickmatized by the way his flared ridges were swervin’ all around your tight walls.
The curvaceous line of his cockhead nudges apart your channel, and you feel his hold tighten even further. “But the good news- you’re gonna take- ngh, my entire cock, won’t you?” Breathy. He was speeding up his cadence now. Long, thorough strokes. “Gonna take e-every single inch?”
“Yes-” You claw at the headboard, “Yes yes yes yes-”
And then rings the loudest squeeeelch ever as he’s fitting in a few more inches, “Mhmmm, and you’re gonna- ngh- love it.”
Both you and your sloppy pussy do - and he can tell.
All that arousal. All those cute noises you were making. You’re feeling the exact way the zig-zagged pattern of his veins massages your cunt, just perfectly scratching every carnal inch. And he’s almost bottoming-out, almost feeling his reddened tip hit the back of your pussy-
Before you clench around his rude cock—
And you hear the exact, shattered moment that Toji’s breath catches. “Oh fuck-” He stills, “Oh fuck, this won’t work-”
Blinking over your shoulder, “Toji?”
“Fuck.”
His bass cracks at the tail end of that profanity.
And in a mere instant - so fast that you don’t even have enough time to compute - you’re finding your head trapped in one of Toji’s infamous headlocks.
Sure, he’d often used it in a much less attractive way with his opponents.
But never had he used it like this. And you’re choking at the restraint of his flexing muscles, all bulged and big. His biceps digs perfectly against the front of your throat, and you feel your saliva come out in heaps- “Toji- Toji Toji Toji- oh, I can feel you hit my c-cervix.”
Sure enough, he’d dragged you back to bottom out.
The curvy tip of his shaft cutely bumpin’ your cervix, you feel a sticky layer of his precum drip out at the fact. Pulling back, back, baaaaack - right until his plump crown kisses your hole, and then all the way back in again.
In and out. In and out.
So thoroughly, he’s fucking his rock-hard cock into you. Leaving absolutely no hidden spot unturned, leaving your fuzzy brain in absolute shambles.
“You said- hah, you said I didn’t kiss you, right?” Toji rasps against the shell of your ear, his heated proximity making goosebumps run down your spine. And, honestly, at this point you can barely even remember the conversation that’d led up to him saying this. “Well, here I am now-”
“What you do…oh.”
His cock was hitting your cervix- smooching it. Hard, wettened kisses.
Over and over. Toji smashes you back against his pistoning hips, and with his other hand he’s sliding slithering a hand down to your pussy - spanking. “See? M’kissing her, too, now.” He’s tittering, so thoroughly proud of the way your mouth waters.
“That doesn’t cou-”
Smack!
“What was that—?”
The force of it is so pleasurable that your body automatically holds onto the headboard and tries to heave yourself upwards. Thrashing. To which Toji turns his beady eyes down at the futile escape route-
And immediately slams his hand down on the flat top of the headboard.
“Speak t’me, mama- what was, ngh, that?”
Splitting it straight down in two.
You gape stupidly at the way the bed frame easily cracks underneath his strength, and Toji’s taking the slight distraction as an opportunity to lean back onto his haunches.
And he’s taking you right with him.
Toji’s sitting back on his heels, his buttocks resting on the balls of his feet. And you’re somewhat seated on his lap, still having him fuck upwards into you- with this position, he’s reaching his globular tip so deeply.
Even further than he ever had before, he wetly glissades his tip to pierce your womb. “Ngh- fuck.” Grunting in your ear, “You can’t tell me that doesn’t count, doll.” So he did know what you were about to say.
Stirrin’ up your goopy insides, he feels like velvet inside. And you think he’s slowly molding your cunt to his exact size, every line of his vein, every inch. “See? One kiss.” Toji counts out, and immediately you’re feeling his cocktip swipe your cervix. Thudding. “Two kisses.” Another one. “Three kisses-”
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven- it’s on this one that his glistening wet tip manages to locate your g-spot. Since his shaft was more right-leaning, it was oh-so-easy for him to constantly glide down that one spot.
“E-eight-” You count out, by yourself.
And if you could see him right now, you’d have noticed the way that Toji’s predatory eyes widened with pleasant surprise. Oh, you were cockdrunk. He holds you down to him, “Oho? You can count it by yourself now, huh? Then- haaaah, how about- this?”
“Nine-” You blurt out, saliva sploshin’ down the entire front of your chin. “Ten- ngh, eleven.”
“That was actually twelve, but close enough.” He rolls his eyes - he couldn’t punish you too much for that, just a few sodden spanks at the forefront of your cunt. And that was it, really. He’d decided to go easy on you this time, really. Now for him to smoothly shovel his shaft into you, until you were idly reaching your second orgasm of the night.
Hah- as if.
After two slaps to your clit, the fighter edges himself close to your ear and mutters out. “If you can’t do that- could you at least, mm, fuck back into me.”
You whine, “Do I have to? But you do it so good…”
“Spoiled brat.” Yet another swat down on your slit, he caresses your clit as if making up for it. And before long, you’re feeling the spearheading tempo of his cock slow down. “C’mon now- up! There we go- get to work, doll.”
“Mmpf- you’re gonna pay for this.” You growl, doing your very best to try and get your legs to work. They’d been taking it for so long, limp at the pressure, that your hamstrings were positively screaming now. “Shit- but I wanna go faster, oh.”
Toji rolls his eyes with a scoff, “So go faster, girl. What’s the hold up?”
“It just feels so- so- oh.” It just felt so good is what you wanted to say - but you don’t sputter out the words right at that moment (you didn’t want to feed his ego too much).
“So so oh?” He mocks, “Didn’t I say this pretty pussy of yours was- oh, chattier? Think she might just be more articulate, too- heh.”
“Sh-shut up.”
And as if to prove a point, your sloppy drags only made your cunt echo out even louder. The skin on your ass cheeks burned after each slam against his hips, and Toji was just so ripped that every rut left the indentations of his v-line stinging.
“Ngh- fuck.” You arch your back and attempt to slide down his thick cock easier, rubbin’ that part of your g-spot against where his veins were most prominent.
You hated to admit it, but your limbs were growing all weary. And Toji lets out a huff of breathy laughter as he noticed the way your cadence seemed to be slowing down, “Mmm, feelin’ tired, are we? You’re not tapping out any time soon, m’kay?”
“But- but I’m so-” You whine, your fingers fisting in the silk bedsheets. They seemed to be the expensive type, yet ruined with a damp layer of sweat n’ slick. Soon enough, you’re dropping to the bed with a weary mewl. “-shit, I don’t know if I can go any longer-”
You don’t even get to finish your sentence.
You don’t even get to finish the lone, sloppy thrust that you were stumblin’ across
Not before Toji’s then taking over. He gets up off his haunches, pushing you rudely onto all fours again.
And this time? He wasn’t holding back.
“Allll that talk- cheh.” Toji’s spitting down at your pussy, lubricating it once again despite you not even needing it. Before long, you’re being pounded by his long, heavy cock- feeling every single inch in your throat. “But your Toji just has to finish this pretty pussy off, hm?”
“Yes- yes-” You don’t even feel slightly embarrassed in admitting, “Jus’ wanna cum, Toji- ngh, I’m so close.”
“Oh, mama, I know.” Two rugged pads of his fingers come down to slap your clit, smoothing it over with a few gentle rolls. But you’re so far gone at this point that even that makes you see stars- “And you’re gonna cum allll over my- hah, cock, alright? All over.”
Nodding pathetically, you were just drippin’ in spit and sweat. Body shaking with the pangs of pleasure already- “All over b-but you then you have to cum right in here, okay?”
His breath catches, “Wh-where?” Toji stutters.
Blissfully ignorant, you point down the front of your stomach. Drawing a line right where you could feel his rotund tip bottoming out after every thrust, “I don’t think m’gonna last that long.”
“Oh.”
There was something broken in his voice as he registers what you were just telling him with your actions - that you wanted him to finish inside. To pump you so full of cum that it’ll drip out of you. To make sure you feel him from the outside and the inside.
He’s fucking you so hard that the skin ‘round his pelvis had begun to rub raw, slightly overstimulating his tip against the softness of your cunt. Toji pushes down on your body, pinning you down with his weight.
Manhandling you.
So much manhandling.
In this mean doggy position, he leans down and pinches your clit. “Oh, doll, you can’t even imagine what m’gonna do to ya-” Ruined. Shattered baritone. “-don’t even know how far m’gonna fill you up with my cum. You’re gonna be- ngh, overspilling.”
“Yes yes yes- I want it.” And now you’re gyrating your hips back into his- hah, he could almost tease you for it. So you had the desperation now? “Please- give it t’me-”
“Nuh uh, you have to cum first.”
“But- ngh.” A pinch at your clit, a puckering kiss. And Toji hits your g-spot so hard that you swear you see the pearly gates of heaven: you’re cumming.
Wave after wave of your white-hot high.
The pleasure thrums in your veins, and you’re crying out as Toji hits every precious spot with his globular tip. Pinpointed precisely. Your knees weaken- you were mistaken earlier, this was the best orgasm you’ve ever had.
He’s not too far behind.
With a grunt, Toji cums. And after every riveting peak of your high, he’s pourin’ out in sticky wads of cum. It’s like an ivory sap that takes over every inch of your insides, hot and wet.
You squeal as you feel the gluey layer of it stuff you to the brim, ultimately ending up formulating a ring of white around the girth of his hilt. “Cumming-” You blabber tearily, your brain foggy with the feeling of him cumming inside you. Turning around to face him, “I’m c-cumming, Toji.”
“Mmm, you are. So pretty takin’ my- ngh, cum.” Toji’s rough lips kiss down the line of your spine, and his fingers dip from your clit to tease your creamy slit. “I love this view.”
The more he’s swiping away the droplets of cum that pour out of your pussy, the more that keeps sprinkling out - and he honestly doesn’t know whether that’s his fault or yours.
Letting the treacly glaze drip down to his wrist, Toji brings his sticky hand up to your mouth. “Spread those lips f’me, doll- yeahhh, like that.” He murmurs, thickly. And you whimper as he sticks his adhesive-like fingertips into your mouth, making you suck on the salty sap.
Cleaning it off.
It feels like years - almost like eons - until Toji’s finally finished riding out his high, just as strong as yours. He hunches over as he cums-
“Oh, we’re not done y-yet, doll.” Too soon, you’re being dragged back into his hulking body. And since he was finally done with webbing up your insides, now came the fun part where he was fucking it in. Each n’ every gooey wad seeped into your innards. Those earlier specks that’d leaked out from before? Well he’s using his fingers to push those in, too. “You didn’t think that a world-class fighter had a stamina that low, did ya?”
Gasping, you don’t think you can trust your very eardrums right now. “So you mean to say…”
“Mhm.” Toji’s fucking you into utter stupidity- easily flipping you over, you’re being folded into the sloppiest mating press in existence. He mutters to you as he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending you down. “Y’know…MMA championships have five rounds.”
“Oh- and?”
Toji just grins, drilling out a heavy thrust. “One down, four to go, mama.”
.
.
.
“Wow! That was a mean right hook, I definitely wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that strength.” You bite back a grin at the commentator’s voice—oh, how you knew. “Toji Fushiguro sends Naoya Zenin flying–”
You can’t bring yourself to wince as the two-tone-haired man lands on the other side of the octagon with a shuddering thud.
Too excited from your seat in the cageside area - the closest you could be to the fighters - as part of the team. It was your first time officially accompanying Toji to one of his big fights, as his physical therapist.
And his lover.
Though, that part was a secret (more or less, you swear you’d seen most of the gym giving you knowing looks whenever you clocked into work walking a little funny, or whenever Toji had sauntered into the locker room; hickies, nail marks, and all). But for now you settled into your role as the alert physical therapist, watching out for any points in which Toji showed signs of discomfort or soreness.
“Can you hear the crowd- they’re in uproar!”
“Well, it’s no wonder. Toji Fushiguro’s comeback has been long-awaited- ouch, that’s a nice uppercut from Toji.” Another voice bellows.
And the others hum in agreement. “And after his unfortunate streak last year, the champion found his footing once more. With a winning streak that’s one of the longest recorded in recent years, the man is unstoppable!”
“I guess the million dollar question of the night is - can he win the finals tonight?”
Though your efforts were likely for naught, because your boyfriend was at the top of his game.
Without letting Naoya even get up (some rookie hotshot, according to Toji, who had to be put in his place), the older man is pummeling him with a right hook, left hook, right hook, left hook. Until that cocky face of his looked mangled.
And the referee is rushing to his side- about to crouch on the floor for the countdown. The commentators have their announcement of his win on the tip of their tongue. The crows is already reaching a fever point-
It’s in that moment that Toji looks at you.
Towering, the lone fighter standing in the middle of the cage, he stares.
He smiles.
He points.
“Aaaaand the countdown is over—Naoya Zenin down! Toji Fushiguro has won the title of world light heavyweight champion once more! It’s a historical win for Toji!”
You’re all on your feet. The team claps each other on the back, the commentators are shaking hands. Shiu catches the way that Toji immediately heads for you - barely waiting till the heavy golden belt was draped across his body, barely letting the referee raise his hand in the air. Victory.
And he chuckles, “I already knew.” Taking a celebratory drag of his cigarette, “Guess I’m winning the bet.”
Your eyes bulge, “You guys bet on us?”
“Ever since the first day you walked in, sugar.” He chuffs, and lightly nudges your shoulder with his. “No go to him- before he tears down the cage, that is.”
Shiu was right to be worried. By the time you’re reaching the edge of the octagon, Toji has already jumped down from it- and you’re barely registering his brilliant grin before you’re in his arms. His face crushed into the nook of your neck. Arms looped around your waist.
In the distance, it seems, you can hear reporters and fans alike scream questions about you and your relationship. Something you’re sure will end up on every headline and front page of those sports gossip magazines that you now read. Hell, you can even hear the members of your team catcall and howl from the sidelines.
But right now, it’s as if Toji’s voice is the only sound in your ears. “We won.”
You smile, “You won.”
He shakes his head, “Come off it, silly girl. We won.” And even in front of everyone else, even in front of the cameras, he nods down at the very obvious bite marks on your neck. The way your knees were slightly weak. Your core was slightly sore. Evidence of last night. “And m’gonna win a whole lot more tonight-”
“Five rounds just like this championship, then?” You tease, squirming in his strong arms. And he only pulls you even tighter to him-
“Actually, I hear the IMMAF is trying to make it six rounds…”
A/N. Listen I don’t condone J*o J*ekyung but Toji?? Gimme.
after a long day, it’s no surprise that you’re left with no energy to take care of yourself, let alone clean up and drag yourself off to bed. luckily for you, your two boyfriends— satoru and suguru, the infamous strongest duo who are as weak as kittens for you— take it upon themselves to bathe you and wash your hair. princess treatment has never felt this good.
⋆.˚ content: SFW but MDNI 18+, fem!reader, canon jujutsu universe (alt au where geto doesn’t defect), fluff fluff fluff, humor, established polyamorous satosugu x reader, gojo and geto are WHIPPED for you and for each other, domestic intimacy, a fair amount of suggestive jokes (but the entire fic stays non-sexual), mentions of battle wounds & scars
a/n: this is a requested drabble for the non-sexual acts of intimacy prompts “taking a bath together” and “having their hair washed by the other” for a fewww different anons 🙂↕️🫶🏽 hope you all enjoy cos this was sm fun to write 💓 masterlist.
Bathwater laps softly at the porcelain edges of the tub, warm enough to turn your skin dewy beneath the draping of steam that hangs hazily over the air like a wedding veil. The bathroom's steeped in the mellow glow of an amber and blossom-pink sunset filtering through the windows that overlook Tokyo. More jasmine-sweetened steam drifts in languid, translucent ribbons from the oversized tub fashioned to fit three (thanks, Gojo clan money).
Lounging with your lovers, everything is pleasantly heavy— your limbs, your eyelids which have long fallen together, your subdued thoughts— and softened by the calming ease of being in Suguru's and Satoru's presence.
You sit between them, back resting against Satoru's steadily beating chest, his ridiculously long legs fallen open for you to sit between them with all the careless assurance of a man who has never once worried about taking up space. Suguru rests against the opposite edge of the tub with one arm curled along the rim and his legs similarly extended. Satoru's and Suguru's calves and thighs skim against each other where they border yours beneath the water, neither inclined to break the comfort of simple touch.
"You've gone quiet." Suguru's observation echoes off the tile.
"Mhm." Your answer is only half there.
"You awake?"
"Ehhh… Kinda sorta, sorta kinda," you mumble, seesawing a hand.
Satoru leans forward until his forehead lightly bumps your nape. "No sleeping yet, pretty girl. Ragdolling while we try to get you clean is a surefire way to go down Ben Drowned-style,” he teases.
You whine a little in protest even though the reference makes your lips tick. "But you guys made me so comfortable already..."
And they truly have.
The bath had been waiting for you before you'd even thought to ask for one. Actually, the idea was planted in Satoru and Suguru's heads the moment you texted that you were dead-tired and grimy to the group chat from the back of Ijichi's car. You had been the only one to head out on a mission today, Satoru spending the day teaching and training the first years and Suguru mirroring him with the third years— Satoru had weaseled his way into a full hands-on day with his students, claiming he needed somewhat of a break, and Suguru spent most of his time teaching rather than hunting curses anymore, anyways.
(You and Satoru have been on the offensive with the higher-ups for years to nail down this arrangement for Suguru. Sure, Suguru still took on the occasional mission when everyone else was stretched thin by their own duties, but for his mental health’s sake, it was best that he stuck to guiding and nurturing the current generation.
You never want to see him as hollowly depressed as he was after everything that went down when he was a student.)
When you'd finally wandered into your shared house with knotted shoulders and your thumbs aggravatedly digging out the soreness from your temples, both your boyfriends snatched you up at the genkan and herded you like wildly insistent border collies to the master bedroom's ensuite, which had been transformed into a luxury spa during your twenty minute commute.
Towels were folded up in their warmer, candles swaying happily, the massive tub brimming with fragrant bathing oils and mineral salts— literally the whole nines. All the tiny things you'd long forgotten mentioning you preferred for a long soak were present, that information lovingly archived inside two impossibly attentive minds.
Before you could burst into happy tears at the lengths they went to for you, Suguru helped peel away your clothes before passing you off to Satoru, who offered both hands the moment you stepped toward the siren call of the water on sore legs, smoothly bowing as though escorting you into a ballroom instead of a bathtub.
Between them, lowering yourself into the steaming water (which was the fucking perfect temperature, holy hell) was less like climbing into a bath— another chore to hustle through before bed when you were already so worn-thin— and more like mindlessly handing yourself over for what they both dubbed your 'princess treatment.'
Suguru's smile is a ray of gentle light coloring his words, "Are we supposed to apologize for being good boyfriends?"
"Yeah. And you have to live with the consequences," you sigh, slumping further back into Satoru. The water rocks with you.
"You hear that?" Satoru says to Suguru over your head. You feel his chin nestle into your crown, arms loosely coiling at your waist. "She's blaming and threatening us."
"This is what happens when we go out of our way and draw us all a nice bath, huh," Suguru kisses his teeth, theatrically disappointed in you and what his and Satoru's efforts have come to. "Shame. I guess we won't be doing this ever again."
That finally gets your eyes to crack, blinking past the steam shrouding your slivered vision. Suguru watches the both of you with a sleepy beam curling the corners of his mouth, midnight lashes dampened and beading at their tips from the humidity. In spite of his long hair being wound up in a picture-perfect bun straight from Pinterest— his thorough wash-day took place yesterday and he's in no hurry to rewash his hair all over again— the baby hairs coiling at his nape and hairline are helplessly frizzy, fallen victim to the moisture in the air.
Suguru's gorgeous, a fallen angel meant to tempt you into the salacious temptations of the forbidden— much like the equally stunning blue-eyed beauty cuddled up to your behind, fluffed up white hair as refreshing as winter's first snowfall and his innate charming smile ten times more devastating than the cursed techniques sown into his very DNA.
"Hey," you protest, somewhat impressed by how he's twisted this situation to his benefit. "I didn't say all of that…"
A big warm palm finds a home on your shoulder, the callouses at the base of Satoru's fingers dragging a satisfyingly scratchy path over your skin. "I didn't agree to that either. Who's gonna appreciate all our hard work and dedication to pampering her if not, well, our princess?" Satoru wonders aloud, each richly pronounced syllable traveling in a velvety rolling rumble through his chest to your back.
Suguru cocks a brow, though he soaks up the reminder with a smoothly executed drag of the wooden bath tray closer to the corner of the tub's edge. Fancy crystalized bottles rattle, winking rainbow prisms across the walls; the oceanic waves of Satoru's irises, the deep earthiness of Suguru's.
You see them in everything, the two men coloring the world you traverse in a gallery forever curated in their likeness, to the point that you couldn't name a single thing on this planet without your lovers tinting your glasses.
Sometimes, you wonder whether the sky was always that boundless, cotton-candy blue, whether the nature crawling dense coils up Tokyo Jujutsu High's mountain campus had always carried such comforting shades of chocolate-brown, or if loving them has simply trained your eyes to always pay homage to Satoru and Suguru. Whatever the case, you're ridiculously smitten.
"Appreciation isn't the point, Satoru," lightly sniffs Suguru.
You wish you could see the stupid grin smeared across Satoru's countenance as he counters, jokingly, "It absolutely is."
"It really isn't," Suguru deadpans, looking to you as if to say get a load of this guy. You giggle.
"I don't know about you, babe, but I wanna be praised for my generous deeds," Satoru announces. "It hits like a line of coke after a long day."
Suguru slowly nods his assent. "That is true… though in your case, I'd say that cake is more your style than coke of all things."
"Snoooore," you loudly mime, deadpanning.
Satoru's laughter sears through your skin, beating a hearty rhythm between your shoulder blades. Suguru fans his fingers over his mouth as he joins in on Satoru's chuckling, amusement blossoming in the air. "Alright, alright. The deluxe princess treatment package is on its way now, promise," Suguru sing-songs with a little flap of his hand, finally easing up now that he's found a way back on track. "Satoru, you'll wash her hair and I'll do her body?"
"For sure," he chirps.
Ah, how nice it feels to lounge around like prized, celebrated royalty without a care in the world while your boys work a plan to pamper you.
All it takes is a simple curl of Suguru's black-painted finger for Satoru to obediently thrust his hand past your head, palm paralleling the ceiling as Suguru pops the glass stopper of a bottle and drizzles a generous heaping of shampoo into his hand's cup.
Satoru loops his arms around your front and works the shampoo between deft palms before your eyes, vanilla and camellia blossoms wafting up to your face, which you dip towards the comforting smell with a hum. It's Suguru's favorite shampoo— you're always surprised when he shares some of it and his conditioner with you, given how he treats it like the holy grail that he alone was blessed and entrusted with.
(Even funnier how he flat out refuses to let Satoru get his hands on it. Not that the white-haired sorcerer cares all that much anyhow; he uses a 3-in-1 shampoo and calls splashing tap water on his face a 'proper face wash.' You'd think a man so prideful about his vanity would splurge on products to properly care for himself and his Adonis body— the same way he buys from luxury clothing brands on the daily— instead of winging it like a head-in-the-clouds college fratboy, but alas…
You've gotta give it to him though: his genetics are killer. Curse Satoru and the goddamned perfectly pretty Gojo bloodline. It's not fair for the rest of you 'simpletons' who actually have to put in the work to groom and maintain yourself in order to look even half as unfairly attractive as he does on a random Thursday morning. The universe shamelessly plays favorites, and Satoru is its dazzling golden child.)
"Tilt your head back for me," he murmurs, long fingers immediately finding your hair— already sufficiently wet— the second you obey.
Humming an absent tune that lulls you into closing your eyes once more, Satoru gathers up all your hair, his usual boundless energy replaced by surprising patience. You can envision the way he's likely got his tongue peeking slightly between his teeth as he smooths the shampoo down your head, working up a rich, pearly lather from your crown to your ends with painstaking care exactly as Suguru once taught him.
Nobody from Jujutsu Tech— not Shoko, not Ijichi, not even any of the students— would expect such gentleness from the strongest sorcerer alive. The same man that tears into curses with calculated, almost joyous violence and blows them apart with a well-placed Red and a dry “oopsies,” is unbelievably tender in his task of shampooing the outer layer of your hair before diving to your roots, firm yet gentle. Reverent, really.
His nails glide along your scalp in purposefully light scrapes that send shivers down your spine. A contented sigh escapes you before you can stop it. "Satoruuuu…" You subconsciously roll the r in the same purring cadence that Suguru speaks his name in.
"Yooo, chill," Satoru splutters behind you, sounding alarmed by who knows what.
Suguru fills in the blank with a suggestive smile and thinning of his eyes: "Moan my name next, baby. I'm feeling left out."
Ah. Curious, you shuffle your hips back further into the cradle of Satoru's pelvis, glad to feel a distinct lack of engorged arousal insistently pestering your back; he's as flaccid as the day he was born. Your foot goes splashing water Suguru's way next. He catches your ankle beneath the surface and chuckles sunnily beneath the playful heat of your half-hearted glare.
"You're such a hater," he chastises.
"Excuse me for trying to enjoy my bath and the princess treatment you both promised me while you two horndogs try to make something out of nothing," you say dryly, though the pretense of sarcasm is rendered null by the next (accidentally) suggestive noise that floats its way past your lips when Satoru tugs a strand of shampooed hair just shy of too roughly.
"I didn't mean to do that, sorry!" Satoru jumps to apologize, presuming you'll give him shit for it and kick him out. But the joint snickers that both men promptly share over your head informs you that they're not exactly remorseful; and they're not even trying to play it sly.
"There's gonna be floggers and pillories in my online shopping cart by the end of the night if you two keep it up," you warn even though you're chuckling yourself. "That, or a sounding rod for you to share."
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am," Satoru and Suguru innocently chorus.
Devils, the two of them.
But you're not any better, for you praise them in the sweetest purr possible, "Thank you. Good boys," and you all too joyfully reap the color budding across their already bath-flushed cheeks, tipping your head back against Satoru's shoulder to see his properly.
Suguru and Satoru: 1.
You: also 1.
You'll break that tie soon.
Fingers still wrapped in a delicate snag around your ankle, thumb sweeping over the protruding bone, Suguru one-handedly pumps a decent dollop of body wash into his palm, making a fist and dragging his fingers through it to warm it up a tad. "Lift your leg a little higher for me, sweetheart," he instructs, voice no louder than twinkling rain shimmering in silvery ribbons from the sky.
Conscious yet uncaring of the fact that you're already flashing him your most private parts (both your boyfriends have literally seen it all in every sexual and non-sexual scenario possible), you do just that, trusting that Satoru's solidity will keep you from sliding forward on your ass and submerging your face. Your hip flexor and quadricep tighten in a show of undemandingly easy dexterity— the movement of the latter has Suguru's eyes flicking down to watch as though you're his favorite film made human.
He scrunches his legs up in order to fit into the 'v' your own make. Shifting his grip to the back of your calf, he paints your skin in fragrant body wash from your foot, kneecap, to the crease connecting hip to thigh, coating you thoroughly and treating you to an impromptu massage along the way, thumbs kneading tenderly into muscle.
You're practically purring once he's done with your left leg. Suguru eases it back into the steaming bathwater and rinses you off with sweeping strokes of his broad hand until the jasmine-scented suds melt into the surface. Then, without breaking the tranquil rhythm you'd both settled into, he gathers your right leg in his grasp and starts anew from your foot upward, every motion as meticulous as the last.
You don't startle an inch when Satoru picks his task up again whilst Suguru works his soothing magic up your shin. Circles that bloom sweetness through your body are drawn into your scalp with the pads of Satoru's fingertips, thumbs gliding behind your ears before sweeping upward along your crown, coaxing the rich lather deeper through your roots.
His fingertips dance across your hair in broad, enthusiastic circles, working the shampoo in with enough vigor to make your head tip slightly. It's embarrassingly effective in making you lose track of where one minute ends and another begins. The little remaining tension loosens from your body like water through a sieve.
"Oh my godddd," you moan, blissful, completely swept up in their pampering that comes without a price. You melt between Satoru and Suguru without thinking, trusting the secure cradle of their bodies as completely as breathing itself. "This is exactly what I needed. This is heaven."
"You deserve only good things, especially tonight," Suguru murmurs affectionately, gently dunking your right leg and rinsing that one off, too.
"All the time, really," Satoru agrees. He leaves your hair once he's sure each strand is thoroughly lathered up. "Seeing you turn into a cute little puddle is the best bonus I could ask for. Just let us take care of you, yeah?"
He returns to you with a wooden rinse pitcher that Suguru hands to him. He cups warm bathwater into it, stray droplets sprinkling across the bath's surface when he pulls the pitcher free with an audible gulp of water. Anticipating what follows, you tip your head back and stay still as Satoru pours the first cascade of water over your head to cleanse you of the fragrant foam, his free hand shielding your forehead to keep it from spilling over your face.
"You wanna know a neat trick I thought of?" Satoru asks, voice overflowing with prideful excitement. You and Suguru rumble low noises from your throats at the same time, encouraging. "If Blue allows me to pull buildings apart at minimum output by drawing everything towards the impossibility, then it makes sense that if I put the tiiiiniest possible output into Blue—" you feel a tempered spike of cursed energy that makes the dampened hair at your nape prick to attention, "—the field of attraction is weak enough that I can siphon water from hair."
Before the dirtied water can rejoin the pooling bathwater lapping over you all, it peels from your hair like a clean, satisfying strip of tape as though the laws of nature, too, submit to the wonder that is Gojo Satoru.
You feel each saturated lock of hair lighten by degrees more than you see it. Suspended at your sides where you can spy it from the corner of yout eye, the extracted water gathers into a lazily revolving sphere no larger than a melon, pale with diluted shampoo that swirls in pearlescent ribbons beneath the bathroom's amber light. You can tell that Satoru's flicked his fingers behind you when it all goes gliding into a bucket by the tub— he probably thought to put it there in advance, you realize— with a muffled sploosh. Suguru whistles, impressed.
"There!" Satoru chirps, grin crystal-clear in his voice as though he'd unveiled the world's greatest scientific breakthrough instead of an absurdly overengineered bath hack using one of the greatest cursed techniques in history. "No gross rinse water in the tub."
"That was cool, Toru," you gush.
Suguru's laugh slips free in a quiet puff. "Good idea, baby."
The dual praise has Satoru radiating like an overjoyed sun behind you. "Right? Right?" He boasts with no modesty whatsover, chest jutting proudly against your back.
"You'll have to do that for my hair sometime, too," Suguru sighs longingly, tilting his head with a charmed look on his face. He's so cute. "I could use one of my curses, but Blue'll save me so much time. My hair's getting even longer than it already is, if you can imagine."
"Please never cut it," you and Satoru pipe up in genuine agony.
Suguru titters, enchanting brown eyes creasing in a blinding smile, brighter somehow for it. "Relax, you two. I won't. Aside from trimming split ends— knock on wood." He raps the wooden bath tray with his knuckles.
The exchange coaxes an involuntary smile of your own, the stretch of your lips so overly fond that your cheeks ache. It is so wonderfully, unmistakably the three of you— Suguru's easy indulgement forever balanced alongside Satoru's irrepressible enthusiasm and your habit of matching them both exactly where they stand.
Suguru re-lathers his hands to work on your abdomen, muscles fluttering in delicate butterly wings behind the bountiful garden of your skin at the ticklish feeling of his slickened touch; Satoru ladles another pitcherful over your head and repeats the process of gathering and discarding every soapy drop with Blue. Suguru glides soap up the valley between your perked breasts and beneath them as well, even massaging your tits without a lick of sexual intent; Satoru gives you one last rinse before passing curious fingers through your hair until the strands slide cleanly through his hands, gently teasing apart the few stubborn knots left over. The bathwater gently rocks against your ribs whenever they both shift, focused on their individual tasks but nonetheless in tune with one another.
By the time Suguru finishes off your front by washing your collarbones and shoulders and Satoru's just teased apart the few stubborn knots left over in your hair, your hair hangs sleek and impossibly clean, you're feeling squeaky clean from head to toe, and the bathwater around your bodies remains as clear as when you'd first slipped into it, aside from the body wash that's sluiced off of you.
You feel as though they’d somehow washed away not only the day's sweat and oils, but every bothersome thought that had settled there alongside them. You could seriously fall asleep any second without realizing you'd slipped into unconsciousness.
"Look at us working together in sync," Satoru lilts, signaling for the conditioner over your shoulder. Suguru hands it off from the bath tray without missing a beat. "The G.G. Salon is taking off."
"G.G.?" You ask, faint laughter already bubbling through your nose before he even elaborates. You're anticipating something so stupid that it's somehow funny.
"Get gucked," Satoru supplies, only to shriek a soprano's pitch and jackknife his leg through the water when Suguru aggressively pinches Satoru's big toe. "Yeesh, can't a guy joke around here? I meant the Gojo-Geto salon."
Suguru smiles serenely.
They make quick— but not rushed— work of the rest of your treatment. Suguru reaches between yours and Satoru's bodies to bathe your back while Satoru conditions the ends of your hair with the creamy fixture.
Clearing your hair of conditioner after it soaks in is easy as it was for Satoru with the shampoo. He splashes water along your back to finish off Suguru's work, and Suguru leans in to nuzzle a brief kiss against your forehead, lips lingering for only a second before he settles back against the tub's rim again, the picture of handsome relaxation. A moment later, Satoru cranes his head to smooch the side of your neck as if unwilling to be left out, then ducks past you to peck Suguru's mouth.
No words are needed in the wakeful peace that draws a curtain over you; you, Satoru, and Suguru seemingly come to a silent agreement to soak in the jasmine-fermented bath a while longer, all of yours eyes closed in bone-deep gratification. Heat loosens muscles and peels the firm grip of old aches and pains stemming from battles old and new, determined to ease your bodies that've been carved out from years and years of sorcerery. You only clamber out when the bathwater is cool enough to be drained, yours and Satoru's and Suguru's fingers and toes pruny from the extended soak.
The tired little shiver that quakes you when the air hits your damp skin is noticed immediately by Suguru, who quietly directs Satoru to empty the bucket of dirtied water down the tub before turning to you with towels straight from the tower warmer. He wraps one loosely around your hair and gently squeezes away the excess water.
His sweetened cooing of how cute you are when you're all sleepy and doted-on makes you duck your head into his touch if only to hide your face from the loving searchlights of his eyes. You allow Suguru to similarly wrap your body up in a second towel and you gleefully burrow into the fluffy comfort of it.
Satoru zips to your side in literal seconds with two more towels bunched under his arm, blue eyes alight and completely comfortable in his nudity. "My turn," he announces.
"Didn't you have plenty of turns in the bath?" Suguru amusedly points out in a lowered tone. "She's already dried off, anyways."
Satoru pokes his pretty pink lips out in a pout, sulky as a cat denied its dinner. "I want another."
"You always want another," you hum, eyes half-closed and about ready to conk out on the tile of all places. A plane could crash outside and you wouldn't even be fazed, your mind too up in the clouds and doped up on the princess treatment your boyfriends gave you to care.
“Well, I like taking care of you both,” Satoru admits with some sheepishness, scratching his shorn-short nape that you're sure is soon to be warmed pink as you and Suguru look at him with hearts for eyes. "Can't blame a guy for being in love, yeah?"
You really can't; not when you're just as stupidly infatuated with them both. Especially when, adorably, he surprises you both by turning to Suguru and toweling him off with great attention, making your dark-haired partner flush an even ruddier red than the hot water gave his body. For all of Satoru's impossible strength and impossible speed, his hands fuss with deliberate care as they work the plush fabric around Suguru's waist, folding one edge neatly over the other before tucking it securely against his hip. Then Satoru guides a stray bang that fell loose from his bun behind his ear, fingers lingering sweetly.
Suguru blinks once, twice, as though momentarily caught off guard by the simple gesture. "... Thank you, Satoruuu,” he purrs warmly.
The words are accompanied by a smile so soft it melts years off of Suguru's face, leaving behind only the boy who'd once looked at you and Satoru with that same impossible tenderness after late-night konbini store runs and shared umbrellas beneath summer rain as you all ran back to campus after shared misions— long, long before that accursed village sent him into a year-long spiral. Affection settles visibly into every elegant line of him, warming his browned eyes until they resemble polished amber.
Color rushes into Satoru's ears as he's blasted with the full superlunary rays of Suguru's love, almost shying away from his exuberant beam. "Don't mention it," he mutters, already smiling despite himself as he finally slings his own towel around his hips.
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it, sleepy and airy, and both pairs of eyes snap toward you with such immediate fondness. Your heart gives such a smitten start that it damn near ping-pongs off your ribs.
And then you open your unfiltered mouth, "You're both so cute. You two act like you guys haven't explored each other's holes for literal years."
Their expressions slacken into ones of pained amusement immediately. "Sweets, I love you so so sooo bad, but do you ever think before you reduce years of heartfelt intimacy to digging out each other's asses?" Satoru snorts.
"Please don't say it like that," Suguru bemoans, propping one hand on his towel-wrapped hip while the other drives a thumb into his creased forehead. Even so, he's openly snickering, even moreso when he slaps Satoru's chest. "Are you under the impression that you're any better?"
Satoru touches his heart with theatrical offense. "I've never said anything outrageous as her."
"You literally just did?" Suguru points out, exasperatedly tickled.
You attempt to muster a joke to chip in with, but a yawn stretches your jaw instead, eyes watering as exhaustion overtakes any dignity you might have had left.
"Awww," Satoru breathes out an impossibly stricken coo. "She's gonna fall asleep standing up like a horse."
"I was thinking the same thing," Suguru murmurs, tilting his head at you.
"I am awake and alert and alive," you mumble automatically.
Clearly, neither of them believes you for even half a second. Suguru chuckles beneath his breath before stepping forward, large hand finding the small of your back through the towel. "Looks like the delirium's getting to you, huh, angel? You've had a long day."
Satoru immediately appears at your other side. "For sure. Let's go get dressed and go to bed." Without ceremony, he bends his knees and scoops you into his arms bridal-style as though you weigh nothing at all. You let out the weakest little noise of surprise imaginable before instinctively curling against his warm chest, your cheek finding the familiar place beneath his collarbone.
"I c-can…" Your own yawn slashes the sentence in half, making Satoru throw his head back laughing as he turns towards the bathroom's entrance, "… walk."
"Oh, sweetheart," Suguru rumbles out a laugh.
"I can,” you grumble.
"You just lost consciousness mid-sentence."
"Mmmf," you say intelligently.
Suguru reaches over to straighten the towel atop your head one final time, brushing his knuckles fondly across your temple. "So spoiled," he whispers.
You hum contentedly, already halfway to sleep. "Your fault."
"Our fault," Satoru corrects, carrying you toward the door with Suguru walking beside him, shoulder brushing his every few steps. Then, as an aside to Suguru, "To be fair, we kinda made her expect this."
"I think I deserve princess treatment everyday," you exhaustedly pipe up, words dragging as you gradually drift off.
Satoru and Suguru exchange looks over your lolling head. So cute.
would anyone be interested in a sapphic mer!satosugu x reader… started writing it already and i have no idea how long im gonna make it but oh my gods i love it so far. it’s just gonna be implied fem reader but i’ll be making it gender neutral pronouns and everything
it’s featuring a newly graduated marine bio major reader, who’s just moved to australia to do research on mako island for changes in behavior from the local mako population. little to their knowledge yet do they know two mermaids have moved in a few years prior, who are exceedingly protective of their island and it’s shores.
He was so handsome, with this shirt always tight on his shoulders and lean forearms, which made you clench your thighs. He never showed his face, but it was fine. Not like you would ever meet this handsome content creator, simply uploading his outfit checks and not even considering there's a fan somewhere, having a massive crush on him. It's not like he would join your university. Not like it would turn out that he was actually... a she?
♯02⋮ My pretty pretty (good) girl 🎄♡ ୨ৎ ꒰ Femjo x F!Reader ꒱
Your new girlfriend, Satoru, comes home with you for Christmas – and immediately becomes your family’s favourite. She helps in the kitchen, charms your parents, and dresses up as Santa just to make your little cousins laugh. Until you stay alone for the evening, with the warm fireplace and Satoru's present for you. Oh, is it...oh! Merry Christmas!
♯03⋮ Need a Hand? 🏳️⚧️ ♡ ꒰ Femjo x F!Reader ꒱
You've been begging your husband to fix the sink for so looong that you finally decided to take the matter into your own hands and ask for help. You just didn't expect that, aside from the sink, another hole would also get plugged!
♯04⋮ Campus stalker Kirara can't keep her eyes off you ♡ ⏾ ꒰ Kirara x F!Reader ꒱
♯05⋮ My rifle, pony and her ♡ ꒰ Femjo x F!Reader ꒱
What's the safest place to hide away from the local sheriff? A brothel, of course! And for a famous female outlaw, Gojo Satoru, the safest place on earth is between your arms. And legs.
♯06⋮ Noor of my eyes ♡ ꒰ Femguru x F!Reader ꒱
Suguru always knew she loved the softness. The feel of women's skin against hers, the gentle brush of their hair and the loveliness of their eyes. Suguru always knew she would love to have a child. Just... not with her husband. But with his second wife.
♯07⋮ Special treatment ♡ ꒰ Femguru x F!Reader ꒱
Suguru loves giving her sweet assistant special treatment! Be it wearing mini skirts barely brushing her ass or fucking you on a CEO's desk after a long, tiring day!
tags: mdni, lesbians, masturbation, stalking, fingering, cunnilingus, oblivious reader, heavy petting, not proof read
suguru's love was intoxicating, filling every one of your senses. her scent, the taste of her lips, the feeling of her skin against yours. you thrive on it all. you were obsessed with her.
but not as much as she was of you.
you didn't realize it. even before the two of you had officially met she had already known you. your favorite songs and perfume, your favorite piece of clothing, the colors of the walls in your room.
maybe it was a little extreme, but she justified it by telling herself that she would've learned these things anyways. you two being together was bound to happen, it didn't matter if she was a few steps ahead.
you didn't notice her at first but she noticed you. couldn't help to when she was walking with gojo by her side, you bumping into the white haired girl and looking up at her with a glint in your eyes. apologizing in such a sweet voice that suguru told herself she needed to hear again.
from then on nothing you did was hidden.
the same cafe's and restaurants you frequented were now her favorite spots to linger at. every path you took walking home was bookmarked in her mind. she had to make sure you were safe.
even when it was half past midnight, the only light in your room streaming in being the full moon shining on your white sheets and your pretty twisted expression, your hand tucked under the waistband of your panties, relieving stress you wouldn’t have to worry about if you let her take her rightful place beside you in bed. let it be her fingers pumping in and out of you, her mouth on yours swallowing your moans, her other hand tangled with yours during all of it.
suguru could wait though, she could be patient if it was for you.
once the right time came and her scene was set, locking you down was easy. convincing you that every time she ‘accidentally’ bumped into you was a meet cute and every repeated interaction was ‘destiny’.
suguru was careful. didn't approach you when you were with any friends, made sure to corner you when no one else had your attention.
it was fairly easy, being that walking around alone and distracted was a bad habit of yours. you were prey amongst predators, with suguru you wouldn’t have to fear that. she’d take care of it.
but that's why you needed her, to protect you. to warn you.
—
before she knew it, you were her girlfriend. her fantasies turned into reality. your relationship with suguru was almost competitive. challenging each other on the basis of who could make the other happier. suguru was beat.
leading up to this day all suguru wanted to do was to consume you whole, and now she had the chance.
“su—sugu, mmhp” you started before suguru was shoving her tongue down your throat.
you were holding onto her, nails dragging down her shoulder blades in an attempt to steady yourself but it was useless. her long fingers were hitting spots inside of you that no one had ever reached.
swirling her fingertips through your gummy walls.
you couldn’t figure out how she knew exactly what to do with you, considering this was your first night being intimate with each other.
the tension had been building since you’d met, light touches turned into forceful thrusts, whispers turned into deep bites littered across your collarbone.
it was like she was waiting for a countdown almost. but even with how rushed it seemed, suguru still took her time with you. getting you wet with a long make out session, toying with your clit through your panties before fingering you, praising you and practically worshipping your body every step of the way.
she could tell you held so much uncertainty about everything in your life but she would make sure you didn’t feel that way about her.
tears were rolling down your face by your second orgasm, suguru had pulled away to watch your expression she had fallen in love with. your kiss bruised lips being tugged between your teeth, hoping you would break the skin so she could lick the blood off, wanting nothing more than to suck on your bottom lip.
fuck you were so beautiful with her stuffed inside of you.
she couldn’t ignore the intense feeling in her chest, it was almost painful how much she was in love with you and—
shit. judging by the way your eyes jumped open she had said that last part out loud.
and sure, it was a bit early to say those words but did it really matter if she meant it?
fuck. should she take it back in an attempt to not scare you away or—
“you do?” you asked, almost eager for a confirmation. before suguru could respond with words she nodded.
“i do. i love you.” she said, tired of holding herself back.
“i love you too.” to her surprise you didn’t push her away. instead embracing her reverence for you.
seeing the glimmer in your eyes, allowing suguru to take you whole only intensified her feelings.
in a blink she was fully ripping the flimsy lace between your thighs and pushing them to your chest, ears almost touching your calves, holding you in a mating press and plunging her fingers back into you.
“oh fuck suguru!” you yelled before she positioned herself in front of your wet cunt.
suguru began sucking on your clit desperately before moving lower and pushing her tongue through your entrance. getting a taste of your arousal and feeling the smooth expanse of your walls while pressing your legs into your chest harder.
your whines only egged her on more, she could tell you were close, if she wasn’t so impatient she would’ve set a camera up to capture this moment forever.
but it was okay. because from now until forever she’ll have you.
我 ⸼ ࣪ ✿ ◌ ۪ contents. supergirl x fem reader, gf headcanons! ( sfw and nsfw )
notes. just watched superman 2025 and it was soooo good, and moving!!! the personality of clark kent rly speaks to me but i'm (probably) not attracted men so genderfluid! superman aka. kara zor-el headcanosn here i comeee. i'm not THAT edcuated on the comics, so if anything is wrong my apologies. these are just my own interpretations.
ꨄ︎ . weird sleeper. just by principle?? you two will be watching and enjoying a movie, get ready to turn the light off and she'll be like "wait up! i got to turn my whole body 180, and have one half of my body on the floor and the other on the bed!" dead serious about it too. never understood why you laughed at her for it. she's just a very silly sleeper by nature.
ꨄ︎ . a whole nother person during summer. will absolutly sunbathe all the time.. like imagine visiting her parents farm and sunbathing on the balcony alll the daaay. she pulls you onto her chest, and just sogs within the sun with you in her arms. and if you'll whine about the sun being to hot, she'd say smth cheesy like 'i'll protect you :3' while wrapping her arms around you, and you'd groan every time.
ꨄ︎ . super ears = super embarrassing. you cannot gossip about her at a shared party to your friend—she hears everything. but she also overhears when you gush about her (so a good 95% of the time), which makes her so giggly and touchy for the next few hours like 'that's what you said about me?' 'oh so you like me that way?' yeah, no shit.
ꨄ︎ . (suggestive) she doesn't know how to initiate sex. ever. absolutly the kind to huff out a breath, cheeks hot, and just mutter “do you wanna, um, like… if you want to. we could… i mean.” which makes her top notch at consent!
ꨄ︎ . (nsfw) that's not to say she can not dom. are u jokinggg??? those nights after rough missions, where she's fresh from that adrenaline kick and still a little angry?? uuuuh you getting your pussy ate out for hours at a time #oralwarrior
ꨄ︎ . (nsfw) as mentioned. oral fixation is insane. like she needs her mouth to be moving at all times!!! gum. straws. her tongue playing with your fingers, biting gently. you’ll catch her biting on your thumb lazily while you straddle her hips and she’s just looking up at you, all ms. nonchalant, eyelashes fluttering. “what?” she’ll mumble around your finger. “you taste good.” WHAT DO YOU MEAN??
ꨄ︎ . (suggestive) she’ll accidentally break things when she’s horny. not always. but sometimes she gets too flustered, grips the bed frame too tight. once you kissed her neck too gently and she bent the fork she was holding in half. another time she made you cum on her thigh and cracked the headboard. she's so sweet about it too :(((( "oh shit i didn't mean for that to happen!! i'll get a new on trust" just kiss me bro 💔💔
ꨄ︎ . (suggestive) BIG on titty. no matter the size. she is always touching. her head? in your chest. arms around your waist and her cheek to your cleavage while she whines about her day. mid way she'll start sucking and licking and just continue yapping about her day like she's not activelly making you arch back??? ok.
ꨄ︎ . (suggestive) praise, praise and PRAISE.
ꨄ︎ . (nsfw) while she's very good at praise herself, she needs the affirmation from you as well.. will accidently edge (SWEARS it was on accident) just to coo, "use your words, baby" because she likes verbal appreciation herself!!
