you’re straddling choso on the couch, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips, your fingers tangled in his messy black hair as you kiss him like you’ve been starving for it.
his mouth is warm and eager under yours, breathless whimpers escaping him every time you roll your hips down against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. he tastes faintly of the strawberry candy he had been eating earlier. you moan into the kiss as his big hands are sliding up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh like he can’t decide whether to pull you closer or slow you down.
“princess…” he mumbles against your lips, voice already husky and a little breathless. his cheeks were flushed that pretty shade of pink you loved so much. “we should–mmh–get a condom first.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, grinding down again so you can feel exactly how hard he is.
“choo…” say, dragging his name out sweetly, “we’ve been over this. i’m on birth control. i’ve told you a hundred times.”
he swallows hard, his eyes darting away. his hands flex on your thighs. “i know, but…it’s not just that. you know…my issue.”
you frown at how he gets about it, even after being together for months. he’s always been so careful, so worried he’ll overwhelm you.
you always knew he struggled with hyperspermia, he always said it or treated it like it was some kind of curse. the first time you found out, he panicked and apologized all night too you. choso cums so much it’s ridiculous–thick heavy loads of cum that spills everywhere. you wanted it–rather you needed to feel it inside you but he always avoided, insisting on comdoms.
you cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his warm cheeks. “but i want you. i don’t care about that silly issue baby..no condoms please?”
his breath hitches at your pout, his eyes wide and glassy with need and hesitation. “what if it’s too much? i don’t want you to regret it.”
you leaned in, pressing your lips against his causing him to groan, trying to deepen the kiss. you pulled back however, grinning. “the only thing i regret is waiting this long,” you whisper against his lips.
“i love you..please don’t let me wait any longer..”
choso made a helpless sound, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “you’re gonna kill me y’know that?” he mutters, clearly giving in as he lifts his hips so you can shove his sweatpants down. his cock springs free–thick and flushed dark at the tip. he was already leaking pre as it twitches against his stomach.
you push your shorts and panties aside, not bothering to take them all the way off. your grips his cock, lining it to your entrance. the blunt head of his cock presses against your already slick entrance causing him to groan.
“fuck–baby are you sure?”
“yes now shut up.” you sank down in one smooth motion, taking him all the way. “o-oh fuck.” choso’s head falls back against the couch, his eyes fluttering close as he whimpers. his fingers dug into your skin so hard, you worried it’d bruise–not that you cared anymore. all you cared about was him.
“you’re so tight and soo warm..shit–feels so good,”
you moan at the stretch, the way he fills you so perfectly, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix effortlessly. you lift your hips before slamming back down, your head falling back in pleasure. “nghh cho..i feel so full..”
"you’re so tight… so warm… shit, no rubber feels—feels too good—”
choso already seemed completely wrecked, his cheeks were burning red and his lips parted as he releases the prettiest sounds, giving you more confidence as you began fucking yourself on him. every time you drop back on his cock, he whines, trying so hard to stay gentle with you, even as his hips jerk up to meet your thrusts desperately. “ah–i’ve wanted this so bad, thank you baby oh fuck.”
“..and i love it so much,” you gasped, bracing your hands on his chest as you ride him faster. the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filled the room, so perfectly. “d-don’t pull out okay? hah..cum inside me please,”
his eyes widened slightly, a fresh wave of heat flooding his face, but the words clearly affected him. his cock twitching inside you at the thought of cumming inside you–the thought of breeding you, his pretty girlfriend. “d-do you really want that? want me to pump you full of me..? breeding you baby?”
“yes–god yes,” you moaned, your pace getting faster as you began chasing your orgasm. your walls fluttered and clenched greedily around his thick length. the thought of him cumming inside you, claiming you so throughly made you completely dizzy with need. you ride him like you’re trying to milk him dry–which you technically were. your hips rolling as your slick drips down his balls with every thrust.
choso sat up suddenly, wrapping pulling you closer, your mouths crashing in a desperate kiss. “i love you,” he pants between kisses, taking control of your pace as he began thrusting his hips, forcing himself impossibly deeper inside you. your eyes rolled back, a surprised cry coming from you. “i’ll give you everything yeah? gonna fill you all the way up..you’re gonna take every drop right baby?”
you nodded frantically, nails digging into his shoulders as the coil in your belly gets tighter and tighter. “please cho–i need it so bad–ah!”
he kept going, pounding up into you in desperate strokes that were so deep he hits you sweet spot without trying. his thumb trails down, finding your clit and rubbing in messy circles. the pressure builds inside you, your moans turning into whimpers and whines against his neck. you felt him swell and throbbed inside you as he nears the edge.
“i’m so close baby…fuck i can’t hold it much longer,” he whimpers, his voice wrecked as he completely destroys you. “take all of me yeah?”
“y-yes please..i’ll take it all–“ your works break off into a sharp cry as your orgasm suddenly crashes over you. your vision whiting out, walls clamping down hard around his cock. hot white pleasure rips through you in waves as your thighs shook, your cunt gushing around him.
choso lets out a broken moan at the feeling of you gripping him so tight. “s-shit i can’t..”
he buried himself to the hilt with a groan, his cock twitching as he cums. thick heavy spurts flooding inside you, his hips twitching as he fills you completely–so much so your belly felt swollen, his seed spilling around his cock making a mess between you both. “oh my god–cho..”
your eyes rolled back from the overwhelming sensation, the feeling forces another orgasm out of you, your body shuddering and clenching around him–milking every last drop like your body was made for him. you were whimpering, moaning his name as you got lost in the bliss of being filled so much. choso gasped, holding you tight against him, his voice shaky with pleasure. “look at you baby..taking it so well, such a good girl aren’t you?”
it felt like forever before his cock twitched one last time, clearly coming down from his orgasm. he buries his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses there as he catches his breath.
“that was amazing…can we do that again..?” he asks, his voice hopeful as he smiles when he finally looks at you. “only if you want to..”
you laughed breathlessly, placing a small kiss against his lips. “we can do this all day cho..we’re never using condoms again.”
he grins at your words, his eyes darkening. “good, time for me to breed you nice and proper now yeah?”
a/n: SO i realized i’ve BARELY…written for most of the characters in my mlist so ill focus on them now ok. also hyperspermia is so interesting, i might make this a series featuring choso..
I KNOW YOU WANT ME, SO WHY WON’T YOU ACT LIKE IT ?
sum: when you reject fratjo because of his playboy reputation, can his frat brothers—and real brother—help him win you over & prove he’s not a player ?
NICE GUY TACTICS #1: STOP TALKING, START LISTENING !
taught by: nanami kento
“maybe if you listened to y/n as much as you spoke, she’d finally give you a chance.”
ΣX
at a desk behind a bookcase somewhere in birge-carnegie library, nanami kento has a book in his hands & sato gojo’s voice in his ears.
“—rich, handsome, charismatic, compassionate,” sato counts the words on his fingers. “i’m all these things and y/n still rejected me! can you believe it, kenny?”
nanami kento does not give a fuck.
4PM thursday means a box of timbits & the latest volume of nanami’s new favorite BL manhwa. he’s trying to root for cirrus as he pursues his love interest, skylar, but sato gojo’s whining in his ears makes concentrating very, very difficult. nanami snaps his book shut.
“first of all, can you please sit like a child of God?”
across from him, sato gojo is all loose limbs & no decorum; legs open & spread over the mahogany table as he leans back just enough to rock in the wooden chair. he has his arms folded behind his head but when kento snaps, he sits up. his lips are tugged in a stubborn, trying-to-be-cute frown:
“kento,” sato pouts. “help me.”
nanami kento drags a palm over his face. his collar feels tight on his neck & his fingers twitch over his book but sato has his lips pouting & lashes fluttering across from him. if helping out means sato will leave him alone to focus on reading lost in the cloud, who is he to refuse?
RULE #1: TALK LESS, LISTEN MORE !
sato gojo finds you somewhere on the second floor.
he didn’t mean to find you, really. heaven knows he was only on the way to the bathroom, snapchat map clearly not open to your location. at the desk you have your knees to your chest & a marker in your teeth as you frown at your textbook, and sato has to swallow the ache in his throat because your lips are all pouty & glossy & bruised against the marker-cap. fuck.
he strolls over, smile easy & hands in his pockets like you don’t make him shed nerves by the pint.
“y/n l/n,” he grins, leaning over the chair across from you. “fancy seeing you here.”
“don’t make me reject you twice in one week, sato.”
sato gojo bites his lip. your eyes don’t care to meet his as you speak & sato can only watch as you twirl your marker in your teeth. god, you’re so pretty. and god, you’re so mean, shutting him down every time he tries to speak to you because of his ‘playboy reputation’. bullshit.
he’s silent for a beat. “you have sharpie on your nose.”
you blink, hands slowly lifting to your face to rub at your nose. your fingers come back stained in black, & sato gojo can only bite back a smile as you frown at your palms.
“oh my god,” you groan.
“cute,” sato chuckles, pulling out the chair to sit across from you. you’re frowning at him now, lips curled in distrust. but sato doesn’t miss the heat in your cheeks, the glint in your eyes. he makes himself comfortable & leans forward over the table:
“so what’s got you so mad you’re drawing on your face?”
you frown, but sato still gazes at you with that stupid grin & a twinkle in his eyes. you sigh, licking your molars, eyes flitting back to your textbook.
“my group mates,” you tap your marker. “they dumped all the work on me, again. something about me being the ‘smart one’ anyways.”
sato nods, but his attention is split. half of his mind is on the way your gloss spoils in the heat. the other half’s focused on how your lashes flutter even though you’re grumbling. his stomach aches.
“i get that, y’know.”
you blink up at him. “you do?”
he misses the snark in your tone. “people expecting stuff from me, it’s exhausting.” he leans forward, takes the marker from between your fingers & taps it against your knuckles. “for me, it’s girls.”
“…girls?”
“mhm,” he’s still playing with your knuckles, tapping the marker-cap to the bone, lifting each finger & cocking his head like he’s inspecting them. “tons of ‘em, blowing up my phone just because i was nice to them once,” he tugs your thumb wistfully before leaning back. “it gets tiring.”
“…girls.”
“yeah,” sato nods. “girls.”
it’s silent for a beat, sato’s eyes boring into yours. his gaze is tender, nose red, & the marker that was once in your hands is somehow between his lips. his lashes flutter in the light.
you can’t believe he’s deadass.
you’re packing your books now, orgo chem & other textbooks shoving into your book bag. sato watches with his brows knit in confusion. “hey, hey—where are you going—?!”
you leave the library and don’t look back.
NANAMI’S REMARK : WHAT KIND OF MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE IS THIS…?
NICE GUY TACTICS #2: PLAYBOY? NAH, PAYBOY !
taught by: toji zenin
“girls like you for your face but stay for the black card. stop talking and start spending.”
ΣX
it’s tuesday again, and toru gojo’s room is filled with practically everyone but himself. sukuna’s palming his dick with his phone in one hand & toru’s bedsheets covering the other. sato’s twirling a beach ball even though it’s the peak of spring. toji zenin is tugging black tights over his thick thighs, upper half already covered in an equally tight black leotard.
“so,” sato hugs the beach ball to his chin. “new job?”
“dance instructor for katseye,” toji grumbles, struggling to fit the tights over his ass. sato bites his cheek.
“what happened with skai jackson? thought you were working as her personal AI prompt writer.”
“fired. and the brat says AI is bad anyways.”
sato nods. on the bed beside him, sukuna has blown his load & is laid back against toru’s sheets. he has a hand behind his head & the other resting lazy against his cock. “nice ass, zenin.”
toji doesn’t look up, still shifting the tights over his buttocks. “don’t talk about my ass with your dick in your hands.”
sato drops the ball to his lap and groans. “can you guys believe i’m still having no luck with y/n?”
“oh, brother.”
sato shoots sukuna a glare. he slumps against the wall, “i’ve tried listening to her, just like kento suggested. no fucking luck.”
in front of the mirror, toji zenin has succeeded in fitting the tights over his taut ass. sukuna asks him to do a spin & toji tells him to fuck off. sato watches the exchange with a slight pout before his eyes drop to toji’s crotch. damn. he was no expert in print catching, but that dick was definitely a D+.
he shakes the image of toji’s dick away. “i really don’t know what to do about y/n.”
toji picks up his duffel bag. “you’re a gojo, right? you got money?”
“yeah?”
“then use it, dumbass,” toji grunts. “pull out that black card and pay your way into her good books.”
sato only frowns. “y/n doesn’t seem like the materialistic type, though.”
“all women are materialistic,” toji mutters, fumbling through drawers for his keys. sukuna throws them at his head, & toji’s smart enough to pick them up with a tissue to avoid getting precum on his hands. “i’m not gonna ask why you were with my keys. and sato, take my advice if you want a chance with this chick.”
toji exits the room. sukuna has his dick out again, and sato contemplates his next steps as sukuna moans in pleasure beside him.
# SHOW TIME !
at the campus bookstore, there’s a line of 20 students glaring holes into your back.
four textbooks, a lab coat, & five other things you’ll use for class & never touch again. at 214 college street, there’s a heat in your cheeks & an ache in your stomach as the cashier hands you back your card. declined.
“sorry, can you just try again? or could i split the total between two cards—?”
“miss, i’m afraid you’re holding up the line.”
your lips are already bruised & half-bitten when someone sighs loudly behind you. you’re scrambling for another card with too many books in your hands but before you can find one something hard presses against your back.
“she’s with me. put everything she has on here.”
gojo sato has his chest smushed against your back & lalique’s encre noire pricking at your nose. he leans over you to hand his black card to the cashier, who takes it from him with glee.
you tense from the feel of his skin. you bite your lip as you watch the cashier swipe the card, & you’re fiddling with your fingers as your cheeks flush in embarrassment.
“relax,” sato murmurs in your ear. “i’ve got you.”
and you do. your shoulders slump into him. your breathing steadies. you don’t even mind the way sato’s hair tickles your ear as he leans over you, or the way his palm has climbed up to meet your hip. he mumbles a sorry as he presses you closer to the counter. his palm doesn’t fall afterward, & your spine tingles when his thumb brushes your side.
“here you go!”
the cashier hands you the bags with a smile as stretched as plastic. sato takes the bags instead, and you watch, wide-eyed & stupefied, as he carries the heavy load all in one toned hand. he walks slightly ahead for a bit before he reaches out his palm behind him. he makes a grabby hand & you take it with a blink.
he gently tugs you forward to walk beside him. he’s grinning, “Hi.”
“Hi.”
his smile grows. you’re peering up at him with wide eyes & god you’re so cute, you’re always so fucking cute, and god. his heart’s all swollen & sticky in his chest.
his hand shifts to your waist now, brushing up & down gently. “good thing i was close by, right?”
“thank you—“
“no need to thank me, sweetheart.” he hums, pressing you flush against his side as you walk together. “i know people like you are usually impoverished. that’s why you study so hard, right?”
you blink, “what?”
sato doesn’t hear you. “i saw you struggling to pay,” he sing-songs, eyes shut & grin pleased. “so i generously thought to step in. pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to pay anyways.”
you stop in your tracks. his thumb is still rubbing slow circles on your hip. “sato.”
“hm, baby?”
“don’t ever show your face to me again.”
you leave him on the street with your books in his hands & his heart in his throat.
TOJI’S REMARK : 🤦🏿♂️
NICE GUY TACTICS #3: LET HER COME TO YOU !
taught by: geto suguru
“you’re doing too much. sometimes you gotta give girls space and let them come to you.”
ΣX
“i’m actually creasing!”
it’s thursday again, and sato gojo is sitting cross-legged on his bed with sukuna’s head resting lazy on his lap. through his macbook screen geto suguru is laughing hysterically, tears in his eyes as sukuna snickers on sato’s leg with a palm clutched over his mouth.
they’re all wheezing—with the sole exception of sato gojo, of course.
suguru wipes his tears on his cashmere knit sweater. he’s looking all neat & proper, hair tied back & the picture of perfection. suguru is away in manchester for a study abroad semester. sato misses him badly.
till he opens his mouth again.
“i can’t lie, yeah,” suguru dabs at his eyes. “you’ve absolutely bottled it.”
“can you drop the british accent? you’re a first gen japanese immigrant.”
“allow it,” suguru shakes his head. sukuna is throwing up peace signs at the camera so balloons rise up on the facetime screen. “to call the girl you like impoverished…” suguru says through balloons, “just pack it in, mate.”
sukuna props his head up so his face is on the screen. his smile is clumsy: “your boy’s a proper wasteman.”
suguru grins, “is he?”
sato groans. “i was being a provider. following toji’s advice.”
“mind you, the man can’t even provide for himself.”
suguru snickers at that. “not too much, ryomen. and sato, don’t you think you’re trying too hard?”
“i don’t think i’m trying enough.”
“i think you’re trying in the wrong direction,” geto leans back, all calm & cashmere soft. “give her some breathing room—some space. let her come to you.”
sukuna bends his hands into a heart & a heart bubble appears on-screen. “might be your only option at this point. suguru, can i play on your sims 4 save file?”
“absolutely not.”
sukuna breaks the heart.
sato gojo has his back slumped over, brows knit, & lips twisted in concentration.
“let her come to me…got it.”
# SHOW TIME !
sato gojo is stalking you.
you’re on the way to class with a pen in your ear & a patience worn thin. he was three seats away at the local café. two in the campus library. now you’re walking through the courtyard & sato gojo is leaning back against a bulletin board like his eyes aren’t following your every move.
he has your books in your hand from the other day. is he wearing your lab coat?
you shake the thoughts away & keep walking. you’ve got a test in two hours. a project due in three. screw sato gojo & his rich kid privilege & clumsy smile & bright blue eyes and—
sato scurries behind you just to lean back coolly against yet another bulletin board. what the hell is his problem?
you snap, whipping around. “sato! what are you doing ?!”
his eyes widen. he’s still leaned against the bulletin board, your books in his arms & his hair messy-cute. there’s red on his cheeks & his eyes widen before he fixes his face & plasters on that smooth smirk:
“i’m letting you come to me.”
you blink. “no, i’m going to class.”
“and then you’re coming to me afterwards.”
“no, i don’t fucking think i am.”
he slumps forward as if your words are a weight on his shoulders. he’s pouting now as he walks up to you, your books hugged tightly to his chest. “i owe you an apology.”
“do you?”
“yes—god, yes i do.” he’s close now, too close. “y/n, i’m so fucking sorry. i wasn’t thinking straight. i was trying so hard to impress you and look like a provider but ended up sounding like some classist prick. you’re fucking amazing—strong, smart, independent—god, you’re my inspiration. please don’t make me stay away from you,” he clutches his chest. “my heart can’t fucking take it.”
sato gojo looks like an idiot.
your lab coat shrugged lazy over his shoulders, thick books pressed to his chest & a gaze too tender. he keeps his eyes on yours but his pupils shift like they’re heavy with nerves. you bite your lip. fuck.
“i forgive you,”
he blinks, straightens up. “really?”
“yes, really,” you murmur, picking out each book from his hold. he watches as you pluck them into your arms, your nose flushed & lashes fluttering, & his gaze is all misty. his heart goes sticky in his chest.
“i really like you.”
oh fuck. he didn’t mean to say that. he meant it, oh god, he meant it, but he didn’t mean to fucking say it and—
“i know,” you peer up at him, voice soft & gaze gentle in the heat. “walk me to class?”
he takes your books back into his arms. your lecture is two hours too long but sato gojo waits outside the whole time.
GETO’S REMARK : NEAR DISASTER; BUT CHEERS, MATE !
NICE GUY TACTICS #4: ACT LIKE YOU’RE THE PRIZE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“act like you’ve already got her, and you finally will. law of assumption or whatever.”
ΣX
in toru gojo’s room, ryomen sukuna is playing the sims 4 because he has no respect for suguru’s wishes.
sato gojo is on his bed, cheeks flushed & head dizzy. he’s still brushing a thumb over his palm, heat prickling at his skin as he remembers the way you held on when he picked you up after class. your hands were so soft, & you’re so pretty, & gojo sato is utterly fucked.
you’d frowned up at him when you found him waiting but let him hold your hand & guide you to the library regardless. sato tries to breathe. the air goes sticky in his lungs.
at toru’s desk, sukuna is drowning geto’s sim. “why are you smiling like an idiot?” he mutters.
“ryomen,” sato exhales. “i think i’m in love.”
sukuna scoffs, then grins when suguru’s sim kitchen catches fire. “so? you guys are dating now?”
“not yet,” sato sighs, easing into the covers. “to be honest, i’m not even sure she likes me. at least, not the way i like her.”
“mm. i think she just tolerates you.” / “shut the fuck up.”
“listen,” sukuna’s typing cheat codes into the game now. “you want her to be yours? act like she already is. it’s the law of assumption.”
sato blinks. “you believe in manifestation?”
“i use subliminals. how do you think i got my dick so big?”
sato doesn’t comment. “by the way, suguru’s sim asked yours for a divorce. just thought you should know that.”
sato sits up, suddenly serious. “new save file. now.”
# SHOW TIME !
sigma-chi’s frat house is blaring speakers & bodies pressed together on a friday evening.
sato gojo has a cup in his hands & liquor in his teeth. beside him sukuna’s on a chair chugging beer, porn playing in his headphones so he can have a dick print. his technique seems to be working—two bodies to the left, there’s a girl & her friend. sato overhears them conclude sukuna must be a D.
in sato’s ears, however, he’s playing an attract your crush! subliminal—hand-picked & recommended by ryomen sukuna, of course. he has his hands in his pockets, cap slumped & limbs lazy—until he spots you.
glossed hair, glazed lips & your tongue in your cheek. you’re wearing a skirt too short to be sweet & now sato has his tongue in his cheek too. you’re shifting around as if nervous—as if you’d rather not be here, & sato’s heart aches with something akin to want.
he doesn’t realize when his body starts moving.
you’re faced away from him, lips bitten, so he takes your hand from behind. you jolt, “oh—hi.”
“hi, baby,” he mutters, guiding you closer. “you look pretty.”
“thank you,” you murmur, breathless. sato’s arms loop around your hips. you only lift your palms to rest on his chest.
“have you had anything to drink?”
you shake your head, and sato’s hands are climbing higher now, under your top & grazing your spine. his hands are cold, so cold.
sukuna’s subliminal is still buzzing in his ears. he’s always been a daring boy, so he takes the leap. cups your cheek with a palm. brushes your waist when you shiver. “i can get you something.”
“that would be nice.”
he nods & guides you towards the bar.
——
sato gojo’s not sure how he’s done it.
you’re so pliant today. soft & unguarded, warm edges & caramel-sweet. even now he has your back pressed against his chest at the bar, hands on your hips, your perfume in his lungs.
you look up at him, “sato?” and he wants to kiss you because your eyes are too big & your voice is too pretty.
“mm?”
he leans down to hear you & his nose brushes your neck. his thumb is brushing circles on the dip beneath your waistband.
“do you…um. do you actually like me?”
oh god.
sato wants to say he’s never liked anyone more. that last night he dreamt about the shape of your frown, that his ribs ache when you ignore him, that his heart scraped against his throat the day he tried to pay for you but he messed up & you left, that he practiced his apology in the mirror till his throat hurt & if you ever said you liked him back he’d swallow his pride & cry.
but the subliminal still hums in his ears. sukuna’s words are still a ghost in the heat. ‘act like you’ve already got her!’
so he clears his throat. puts on that fake confidence like frat boys do.
“dunno,” but his hand grips your hip. “why? you want me to give you a chance?”
you still in his hold. sato gojo has fucked up once again.
SUKUNA’S REMARK : DAMN.
NICE GUY TACTICS #5: EGO IS THE ENEMY !
taught by: toru gojo
“i’ve played these games before. trust me when i say to just be yourself.”
ΣX
that evening, sato gojo has his knees against the tile & acid in his jugular.
he’s bent over the toilet seat, tongue curled & bone in his stomach. toru gojo has his hand in sato’s hair, holding it back as his twin brother spills his guts into the toilet bowl.
“i fucked up,” he rasps, then pukes again. “toru—toru. i fucked up,”
his nerdy brother bites his lip. it’s a sight for sore eyes—his twin on the bathroom floor with split lip & bruised knees, babbling over a girl with red cheeks & eyes watery. toru picks up a towel to wipe his brother’s face. “you need to calm down—you made a mistake. it’s not the end of the world.”
“it is, fuck, it is.” sato’s tears fall faster than toru can wipe. he’s shaking, “you know this isn’t the first time? that i called her poor?” toru winces. “and she let it go like a fucking saint and—hic—i still fucked up. i hurt her again.”
sato’s nose is blotchy red & his eyes are swollen puffy. the tears don’t stop. “i always hurt her. toru, why do i always hurt her?”
toru kneels down to his brother’s shaking figure, one hand on his cheek & the other dabbing his tears. “because you keep trying to perform. keep acting like something you’re not.” toru pauses. “like i was doing before i finally got my girlfriend.”
sato remembers—how he and his frat brothers gave toru a bunch of ‘playboy tactics’ to woo over his girl. sato shakes his head, sniffling. “i’m not pretending. i’m not fucking pretending.”
“you are,” toru wipes sato’s nose with his sleeve, then quickly regrets it. “i’ve been busy with projects but i know how you get, sato. acting all suave like you don’t overthink everything she says. like you don’t ask for advice on reddit forums. like you don’t make geto roleplay with you so you can decide exactly how to approach her.”
toru pauses, takes in his brother’s sore eyes & tear-stained cheeks. he hugs his brother’s head: “i know how you get.”
sato goes limp in his arms. “i really, really like her.”
“i know,” toru squeezes. “we all do.”
sato lets his head fall limp in his brother’s neck. he can’t help but wish that it was you.
—-
sato gojo has typed your name four times into his notes app because he likes the way it looks on his screen.
then he deletes it, then types it again, then deletes it with tears in his eyes. there’s still alcohol in his throat & his head is too fucking dizzy. it hurts to breathe & sato gojo can’t fucking think.
y/n.
it takes him three tries to spell your name into his contacts. not because he can’t spell, but because there are tears clouding his eyes & his throat hurts whenever he tries to sound your name out. y/n y/n y/n. no search results. then he finds your name saved under ‘baby :)‘ & he’s finally able to breathe again.
he’s still half-drunk, and he can’t really see, and there’s a wound in his chest & his thumbs are shaking so he prays to god for strength as he types. sato gojo hasn’t been to a church since he was eleven. he can’t even spell the word messiah.
SATO:
Hy [deleted]
Hi
y/n i’m so sorry
for everything
ikm such a fucking idiot
when u asked me if i reallly liked u and i said idk and u froze in my arms i felt my heart fucking stop in my chest y/n i’m so sorry
i like you i like you so bad
i don’t have the confudence to say it out loud to your face im so sorry
*confidence
i want to be a better man for you
i’m sorry for always hurting you i try not to i swear i do but i always think too hard and say the wrong things i swear i never ever mean to hurt you never ever
i liek you so much i’ve never liked any girl the way i like you ever in my life
i take acantability
accowntabikity
accountant
accountabity
i’m sorry im accountable
sato’s eyes blur. he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the tears. his hands are shaking but he prays again and he’s able to type just one more message.
SATO: ilikeyouilikeyouilikeyouilikeyou
the typing bubble pops up in the chat. he passes out before he can see your message.
——
“where is he?”
sato gojo has his nose beneath the covers, lashes sticky with dried tears & want. his hearing is muffled & his head is dizzy so when the lights flick on he retreats further into the covers.
toru gojo kneels in front of him. “sato. wake up.”
“mmrrnnhhhh.”
toru sighs. you walk up next to him and kneel in front of the bed. “sato?”
he stills. he knows that voice anywhere.
slowly, agonizingly, he pulls down the covers. just a little, just an inch—just because his nose is still blotchy & his eyes are still puffy & he doesn’t want you to see him like this. he opens his eyes & god. if this is a dream—messiah. please don’t wake him up.
you are so beautiful & your eyes are so big & sato gojo can’t believe you’re right here in front of him.
“sato. hi.”
he tries to say hi back. his lips part but he can’t seem to get anything out.
toru rises to his feet. “i’ll get him some water. be right back.”
it’s just you and him now; sato gojo and the only girl he’s ever loved. is it too early to use the word love? you’re resting your chin on folded arms right in front of him & sato does think he’s in love. he hasn’t even properly told you he likes you. he has to hurry up and say it.
you’re so close your noses are touching. you’re so pretty & you smell so sweet. “sato.”
“hi, baby—” but then he coughs. “hi, y/n.”
you giggle at that. sato realizes he’s never heard you giggle before. he wants you to giggle again. can you giggle again?
“i got your messages,”
ah. he swallows. “i texted you back and you didn’t respond. i got worried so i came here.”
sato can’t believe his ears. you worried about him?
he blinks. “i love you.”
your brows furrow.
“i’m sorry for saying it,” his voice is small, shy, slightly muffled beneath the covers. “but i think it a lot. and i’m sorry for loving you because i know i’m not worthy of your love, or of you in general, but if i said i like you that wouldn’t be correct, because the way my heart feels when i think about you is more than ‘like’,”
he breathes. “so i’m sorry for loving you. but i still love you. i’m sorry.”
you don’t know what to say to that. sato gojo is still peering at you—lashes sticky, blue eyes dim yet brimming with light. he’s retreated further into the covers now so all you see is white wisps of hair & those bright blue eyes.
you tug down the covers. he freezes, breathing heavy, eyes wide with both fear & adoration as you climb on top of him.
“say it again.”
“i…like you.”
“no, the other one.”
oh. “i love you.”
sato gulps. “i love you. i love you i love you i love you—“
you press your lips to his own as he holds your hips. he still says ‘i love you’ between your lips.
BONUS #1 — Y/N’S MESSAGES !
——
baby :)
😂😂 lol
you don’t expect me to acc believe this right?
do you know how many times you’ve hurt me these last few weeks and i let it go because my dumbass was in love with you?
*liked you
i was vulnerable and asked if you truly liked me and u said u don’t know and some other dumbass shit
that’s so fucked
you’re so fucked
you’re not fair to me that’s not fair sato
you say you’re sorry and you like me but you can’t even say it to my face? how is that fair? huh sato?
sato
sato?
are you okay
sato
i’m coming over
BONUS #2 – EPILOGUE !
it’s friday again, the end of the week, and sato gojo is at the airport with a grin on his face. his best friend is finally back in town & sato is practically vibrating.
“well, if it isn’t our casanova.”
“suguru!” sato tackles him in a hug. geto laughs, feet wobbly, patting at sato’s back affectionately. “you’ve got a girl now, mate. back up a bit, yeah?”
sato pulls back, frowning. “no more british accents.”
suguru smiles, “no more.”
in the car they talk about everything. sato should be driving but instead he plays passenger princess, recounting the last few weeks without him.
“so you’ve finally gotten the girl.” geto hums.
“yup.”
“and you told her you loved her before you even started dating.”
sato bites his lip. “yes.”
“you’re down bad.”
“i know.”
“i’m glad you’re happy, y’know,” geto is talking but sato’s phone dings in his lap. that special notification sound he’s set up only for you.
mine🫀: are you still picking up geto?
sato grins.
—
sato: you miss me, baby?
mine🫀: shut up
i’m still at the library
sato: i know babygirl i’m omw
mine🫀: nooo don’t come here
i need to study and u won’t let me focus
sato: thought i was your favorite distraction? 💔
mine🫀: ha. ha. don’t come here
sato: too late already at the exit
mine🫀: SATO
—-
“sato? are you listening?”
“sorry,” sato mutters, locking his phone. his knee is bouncing & his chest feels light. god, he’s so in love. “take the next left. suguru, do you know ryomen fucked with our sims’ marriage?”
“he what?”
“i need you to make a sim for y/n. i want to marry her instead,” sato hums. he’s clicking his phone on & off now, clearly not waiting for your next notification.
“i told that fucker not to touch my game.”
sato licks his canines. “that boy doesn’t listen.”
suguru’s grumbling now, something about a ‘good for nothing porn addict’ and ‘fuckass exhibitionist kink’ but sato only hums along in the passengers seat. then his phone dings again.
mine🫀: [Image Attachment]
he clicks on it way too fast.
and it’s a picture of you, phone in your lap & pouting down at the camera. your hair’s all messy in your face & your lips are bent in the cutest frown. god, you’re so beautiful. god god god.
he licks his lips. types back: ‘i love you my baby.’
“sato—? sato? what the fuck, man.” suguru’s still gripping the wheel, eyes on the road. “i’ve been talking for two minutes. who’s got you smiling like that?”
ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰fingering ⋮⋮ oral (reader & satoru rec.) ⋮⋮ p slapping! ⋮⋮ pet names heavy! ⋮⋮ cum in mouth ⋮⋮ cum play ⋮⋮ both at the same time ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ dp ⋮⋮ tummy bulges ⋮⋮ c-pied꒱
You’re sprawled across Eren’s lap like always, legs dangling off the arm of the couch, head tucked under Satoru’s chin while he scrolls aimlessly on his phone. The three of you have been tangled like this for hours, while some dumb action movie flickers on the TV that none of you are really watching.
It’s the kind of Friday night that’s happened a hundred times before: snacks scattered, blanket fortress half-built, your body slotted perfectly between theirs like you were custom-made to fit the negative space they create when they sit too close.
Eren’s thumb keeps brushing slow, absent circles over the bare skin of your thigh where your oversized hoodie rode up and you're only wearing panties underneath. Satoru’s fingers are threaded loosely through your hair, tugging just enough to feel possessive without ever admitting it. They’re warm. They’re always warm.
And you’re so used to it, the casual touching, the way they both smell faintly of cedar and whatever cologne they stole from each other, that you never question how heavy their breathing gets when you shift and your ass presses back against Eren’s hips.
You yawn, stretch like a cat, and announce it without thinking.
“I’ve got a date tomorrow night.”
The room doesn’t freeze. Not exactly.
But the lazy thumb on your thigh stops dead. Toru’s fingers pause mid-scratch against your scalp. The only sound left is the muffled explosions from the television and the sudden harsh rhythm of Eren’s exhale through his nose.
“A date,” Eren repeats. Flat. Like he’s tasting something bitter.
“Yeah,” you hum, oblivious, scrolling through your phone now. “This guy from chem. He’s cute. Kinda tall. Said he’d take me to that new ramen place downtown.”
Toru’s voice comes quieter than usual. Almost gentle. “Tomorrow.”
“Mhm.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, smiling all sweet and glassy-eyed like you always do when you’re happy. “Why? You guys wanna come third-wheel? I can ask if he’s cool with it.”
Eren laughs, but it’s wrong. Sharp, with no humor in it at all.
He shifts under you suddenly, strong hands clamping around your hips, keeping you pinned right where you are. You squeak in surprise, thighs squeezing together on instinct.
“No,” he says. Low and dangerous. “We don’t wanna third-wheel, princess.”
Toru’s hand slides from your hair down to your throat…not choking, just… holding. Collarbone to jaw. His thumb brushing the soft skin under your chin so you have to look at him.
“You’re not going,” he murmurs.
You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Huh?”
“You’re not going on a date,” Eren cuts in, voice rougher now, hips rolling up just enough that you feel exactly how hard he is. Not subtle. Not pretending anymore. The thick outline of him presses insistently against your ass through thin layers of fabric. “Not with him. Not with anyone.”
Your breath catches. You’re still trying to process, still trying to stay in that sweet, fuzzy headspace where they’re just your overprotective best friends so when Toru leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth soft, teasing and barely there, you're a bit stunned to say the least.
But Eren doesn’t tease.
He grabs your chin, turns your face towards him, and kisses you like he’s been starving for it. Deep and messy, his tongue sliding against yours before you can even gasp. One hand fists in your hair while the other slips under the hoodie, rough palm skating up your bare stomach until he’s cupping your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple like he’s done it a thousand times in his head, he grabs it and balls up the fabric in his palm and tugs it off you, throwing it behind the couch without care.
When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard. Your lips are swollen. His eyes are dilated, black eating the emerald green.
“We’ve been good,” he rasps. “So fucking good. Letting you prance around in those tiny shorts, letting you sleep between us, letting you rub that pretty little body all over us every night like it’s nothing. But a date?” He laughs again low and bitter. “Nah, baby. That shit ends tonight.”
Toru’s mouth finds your neck. Open-mouthed, he sucks a bruise right under your jaw while his hand slides between your thighs, not touching your pussy yet, just cupping you over your panties, letting you feel the heat of his palm.
“You’ve been so sweet to us,” Toru whispers against your skin. “Letting us hold you. Letting us get hard and pretend it’s an accident. But we’re done pretending, baby.”
Eren’s fingers pinch your nipple harder and you whimper embarrassingly which makes them both look at each other in unison and smirk.
“We both think about this cunt every single night,” he growls. “Every time you fall asleep between us, we’re rock fucking hard imagining how tight you’d feel. How wet you are, how you’d cry our names when we finally stretch you open.”
Toru hums in agreement, middle finger pressing just enough against your clit through the cotton that your hips jerk.
“You’re ours,” he says simply. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s always been obvious. “Always have been. You just didn’t know we were waiting for permission to take what’s ours.”
Eren leans in again, lips brushing yours.
“Tell us you want it,” he murmurs. “Tell us you want both of us. Or we stop right now… and you can go on your little date tomorrow like a good girl.”
His thumb brushes your bottom lip.
“But if you do…” He smiles slowly, a feral glint in his eyes,"We're not letting you leave this couch until your pussy’s so full of us you can’t even think about another man’s name.”
Your thighs tremble.
Your heart hammers, you aren't entirely sure if the imagery Eren’s just conjured up is what has your body on fire and mind in disarray with boiling want. Do you really want them both at the same time, your best friends…were you always this naive about them or did you just realise that you want them too.. God, yes you fucking do.
And between them now, with their warmth, dicks hard and unyielding tension, you feel something inside you finally give in.
Soft and sweet and a little dumb with want.
“…please,” you whisper.
Eren groans like you just handed him the keys to heaven.
Toru smiles against your throat.
“Good girl.”
You’re still trembling from the way they pinned you down, Eren’s mouth bruising yours, Satoru’s teeth grazing your throat and when Toru shifts, sitting up straighter on the couch. His hoodie is rucked up just enough to show the sharp cut of his hips, the light trail of hair disappearing into gray sweats that are doing nothing to hide how fucking thick he is.
“Baby,” he says, voice all soft velvet now, “need your mouth.”
Your eyes drop automatically. His hand catches yours, guides it down slow until your palm presses flat over the obscene bulge. Even through the fabric you can feel the heat, the heavy throb. He’s so hard it looks painful, long, thick and curving up toward his stomach like it’s begging.
“See, baby? m’hard for you,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your knuckles while he makes you feel every inch. “Been like this every night you sleep between us. Couldn’t help it. Your little ass grinding back, those tiny whimpers you make in your sleep… fuck.”
You swallow. Your mouth feels too wet, too empty.
He tugs the waistband of his sweats down just enough. No underwear.. you think thats gross but also fucking hot ugh. Just him and his fat, flushed cock, the tip already slick and shiny with precum that beads at the slit and drips slow down the underside. It twitches when the cool air hits it. So pretty. So stupidly big. The kind of cock that makes your thighs clench on instinct.
You’re sweet about it. Always sweet. You lean forward without being told twice, pressing the softest, open-mouthed kiss right to the fat head. Your lips brush the sticky tip and he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking like he can’t help it.
“Good girl,” Toru breathes. One hand cups the back of your head, not pushing, just holding. “Just like that. Kiss it again. Taste me, pretty please.”
You do. Another slow, filthy kiss. Then another. Letting your tongue flick out to lap at the precum, salty and warm. He groans low in his throat.
“Open up, baby. Gonna teach you exactly how I like it.”
You part your lips. He guides himself in slowly, inch by thick inch, until the head sits heavy on your tongue. Your eyes water instantly at the stretch, but you don’t pull back. You just look up at him with those big, glassy eyes while he starts telling you what he wants.
“Suck the tip first.. yeah aaaah- just like that. Swirl your pretty tongue around it. Fuck… goodness baby. Now take a little more. Relax your throat for me, sweet thing. Breathe through your nose.”
You try. You really try. He’s so big it makes your jaw ache already, but the way he’s looking at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen makes you want to take all of him. You hollow your cheeks, suck soft, letting your tongue drag along the thick vein underneath.
Behind you, Eren’s been patient. Too patient.
His hands find the backs of your thighs, prying them apart until you’re spread wide across his lap. Cool air hits your soaked panties and you whimper around Toru’s cock.
“Come on, baby girl,” Eren growls against the shell of your ear. “Won’t you let me see this pretty pussy? Been dying to look at it properly.”
His fingers hook into the crotch of your panties, tugging them to the side. You’re dripping. Embarrassingly so, strings of slick connecting your folds to the fabric when he pulls it away and he groans like he’s in pain.
“Fuck. Look at her, Toru. She’s fucking soaked.”
Toru’s hips stutter forward, pushing a little deeper into your mouth at the sight. You gag softly but keep going, drool's already slipping down your chin.
Eren’s fingers slide through your folds slowly with deliberate care, coating themselves in your wetness before he finds your clit. Cute little swollen thing, peeking out and begging. He rubs it in tight, mean circles with his thumb while two fingers tease your entrance, not pushing in yet. Just circling. Spreading you open.
“So wet for us,” he mutters. “This little cunt’s been waiting, huh? Knew you needed both of us stretching you out.”
You moan around Toru’s cock, the vibrations making him curse under his breath. Your hips buck forward into Eren’s hand without thinking, chasing the pressure on your clit.
Toru’s grip tightens in your hair. “That’s it, baby. Keep sucking. Gonna fuck your mouth slow while Eren plays with this perfect pussy. You’re doing so good for us.”
Eren slips one finger inside you, then another immediately, curling them just right while his thumb keeps working your clit in relentless little strokes. You’re shaking now, thighs trembling, drool dripping down Toru’s cock as you try to take him deeper.
Eren hooks his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties now, tugging them down with slow, patient care, down the swell of you ass and the crotch is soaked, from his spit and your sticky slick. Once he gets it off he presses an open mouthed kiss to your pretty cunt, his mouth fully englufing you with no barrier stopping him anymore.
They’ve got you right where they want you, split open between them, mouth full, cunt dripping, completely theirs.
And they’re only just getting started.
Toru’s grip in your hair turns firmer but not cruel, just enough to remind you who’s in control. He rocks his hips up slow, feeding you another thick inch until the head bumps the back of your throat and your eyes water instantly. You gag around him, soft and wet, helpless little sound that makes his abs flex and his breath hitch.
“Fuck, baby… that’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Gag on it. Let me feel that tight little throat squeeze me. You’re so sweet when you try to take it all.”
Tears prick your lashes. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, slicking down his shaft, dripping onto your chin and the couch beneath. You’re messy for him, always so eager to please and he loves it. Loves the way your tongue still tries to swirl even when you’re struggling, the way your cheeks hollow every time he pulls back just to push in again.
Behind you, Eren’s done playing nice.
He’s got your thighs shoved wide, knees hooked over his shoulders now so your ass is lifted just enough for him to bury his face where he’s been dying to be. Rough hands spread your cunt open, his fingers digging into soft, slick flesh, holding you apart like he’s displaying you. You’re so wet it’s obscene: glistening folds, clit swollen and throbbing, strings of arousal clinging to his fingers when he pulls them away.
“Look at this sloppy little pussy,” he mutters against your inner thigh, hot breath fanning over your core. “Dripping all over my hand just from sucking him off. You love being used like this, don’t you?”
Before you can even whimper around Toru’s cock, Eren slaps your pussy, a sharp, wet smack that makes your whole body jolt. The sting blooms fast into heat, clit pulsing harder. You cry out muffled around the thick length filling your mouth.
Eren does it again. Harder. The sound is filthy, each wet smacks echoing in the quiet room. Your hips buck uselessly, cunt clenching around nothing.
“Sensitive already?” he taunts, voice low and mean. Then he spits, right on your clit, a thick glob of saliva landing perfectly, sliding down your folds. He watches it drip with dark eyes before leaning in and dragging his tongue flat from your entrance to your clit in one long, slow stripe.
You sob around Toru. The vibration makes him curse and thrust deeper, holding you there until your nose brushes his pelvis and you’re choking sweetly, and tears streaming.
Eren eats you like he’s starving. Tongue flicking fast over your clit, then sucking it between his lips with hard pulls that make your thighs shake. He alternates: sloppy open-mouthed kisses to your folds, tongue dipping inside to fuck you shallow, then back to circling that needy little bud. Every time you get close, your hips grinding and muffled moans turning desperate, he pulls back. Just enough.
Edging and Torturing you… keeping you right on the brink.
“Uh-uh,” he growls when your cunt flutters, so close you can taste it. Another slap, lighter this time, but it still makes you yelp around Toru’s cock. “Not yet, baby girl. You don’t come until we say.”
Toru’s breathing is ragged now, hips stuttering as he fucks your throat in shallow thrusts. “She’s gonna make me come if she keeps moaning like that,” he warns Eren, but there’s no real complaint in it, just raw need. “Fuck… her mouth’s so warm. So fucking wet.”
Eren hums against your clit, the vibration ripping another choked sound from you. He spits again messily then sucks your clit back into his mouth while two fingers slide inside, curling against that spot that makes your eyes roll back.
You’re shaking. Drooling. Gagging sweetly every time Toru bottoms out. Cunt clenching around Eren’s fingers while he edges you mercilessly with every lick, suck, slap, spit, repeat.
They’ve got you trapped between them, mouth stuffed full, pussy spread and devoured, body trembling on the edge of something massive.
Toru’s thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, almost tenderly and he slips his cock out of from your mouth and taps the tip of his cock to your lips as you catch your breath, smearing bubbly saliva and pre over your lips messily.
“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Taking us both so pretty.”
Eren pulls back just long enough to murmur against your dripping folds:
“Gonna let you come soon, baby… but only when you’re choking on his load and begging for mine.”
Your whole body clenches at the promise.
They’re not stopping.
Not until you’re ruined for anyone else.
Eren pulls back from your dripping cunt with a wet, obscene sound, his lips shiny, chin slick with you. He’s breathing hard, eyes dark and blown out like he’s high off the taste. Without a word he shifts, lying flat on his back along the couch, one arm hooked behind his head while the other reaches for your hip.
“Come on, baby,” he rasps, voice rough from all the growling and licking. “Sit on my face. Need this pretty pussy grinding on my tongue right fucking now.”
You’re still dazed, mouth swollen from Toru, thighs shaking from the edging, but the command cuts through the fog. You crawl forward on shaky knees, straddling his head. He doesn’t wait for you to settle. Big hands clamp around your hips and yank you down hard until your soaked cunt is pressed flush to his mouth.
The first swipe of his tongue is filthy, long and flat dragging from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, vibrations ripping a broken moan from your throat. Then he’s eating you messy: lips sucking at your folds, tongue fucking inside shallow and greedy, nose bumping your clit with every tilt of his head. He’s loud about it slurping, sucking and growling against your core like he’s trying to drink you dry.
Your hands scramble for purchase, fingers digging into the back of the couch as your hips rock instinctively, grinding down on his face. He loves it. Encourages it with bruising grips, guiding you to ride his tongue harder and faster.
Toru’s been watching the whole time, stroking himself slow and lazy while you gagged on him earlier. Now he stands up beside the couch, his sweats shoved down to his thighs, cock flushed dark and glistening from your spit. He steps closer, one hand fisting the base while the other cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him.
“Open up again, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Gonna fuck this pretty mouth while he eats you out.”
You part your lips on instinct, still so sweet, so pliant and he slides back in. Not gentle this time. He pushes deep right away, hitting the back of your throat until your eyes water fresh and you gag around him, sloppy and wet. Drool spills immediately, running down your chin, dripping onto Eren’s chest below you.
Toru starts thrusting in, slow at first, letting you adjust, then deeper, harder. One hand tangles in your hair to hold you steady while the other braces on the back of the couch. “That’s it… throat me like a good girl. Fuck, look at you nmgh taking it so sloppy, making such aaah mess.”
Every time he bottoms out you choke. Sweet, wet gurgles that make Eren groan louder into your cunt. The sound vibrates straight through your clit and you buck harder against his face, smearing yourself all over his mouth, his nose, his chin. He doesn’t care. He just spreads you wider with his thumbs, tongue flicking fast over your clit before sucking it between his lips again, relentlessly.
His own hand slips down, his fingers wrapping around his neglected cock, stroking himself in rough, tight pulls while he devours you. The wet schlick of his fist mixes with the filthy sounds of his mouth on your pussy and Toru’s dick sliding in and out of your throat.
You’re caught perfectly between them: hips grinding desperate on Eren’s tongue, throat stuffed full of Toru’s thick length, drool and slick everywhere. Your moans are muffled and broken, vibrating around him every time Eren licks that perfect spot inside you with his tongue.
Toru’s hips stutter, breath hitching. “Fuck… gonna cum soon if you keep choking on me like that, baby.”
Eren pulls back just enough to growl against your folds, words muffled but clear. “Not yet. She comes first. Then we both fill her up.”
He dives back in, sucking your clit hard, tongue flicking merciless while his fingers dig into your ass, spreading you even wider so he can bury his face deeper.
You’re trembling, thighs quaking, so close it hurts.
Toru fucks your mouth faster. Shallow, sloppy thrusts that make spit drip down onto Eren’s abs.
Eren strokes himself harder, hips bucking up into his fist like he can’t help it.
They’ve got you right there teetering, dripping, stuffed full and theirs.
Just a little more.
And you’re going to shatter.
It hits you like a wave you can’t outrun.
Eren’s tongue is relentlessly sucking your clit in hard, pulsing pulls while his fingers dig into your hips, holding you down so you can’t escape even if you wanted to. Your thighs lock around his head, whole body seizing as the pressure snaps. You cum hard shaking. Cries muffled around Toru’s cock, hips grinding down messy and desperate onto Eren’s face. Slick floods his mouth; he drinks it up greedily, groaning deep vibrations straight into your core that drag the orgasm out longer, sharper, until you’re sobbing with it.
Your cunt pulses around nothing, clenching on air, dripping down his chin, his neck. He doesn’t stop licking, not even when you’re twitching and oversensitive. Just softer laps now, soothing the raw edges while you shudder through the aftershocks.
Toru’s been fucking your throat steady, but the way you choke and moan around him when you come tips him over. He pulls back suddenly. Only the fat, swollen tip still resting on your tongue and strokes himself faster and rough.
“Fuck ngh open wide, baby,” he pants. “Gonna, fuck- give it to you.”
You do. Tongue out, lips parted, eyes glassy and teary from everything staring up at him. He groans low, hips jerking, and comes thick, rope after hot, heavy rope painting your tongue white. It’s so much it spills a little at the corners of your mouth before you can catch it all. Warm and salty, thick enough that it clings n pools heavy in the center of your tongue.
He milks the last drops out with slow strokes, smearing the tip across your lips like he’s marking you.
“Don’t swallow it yet, pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and soft all at once. “Need to see it first.”
You stay like that, kneeling between them, thighs still trembling from Eren’s mouth, mouth full of Toru’s load. Eren finally eases you up just enough to sit back against the couch arm, pulling you half into his lap so you’re still facing Toru. His hands slide up your sides, possessively, while he watches with dark emerald, hungry eyes.
Toru steps closer. Cups your jaw gently but firm, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where a little escaped.
“Show me,” he says.
You part your lips slowly, careful not to let any spill. Your tongue coated, its thick, pearlescent-white, his cum sitting heavy and pooling in the middle, strings of it connecting to the roof of your mouth when you part wider. It’s obscene. Beautifully yours.
Toru exhales shaky. “Fuck… look at that. All for us.”
He reaches in, two long fingers sliding past your lips, pressing into the warm pool of his own release. He stirs it lazy, coating his fingertips, feeling how thick and sticky it is while you whimper softly around the intrusion. Your eyes flutter, lashes wet.
Then he pulls his fingers out, glistening, dripping, and brings them straight to his own mouth. Sucks them clean and slow, tongue swirling around the digits, tasting himself mixed with the faint sweetness of your spit. His eyes never leave yours, cerulean eyes a hint darker and possessive, like he’s claiming every part of this.
“Sweet,” he murmurs against his fingers. “But not as sweet as you’re gonna taste when we both fill that pretty cunt next.”
Eren’s hand slips between your thighs again, fingers brushing your still-throbbing clit, making you jolt.
“Our turn to mark you inside,” Eren growls low against your ear, nipping the lobe. “Gonna stuff you so full you’ll be leaking us for days.”
You’re still holding Toru’s cum on your tongue, thick, warm and waiting.
Toru leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth softly.
“Now swallow, baby,” he whispers. “Take all of me… then we’ll give you both.”
Your throat works. You swallow slow, feeling it slide down, warm and heavy while they watch like it’s the hottest thing they’ve ever seen.
And when your lips part again, empty now, Eren’s already shifting you, lining himself up.
They’re nowhere near done.
Not even close.
Eren’s hands are already on your hips the second you finish swallowing, rough palms sliding up your sides, guiding you with that same possessive grip he’s always had but never let loose like this. He pulls you forward until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs. Your arms loop around his shoulders automatically, fingers digging into the back of his neck, forehead dropping to rest against his as you try to catch your breath.
He’s hard again, thick and flushed, leaking at the tip from stroking himself while he ate you out. The head nudges against your soaked entrance, slicking itself in your arousal without even trying. You whimper at the contact, hips twitching forward on instinct.
“Easy, baby girl,” Eren murmurs, voice low and wrecked. One hand stays clamped on your hip while the other reaches between you, guiding himself right to your opening. “Gonna take me slow and let me feel every inch of this tight little cunt finally wrap around me?”
You nod dumbly and eager, still hazy from coming so hard, and you start to sink down.
The stretch is immediate. Intense. He’s thick enough that your walls flutter and grip around the head the second it pops inside, and you gasp sharply against his mouth. Eren groans like he’s been punched in the gut, head falling back against the couch for a second before he snaps it forward again to watch your face.
“Fuck… look at you,” he breathes. “Taking me so pretty already.”
You keep sinking down slow and carefully, until he’s buried halfway in. Your thighs tremble from the burn of it and that’s when Toru moves.
He’s been right behind you the whole time, silent and patient, stroking himself lazy while he watched. Now he presses in close, chest flush to your back, one arm banding around your waist to hold you steady while his other hand slides down between your spread thighs.
As you take another inch of Eren, Toru shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt right alongside Eren’s cock.
The stretch doubles instantly. Your walls clamp down hard, fluttering wildly around the sudden fullness. You cry out high and broken, head tipping back against Toru’s shoulder.
“Fuck, baby,” Toru whispers hot against your ear, fingers curling deep, pressing against that spot that makes your toes curl. “So tight. So fucking full already and we’re just getting started.”
Eren’s hips jerk up on instinct, pushing deeper while Toru’s fingers thrust in shallow, matching the rhythm. The drag is obscene, Eren’s thick length stretching you open, Toru’s fingers rubbing against him through your walls, slick sounds filling the room every time they move.
“You’ll let me stretch this pretty pussy out too, hm?” Toru murmurs, voice all soft velvet as makes it sounds more like a promise than a threat. He scissors his fingers in slower, spreading you wider around Eren’s cock, making room. “Gonna open you up nice and slow so you can take both of us. Gonna feel so good when I slide in right next to him… gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else.”
You’re shaking between them, overwhelmed and suffed, dripping down Eren’s shaft and Toru’s wrist. Eren’s mouth finds your throat, sucking a fresh bruise while he bottoms out fully, hips flush to yours. The pressure is insane, Eren’s cock throbbing deep inside, Toru’s fingers still working you open, curling and thrusting until you’re clenching so hard it hurts in the best way.
“Goddamn,” Eren growls against your skin. “She’s gripping me like a fucking vice. Keep going, Toru ngh stretch her more. Wanna haah feel you in there with me.”
Toru adds a third finger in slow and carefully and you sob, nails digging into Eren’s shoulders. The burn blooms into heat, into pleasure so sharp it whites out your vision for a second.
“That’s it,” Toru praises, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Such a good girl. Taking us both already. Gonna fuck you together soon… gonna fill you up until you’re leaking us for days.”
Eren starts rocking up into you with shallow thrusts that make his cock drag against Toru’s fingers with every stroke. You’re so full you can barely think, just feel. Just take.
They’ve got you pinned perfectly, in the front and back, cock and fingers, mouths and hands everywhere.
And they’re only warming you up.
Toru’s fingers are still buried deep, three thick digits stretching you wide around Eren’s cock. When he finally starts to pull them out, slow. Every inch drags against your fluttering walls, against the heavy length already filling you, making you whimper and clench harder around Eren.
You’re shaking in Eren’s lap, arms locked around his shoulders, forehead pressed to his as you try to breathe through the overwhelming fullness. Eren’s hands grip your hips like anchors, keeping you seated deep on him while he watches Toru over your shoulder with those emerald, impatient eyes.
Toru’s voice is low against the back of your neck, lips brushing skin. “Gonna replace these fingers now, baby. Gonna slide right in next to him… gonna make this pretty pussy take us both.”
He shifts closer, chest flush to your back again, one hand steadying your waist while the other guides his cock down. The fat, slick head nudges right against your already-stretched entrance, pressing insistently beside Eren’s shaft. You feel the pressure immediately, hot, blunt, and impossible… fuck- it feels impossible and your breath hitches into a soft, panicked whine.
“Shh,” Toru soothes, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “Relax for me. You’ve been so good… you can take it. Just breathe.”
Eren groans low when he feels Toru start to push, feels the thick head crowding in, stretching you further. “Fuck… yeah, push in slow. Let her feel every inch.”
You’re so wet it helps, slick dripping down Eren’s balls, coating Toru’s tip but the stretch is blinding. Toru rocks forward gently at first, just the head breaching you alongside Eren. Your walls burn, fluttering wildly, trying to accommodate the impossible double thickness. A broken sob tears from your throat; your nails dig crescent moons into Eren’s shoulders.
“Too much?” Eren murmurs against your lips, kissing you soft and messy to distract you. “You’re doing so good, baby girl. Look at you, taking two cocks like you were made for it.”
You whine, embarrassed by the fact of his words. Eren soothes you gently, petting your back with slow strokes, shushing you in his arms.
Toru takes that as a sign to sink in deeper, inch by slow, torturous inch, until he’s buried to the hilt right next to Eren. The fullness is obscene: two thick lengths pressed flush together inside you, walls stretched thin and tremble around them. You can feel every vein, every throb, the way they twitch against each other through the thin barrier of your body.
“Goddamn,” Toru breathes, voice wrecked. His forehead drops to your shoulder, hips flush to your ass. “So fucking tight… can feel him right next to me. Feel how full you are, baby?”
You can’t speak… the words are stuck, you just nod frantically, tears slipping down your cheeks from the intensity. Eren starts moving first. Shallow, careful rolls of his hips that make both cocks drag inside you at once. The friction is electric; every slide rubs them together, rubs against that deep spot that makes your vision blur.
Toru matches him after a moment, pulling back slow while Eren pushes in, then switching. They find a rhythm quick: one in, one out, seesawing deep inside you so there’s never a second you’re empty. The drag is relentless, stretching, filling. Utterly overwhelming.
You’re crying now, soft and overwhelmed sobs into Eren’s neck while your hips start rocking back on instinct, chasing more even though you’re already so full it hurts in the sweetest way.
“That’s it,” Eren growls, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking your nipple. “Ride us, baby. Fuck yourself on both our cocks. Show us how much you love being stuffed like this.”
Toru’s hand slips around to your clit, fingers finding the swollen bud and rubbing tight, fast circles while they keep thrusting. The added stimulation sends sparks up your spine; you clench hard around them both, making them groan in unison.
“Gonna come again?” Toru whispers hot against your ear. “Gonna soak us both? Milk us until we fill this little cunt up?”
Eren’s thrusts get harder, deeper. Hips snapping up to meet yours. “Come on our cocks, pretty girl. Let us feel it. Then we’re gonna pump you so full you’ll be dripping for us so beautifully.”
You’re trembling, teetering, so close again, your body stretched to its limit, clit throbbing under Toru’s fingers, two thick cocks ruining you from the inside out.
They’ve got you pinned, claimed and completely theirs.
And when you shatter this time it’s going to be devastating.
They’re moving in perfect, brutal sync now, Eren thrusting up deep while Toru drives in from behind, cocks sliding against each other inside your stretched, fluttering walls. Every push rubs them together through the thin membrane, friction so intense it makes your eyes roll back. You’re creaming around them. Thick, milky slick coating both shafts, dripping down Eren’s balls and Toru’s thighs with every wet slap of skin on skin.
Your tight walls grip them like a vice, milking desperately as they fuck straight into your cervix, blunt heads battering that deep, sensitive spot over and over. The pressure builds fast, sharp and overwhelming; your tummy bulges visibly with each thrust, the outline of their cocks pressing outward against your lower belly.
Eren notices first. His hand slides down from your hip, palm flattening over the soft swell. He pushes on it firmly, gently and deliberately, right where the bulge is most pronounced.
“Fuck, look at that,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Can feel myself right here… feel how deep we are inside you, baby girl? Stretching her little pussy so wide she’s bulging for us.”
You whimper broken and high, hips jerking between them. The pressure of his palm combined with the relentless pounding sends sparks shooting up your spine. Toru’s hand joins, fingers splaying beside Eren’s, both of them pressing down in tandem as they thrust harder, deeper.
“Gonna make you come like this,” Toru murmurs hot against your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Gonna feel you cream all over both our cocks while we kiss your cervix, hm baby want us deep in there?.”
You bite your lip, and it hits you suddenly and violent.
Your whole body locks up, back arching, thighs quaking, a raw sob tearing from your throat as you come harder than before. Walls spasm wildly around them, clenching so tight it drags broken groans from both their throats. Slick gushes out in messy pulses, soaking their cocks, dripping down in thick rivulets. Your vision whites out for a second; you’re shaking, crying, completely lost in the overwhelming fullness and the way Eren’s palm keeps pushing on that bulge, making every pulse of your orgasm feel deeper, sharper.
They don’t stop, can’t stop. They bury themselves to the hilt in one final, synchronized thrust, Eren’s hips snapping up, Toru slamming forward until there’s no space left inside you. You feel them throb, swell, and then they’re coming hard.
Hot, thick spurts flood you at the same time, Eren's cock pulsing deep against your cervix while Toru unloads right beside him, ropes of cum mixing, filling every inch until you’re overflowing. The pressure is insane; your walls flutter helplessly around the double load, trying to take it all but failing beautifully.
Toru pulls back just enough, barely an inch while staying buried deep. His free hand slides down between your thighs, thumb hooking one swollen lip and spreading you open wide. The sight is filthy: your pussy stretched obscenely around both cocks, creamy white cum already leaking out in a fat, slow spurt. It slips from between their shafts thick and pearly dripping down Toru’s length in a heavy trail, coating his balls, pooling on Eren’s thighs beneath you.
“Fuck… look at her leaking us,” Toru breathes, thumb rubbing slow circles through the mess, spreading it over your clit. “So full she can’t even keep it all inside.”
Eren groans low, hips twitching with aftershocks as another small spurt escapes him. His palm stays pressed to your tummy, feeling the faint throb of their cocks still buried deep.
“You’re ours now,” he rasps, kissing your sweaty temple. “This pussy’s marked. Stuffed. Leaking both of us.”
You’re trembling between them overstimulated, full to bursting, cum dripping slow and steady down your thighs. They don’t pull out. Not yet.
They just hold you there, cocks softening slightly but still thick inside, keeping every drop plugged deep while their hands roam lazy over your body.
Claimed.
Ruined.
Theirs.
The room feels heavier now, thick with the smell of sex, sweat, and the faint salt of cum. You’re still straddling Eren’s lap, thighs quivering, body limp and boneless between them. Their cocks are softening inside you, but neither has pulled out yet, just resting there, keeping you plugged full, every tiny shift making a fresh trickle of their mixed release slip out.
Toru moves first.
He eases back slow and carefull, so so gentle, until his cock finally slips free with a wet, obscene sound. A thick gush of cum follows immediately, spilling from your stretched hole, running hot down your inner thighs and dripping onto Eren’s lap. You whimper at the sudden emptiness, walls fluttering around Eren’s length like they’re trying to pull him deeper to compensate.
Toru doesn’t go far.
He leans in close behind you again, chest pressed to your back, arms wrapping around your waist in a loose, possessive hold. His lips find the side of your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses. Trailing up the curve where he’d bitten earlier. Gentle now. Soothing. Each press of his mouth feels like an apology and a promise at once.
“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and wrecked. “Took us both so perfect. Look at you… all messy and full of us.” Another kiss, slower, right under your ear. His tongue flicks out to taste the salt there. “Gonna take care of you now. Promise.”
His hands slide up your sides, warm palms smoothing over ribs, petting you like you’re something fragile and precious. One hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the base of your skull while he keeps kissing your throat, your jaw, the soft spot behind your ear.
Eren’s still buried inside you, half-hard, twitching lazily every time your walls flutter. He shifts just enough to sit up straighter, pulling you flush against his chest so your breasts press to him. His mouth finds yours immediately, a slow, deep kiss that tastes like your own slick and his tongue. Lazy. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring every second now that the frantic edge is gone.
One hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb circling the nipple soft and unhurried, teasing it back to a stiff peak. He pinches gently, rolls it between his fingers, then soothes with the flat of his palm. The other hand stays low, splayed over your lower belly where the bulge has softened but you can still feel the faint throb of him inside.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he mutters against your lips, kissing you again, messy and open-mouthed, tongue sliding slow against yours. “All flushed and leaking us. Our pretty girl.”
He keeps playing with your tits, kneading one while he kisses you deeper, then switching to the other, thumb flicking the nipple until you arch into his touch with a soft whine. Every tug sends little aftershocks through your oversensitive body; your cunt clenches weakly around him, milking another small bead of cum that drips out around his base.
Toru’s mouth never leaves your neck, kissing and sucking soft bruises into fresh skin, whispering praise between each press of his lips.
“So sweet… so fucking perfect… ours, baby. All ours.”
Eren breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur against your mouth, “Gonna stay like this a while. Keep you full. Keep you warm.”
His fingers keep teasing your nipple with gentle pinches and slow circles, while Toru’s hands roam your sides, your back, your hips. They’re everywhere and nowhere all at once, soft touches and warm mouths, their low voices rumbling praise into your skin.
You’re boneless between them, head lolling back against Toru’s shoulder, lips parted on shaky breaths, body humming with the quiet afterglow.
They don’t rush.
They just hold you.
Kiss you.
Pet you.
Like they’ve got all night.
Like they’ve finally got what they’ve wanted for so long.
୨୧ — The soft splashing of water and gentle scrapes of your nails against his scalp made Sukuna's eyes grow heavy, lashes falling shut as you worked behind him. Your presence was… soothing, he admitted privately in his head- a word he’d never associated with anything before you.
"You’re quiet tonight," you murmur, your breath warm against his ear. The gentle curve of your stomach presses against his back, and he could feel his unborn child’s curse energy- what little he could feel promised that the brat was going to be strong.
He didn’t answer immediately, too lost in the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair. The king of curses, feared across lands, reduced to this- nearly purring under a pregnant woman’s gentle ministrations. The thought should have enraged him. Instead, he found himself leaning further back, his massive frame carefully controlled to avoid crushing you and that belly of yours.
Truth is, Sukuna couldn’t find the words to explain how your simple touch was undoing centuries of telling himself he couldn’t feel anything. How the sound of your humming as you focused on him made something in his chest constrict painfully… and how your swollen belly against his back filled him with a terrifying kind of joy and pride.
"Does it feel good at least?" You asked softly, working through a particularly stubborn tangle. The mouth on his stomach merely sighed in contentment.
"Mm," was all he could manage as he felt your smile against his shoulder, your lips brushing his skin in a whisper of a kiss.
Water droplets caught in his lashes as he opened his eyes partially, watching your shadow play across the room. Your fingers traced one of the black markings that adorned his body, and he tch’d at the fact he had to suppress a shudder.
"Sukuna..., tell me what troubles you, I can practically hear you thinking," your voice was barely above a whisper this time, your hands stilling on him, and for a moment, only the sound of dripping water filled the silence.
His multiple hands clenched into fists, "You're making me weak," he accused, "ruining me," he muttered.
Your hands moved to his shoulder, working a knot he hadn’t even realized was there, "m’not," you smiled, "I'm loving you. There's a difference."
Love... that dreaded word, and of course his child chose that moment to kick against your belly, as if agreeing with you. The little shit wasn’t even born yet and it was already picking sides.
"I should have killed you, spread your legs open and fucked your corpse," Sukuna sneered.
Sukuna could feel it, how that innocent smile of yours seared against his spine, followed by the melodious sound of laughter escaping your lips. Before you could think, the world shifted and you found yourself beneath his towering form, the waters surface fracturing into a thousand ripples around your bodies. His massive hand tapped your wrists above your head, another gripped your hip while the remaining two pressed where you womb was- where his child flourished, his hands trembling ever so slightly with the effort of gentle restraint.
He stared down at you, the water dripping from his hair leaving tracks along your face and neck, almost like blood from a fresh kill, but your eyes held no fear - only understanding. The mouth on his stomach hung open breathing heavily, "What have you done to me? I want to tear your heart out and rip your head off, but I also can't bear the thought of losing you, or that brat."
Slipping your arms around his neck, you smiled up at him, "Nothing you haven’t allowed."
"Watch your tongue, little lamb." The threat was hollow, and you both knew it. The kiss that followed was ever so desperate, sloppy and violent in its tenderness, but damn did it taste like the sweetest sin… Your response back- how you kissed him in return, your spit mingling with his, a soft moan on your tongue… It was better than any scream of terror he’d ever drawn from human lips. And he knew from that alone, you’d been right.
toji adores the way his silly girl sleeps ♡ (rough toji x chubby reader)
toji thinks you sleep like somebody knocked you over and left you there, theres literally never any dignity to it.
one night he walks into the bedroom and finds you fully face down across the mattress, cheek smashed between two pillows, legs hanging off the edge like you slid outta the sky and landed wrong. another night youre asleep sitting up against the headboard with your arms folded like you were trying to stay awake and lost the fight halfway through.
and the soft little snores? jesus chris, they damn near kill him. and tonight is especially bad.
youre twisted up in the blankets wearing one of his old shirts, hair all over the place, mouth barely open while these tiny sleepy snores puff out every few seconds, your body limp like a heavy sack somebody dropped onto the bed, and toji just stands there staring for a long moment, big frame blocking the doorway, work jacket still half on, keys hanging from one finger while this deeply pained look settles over his face.
"…look at this damn girl." he mutters under his breath, to which you just snore louder and nuzzle deeper into the pillow. he snorts.
"...nah," he mutters, already moving toward the bed. "nah, cmere."
the mattress dips hard under his weight before both his hands grab at you at once, rough palms squeezing into your sides and thighs while he drags your limp body across the sheets toward him. you let out this weak sleepy whine without waking up properly, face still half buried in the pillow while he manhandles you around like an oversized stuffed animal.
"..toji," you mumble.
"yeah, yeah" he grumbles, visibly irritated by how cute you sound. "quit sleepin all stupid."
youre barely awake and somehow still trying to curl into him, warm and heavy against his chest while he sits there holding you with this tortured expression like hes suffering through it, and then you snore directly against his neck.
"..oh, you gotta be kiddin me," he mutters.
his grip tightens instantly after that, big hands squeezing at your soft sides hard enough to make you squirm in your sleep while he buries his face against your cheek with a rough groan.
you respond by drooling a little on his collarbone, and toji looks up at the ceiling for a long moment like hes asking god for strength, then he leans down and bites your cheek because the cuteness aggression youre giving him is way too much now.
"there," he mutters against your skin afterward, still holding you tight against him.
୨୧ — When his daughter brings home her first potential boyfriend at fifteen, Sukuna doesn't say a word. He simply sits across from the terrified boy at the kitchen table, his fork clinking against the plate, the sound sharp in the tense air. The entire time, he maintains unblinking eye contact while you attempt to salvage the rest of the dinner conversation with meaningless small talk.
After about twenty minutes, Sukuna finally speaks, "You touch her wrong, they won't find enough of you to bury. Got it, boy?" The boy is out the door just as you bring out the dessert, and your daughter doesn't speak to her father for three days. But when rumors start to circulate that the same boy pressured another girl into something she didn't want, his daughter quietly finds him outside sipping on his favorite whiskey.
Sitting next to him -her shoulder pressed against his-, she whispers, "How did you know?" Sukuna just shrugs, but there's understanding in the silence between them. After that, she doesn't fight his "inspections" quite so hard. He's always been her protector after all.
︵︵︵ ๑❤︎๑ ︵︵︵
୨୧ — During a parent teaching conference, his daughter’s literature teacher suggests she might be "troubled"… due to her persistent interest in writing dark, violent stories… The teachers eyes flicker towards Sukuna’s tattoos and scars, suggesting it might be due to the home environment.
Wrong choice of words.
Before you can intervene, Sukuna leans forward and asks with a deadly calm, "You ever read Dostoyevsky? The fucking Bible?"
The teacher nods, shrinking back in his seat…
"All full of violence. All considered genius. My daughter’s writing isn’t the problem." His voice never rises, but the temperature in the room seems to drop a whole ten degrees as he continues. "Your small mind is."
Two weeks later, your daughter rushes home holding her regional writing trophy. Sukuna has her piece professionally framed and hung in the living room next day.
Because at the end of the day, that’s still his little girl.
୨୧ — You were in the back of your flower shop arranging an elaborate wedding order when you heard it- a high pitched wail that made the fine hairs on your neck stand up. Your daughter's cry of distress was distinctive, even from a distance.
You dropped the roses you were trimming and moved towards the sound, only to collide with Sukuna who had materialized from nowhere, seemingly conjured by his daughter's cry. His entire body was tense, eyes scanning for threats, hands already forming into fists as he looks for his little girl.
"What. Happened." he demanded, voice dangerously low.
Before you could answer, your daughter came running around the corner, face streaked with fresh tears, breath coming in hiccupping sobs. The moment she spotted her father, she launched herself at him with the bling trust of a child who had never known anything but absolute protection.
Sukuna caught her easily, large hands lifting her as if she weighed nothing. His eyes continued to look around over her head, seeking for whatever had caused his daughter's distress.
"Tell me," he asked, the gentleness he forced into his voice at odds with the murderous look in his eyes, "what-" you saw how the muscles of his arms tightened, bracing himself for violence, "or who, made you cry."
She buried her face against his neck, her small body trembling, "Th-the c-clown," she managed between gut wrenching sobs. "Daddy... p-please make him g-go away!" her tiny fingers dug into his shirt, tears and snot smearing across his collar as she pressed herself impossibly closer, "He's sc-scary!"
Your shoulders sagged slightly with relief as you heard why your baby was crying. It wasn't a real threat... Which was good. The city festival had started yesterday, and performers of all kinds were wandering the streets, entertaining those who were out and about enjoying their day.
That relief died the moment you saw Sukuna's expression flicker through a range of emotions before settling on one you knew all too well: rage.
"Where." The single word carried the weight of an execution order...
"O-outside," she hiccupped again, pointing with a shaky finger towards where the clown was making balloon animals, "D-daddy he made a b-alloon and it exploded in m-my face!" her voice hitched on another sob. Watery eyes locking onto his which were now glowing a brilliant crimson as he held her protectively against his chest- watching this painted fuck of a man who was now grinning broadly at the new wave of children. "H-he laughed at me crying..."
You stepped closer, hand settling on his arm trying to draw his attention to you- it was a lost cause… this you knew. The only thing he cared about in this moment was his daughter and the man who'd dare to upset his flesh and blood...
"Don't." He said sharply.
"Sukuna, it's just a street performer. From the festival. She's not actually hur-"
The look he turned on you was arctic, the force of it freezing the words in your throat, "He. Made. Our. Daughter. Fucking. Cry." Each word was enunciated perfectly, a low snarl of fury, "And no one, makes my girls cry."
This wasn't the man who helped with bedtime stories. Nor the man who picked you up with one arm when your legs ached and held you tenderly against him… This was the man who had ripped out hearts, who'd torn men apart with his bare hands- a man who had no qualms about spilling blood in his wake. A ruthless, vicious tyrant who did not tolerate threats when it came to his family, even if it was just a street performer.
Your eyes flickered to your baby girl, her wails- her tiny voice cracking each time she tried to speak… You decided that if the man had scared her that badly, then he had it coming… Right?
"Go," your voice was gentle, "Do what you do best-" you leaned up, placing a gentle kiss to his jaw, "and keep us safe."
The smile that graced his lips was dark, twisted, a hint of madness dancing across his handsome face as his gaze turned back to the clown who was oblivious to the fate that was about to befall him.
"Stay with your mother," Sukuna's voice was soft- a rare tone reserved only for the two of you as he began peeling her arms from his neck.
"NO!!!" she shrieked, clinging tighter, fresh panic washing over her, "D-don't leave me, daddy!!" Her voice was filled with genuine terror, "Y-you can't go! You can't!"
Sukuna struggled internally- a war between the father he'd become wanting to stay by her side and continue holding her until she was calm, and the monster he's always been, demanding retribution.
He stroked her hair once, "I'm not leaving you... Just going to make the painted fuck go away."
"Sukuna," you warned, "I know I'm backing you on this but…" you glanced towards the clown, "it's a children's entertainer doing his job in the middle of the day. There's a lot of people here… You can't just walk up to him and-"
"I know exactly what i'm going to do," he cut you off, finally transferring her to your arms despite her desperate protests.
"What are you going to do?"
"Whatever it takes." He was already moving toward the front door of your shop, shoulders set, a confident stride in his steps, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression darkening the further he walked away from the two of you.
Your daughter pressed her face against your cheek, "Is daddy going to make the bad man go away?" she whispered, her arms locking around you, fingers tangling in your hair, "Daddy always makes the scary things go away."
"Yeah, sweetie," you murmured, watching Sukuna through your shop window, "he does doesn't he?" you nuzzle into her, bouncing her once, "Your daddy is always there to shield us, and to take care of us… even when it comes to the small things."
"Uh huh," she sniffled, wiping her eyes, "Daddy's strong."
You smiled at that, "The strongest," you agreed.
Through the glass, you watched him step onto the sidewalk, his presence immediately carving a path through pedestrians who recognized him. Even from this distance, you could see the exact moment the clown sensed death approaching. His hands faltered on the half twisted balloon, painted smile freezing as something screamed in his brain, danger.
In one fluid motion, Sukuna draped an arm around the clown's shoulders. The balloon that had been moments from becoming a dolphin slipped from his hands, squealing as it flew into the air and landed on the pavement.
"Hey, buddy," Sukuna said loudly, his voice pitched for the benefit of the parents and children nearby, dripping with absolute false warmth... "My little girl loved your act. Mind if we get a private performance?" Without waiting for consent, he tightened his grip around the clown's neck, steering him away from the crowd.
The clown stumbled alongside him, forced to move by Sukuna's iron control. To onlookers, they looked like old friends... No one noticing the clown's growing terror as they disappeared around the corner.
The moment they were alone, Sukuna's mask shattered. He slammed the clown against the brick wall with enough force to crack the man's skull, leaving just the right amount of blood smeared behind as a reminder of his strength. One tattooed hand crushed his throat while the other gripped his jaw, forcing eye contact.
"Listen very fucking carefully you painted piece of shit," Sukuna growled, face inches away, "you made my daughter cry. You scared her. The last person who did that lost everything from the neck down."
The clown's eyes bulged, breathing ragged as Sukuna's grip slowly crushed his windpipe, "I-I-I'm sor-"
"I could kill you right here," Sukuna continued, voice dropping to a whisper that promised agony... "Peel you apart piece by piece. Feed what's left to the stray dogs behind the market." His grip tightened until the man's face began purpling, eyes rolling back. "No one would even notice you were gone until the smell got bad..."
Just as consciousness began slipping, your face flashed through his mind- that same soft, loving smile you always wore… And then his daughter… the way her little cheeks dimpled when she smiled at him, the trust she put in him. You were both waiting for him to return. He could almost hear your voice, feel your arms around him, your hands cupping his cheeks as his daughter clung to his pant leg…
Fuck…
Killing this guy would take forever… Longer than he'd like to be away from you both…
God dammit…
"But I'm feeling generous today," Sukuna released his throat, letting him suck in desperate air. Before the man could recover, Sukuna's fist buried itself in the man's stomach, folding him in half. "So i'm offering you a choice. Leave this city. Never work as a clown again. And if ever see your ugly face- painted or not… I'll carve a permanent smile from eat to ear," the tip of his finger dragged along the man's cheek, cutting a thin line through the makeup before forcing his chin up, "Do i make myself clear?"
The clown nodded frantically, tears cutting tracks through his makeup.
Sukuna's thumbnail dug into the corner of his mouth, "Answer me. With words. No nodding."
"Y-yes-" The clown managed, his voice hoarse, "yes. Pple-please... Yes. Th-thank you."
"Get out of my sight." he snarled, tossing him by the face to the ground.
Sukuna waited until the guy was out of sight before pulling the black bandana from his pocket, wiping the white greasepaint from his hands. Only then did he stroll casually back around the front, his face bored- neutral, the one he typically wore.
When he reentered, his eyes immediately sought out you and his daughter. The relief on his daughter's face when she spotted him made his heart tighten... He was .
"Problem solved," he announced, holding his arms out for her to transfer herself from your embrace to his without hesitation.
"What did you do?" you asked, your voice quite enough so that she couldn't hear.
His eyes met yours- and you smirked knowing the look...
The clown had survived, but only because killing him would have taken too long.
"Softie~" You chuckled, leaning against his arm.
"M'not," he muttered, pressing a kiss to his daughter's hair as her eyes fluttered shut, "Just had other things to do today…"
His daughter's tired voice rose from the crook of his neck, "Did you make the bad clown go away," she smiled sleepily, "just like you promised?"
"Yeah..." he whispered into his hair, "No one gets to scare you. Not while I'm around, little one."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
As night fell you found Sukuna laying sprawled out on his daughter’s tiny bed, his large frame comically oversized for the child sized furniture. There on his chest, she was draped across him like a koala, fast asleep with one small hand still clutching his shirt. His tattooed arm curled around her, dwarfing her little body.
He wasn’t asleep. His eyes tracking your movements as you entered her room, alert as always, though his body remained perfectly still to avoid disturbing the little girl using him as a bed.
"She wouldn't let go," he grumbled, his deep voice barely audible.
You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, gently brushing her hair from her face, revealing the peaceful expression of a child who felt completely safe.
"How violent did you actually get with the clown?" you asked quietly, your fingers lingering on your daughter's cheek.
Sukuna's eyes met yours in the glow of the turtle nightlight, unflinching, "Violent enough."
"You didn't kill him."
It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway, "No." His eyes flicked down to his daughter, then back to you. "Didn't need to. Yet."
You nodded, understanding the unspoken message. The "yet" was contingent on whether the clown was stupid enough to ignore Sukuna's warning.
"You know you're stuck here for the night, right?." you nodded toward her death grip on his shirt, "She won't let go of you, not even in her sleep."
"Yeah… I know. Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the fucking last." He sounded disgruntled, but you knew him well enough to catch the glimmer of contentment in his eyes, "This kid loves me too damn much."
You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, then, to Sukuna's lips. He returned the kiss, teeth nipping at your lower lip, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your neck.
"She's not the only one," you say under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear, eyes locking onto his. "We're both so lucky to have you, Sukuna. Thank you, for everything. For taking care of us, and for being her protector."
He looked away, uncomfortable with the sentiment despite everything you'd been through together, "It's what I do," he replied gruffly...
You smiled, settling beside him, head pillowed on his broad shoulder, half your body hanging off the tiny bed as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to him best he could, "You're going to wake up with an achy back tomorrow."
"Don't give a damn," he grunted, pressing his face into the top of your head, "can't really move when I've got two brats sleeping on me."
You chuckle softly, letting your eyes flutter shut, enjoying his warmth, the steady sound of his heart beating under your ear and the soft sounds of your daughter's breathing, "You could, if you wanted."
"You done yapping? You're keeping me up… Go the fuck to sleep already." his arm tightened around you, holding you against him, his own eyes closing finally.
You smiled, knowing that he'd never admit he loved being in this position- surrounded by the two of you,
You caught one last glimpse of him adjusting his daughter more comfortably against his chest, his large hand cradling her head with impossible gentleness. The most feared man in the city, reduced to nothing more than a pillow for his daughter and her mother.
"Rest well, little lamb," his voice fading as he said the nickname reserved only for you, muffled by your hair as his lips grazed the crown of your head.
lounging in the royal gardens with heianera!sukuna
(pairings: trueform!sukuna x wife!reader - 1.2k words)
"up."
sukuna's nose wrinkles, one of his many eyes opening to stare up at you from under thick, pink lashes, annoyed at your audacity. "no."
"ryomen."
"wife."
you glare down at him.
to any onlookers nearby (if they survived being within a couple miles of your husband, that is), the sight would have been somewhat peaceful - beautiful sunlight shining through rich, green leaves, dappling across the soft grass, the slightest breeze causing branches to sway, and you and sukuna, with his head on your lap, both pairs of his arms folded neatly over his toned stomach, long, thick legs hidden by the airy fabric of his gi.
even his second mouth was smiling, donning the smallest curve, relaxed for the first time in a long while.
he ignores your glowering, stubbornly keeping all four of his eyes shut, basking in the direct warmth of the sunlight - topless as always, black tattoos rippling over his tan skin, the occasional muscle twitching to ensure he doesn't fall asleep.
your noiselssness makes him uncomfortable, though - you are his wife, after all, and regardless of the fact that he shows spades of his love through silence, you weren't necessarily the same way.
one eye opens again - the singular, vermillion iris peering up at you, curious, cautious.
"speak." he huffs (more whine than grumble).
"you dare to command me?" you murmur.
"you dare to ask me to remove myself from you?" he snaps back, pouting now, and you're pleased to find that you'd annoyed him enough for both pairs of his eyes to be fixated on you, irritated (yet filled with adoration nonetheless).
he watches as your shoulders rise and fall in a dismissive shrug, unsure whether that twinkle in your eye was from the upcoming mischief you had planned or the sun (but, oh, you were so beautiful, glancing down at him like he was something worth looking at, worth putting up with - his chest bloomed with warmth that the sun itself couldn't make him feel, fingers twitching to reach up and trace the line of your jaw).
"your head is a heavy burden to bear," you explain, twirling a lock of his salmon-pink tresses around your delicate finger, tugging just enough to make him exhale quickly through his nose in amusement, "and my legs are tired."
"i am comfortable."
"you are selfish for not letting me move."
"selfish, you say." he raises an eyebrow (you see the slight tremble at the corner of his mouth - a subtle tell of his struggle not to erupt in that hearty laughter reserved only for you).
"incredibly. in fact," you tap the bridge of his nose, "i could even go as far as calling you lazy."
"lazy." he repeats, voice monotone, fighting to stay unamused. "i should have you punished for your insolence."
you snort, smirking, "being married to you is punishment enough. what sort of husband doesn't move for his wife? you do not love me."
"now, there's no use in false accusations, woman." sukuna hisses, propping himself up on one of his many elbows, nose crinkling at the sound of your relieved sigh when you're freed from the weight of his head on your lap, frowning further when the distance between you lengthens by a couple more inches as you shift to sit beside him. "what sort of wife doesn't watch her tongue?"
the sound of your quiet laughter has his gaze warming, regardless of his irritation, and sukuna absorbs the contentment emanating from you as though it's his just as much as it is yours.
"if my tongue wasn't as sharp, nor as…talented as it is, well," you catch the faint colour rising to the tips of his ears and smile wider, "you wouldn't have married me."
"you are horrendously mistaken." he grouches, his lower arms folding petulantly, all four eyes narrowing as you laugh and snuggle into his side, nuzzling your nose into his cheek, "i would have married you even if you were meek - you are mine."
"then, truly, i am fortunate" you pinch his cheek, your other hand running up his chest, tracing the black lines running over his shoulders, soothing him despite your teasing. "i am lucky to be loved so deeply."
"hmph."
"come now," you chuckle, "do not be so childish. look at me."
he lifts his chin up higher, determined in his plight to refuse your attempts at gaining his forgiveness. instead, he finds himself glaring at the rest of the temple gardens - cared for at your request. sukuna's glowering deepens further - could he not look anywhere and not be reminded of his beautiful wife? even the cherry blossoms paled in your comparison.
"oh?" you make a big show of trying to catch his eye (a considerably difficult task, even despite of the fact that he had twice as many pairs as the average man), weaving your head around his, all to no avail.
he was as stubborn as you were.
"i see." you huff, brows furrowing delicately. "how cruel of you."
that seems to finally get him.
with a low snarl, he tackles you to the floor, until your back is flat against the lush grass, and your chest is pressed flush against his. "cruel?" he spits. "you think me cruel for avoiding your gaze?"
you reply with a shrug, internally smug at how easily it is to rile him up. "you'd dispute me on the matter?"
"thousands have died at my hands," he growls, "i have massacred whole armies with a flick of my wrist, have had hundreds of kings kneel before my feet and you-" sukuna catches your smile, so pretty, the sunlight following the outline of your lips like a lover's caress, your hair splayed out around your head like a halo.
he was a strong man - but even the strongest would falter at the sight of you.
"and i….?" you urge, completely unbothered by his ranting.
he sighs and leans down, capturing your soft lips with his, humming with pleasure at your heady taste before pulling back, expression free from any faux agitation he'd felt prior.
"you stay by my side anyway." he murmurs. "what a fool you are."
"ah, but you married me." you push at his shoulder gently, playful, chuckling against his mouth as he steals another kiss, "that makes you the bigger idiot."
"it makes me weak," he scoffs, and completely melts into you as your fingers slide into his hair, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, "but i could never be named a fool for loving you."
his words are spoken soft - a quiet whisper of a man who'd only known blood and grotesque violence, but feared the forgiving retribution of your hands, of the grief you might cause should he ever lose you.
you press your mouth to his temple - a promise. there would be nothing to fear from you.
nothing, save sunny days and your lighthearted teasing.
sukuna kisses your neck in response, pink lashes fluttering against your skin as he breathes in deeply, glad to soak in a silence that cleanses him.
he knows you'll give him nothing to hurt about.
sukuna knows, because he'd rather fall than let anything happen to you. and nothing will.
he is the strongest, after all.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ (a/n): hi everyone! i'm back again from my silly little hiatus - exam season was balls but i got through it lol - anyway, now that it's summer hopefully i can get back to doing some much needed writing - weekly posts here i come!
hope everyone enjoyed this little oneshot! my asks and taglists are open, so feel free to send me any inquiries or ideas! love you bai!
husband!toji taking care of you after you give birth ♡
you finally understood the importance of the type of man you marry.
your whole body was weak, aching, and sore all over after giving birth. for the first couple days afterwards, you were pretty much bedridden at the hospital. but through every agonising hour, toji was by your side, refusing to leave, glued to an uncomfortable chair beside you.
after day two, you finally regained some energy and movement. the nurses suggested you try to walk and take a shower, get your body back into commission. toji refused to let anyone else help you, practically shooing the nurses away as he helps you out of bed, one strong arm around your waist as he walks you to the bathroom.
you limp a little, wincing still at the lingering pain between your legs. "can’t you just carry me like you usually do when i’m tired?" you whine, holding onto toji for dear life as you pad closer to the bathroom. "y’can do it, baby. few more steps, atta girl," he encourages, supporting you effortlessly with those strong arms.
honestly, you were dying for a hot shower. and to get out of the bulky pads you’re wearing to stop you from pissing yourself.
toji flicks the shower on, then turns back to you, carefully unfastening your maternity gown and letting it pool at your feet. he smiles gently at your still swollen belly, covered in stretch marks, rubbing it with two hands and feeling how empty and soft it was now. "gonna miss this bump."
you place your hands on his shoulders as he helps you out of your underwear, discarding the used pad with his bare hands like it wasn’t covered in all types of bodily fluid.
without an ounce of judgement, he sits you down on the toilet, holding your hand as you relieve yourself, gritting your teeth through the burning sensation. once you finish, you hold onto one of his arms as he wipes you gently, careful not to cause you any discomfort. “still sore?" he asks, leaning in to kiss your forehead.
you nod slowly, letting toji walk you to the shower, the warm droplets beginning to cascade down your skin. you look at him expectedly as the steam begins to fill the small bathroom. "yeah, i’m comin" he says, taking his own clothes off to join you.
your husband steps in with you, pressing his chest to your back, hands steady on your hips as he presses soft kisses to your neck. you sigh in relief, finally able to take a second to breathe after all the chaos.
toji takes the soap from your bag nearby, lathering you in it, then takes a soft sponge and washes you. he’s extra careful, hands unhurried as he cleans you, praising you with that low, gravelly voice. "been so strong these last few days, mama.”
he moves on to your hair, washing and conditioning it thoroughly, doing everything in his power to help you feel refreshed again. once he’s done, he holds you close once more, hands on your soft belly, chin resting on your shoulder.
it was pure bliss — serenity. you both stayed there for a while, enjoying every quiet moment you can get whilst the nurses took your baby for its checkup.
when you exit the shower, he’s already grabbing you a soft robe, helping you into it and grabbing you a fresh pad and pair of underwear. "hold onto me, there ya’ go," he says, slipping your underwear on, up to your knees and sitting you on the lid of the toilet.
he hadn’t even bothered to dry himself off yet, or grab a towel; you were his priority. always.
toji crouches in front of you, sticking your large pad to your underwear. you watch him with a smile, so careful, so focused. he then layers the pad with soothing compresses before helping you back onto your feet, pulling your underwear up and fastening your robe.
"feel ok?" he asks, tucking a stray, damp strand of hair behind your ear.
you smile and nod, too exhausted to dry or brush your hair. you limp back towards your bed, toji follows close behind you in case you fell — quickly grabbing a towel beforehand. he helps you back into bed, pulling the blanket back over you.
"need anythin’ else, baby?" he asks, perching on the end of your bed, hand over your thigh.
"a kiss before i nap for like another ten hours?" you smile, closing your eyes. without having to be asked twice, he leans over, kissing you softly — once on your cheek, once on your lips. "love you," he murmurs."
"mm, love you too."
the room grows silent as you settle in, resting your mind and body. he stays sat with you, rubbing your thigh, still shirtless and dripping wet.
"you better put a shirt on before the nurses come back," you mumble. "on it," he responds with a low chuckle, heading back towards the bathroom.
The first thing anyone on campus learned about Ryomen Sukuna was simple
Avoid him.
The second thing they learned?
Avoid him harder.
Sukuna was the kind of guy professors dreaded seeing on their attendance sheets. The kind of guy who made freshmen cross the street when they spotted him walking toward them. He wasn’t even trying to be intimidating half the time—he just naturally looked like he was one bad day away from committing a felony.
He was rude.
Arrogant.
Mean for absolutely no reason.
And unfortunately for everyone else, he was also ridiculously attractive… which made things worse.
The frat house he shared with Toji, Choso, and Geto had gained its own reputation because of him. People threw parties there, sure, but they also had entire group chats dedicated to warning others about interacting with Sukuna.
“Don’t ask him for notes.”
“Don’t ask him for directions.”
“Don’t ask him for anything.”
“He called me an idiot for holding a door open for him.”
“He told me my major was useless.”
“He told me my face was annoying…I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HIM.”
So naturally, when the campus sweetheart showed up at the frat house asking for him…
Everyone was… confused.
You stood on the front porch clutching your bag, looking entirely too adorable to be standing in front of this house. The afternoon sunlight caught your smile as you thanked Choso for answering the door.
“I was looking for Sukuna.”
The silence that followed was immediate.
Choso blinked.. “…Sukuna?”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
He looked concerned... very concerned.
Behind him, Toji and Geto looked just as concerned as Him.
“…Why?” Choso asked carefully.
You tilted your head.
“Hm?”
“What do you need Sukuna for?”
“Oh.”
You laughed a bit, like that wasn’t the most valid question-
“I just wanted to see him.”
The concern somehow got worse.
Toji finally walked over.
“Kid.”
You looked up at him.
“Yeah?”
“Did he threaten you?”
“…What?”
“Blackmail?”
“No?”
“This some kind of.. group project thing?”
You shook your head.
Geto had now joined the crowd.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“The project.”
“There isn’t a project.”
Toji sighed.
“Look. You’re nice.”
“Thank you?”
“And he’s…” Toji gestured vaguely.
“Evil..” Choso supplied.
“A walking lawsuit..” Geto added.
“A dick.”
You stared at them.
The three men stared back.
Choso crossed his arms.
“Trust us. Whatever you’re doing with or for Sukuna isn’t worth it.”
The three stared at you like you’d mentioned bombing their frat house.
You smiled awkwardly.
“…His what?”
You laughed softly. “I’m his girlfriend.”
The three men looked like their souls had temporarily left their bodies.
“No.”
You blinked.
“No?”
“That’s not possible.”
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
You frowned.
“It literally is.”
Toji looked horrified.
“You’re telling me Ryomen.. has a girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“The Sukuna?”
You nodded.
“The same Sukuna who told a guy his haircut looked like a public health violation?”
“…Probably?”
“The same Sukuna who got banned from two campus clubs in the same week?”
“Maybe?”
“The same Sukuna who called a professor annoying to his face?”
“That sounds like him.”
Nobody spoke, because frankly?
Nothing about this made sense.
You were the nicest person on campus.
Everyone knew you.
You volunteered, you tutored students, you remembered birthdays. You baked cookies for stressed classmates during finals week. You once helped a lost freshman find her dorm and then carried her suitcase up three flights of stairs. Meanwhile Sukuna once told someone their dog was smarter than they were.
The math WAS NOT mathing.
Then the hallway door opened.
Heavy footsteps approached.
And suddenly there he was.
Sukuna.
Tall, Intimidating, covered in tattoos… and looking incredibly annoyed.
“What the hell is taking so—”
He stopped when his eyes landed on you.
Immediately—IMMEDIATELY— His entire expression changed.
The irritation vanished.
Gone…Just gone.
“…There you are.”
Your face brightened.
“Hi Ryo.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I brought you lunch.”
“Lunch?”
You held up a small bag.
“You always forget to eat lunch on gym days.”
“…Oh.”
The giant terrifying man suddenly looked almost embarrassed.
Almost.
“Well.. thanks.”
“No problem.”
The others looked ready to pass out. Because Sukuna had just said thank you.
To a human being.
Voluntarily.
You smiled and held out the bag, but instead of taking it immediately, Sukuna grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you closer.
“You eat already?”
You nodded.
“Enough?”
“Yes.”
“Water?”
You giggled.
“Yes, mom.”
“You sleeping?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly isn’t an answer.”
You pouted.
“It’s close enough.”
“No.”
The pout deepened.
And to everyone’s horror—
Sukuna sighed and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.
“Brat.”
The others collectively stopped functioning.
You smiled happily.
“Love you too Ryo.”
Sukuna rolled his eyes, but corners of his mouth twitched upward.
“What the hell.” Toji muttered.
Sukuna glanced over.
“What?”
“What was THAT?”
“What was what?”
“You kissed her.”
Sukuna looked confused.
“…Yeah.”
“YOU KISSED HER.”
“And?”
“YOU HAVE FEELINGS.”
Sukuna stared at him.
Then looked at you.
Then back at Toji.
Like Toji was the stupid one.
“Obviously.”
The room went silent again.
Because apparently the scariest man on campus wasn’t incapable of love. He’d just used every ounce of kindness he possessed on exactly one person. And as Sukuna casually wrapped an arm around your shoulders while you happily leaned into him, everyone in the room came to the same realization:
Sukuna wasn’t mean to everyone.
He was mean to everyone else.
You, unfortunately—or perhaps very fortunately—were the one exception.
A/N: this is based off this trend I keep seeing on tiktok (boyfriend of the sweetest girl you know.. or ect depending on the character and now I’m gonna do one for everyone possible..)
An outcast you rejected a while ago cannot bear the sight of you with other men! And what's a better place to corner you and beg to love him? By the lake, at night, when you're naked and alone. After he made sure to get rid of your newest lover, of course!
part of slutty (slasher) summer
˖ꨄ ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Stalker/Killer!Suguru Geto x Slutty!Reader ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ content & warning: ꒰ mdni 18+ :: heavy smut :: set in 80s :: psycho stalker suguru :: yandere :: obsessive behaviour :: extreme possesiveness :: violence (not towards the reader) :: emo Suguru :: minx reader :: she's so mean :: murders :: death threats :: university au :: suguru has piercings :: oral sex :: masturbation :: stalking :: panties stealing (ofc) :: breeding kink :: creampie :: oral sex :: pussydrunk suguru :: belly bulges :: blood :: we love beating men :: miserable suguru :: extreme jealousy ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ words: ꒰ 11.4k ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ notes: It was supposed to be shorter, but then I spiralled and cooked another long fic. Hope you'll like it <3
He was always there – somewhere, lurking behind the university's walls, with lavender eyes fixed on your figure.
Suguru Geto was known as your menace, stalker, the man who somehow became utterly obsessed with this campus's slutty sweetheart. A freak, an outcast, always hanging out with his weirdo friends. Metal bars coated his face like twinkling stars, and long, shiny hair brushed the ends of his hips, hung with heavy chains.
Two years of a master's degree, two years of a nightmare, a man haunting your dreams like a spectral creature with eyes always fixed on your body and heavy, bittersweet cologne trailing you through the corridors.
You first met in September of 86'. Right on campus, you sat on the grass with your new group of friends and a jock whose name you had long since forgotten, clinging to you like a puppy. The prettiest new girl at university, a heartbreaker, a slut, which you never truly denied. For it was the truth that you enjoyed sleeping around and chirping bewitching sweetness to your next foolish victims.
And Suguru saw you then, as you lay on lush grass in a mid-thigh skirt and white socks, wrapped just above your knees. You wore a checkered top and long earrings that brushed your neck. Squinted eyes turned to his freaky group once, with glossed lips curving into a mischievous smile and a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Why is he staring at me?" you asked, piquing Shoko's interest.
She looked over her shoulder, pushing a low groan. "Ugh, I guess he wants to talk to you. Don't mind them, probably some weird art major."
But it was hard to ignore the lavender irises hiding behind the almond-shaped eyes and this curious, slightly cheeky tilt of his head. September was still rather warm, and yet black jeans wrapped his long legs, hung with silver chains and patches. Dark tee with some washed-out band and thick bracelets stacked one after one on his pale wrists. Massive shoes could probably leave a hole in your delicate, white heels, and so grimace tug on your lips.
A jock sitting right next to you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, with a, "Don't worry, sweetheart, he won't be bothering you."
But you didn't answer, since he would be replaced by another guy by the end of this week. There was no need to raise his hopes.
The days were passing, and you were soon completely wrapped up in the university's tight schedule. Classes, studying, partying. Classes, studying, partying, fucking.
The young adult life was fun, with your friends always pulling you out of the dorm in the dead of night and taking you from one bar to another. From the local student's club to the cabin by the lake, owned by one of the jocks you happened to sleep with.
But the joys of a student's life – be it an evening spent studying or fucking in the car after a stressful exam – were, after a few months, taken away by your stalker.
Suguru Geto has been following you since day one. The moment his eyes fell on your body sprawled on the campus lawn, skin shimmering in the late summer sun, and a sweet giggle tickling his pierced ears.
His brain turned fuzzy whenever he saw the angelic aura wrapping around your cheeky face. Heart melted when your eyes fell on him, even for a single second. An uncontrollable feeling bubbled in his chest at the sheer sight of a little crease appearing between your brows when you bestowed him with a grimace.
It was clear that, for some reason, you treated him rather as a foe than a man who could pique your interest.
At first, he did nothing but look. Observe, with this devilish smile tugging at his lips and lavender irises taking pleasure in the loveliest scowl slipping onto your face. He tried to keep himself at bay, but not because shyness coiled in his heart.
No, simply because he wished to know everything about you, before making an official approach. Your favourite flowers, the desserts you most cherished, the tight course schedule that always seemed to keep you up all night, favourite shapes and colours of the clacking jewellery that hung from your skin. Of the big hoops that always brushed your neck, and bracelets stacked one on another, chirping like sweet birds whenever you passed by.
He wished to know the colour of your lingerie and how your panties smelled after a long day. To feel the warmth of the bra that had just left the embrace of your breasts. Smell the sweetness of your slightly sweated skin after days when you joined the cheerleading sessions.
Suguru… Suguru wanted to be the one having you all to himself, even if you hated the sheer sight of him.
Whenever you took a shower during late, late nights – someone always seemed to be there. In the shared bathroom on your floor, the one meant to be used solely by the female students. A listener, whose ears pricked up to hear a soft hum of a random melody that bubbled in your throat and sweet sighs when the first hot droplets hit your skin.
The first time you noticed it was when the bathroom doors closed louder than they should. Another girl coming back from a late session, you thought, giving it no mind.
But the silence that lingered in the air stretched for too long. As no other shower seemed to be in use, nor did any other sounds of movement filled the lonely bathroom.
You waited, and waited, to hear something that would not make you believe that a fucking creep slipped inside the room just to await your naked body leaving the shower.
But nothing else ever came, and so your voice echoed off the walls with a, "Hello?"
Silence stood still, and the hot droplets soon turned into the cold sweat tickling the shivering skin along your spine. Nothing, but the thick fog filled the tiled bathroom and a heavy breath of yours, trying to listen for the eerie footsteps that clacked against the wet floor a few seconds ago.
Coming closer, and closer, till you could already see the heavy, black boots peeking from the lower door crack. A gentle tingling of the oh-so-familiar silver chain slashed through the air, and if you lifted your head up, surely you could see a peek of silky black hair. The shower doors were, after all, not two meters tall.
"You fucking freak," a low snort escaped your throat. "You don’t think I know who you are?"
Silence.
He simply stood there, as if waiting. For you to come outside? Or maybe simply enjoying the tension that rose within a blinding fog. The faster beating of your heart, shuddered breath you tried to conceal with a harsh tone, and trembling fingers covering your breasts, as if he could see your naked body through the door.
"Cat got your tongue, huh? Don’t be a coward, at least say something," you continued, making sure the miserably weak latch was keeping the door closed. "You’ve been stalking me for months. Don’t you know who my boyfriend is?"
Suguru knew.
But he also knew that the captain of the basketball team wasn’t your boyfriend. Because you didn’t do that stuff – relationships, love, cheesy romance.
So a low chuckle slipped past his lips as he pressed his forehead to the door. Trying to smell the sweet body wash that lingered in the air, imagining the foam that coated your soft body and curled around those plush breasts he loved so dearly.
"I can’t believe you’re getting off to this," another snort escaped your throat, as you banged with a fist on the door. "You don’t think I’ll report you? I’ll end you, do you hear me?!"
But Suguru could simply laugh – deeply, with a vibration hitting the plastic surface. His large palm pressed to the door, as if he tried to imagine where exactly your hand lay. So the image of your skins almost touching could slip an eerie, excited thought that tickled his mind in such a pleasant manner.
A wrath coiled beneath your heart, hearing how much he enjoyed this little torture. Because, if only he wanted, he surely could rip the door off the hinges with little to no sweat. Instead, he simply let out a hum, curling the fingers into a fist.
"Sure, baby. I hear you loud and clear," a low purr bounced off the tile, foggy walls.
The heat made your head spin, body leaned against the plastic door in need of fresh air. But going out now would mean slipping right into his needy clutches.
And before you could snap once again, he added, "I hope you won’t mind me taking those pretty panties of yours, hm? I’ll give them back one day, pinky promise," and with that, the leather shoes disappeared from your sight.
With your pitched you fucking psycho, kissing his cheeks goodbye, as he left the stuffy bathroom.
And so during the first semester, you started seeing the consequences of having a stalker like him.
Your panties were disappearing one by one, and you knew that it was not a fault of the old washing machines in the dorm. Always suddenly appearing back on your bed, clean and fragrant, although only god knew what he did with them.
Other times, it was the white knee-socks from the cheerleader costume. The woollen, soft material that wrapped your sweaty thighs after hours of training. Always disappearing whenever you planned to do the laundry, always back on your bed a bit stiff, with a heavy cologne still clinging to the cloth.
The report to the headmaster did truly nothing, as you had no proof whatsoever that Suguru Geto was your stalker, nor that he slipped into the women’s bathroom. After all, no one else saw him, and for that matter, no one could accuse him of anything.
The jock you were sleeping with back then refused to deal with him another way, for he simply didn’t see a reason to it.
You snorted, the first time Toji said it and slipped off his bed. The winter’s biting cold was sneaking past the old dorm windows as you started dressing yourself up.
"Doll, what are you doing?" The mountain of a man asked with a sigh, stretching his massive body on a bed. "I won’t kill some random guy, just because you think he’s stalking you."
You scoffed at the quizzical tone of his voice, pulling on the warm, woolly sweater. "So you think I made this up, huh?"
Toji groaned, lazily wiping his face with a hand. "Come on, I’m just saying that he may have a crush and that’s it."
"He’s been stealing my underwear and listening to me taking showers for months!"
The emerald eyes followed you with a raised eyebrow, as you pulled tight jeans onto your ass. The scowl between your brows made him chuckle lowly and sit up on a bed, patting the still-warm place next to him.
"Come on, let me make you feel better. It’s not as if he’ll do anything else." His long hand reached for the loops of your jeans, but you quickly smacked it. "Doll, I’m serious. If you were in danger, I would definitely deal with him."
Fully dressed, with shoes on, you turned to him with a low tsk and, "I think you’re too much of a fucking coward to do it," before going out of his room and closing the door with a thud.
Months passed; winter turned into early spring, the second semester began, and Suguru Geto was slowly getting closer.
In slow, baby steps and yet you felt the line between the two of you thinning. With him appearing on your horizon much more often, following you around the campus, barely trying to hide it.
In early spring, he started leaving little gifts on your bed, under the door, in the locker. A pretty set of lingerie, favourite flowers, a tape with music he thought you could like, the… death threats.
Not to you, oh, but of course, as he would rather cut his limbs off than make a single, precious strand of your hair fall for the greediness filling his heart.
All the death threats were always aimed at your lovers, of course.
As Suguru had a little patience left for seeing you change men like gloves, with none worthy to be bestowed with the softness of your skin. To nuzzle into your neck, trace kisses down the chin, and hear the sweet laughter every single day.
Suguru was simply jealous. And he addressed it quite openly in short, paper notes that you somehow always found in your bag.
The mix of, baby he’s not good for you, and, break it off, or he’ll regret ever setting his eyes on my girl.
When you brought them all to the headmaster, he simply offered to monitor the situation. As you still had no proof to offer that Suguru Geto was the one who wrote them all. No one saw him slipping the notes into your bag, nor his ghastly figure stealing all your lingerie.
On a campus, he was simply a weird guy.
In classes, the best student.
For you, a hellish nightmare that tried to crawl under your skin and wrap around your body like a deathly viper.
And so you ignored the threats. Broke most of your relationships, but didn’t quite reveal the reason. If he had a problem with you sleeping with one guy for a month or two, then… you simply had to stick to one-night stands and not show yourself on campus with any other men.
As long as you weren’t hanging onto anyone’s shoulder, it should be okay. Somehow, you would last the next year and leave this town behind. With the stalker hot on your heels and the presents stacked in your bedroom, one on top of another.
The middle of the second semester began quickly, with spring in full bloom and the sizzling sun once again letting you slip away for the pool parties at the jocks’ houses. You allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasures and madness of student life, with summer just around the corner. Only a few months left, and you would get a break from your stalker for the whole holidays.
But then… Suguru Geto confessed.
He came to your dorm with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, a small bun sitting high on his head, and pierced lips curling in a gentle smile, as he knocked on your dorm’s door. After months of following you obediently like a puppy, he knew every little thing about you.
Every mood swing of yours, each emotion, always oh so visible on your lovely face. He learned how to watch you, please you, and say the right things to become the perfect boyfriend.
He knew how your pussy smelled during the ovulation days. How you usually tasted, checking it each day with a pretty lingerie of yours pressed to his lips, and fingers pumping his leaking cock.
He learned the melody you always hummed under the shower and the brand of shampoo that made your hair smell like the sweetest garden.
He found out what you liked and hated in bed, all the kinks you wished to try. The way your fingers pressed to your swollen clit, whenever you stayed in your dorm room alone. How your breath hitched when you were close, and thighs squeezed around nothing, although he truly wished it was his head being squished between the heavenly softness that haunted his dreams.
And when you opened the door, he knew that it was now or never. He, finally, was worthy to ask for your love.
"Hi, baby," he said, glancing at your figure dressed in nothing but a skimpy gown.
Wrapping you a bit too tight, ending just above the mid-thighs and with perked nipples poking through the flimsy material.
A scowl bubbled in your throat, and you quickly, with full force, tried to close the door. But he was quicker, slipping his heavy shoe right into the small crack.
"Leave, or I’ll start screaming," you warned him, getting as an answer a low giggle.
He pushed the door easily, coming into your room. The dim light slipping from the night table bathed the small space with a soft glow. A few scented candles flickered on your desk and the bed of your roommate, as usual, was empty.
You took a few steps back, trying not to show any signs of panic.
The sudden fear that rose in your chest. Breath becoming slightly more hitched, fingers trembling around the gown you tried to pull down. Eyes fixed on him, as if he could attack any minute now.
But he, as always, was looking at you. Closely, carefully, with lavender warmth slipping up and down your body and a handsome smirk tugging on his lips. Long hair tickled his shoulder, swimming down along the muscular back dressed in leather jacket. Metal bars on his lips and eyebrows twinkled like coins under the spilling candle-flame, adding a sort of wickedness to his demeanour.
Suguru Geto was… handsome.
Dear lord, he was beautiful.
And as difficult as it was to swallow, you could not change the fact that your stalker was one of the prettiest men you had ever seen. With a horrendous and sinful character, yet the face of an angel.
So you allowed yourself to trace the broad back bulging under the jacket. The height looming over your shivering figure. Long fingers that gripped the bouquet and beefy thighs dressed in black jeans. The woodsy scent of his cologne wrapped around your senses in an utterly pleasurable way, melting you in its warmth.
You hated the way he made you feel. Confused, scared, and most of the time simply furious. But somehow, on some days, a bit too balmy. With a heat spreading all over your body, slipping under the chest, down the belly, between the thighs, as if the wickedness of his actions, the sheer idea of how obsessed he was with you, made you excited.
So then, while he stood in your dorm with a straightened back, you decided to wait. To see what other foolish plan would bloom in his devilish mind, only for you to bring it back to the headmaster.
"What the fuck do you want?" you snapped, crossing arms over your chest.
He took a step closer, lavender eyes mingling with an excitement of a source that made your spine tingle in an unpleasant way. Long hand extended towards you, pushing a lush bouquet right into your arms.
"Go out with me," he stated, not even curving his tone into a question.
A statement, rather, it was as if he was utterly sure that you would agree.
And you stood there with the same scowl that didn’t leave your forehead even for a second. Fingers wrapped around the heavy bouquet, nostrils tingling with the strong, flowery smell you loved so much.
But the wrath coiling beneath your chest was dangerously close to spilling. Eyes bulged, hearing the question he dared to push after months of acting like a psycho stalker and turning your life into madness. Everyone looked at you like a crazy, delusional woman who tried to frame a poor outcast as a maniac who, Suguru Geto, definitely wasn’t.
And now he had the audacity to stand in your bedroom, checking your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy robe, as a sly smile tugged at his lips.
"What did you just say?" Rolled in tremble, as you could barely stop the rage bubbling in your chest.
His head tilted. Long legs took another step closer. Until the big hand lifted to nuzzle your soft cheek, strong thumb brushing the skin aflame with fury.
"Go out with me, baby. Let me love you as you deserve it." The silkiness of his tone made your head spin, in both an unsettling pleasure and madness. "And if you don’t want to date me, use me. It’s been a while since you slept with someone, hm? Why won’t you just use me for your pleasure?"
Thumb slipped to your slightly parted lips. The urge to bite it and suck on it fought in your mind, bringing an irrational feeling that made your lower lip tremble right under his digit.
His words clearly stated that he, in fact, did not know that you hadn’t given up on sleeping with other men. Because if he did…
"Why so sure that I’m not fucking with anyone?" You muttered, tilting head in a cheeky manner.
As if you wanted to indulge yourself in the psychotic game of his, fully aware that you would always end up as a loser. Because for the past few months, Suguru Geto was never, ever, letting you win any of the tricks you tried to play on him. The reports, gathering the evidence, paying people to give him the lesson, although the next day he was always appearing back on the university’s lawn. Fully aware of all your miserable attempts.
Something in his eyes twinkled, but the smile didn’t come off his lips even for a second. "Do you?"
You smacked away his hand, and with a swing, shot the flowers through the room. Gentle petals smashed against the wall, falling pitifully on your roommate’s empty bed.
Before he could even look their way, your arms wrapped around his neck, perked nipples pressed against his torso as you lifted yourself up on tiptoes. The sweetness of your skin immediately enveloped his senses, and it seemed this sudden, intimate gesture left him speechless.
"Every. Single. Night." You whispered, tugging harshly on the long, silky hair curling behind his neck. His breath slipped out shuddered, and, for the first time, you noticed a true rage bubbling in his gaze. "Think you’re so smart? That I’m scared of your stupid threats?" He didn’t answer, allowing himself to cherish the softness of your body pressed to his. "I’m fucking every day with a different guy. Guys, maybe? Who knows, maybe I’m already knocked up stupid after all the cum they–"
His patience finally snapped.
One hand curled around your waist, the other lifted to squeeze your jaw before the last, nasty words would fully set his mind ablaze. The fingers dug painfully into your cheeks, the arm kept you in place, forbidding you from slipping away from the deathly clutches.
"Aren’t you a smartass, hm?" He chuckled, but his low voice was edged with the wrath that made the lavender irises narrow into a cat-eye glance. "I’m giving you an easy way out, baby. If you’re a fucking nymphomaniac, why won’t you make me your boy toy? Think I was joking?" He tugged you, drawing a soft groan from your throat. And as fear filled your body from head to toe, something exciting, maddeningly confusing, tingled in your fingertips.
"You are a fucking joke," a muffled mutter bounced off the walls, only making him squeeze your cheeks even harder.
"I don’t think you’re in a position to make me angry, baby," he leaned closer, his lips mere millimetres from yours.
Another move, and he could taste the sweetness of your lip gloss.
"Or what?" You snorted, enraging him even more. "You’ll kill me? Come on, psycho. At least I’ll get myself free from you."
Suguru never wanted to hurt you. He never wanted to do anything that would cause you even a moment's pain. But the way you spoke to him, the way your eyes twinkled with the truth of choosing death rather than spending another second in his presence, made his blood boil in a disgustingly dangerous way.
Your doe eyes fixed on his, lovely face twisted in a wicked smile as he finally loosened his grip on your cheeks.
"Is that your final answer, then?" He asked, low bass filling the small room. Candle flames licked a side of his face, with warm tongues and peppered kisses. A devil truly looking like an angel. "I promise you’ll regret it, baby."
And with a final scowl, you pushed him away. This time, he allowed you to do it without a fight.
To kick his massive body out of your room and smash the door till the tremor bounced off the corridors.
Back then, while gathering the beautiful flowers of the bed and pushing them all to the trash can, you didn’t know what consequences your decision would bring upon the lives of not just you, but all the other people you associated yourself with. The rage filled you from head to toe, making your mind go foggy from the dizziness and adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins.
Back then, you thought that the official rejection would finally stop all his attempts to coax you into this weird relationship he had made up in his head and give you a little breather.
So when you didn’t notice his presence around yourself for the next few days, a grain of hope bloomed beneath your heart. That maybe, he finally decided to leave you alone.
Your lingerie stopped disappearing, death threats were no longer found in your bag, and all the little presents stopped appearing on your bed. Life was getting back on track, and you could enjoy the last few months of university, hanging on jocks’ shoulders and slipping into parties every single weekend.
But as it would soon turn out, those few days of peace were nothing but a bad omen. The storm that would soon haunt not only your life but the whole campus itself.
As on the night one of the male students had left your dorm, he disappeared. Simply, just like that, only to be found two days later in the local forest. With body dismembered into pieces, head a few meters away from the torso.
When the news spread across the campus, not a single student or professor was left unshocked, their hearts shattered.
Did he have any enemies? People wondered. Did he find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time?
The police went to you first, of course, since you seemed to be the last person who saw him that night. But the two officers didn’t get anything from the stuttering, and weeping body of yours, with dark circles swollen under your eyes. As, in fact, you didn’t even know his name, after meeting at some party and taking back for a quick fuck to your room.
Weeks passed before you could somehow move on and find calmness within a company of another guy. Not a one-night stand, but simply someone whose kindness and gentlemanly manner made your mind flutter with peace. He talked to you gently and made a sweet, genuine laugh slip past your lips. A friend, companion, but of no love interest from your side.
And yet, after a while, he disappeared too. Only to be found in the lake, with a purple body bulging from the water and a head wrapped in a dirty sack.
This case… made you spiral into madness.
Because, as you would soon discover, men who got close to you in any way were always, always, going missing just a few days after exchanging a few simple words with you. Be it a random student working in a library or a waiter at your favourite dinner. It didn’t matter who they were to you, but a single glance at your face was enough to sentence them to death.
And whenever another person was disappearing, you always saw him.
Suguru Geto, looking at you from across the campus, with a diabolical smirk tugging at his lips. Of unmatched beauty, with cheeks, straight eyebrows, and almond-shaped eyes. Lavender gaze lingering, with an uncanny sense of a secret only the two of you knew. The love and obsession so heavy that he was ready to cut you off from any men if that would force you to crawl back to him.
So you simply stopped hanging around campus. You just gritted your teeth, hid face beneath the heavy hoodie, and left the room only for classes. Room – classes, room – classes, the route that, during the last month before the summer break, became your routine.
You made minimal contact with other men, be it people in your class or a cashier at the local supermarket. Avoided the parties, gatherings, hangouts, just to not risk anyone’s life any further.
Just one month, you thought, desperately wanting to move back to your parents’ house for the summer holidays.
To leave Suguru, the university, this whole mess behind, and lock yourself far away from all the problems you already caused.
And then, a few days before leaving, Shoko knocked on your door. And when you opened with a puffy face and a shirt dirty from a chocolate ice cream you just stuffed yourself with, she sighed heavily, quickly coming inside.
"Do you even have a roommate?" She asked, noticing that the other half of the room was always empty.
With a brief nod, you fell back on your bed and closed the book you had just been reading. Ice cream in a big paper cup was melting on your bedside table, and heavy curtains cut off the summer light in the stuffy room.
"She’s always hanging out with her boyfriend," you muttered, patting the place next to you.
Shoko took a seat, watching the misery furrow your face. "You can’t cut yourself off. It’s not healthy, you know?" she said, tugging a lock of your hair back behind an ear.
Your fingers fiddled with the old, pink tracksuit, picking on the little, plastic diamonds glued to the soft material.
"I don’t want anyone else to die," a low, almost crying voice filled the space as you desperately tried to hold back the tears already swirling behind your eyelids. "What if he’s going to hurt you?"
She wondered for a second, taking in your state, a pain ripping at her heart. "Don’t worry, I won’t let that bastard get anywhere near me. Besides, it seems that he only aims for your…" She bit down on the lower lip, as if not wishing to confirm what was already obvious. "Anyways, I thought that maybe we could have some fun tonight. Nothing crazy, just a simple funfair with me, Utahime and Yuki."
You looked up from behind the wet eyelashes, seeing the comforting smile on your friend’s face.
"I don’t think I’m in the mood for fun," another sigh escaped your tightened throat. "Besides, he can follow me there."
She hummed, nodding her chestnut head. Short hair curled around the lean cheeks, and a single cigarette was pushed behind an ear.
"Well, how about you slip away through the window? He won’t notice you leaving the dorm. His room is on the other side of the building; he won’t even see you cross the lawn."
A low giggle slipped past your lips, seeing a cheeky grin lift her lips. "And how do you know that?"
"I think you truly underestimate your friends. Yuki’s boyfriend is friends with his roommate, the nerd guy, Satoru. We’ll make sure he keeps him entertained for a few seconds," Shoko laughed, squinting her eyes like a sly kitty. "Besides, there’s some weird metal band in town. I’m sure he and the rest of Addam’s Family will hang out there. He already knows you’re too scared to even leave your room, so… he won’t suspect anything."
The plan indeed sounded good. And as your room was on the first floor, slipping away would be easy. The worst that could happen was a small scratch, but it seemed worth it to experience even the simplest moment of joy before leaving your friends for two months.
At the same time… the fear was eating you alive. The thought that he might somehow be able to track your location sent a shiver down your spine. Made your mind freeze, heart trying to leap from the tightened chest. You didn’t want to hear about any more murders. Didn’t want to befriend kind, innocent people who would meet a tragic end only because of the psychotic stalker who cared for you in his sick, twisted manner.
And yet, without a second thought, you nodded, drawing a squeak from Shoko’s beaming face. She pulled you into a tight, warm hug, a sweet fragrance of perfume and cigarette smoke wrapping around your senses.
"So get your ass up now and go take a shower," She said, pushing you towards the door. "I’ll prepare a little special outfit for our night out."
The bathroom was empty when you entered, but no one interrupted your long, warm shower. No heavy footsteps bounced off the tiled walls, and no one’s silky hair peeked down at your naked body. It felt almost unusual, yet you tried to enjoy this intimate moment of peace just as you used to, with the same melody hummed softly beneath the dripping rain and a sweet body wash lathering your skin.
Colours seemed to slowly spread across your cheeks, the purple smooched disappeared from under your eyes, and a heavy, relaxed breath escaped your throat.
The life, even for a slippery second, felt as if it was back under your control.
When you turned to the room, a small, shocked gasp rolled off your tongue.
"I am not wearing that!" You scowled, looking at the set Shoko prepared for you.
You had long forgotten about the tight, extremely short pink skirt and the sparkling white top that were hidden in your wardrobe. A set of white lingerie lay right next to them, and your heart almost stopped at the bra, thin enough to make your perked nipples visible through the flimsy top.
"What do you mean? You wore it so many times before!" she exclaimed, adding a pair of big hoops and milky-white heels. "Come on, don’t be a prude!"
"I’m not, but…" but what if some guy tries to talk to me, and he will be there, and…
"Nuh-uh, stop. I can read your thoughts," Shoko said, quickly wiping a towel over your naked body. Her chestnut eyes slid up and down your figure, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. "Mhm, perfect. Dress up and let me do your make-up."
So after an hour and a long fight over the crimson lipstick that smudged your lips in an utterly whorish way, you and Shoko, under the sky blanketed in darkness, finally slipped away through the window. Bags fell onto the lawn first, heels following right after, only for your stupidly giggling lips to shush each other as you ran across campus.
Yuki and Shoko were already waiting outside, and when you saw them crouched behind the bushes, a loud, alive laugh filled the warm summer night.
"Why didn’t you wait in the car?" You asked, slipping into the passenger seat.
Yuki started the car, slowly reversing from the university’s car park. "For your entertainment, dear." She chuckled before pulling onto the main road.
After ten minutes of laughing and chit-chatting in the car, with music blasting from the speakers and Yuki’s cabriolet swooshing along the forest roads, you finally noticed the lights.
Red, orange, and purple, with a Ferris wheel looming over the dark, haunted house, rollercoasters, and multiple colourful booths filling the place with a mixture of burnt popcorn and sweet cotton candy. The tacky music beamed from the stickers, bouncing off the nearby lake, hidden just behind the deep forest.
Children, teenagers and students filled the park to the brim, with plastic red cups or paper boxes of food in their hands. Men tried to show off their muscles, hitting the high striker again and again until the golden bell buzzed with a red alarm, tickling your earlobes. A few squeaks escaped from the haunted house after a group of girls left it, laughing and giggling, while another group just entered, fear twisting their faces.
It seemed perfect, joyful and carefree, lifting a heavy burden from your shoulders and allowing you to experience a moment of happiness.
Shoko wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards the entrance.
After an hour, you completely forgot about the terror that had haunted you for the past year. You couldn’t count the cans of beer you drank, the amount of caramel popcorn that filled your belly with sweetness, all the times you almost barfed on the rollercoaster, and your miserable attempts to win a plush toy in darts.
Some men looked behind their shoulders to sense a direction from which sugary laughter was coming. Some tried to talk to you, but all three girls were immediately taking you away from their clutches, knowing that the presence of another guy was the last thing you needed.
But then all of them left for the haunted house, which you refused to enter, and suddenly became easy prey. Easy enough for someone to come into your line of sight and let out a chuckle when another soft ball didn’t hit the moving object.
"I’m sorry, but you really suck at it," a low voice whispered in your ear, and you quickly looked over your shoulder.
A young man, surely your age, with coffee-coloured eyes that mingled like little stars and sandy hair brushed slightly back. He stood tall, with broad shoulders bulging beneath the blueish shirt. Muscular arms peeked from beneath the short sleeves, with a few creamy buttons revealing his warm chest.
Your lips pouted. "I’m not that bad."
"It’s the fourth time you lost it."
Sixth, almost slipped away, but instead, you let out a giggle.
His eyes scanned your face, taking in the loveliness warming your skin, before drifting towards a booth filled with plushies.
"So which one do you want?" He asked, giving the cashier a few dollars for another try.
You bit the plush inside of the cheek, pointing with a finger at the big, black cat with yellow eyes and a pinkish nose.
"He looks mischievous," a man murmured, nevertheless sending you a smile.
His legs spread a bit wider, and his body leaned over to get a better view of the moving cans.
"I like them a bit mischievous," you said, moving yourself to stand right next to him.
With a corner of the eye, you noticed his gaze on your warm cheeks, before he looked back towards the game. "I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m a nice guy."
The first ball flew, hitting right in the middle of the small can. You gasped, shooting your head towards him. To look at the cheeky smile and sandy brows curving up.
"You did not!"
He shrugged, rolling a chuckle. "Not bad, hm?"
Another three balls in his hand disappeared just as quickly. One by one, each hitting the can with force, until the metal cups fell to the ground. The cashier seemed just as surprised and charmed as you, watching the blue veins bulge on his forearms and squinting at the aim.
When the last can fell, you suddenly, without a further thought, grabbed his shoulders and started jumping with loud squeaks.
"Oh my god! Amazing!" The pure happiness lighting your face swelled his heart with pride as he pointed a finger at the big, black cat.
"Here you go, pretty," He said, a gentle rosiness kissing his lips as he pushed the plush into your arms.
A bit too small to hug it fully, slightly bigger than your chest.
"Pretty?" Fell rather cheeky, as you walked towards one of the benches.
The warm summer air coated your body, hair stuck to the glossed lips, and you noticed the way his finger curled into a fist, as if wishing to push those few strands away.
"Well, aren’t you?" He scratched the back of his neck at the poor attempt to crack a flirty joke.
And as heartwarming as it was, maybe a little cheesy, you smiled, nuzzling cheek into the soft fur of your new gift.
"Mhm, whatever you say, handsome."
This time, his lean cheeks blazed with colour. Eyes slipped over your shoulder, as if the loveliness of your eyes was simply too much to bear. Cute.
"I’m Nanami," he said, coffee eyes finally meeting yours once again. "I was watching you for a while and thought you were pretty…"
The shyness creeping up his neck melted your heart. He was handsome, of course he was, with a sharp jaw and sandy hair, a few golden strands as if licked by the sun's rays. Eyes deep and warm, like sweet cocoa, held the damnedest purity that men your age usually did not possess. Pale skin, coated with a sheen of sweat, fingers curling and straightening under the weight of your gaze.
You sat down on the nearby bench, nothing but a black cat keeping your thighs from touching each other.
"Are you trying to flirt with me, Nanami?" You asked, turning head his way.
"Is it working?"
You hummed, leaning closer with a devilish smile dancing on your lips. "I think you’re pretty cute."
Nanami turned out to be the utmost gentleman. Always paying attention to everything you said, listening with pricked ears and quick nods. Sometimes the conversation turned to him, but more often to you. And although you thought of yourself as a rather boring person, Nanami enjoyed every word that slipped past your lips.
He seemed rather boring, but kind, shy, and utterly curious about your persona. Making a pleasurable warmth bubble in your belly and a wicked need to coax him into your arms. To use him for your own satisfaction, as back in the days when you enjoyed spending your nights with men too good to hang out with girls of your sort.
And soon you started leaning closer. And closer, placing the cat on the other side of the bench, pressing your thighs together. He was sweetly, utterly aware of your presence. Of the sweetness that filled his nostrils, the warmth of your body and giggles kissing his earlobes.
"I was thinking…" fell sweetly, with your breasts stuck to his arm.
"Maybe we could move somewhere quieter?" A lovely pout formed on your lips, doe eyes lurking up from beneath the curtain of lashes. "There’s a lake nearby. And I could reaaally use a cold swim right now."
You felt a tremor slip down his spine. The goosebumps rising on the skin of his bicep, you curled fingers around. A bulge in his trousers that made your eyes twinkle and lips lift in a wicked smile.
"But you don’t h-have a swimsuit," he said, perfectly knowing how stupid his reasoning was.
Because the lack of a swimsuit was, indeed, the whole point of this secret meeting.
So when a low, "Do you mind?" Slipped past your lips, he quickly shook his head.
"Let’s meet in ten, then." You said, before walking away towards the hidden beach with a gentle sway of your hips and a big cat wrapped within your arms.
It was safer to meet there separately. The reasons were obvious, but Nanami didn’t need to know them. There was no need, as for the past few hours you had been carefully scanning the park for the dark, heavy shoes and their owner, a face that still haunted your dreams.
It seemed he truly had no idea of your whereabouts, so the invitation seemed quite safe. Nanami appeared too good to get himself tangled up in your whole mess, yet the egoistic, carnal need for pleasure was far stronger than the need to keep a clear mind.
The short path through the dark forest led you towards a small beach, with trees looming over the crystal water and the moon peeking through the thick branches. Crickets hummed a summer melody, gentle waves crashed over the soft sand and without a second thought, you started undressing yourself.
The top, skirt, heels, followed by the flimsy white lingerie. A shiver ran down your spine when you dipped your feet in the water. Lukewarm, but still cooling your body in such a pleasing way. You slowly went further, and further, till the lake wrapped around your hips and moonlight bounced off the crystal droplets gathering on your skin.
Soft sigh slipped past your lips as you immersed yourself fully, with only your head peeking over the calm surface.
After a while, you finally heard footsteps slowly coming towards the beach. Nanami was close, and so you went back to the shore, slowly, slowly, walking out of the lake, with beads coating your naked body. Hanging off the perked nipples, nuzzling into the collarbones, dripping down your pussy, and a sheer sight of you could make one recall legends of water nymphs. With a beauty that unlatched heaven itself, carrying a wicked spell that spiralled men into madness.
When the shadow lurked from between the bending trees, your lips curled. Head tilted, mind already imagined the fever that would hit his lovely, virgin cheeks.
"Nan–"
And yet, before the name could fully roll off your lips, your breath hitched instead.
Because the man who appeared in front of you wasn’t him. The kind boy you met just minutes ago.
No, but instead Satan himself. Demon, nightmare, a fiend plaguing your life since the year before.
With a tall, muscular body dressed in black, heavy shoes wrapped around his ankles, creamy skin drenched… in blood. Long fingers wrapped around the long knife, and this damned smile bubbled behind the lavender irises.
"You–" a shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, body suddenly a lot more naked than it should.
Everything you showed, exposed, and wanted to offer wasn’t meant to be seen by him.
And Suguru Geto knew it. Oh, he knew too well, and that’s why the lavender gaze travelled up and down your body with a satisfaction.
"Hi, baby," he said, slightly tilting his head. "Why the surprised face? Have you waited for someone else?"
You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to confirm the obvious. Instead, your hands lifted to cover the soaked breasts, eyes quickly fell on the clothes left messily on the sand. Four big steps and you could at least grab the lingerie.
But Suguru noticed the way your gaze wandered, and a small gasp escaped his lips. He was faster, with long legs carrying him to your panties before you could take a step, body still frozen in fear. With one hand gripping the knife, he bent over and grabbed the dirty panties with the other.
"Such a pretty set. All for me?" He giggled, lifting the material to his nose. You could hear a low moan as he took a deep, heavy sniff with utter pleasure. Pervert. "Fuck, baby. You always smell so fucking good." Before you could snap back, his tongue peeked out past the pierced lip, taking a long, moany lick of your juices, lavender eyes not leaving your face for a second. "And taste like heaven."
Something bubbled in your belly. A mix of emotions too strange to identify, making your mind spin into a fury and spine tingle with a craving too queer to admit. The sole fact that standing naked in front of your stalker felt…
"Where’s Nanami?" you added quickly, trying to ignore the way your thighs clenched the moment Suguru moaned around your panties.
He took a step closer, coming your way at an unhurried pace. Panties hidden in the back pocket of his jeans, a thumb brushing away your juice, mixed with a crimson liquid on his cheek.
Suguru shrugged, eyes still fixed on your face. "Who?"
Your fingers turned into fists, as "What did you do to him, psycho?" fell through the gritted teeth.
But the gentle crease appearing between your brows melted Suguru’s heart. Low chuckle bounced off the calm water, as he was only a few steps away. If he wanted to, he could simply extend his hand and grab you by the neck.
"Baby, I really thought you learned your lesson," an angelic pout twisted his lips, as he pressed the drenched knife to his cheek. "Let me think… are you talking about the guy who was coming to see you? Blond, slightly shorter than me?"
When a terror flickered behind your gaze, his eyes lightened. "Ah, so that was him? Well, I didn’t like the fact that he was coming to meet my girl," Lavender irises dropped down to your breasts covered by your hands, before slipping towards the soft belly, hips, mound of your pussy, with a low growl tickling your ears. "Fuck, baby. I’m so happy this fucker’s dead. I can’t believe–"
Before Suguru could finish, you took a step.
And the next one, and another, before your palm met with his cheek. You didn’t expect the hit to be that hard, and yet he stumbled and fell on the soft sand. With a shock crossing his face and hand lifting to grab his burning skin.
"Bab–"
You launched towards him, your hips straddling his, palms pressing his shoulders down until his head hit the ground. Everything felt too weird, unnatural, as burning rage took over your mind and adrenaline pulsed beneath your skin.
Another slap echoed from the looming trees, and when his head flew to the left, you quickly turned it right with the next hit. And the next, next, counting each man who died because of you. The jock, the kind guy, the diner waiter, the student from the library… Nanami.
One hit more ruthless than another, but the adrenaline cooed over the sizzling pain that ripped your palms. No tears ran down your face, no trembling washed over your spine.
It was a wrath that had been simmering beneath your heart for months and finally found a way to spill in a deeply dishonourable way, leaving you filled with disgust for the violence he forced upon you.
When you finally finished, with deep breaths slipping one by one through your parted lips and eyes looking down at his face, a sort of peace dripped into your mind. Upon seeing a thin thread of blood trickling down his lips and a nasty, lavender bruise slowly forming high on cheeks.
He lay still with a mix of shock and absolute, loving madness that slipped in a shudder past the bloody traces on his face.
If Suguru Geto had thought he already loved you those few minutes before, now, with your naked body straddling his and cheeks pulsing from a beating he had himself awakened in you – he wasn’t sure whether love was enough to describe the devotion his heart swelled with.
Your breasts rose with deep breaths, lips slightly parted, while your hands still pressed his shoulder into the sand. And before he could speak, your finger hooked around his lip piercing, pulling him forward as pain shot through every nerve the metal had struck.
"Stop fucking testing me," you growled, with squinted eyes looking straight into his. "Think you’re so smart? I know your psychotic ass is too miserable to lay a finger on me. Pull another stunt like that and I’ll fucking kill you," you launched him forward, without a care whether the lip ring would rip through the skin. "Do you understand?"
He quickly nodded, but the heart-shaped irises were enough to raise another wave of fury beneath your chest.
And when he thought you would stand up and simply walk away, leaving him on a sand with a blood trickling down his chin and a hard cock trying to rip through his pants, you…
Kissed him. Smashed your lips against his, licking clean the crimson liquid pooling on his skin.
Suguru was already taken by surprise, but now, feeling your warmth so close to his body, he could swear that heaven was nowhere but in the taste of your sweet breath.
He moaned, drinking the saliva dripping from your lips and feeling the wet pussy rolling against his bulging jeans. Your hands lifted to his cheeks, squeezing them tight till another pitiful groan slipped right into your mouth.
And when his big palms landed on your hips, you pulled back, giving him yet another slap. "Don’t fucking touch me, you psycho."
Your words fell harshly, but the desire bubbling in your lower belly and sticky juices coating his jeans were enough evidence to make you feel utterly, madly turned on by the miserable state he allowed you to put him in.
"Baby, fuck, sit on my face, I’m begging you," he moaned, looking down at the long, silky thread that dripped down from your cunt right onto his bulge.
The sheer sight made his mind spin, and when you moved over his face, Suguru was sure that blood started dripping from his nose.
"I don’t care if you’ll suffocate, but you better make me cum," you stated, looking down into his dazed eyes.
Knowing fully well that the death between your thighs would bring him the peace he did not deserve.
With one move, you sat yourself on his face, tongue already peeking out and plastered to meet the heavenly sweetness of your cunt. A low, loud groan filled your drenched walls as he could finally savour the flavour he had craved for so long.
Lavender eyes rolled back, muscular body trembled as you sat with your full weight, till his teeth grazed your swollen clit and tongue sealed the leaking entrance. He drank the honeyed saps like a man starved, lapping through your folds with low moans and shallow breaths. Getting himself intoxicated by the creaminess trickling down his throat and coating the inside of plush cheeks with a sheen of sugar.
His hand immediately slipped down to his cock, fiddling with a belt, only to pull out a massive, leaking shaft that hit his abdomen. You looked over your shoulder, mouth watering at the sheer sight of the monstrosity he dared to keep hidden all this time.
He did offer to be your boy toy, and maybe, maybe, you would think it over, knowing the fatness that could poke each and every nerve deep inside your pussy.
When his lips curled around your clit, sucking on the swollen button, your hips rolled in pleasure.
"Fuck," you moaned, feeling a smirk already tugging on his bloody lips.
The metal rings felt slightly cold, bringing a weird pleasure to the heat that ripped you from the inside.
His long fingers curled around the thick shaft, pumping it in slow, lazy strokes. The reddened head pulsed as if ready to burst, balls contracted whenever your hips rolled over and over again, smearing his chin, cheeks, nose in a creamy cum.
His tongue fluttered around your clit, folds, poking inside the tightening cunt. When his other hand slipped up to grab your tit, you allowed it with a soft groan. Long fingers rolled the hardened nipple, squeezing the fat that fit into his palm just right.
"My sweetest," he pulled slightly away, forcing a frown upon your lovely forehead. "That desperate to get fucked, huh? I’m sorry my baby needed to wait that long."
It could look as if he was talking to you, but, in fact, his squinted eyes were nowhere but on your glistening pussy. With another wave of cum already sticking to his lips and lonely hole clenching desperately around nothing.
"My–"
"Stop talking," you muttered, grabbing a fistful of his silky hair, only to push him towards your cunt. "I’m far from cumming."
And he did as you ordered, plastering himself again to the heaven between your legs.
This time, he lapped more hungrily. With lips, tongue, nose poking all your sweetest buds, sucking on the trembling clit and pushing, pushing, pushing inside the weeping cunt. Each roll of your hips tugged painfully on his piercing, but he didn’t mind.
No, but rather took a carnal pleasure from the heaviness of your body, feeling that dangerous warmth bubbling in his loins.
And you were no better, with head falling behind and eyes closing from the ecstasy that was ready to spill any second. Looking back on his cock, you moaned, already imagining the fat, leaking shaft nuzzled deep inside your pussy. With a slightly curved head hitting your womb and a warm cum filling you to the brim.
"Oh fuck, I’m close," an almost inaudible whisper rolled off your tongue, but Suguru caught it in time.
With a sly smirk and lips sucking on your clit harsher, till the plumped bud trembled on his tongue, leaking a few droplets of sap.
His face turned red, for you really cut the air off and made him suffer in pleasure, strangled beneath your oozing cunt. Eyes rolled back again, a low groan spread through your pussy, sending another wave of climax down your spine.
And within the next few rolls and his tongue digging deep inside your soft walls – you finally cummed. Gushed, all over his face, drenching it in splatters of crystal droplets, landing in his mouth, on cheeks, dripping down the forehead. Your thighs squeezed around his head, a pitched moan left parted lips, and fingers grabbed his hair tighter.
You trembled, and trembled, feeling the ambrosial orgasm tickle your spine. Probably the first and best given to you through oral sex alone.
And as embarrassing as it was to admit, Suguru was, by far, the only man who made you moan that loud.
You didn’t have a moment to catch your breath. No strength to lift yourself up from his body. And to him it was of no problem, as the second later, the world spanned only for you to find yourself under him.
With thighs glued to your chest and ass slightly lifted up.
"I told you–"
His lips fell onto yours before you could finish, drawing a sweet moan from your throat.
"My poor baby is in heat," he muttered, licking a long stripe of your sweating cheek. "Let me take care of you. You waited so fucking long, didn't you?"
"And whose fault is that?" You snapped, feeling his smirk back onto your lips.
He kissed you messily, yet with a sweetness and care you would never associate with a psycho of his sort.
"I told you," he started, pulling away to take his shirt off. Muscles upon muscles glistened under the moonlight spilling through the trees, dark locks cascading down to his hips. "You will regret rejecting my love."
His trousers quickly joined the shirt on the sand, and soon he was hanging over you naked. With a heavy cock lying on your belly and droplets of precum leaking onto your belly button. It burned down through your skin – the hefty girth that made your mind spin from the sight alone.
He didn’t cum, as if waiting to release himself deep within the warmth of your pussy, and his next "Last time you mentioned something about getting knocked up, hm?", only confirmed the nasty thoughts already bubbling in your skull.
"Don’t know how to use a condom?" You bit down on lower lip, deep inside knowing that you yourself would throw that condom away.
There was simply no way you would pass up a chance to feel such a monstrous shaft deep inside you. His big palms hook under your thighs, folding you even further, till the breath alone slipped in trembled gasps and chest squeezed under the heaviness of his body.
And yet, you still tried to expose yourself even further, moving your hips in desperate need to meet the long-craved fraction and the maddening stretch. It felt so embarrassing, humiliating, to get yourself drunk on the pleasure that tickled your fingertips and made your lips fall open.
Dizziness already coiled behind your eyes, and Suguru could see it clearly. In the way you looked at his leaking cock, with this slutty, needy gaze.
"Do you want me to use it, baby?" He chuckled, leaning himself down. Only lick a long stripe down your neck, feeling the sweat tickle his taste buds. "Tell me you don’t dream about getting fucked raw and stupid."
A moan slipped past your lips when the head of his cock smooched your entrance, and lips sucked on sensitive skin right beneath your jaw. "Just do it already, fuck."
"Tell me you love me," He murmured, teeth grazing one of your pulsing veins. "Tell me you’ll stay, and I promise to give you everything."
Hips already rolling, as you tried to get yourself closer to his fatness. To the tip that oozed with sticky precum and the heat radiating from his cock.
A pathetic mewl escaped your throat as he sank himself a bit deeper. But only the plump head, that already marked the painful stretch you would surely get after the rest of the shaft followed.
"Stop dreaming, you psycho," you gritted through your teeth, pushing out even more of the cum that wrapped in a creamy ring around his cock. You stretched your hand, taking a fistful of his hair, only to pull him closer. Till your lips crashed in another kiss, the dried blood sticking to your maws. "Fuck me stupid, and I’ll think about it."
And Suguru, as desperate as he was, needed only those few, mean words to shove his massive shaft deep inside your pussy.
A loud scream bounced off the trees, soon muffled by his lips, drinking in every cry, every moan that started spilling out.
The stretch was as painfully ecstatic as you expected, spinning your mind with drowsiness and rolling eyes into the skull. He filled every corner, every fold of your plush hole, till the reddened head smooched your womb. You trembled from head to toe upon a sudden intrusion, and the way he immediately started moving.
Pushing, thrusting, shoving his cock till the balls squelched against your lifted ass, and nasty splashing filled the little beach. He kept you in place, with muscular arms folding you in half and lips licking, sucking, and biting on the sensitive skin of your neck. Chest plastered to your nipples, brushing the perked buds each time he rammed his cock inside your weeping cunt.
The air felt sticky and steamy, with the sweetness of your breaths mixing whenever another moan slipped past your lips, and Suguru watched carefully as pleasure twisted your face.
The ethereal beauty that warmed your cheeks, eyes lidded in delight, a stream of spit dripping down your chin, before he licked it with a low, nasty groan.
"Fuck, baby, I waited so long," He muttered, mind spinning into madness whenever your plush cunt clamped on his cock. "So hungry, weren't you?"
When his fingers slipped between your bodies, only to press against your clit, a pitched, "Mmm y-yeah, fuck, I hate you so much," rolled right into his smirking lips.
He chuckled, shoving his shaft faster, deeper, till a small bulge appeared right under your belly button. "Do you? Because I thought you, ugh, liked them a bit mischievous, huh?"
You heard those words somewhere before. Maybe because they were the same words said to Nanami.
But then, with his cock stuffing you, nasty, full and plush lips caressing yours, you couldn’t give a single fuck about how he knew about them. The only thing that mattered was his heavy, beefy body pressed to yours, leaving barely any space for the warm air that desperately tried to slip between your sweating skins.
"Suguru," a lovely mewl escaped your throat when his curved tip hit your sweet spot inside. Ramming into it relentlessly, with a force that drove your body into the sand. "So, oh god, you fill me so good."
His lips met your jaw, chin, lavender eyes tracing each scowl of your face. "You love it, don’t you, baby?" Big thumb rolled the swollen clit, pulling another pinched moan from your throat. "I know, baby, you love it so fucking much. And if I’ll do this," He rammed his tip against your spot again, before nuzzling it right against the plumped womb. "You will cum very, very soon."
And he was right. Pushing all your buttons, kneading your body in all the right places as if he knew exactly how to make a warmth bubble in your belly.
Fingers of one hand dug painfully into the backs of your thighs as you opened them even further, letting him slip into you even deeper.
"Talk to me, baby." He ordered, feeling the erratic clenching of your walls. "Tell me how much you love me."
"I love it–ahhh," rolled instead, and you could feel a dissatisfied tsk bouncing off your chin.
"No, baby," his teeth sank into your neck, his thumb pressing on your clit even harder. "Come on, baby, tell me how much you fucking love me. I’ll kill every man you’ll ever try to talk to. Hell, I’ll slash your pretty friends’ throats if they try to keep me away from you." Each nasty word was marked by a more brutal roll of his lips. Till the sweet pleasure of smooching your womb soon turned into your painful cries. "Say it, say that you love me."
The warmth in your lower belly was ready to spill, head lulled to the side only to be brought back by his lips, tugging harshly on yours. He bit into them, then licked the swell with a coo, as if trying to coax you into the madness-confession he had waited so long for.
And you, wrapped around the heavy weight of his cock inside your cunt and the way he made your feet curl in pleasure, finally, unfortunately, had given up.
"Suguru, I love you–nghh–s-so fucking much," a sweet mewl slipped past your lips. "So good, fuck, you feel so fucking good. I love you, love you, love you, love you–"
Your desperate cries were muffled by his low groan, dripping into your throat, as he finally stilled.
With cock kissing your womb, lips lick the tears rolling in the corners of your eyes and a thumb pinching the trembling clit.
You came with a loud cry, squirting all over his beefy thighs, abdomen, soaking the trembling shaft that started filling your clamping walls with waves and waves of cum. Its stickiness glueing to your soft insides, creamy droplets plugging you so full, till the milky threads spilled from the rim of your cunt.
And in the brief moment when Suguru Geto let his guard down, your fingers seized the long knife left messily on the sand and, with a single furious thrust, drove it deep into his left thigh.
A low groan slashed through the air when the shimmering iron struck his thick muscles, sending a painful wave over his spine.
You rolled his heavy body off, milky cum still dripping down your thighs and eyes…
Eyes looking no better than his. With heart-shaped irises glancing down at his body wrinkling in pain, with a sweet giggle, as you finally felt the winning pleasure spreading all over your chest.
His naked, muscular figure sprawled on the sand, cock already getting hard once again, upon seeing the bloody, sticky mess you left on him. Lavender gaze gazed up to you with a swelling devotion, and you needed to grit your teeth not to give him one last slap.
Instead, you started dressing yourself, slowly, with eyes squinted and lips tugged by a sly smile.
"I should fucking kill you," tickled his ears, and he could only give you a short nod. "But it would be a waste of resources," your eyes slipped onto his already leaking cock.
"I’ll come over tonight, baby," he mumbled, wrapping his hand around your ankle. If he could, he would crawl behind you, but the pain slashing through his thigh was already spiralling him into dizziness. "Fucking, wait for me, I’ll come over."
"I’ll be taking a shower in two hours, and I expect to see you there," you said with a final low hum and a tilt of your head, before walking away.
And Suguru… he had to jerk himself twice before he could finally stand up, swaying and pain swirling droplets of sweat on his neck. Yet, neither death nor such a minor injury could ever keep him away from his sweet, precious girl.
You know what, I kind feel sorry for Nanami... anyways, pyramidhead Toji next! I haven't written Toji for such a long time! I hope you enjoyed the first story <3
mdni. themes; age gap, toji x female reader, slow sex, sleepy sex, spooning, cockwarming, creampie.
some nights you got so restless that it was unbearable. you lay there for hours on end, squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to drift off to sleep — seemingly having no luck.
even wrapped in your older boyfriend’s arms, it was impossible some nights. tonight being one of them.
toji’s firm chest was pressed against your back, one strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. he’d fallen asleep over an hour ago, leaving you wide awake and bored out of your mind.
unfortunately for toji, he was a light sleeper most of the time, constantly alert or on guard. so of course, he feels you squirm against him, sighing loudly as you somewhat give up on trying to sleep.
toji furrows his brows, opening one eye, easily woken up by your movements. “quit movin’," he grumbles, pulling his arm around you tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“mm, can’t sleep," you respond, exhaling loudly again. toji drifts back to sleep easily, leaving you restless and bored once more.
you adjust your position, pushing your ass against him further. it was innocent enough at first, until you instinctively started grinding back against him, feeling his dick harden more and more with each movement.
toji’s eyes open again, a low groan escaping him as you continue to move your hips. “needy girl, need me t’ fuck you back to sleep? that what you want?"
his voice was deep and gravelly, slightly raspy from having just woken up — the sound only makes your cunt throb impatiently, desperate to be filled by toji’s thick cock.
"mngh, please—" you whine, feeling him begin to kiss the side of your neck lazily, hands making their way up your his oversized shirt. "yeah, i know, baby," he mumbles against your neck, squeezing your tits using two hands before trailing them lower, reaching your pussy.
you were already completely soaked.
something about the way his warm body pressed against you, hands exploring your body whilst he was half asleep, had you needier than ever.
he circles your clit lazily with two fingers, then plunges them into your cunt, curling them upwards so skilfully — so deliciously.
“fuck, don’t even need t’ warm you up. pretty cunts’ already drippin’ for me, huh?"
you nod feverishly, tilting your head back against his shoulder, giving him access to your throat as he withdraws his fingers, making you mewl from the loss of sensation.
"need it, please — now," you beg quietly, hearing him shimmy his sweatpants down, thick, throbbing cock slapping against your ass.
"shhh, s’okay. gonna give it to you," toji coos, lining his leaky tip up with your entrance.
without wasting a second, he pushes in, groaning sleepily into your ear as he bottoms out inside of you. you gasp quietly, beginning to rock against him, fucking yourself on his dick.
he places one hand on your hip, the other making its way around to rub slow circles over your clit.
“stay still, doll. just relax f’me, let me do the work," he rasps, rolling his hips against you, effortlessly hitting all the right spots.
you moan breathily, shutting your eyes as he fucks you to sleep. “mph, toji— feels s’good," you moan, opening your legs slightly wider, granting him more access.
“that’s my good girl, squeezin’ me so tight," he purrs.
you rarely saw this side of him when it came to intimacy. slow, gentle — deep strokes that had your eyes rolling back.
it was heaven on earth.
his thrusts remained unhurried, though his fingers quickened their pace, circling your swollen bud. "m’so— aghnn— close," you moan, becoming more fatigued with each dizzying roll of his hips.
“cum f’me, baby. thereee we go."
with a few more deep thrusts, the tension within you snaps, you clench around his cock, whimpering his name and clenching the sheets below you.
“gonna fill you up, keep you— hah— nice n’ full all night," he groans, spilling his load into your warm cunt seconds after.
based on how quiet and boneless you were, he assumed you’d fallen asleep. he doesn’t pull out, leaving both his warm load and fat cock stuffed inside you until the morning.
he presses one last kiss to your neck, then passes out soon after, cock beginning to soften inside you.
note :: can some people just leave me alone, i don't get why scrolling is such a big issue...if you do not like my works, think its ooc or just maybe don't like me in general, you do not have to comment and you can block me or get off my page. i do this for fun, and it isn't fun at all when people feel the need to judge the content i whip up in my free time.
the phone is propped on the pillows, screen glowing while katsuki’s flushed face fills one side and the camera stays pointed straight down at your wrecked body.
eijiro’s been pounding you for hours now, thick cock still buried deep, every thrust making wet, squelching noises as it pushes more of his earlier loads out of your swollen cunt. your thighs are shiny with slick and cum, the sheets beneath you soaked through, and your voice is already hoarse from all the moaning.
katsuki’s breathing hard on the other end, fist working his cock in quick, rough strokes. “look at that messy fucking pussy,” he growls, voice low and ragged. “you two have been going at it for hours and you’re still dripping everywhere. shit, i can see fucking puffy she is, eiji. keep fucking her f'me.”
eijiro’s hips snap harder, the creamy ring around his base getting thicker with every thrust. “fuuuck, baby, you’re taking it so good,” he pants, big hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider. “been letting me use this cunt all night and you’re still so tight. mmph, sweetie—yeah, just like that. good girl.”
your head lolls back, tongue hanging out, eyes glassy and unfocused. every brutal thrust knocks another broken sound out of you. “eiji—haaahh—t-too much, i can’t—kats, p-please, it’s s'deep—i’m—m'gonna—” your words dissolve into high, pathetic whimpers as he keeps fucking you through it.
“you can take it,” eijiro groans, leaning down to mouth at your neck while his pace stays relentless. “gonna make y'squirt again, pretty girl. i know you got more in you. mmph, soak my cock—fuuuckk. come on, let it out.”
katsuki’s fist blurs faster on screen. “moaning like a fuckin' slut...eiji, make her cum while i watch. fuck, i’m so hard it hurts—wish i was there pounding your hole open with him.”
eijiro’s fingers find your swollen nub and he rubs fast, messy circles. the pressure builds fast, your whole body tensing up before you explode again. clear fluid sprays out around his cock, soaking his abs and chest in hot bursts while your cunt spasms wildly. “cumming mnghh—cumming again—haaaahh—f-fuuuckkk...eiji, katsuki, p-please—!”
“that’s it, good fucking girl,” eijiro praises, still pounding through your orgasm, cock glistening. “look at you squirting all over me again. such a messy little slut for us.”
katsuki’s breathing turns into rough grunts. “g'nna cum—fuuck—making me cum with that fucking greedy little pussy.” thick ropes of cum spurt across his phone camera, blurring the view in white streaks as he groans your name.
you’re still twitching and babbling, voice cracking. “kats… eiji… love you—hahh, love when you watch me get fucked like this…”
eijiro slows but stays buried deep, kissing your temple while his hips give lazy, shallow thrusts. “we got you, sweetheart. just keep on being good for us.”
Not in a cold way. Not in the dramatic, wounded sort of way people sometimes imagined when someone said they preferred being alone. You loved people. You loved your friends, your family, quiet dinners, soft conversations, and the occasional evening out when you had enough time beforehand to mentally prepare for it.
You simply liked silence too.
You liked reading on one end of the couch without someone leaning over your shoulder to ask what page you were on. You liked cooking with music playing softly and no one crowding the counter. You liked sleeping with your legs stretched out, your pillow cool beneath your cheek, and at least a small strip of mattress where no one else’s elbow, knee, or entire body had invaded.
You were sweet.
You were affectionate.
You were also deeply, peacefully introverted.
Ryomen Sukuna had appeared to be the same way when you first met him.
He was quiet. Severe. Difficult to approach. The kind of man who could spend an entire party standing in a corner with a drink in one hand and a look on his face that discouraged strangers from speaking to him. He hated small talk, ignored group chats, and once left a birthday dinner without saying goodbye because, in his words, “I had already attended.”
Naturally, you assumed he understood personal space.
You were wrong.
Horribly wrong.
Sukuna understood personal space perfectly well.
He simply did not believe yours applied to him.
The change had happened almost immediately after you started dating. Before that, he had been restrained. Controlled. He would sit beside you without touching, walk you home with his hands in his pockets, and offer you his jacket with the stiff seriousness of a man performing a legal obligation.
Then you kissed him for the first time.
After that, Sukuna became a problem.
If you sat on the couch, he either pulled you onto his lap or stretched out with his head resting heavily across your thighs. If you tried to move, he opened one red eye and stared at you as though you had violated a binding contract.
“Where are you going?”
“To get water.”
“There’s water here.”
“That glass is yours.”
“You can have it.”
“I don’t want your water.”
“Why?”
“Because you drank out of it.”
His expression would darken. “You kiss me.”
“That is different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
He would stare at you for a moment, then tighten one arm around your waist before closing his eyes again.
“Sit down.”
“You’re bossy.”
“You’re moving too much.”
“You are literally lying on me.”
“Yes.”
That was always his answer.
Yes.
As though acknowledging the crime made it acceptable.
Cooking was worse.
Sukuna could have been in another room, occupied with something completely unrelated, and the moment you began chopping vegetables, he would appear behind you like an enormous, tattooed ghost. He would press against your back, wrap both arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder while you tried to use a knife safely.
“Sukuna,” you would say.
“What?”
“I’m cooking.”
“I can see that.”
“You are making it difficult.”
“I’m standing.”
“You’re hanging on me.”
“I’m barely touching you.”
His chest would be pressed against your entire back. His arms would be locked around your middle. His face would be buried against the side of your neck.
“Barely?”
“Yes.”
“You are six foot four.”
“Not my fault.”
“You are breathing in my ear.”
“That is generally how breathing works.”
You would turn your head just enough to glare at him.
He would kiss your cheek.
And somehow, inexplicably, that would become the end of the argument.
He followed you into the bathroom too.
Not every time. He had boundaries.
They were simply strange boundaries.
If you were doing your hair, he leaned in the doorway and watched.
If you were washing your face, he stood beside you and examined his own reflection like he had also suddenly developed a skincare routine.
If you were brushing your teeth, he brushed his teeth at the same time, even if he had already done it.
The first time you realized this, you had watched him reach for his toothbrush at nearly eleven at night.
“You already brushed your teeth.”
He froze with the toothpaste in hand.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“After dinner.”
“That was earlier.”
“It was an hour ago.”
He stared at you in the mirror.
You stared back, toothbrush hanging from your mouth.
Then he squeezed toothpaste onto the brush anyway.
“You’re going to damage your gums.”
“My gums are strong.”
“That does not mean—”
He started brushing.
You narrowed your eyes at him.
His mouth foamed slightly around the toothbrush as he smirked.
You had realized then that he was not brushing his teeth because he needed to.
He simply wanted to stand beside you.
That was the thing about Sukuna.
To everyone else, he appeared profoundly uninterested in human attachment.
He did not hug his friends. He barely answered messages. He had once stared at a coworker who tried to pat his shoulder until the poor man quietly apologized.
But with you, he needed constant contact.
His hand on your thigh beneath restaurant tables.
His fingers hooked through your belt loop while you stood in line.
His palm resting against the back of your neck while you watched television.
His leg pressed against yours in bed.
If there was a way for Sukuna to be touching you, he found it.
Sometimes he invented one.
You were convinced that half the things he claimed required help did not.
“Come here,” he would say from the bedroom.
You would walk in and find him standing in front of the mirror with a perfectly reachable zipper at the back of his jacket.
“What?”
“Help.”
“With what?”
“This.”
“You can reach that.”
“No.”
“Sukuna.”
“My shoulder hurts.”
“You went to the gym this morning.”
“Exactly.”
You would sigh and walk toward him anyway, and the moment your fingers touched the zipper, his hands would find your hips.
“You are such a liar.”
He would meet your gaze in the mirror.
“Yes.”
At night, his clinginess became nearly unbearable.
Sukuna did not cuddle politely.
He did not simply place an arm around your waist and remain on his side of the bed like a civilized man.
He consumed space.
Every night, he pulled you against him until there was no air left between your bodies. One arm went beneath your neck, the other wrapped around your waist, one leg wedged between yours. Sometimes he tucked your head under his chin. Sometimes he buried his face against your hair. Sometimes he draped himself over you so thoroughly you woke up convinced a building had collapsed.
You tried reasoning with him.
“Sukuna, we have a king-sized bed.”
“I know.”
“You are using three-quarters of it.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are on my side.”
“You’re on my side.”
“I went to sleep over there.”
“And now you’re here.”
“Because you dragged me.”
He would blink at you sleepily, hair messy, eyes half-open.
“You came willingly.”
“I was asleep.”
“Exactly.”
You had developed a system.
You let him cuddle you until he fell asleep. Then, once his breathing grew deep and his grip loosened, you carefully slipped from his arms and moved toward your side of the bed.
Most nights, it worked.
Sometimes, half-asleep, he followed.
You would wake up an hour later with him attached to you again, one arm locked around your waist like his body had detected the distance and corrected it without his permission.
It was ridiculous.
It was also, though you hated admitting it, a little adorable.
Sukuna, who looked like he would rather bite through glass than admit he needed anyone, slept best with his face buried against your neck.
Still, there were limits.
And that summer evening, with the heat hanging thick and unmoving around the house, you reached yours.
The air conditioner was working, technically, but it had been fighting a losing battle against the brutal temperature outside all day. The bedroom felt warm despite the fan turning overhead. The sheets were too heavy. Your skin felt sticky after your shower, and even the thin cotton sleep shirt you wore clung uncomfortably to your back.
You were exhausted.
You had spent the day running errands, answering messages, cleaning, and pretending the heat had not slowly drained your soul from your body.
By the time you climbed into bed, you wanted only darkness, cold air, and silence.
Sukuna came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, shirtless, wearing dark sleep pants low on his hips. He turned off the bathroom light and crossed the room, looking completely unaffected by the heat because the universe had favorites and apparently he was one of them.
He slid into bed behind you.
You felt the mattress dip.
Then his arm wrapped around your waist.
His chest pressed against your back.
One leg pushed between yours.
His face tucked against the nape of your neck.
You closed your eyes.
For approximately ten seconds, you tried to tolerate it.
Then his breath warmed your skin.
Your eye twitched.
“Sukuna.”
“Mhm?”
“You’re hot.”
His arm tightened.
“I know.”
You turned your head slightly. “Not like that.”
His mouth curved against your shoulder. “You should be more specific.”
“I mean your body temperature.”
“That sounds less flattering.”
“You are making me sweat.”
“You were already sweating.”
“You are making it worse.”
He gave a sleepy hum and pressed a kiss beneath your ear.
Normally, that would have softened you.
Tonight, it made you feel approximately twelve degrees warmer.
You shifted forward.
Sukuna followed.
You shifted again.
He followed again.
You stared into the darkness.
“Sukuna.”
“What?”
“You’re following me.”
“I’m lying down.”
“You moved.”
“You moved first.”
“Because you were on me.”
“I’m always on you.”
“Yes, that is the problem.”
He went quiet.
You felt a small, immediate stab of guilt, but you were too tired and too warm to soften the truth.
You turned carefully in his arms to face him.
His eyes were open now, faintly visible in the dim light.
You placed one hand against his chest.
“Baby,” you said gently, “can you please go to your side tonight?”
He stared at you.
Not angry.
Not offended.
Just still.
You continued, trying to keep your voice soft.
“I’m really hot, and I’m tired, and I need a little space to sleep.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Space.”
“Yes.”
“From me.”
You sighed. “Not emotionally.”
He watched you for another second.
Then, without a word, Sukuna released you.
He rolled away.
You exhaled in relief, stretching your legs beneath the sheet.
Finally.
Cool air touched the back of your neck. The mattress no longer felt like an oven filled with muscle.
You closed your eyes.
Then you heard movement.
The mattress shifted again.
A second later, it rose.
Your eyes opened.
You turned over.
Sukuna was standing beside the bed.
You blinked at him.
“What are you doing?”
“You wanted space.”
“I meant go to your side.”
“I am.”
“You are off the bed.”
He looked down at the floor.
Then back at you.
“This is my side now.”
You stared.
He stared back.
“Sukuna.”
“What?”
“You’re standing.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You requested distance.”
“I requested that you move twelve inches.”
“You did not specify.”
“I said your side.”
He gestured toward the empty strip of mattress he had abandoned.
“That is your side.”
“Then why are you on the floor?”
He folded his arms across his chest.
“You said you were hot.”
“I am.”
“You said I was the problem.”
“I said your body heat was the problem.”
“Same thing.”
“It is absolutely not the same thing.”
Sukuna looked away with the deeply wounded expression of a man who had been betrayed by the legal system.
You pushed yourself up onto one elbow.
“Come back to bed.”
“No.”
Your eyebrows rose.
“No?”
“You wanted space.”
“I have space.”
“Good.”
“Sukuna.”
He sat down on the floor beside the bed.
You stared at the top of his pink head.
This man.
This enormous, frightening, stubborn man.
He sat on the bedroom floor like an exiled dog.
You leaned over the edge of the mattress. “What are you doing now?”
“Sleeping.”
“On the floor?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to sleep on the floor because I asked you to roll over?”
He looked up at you.
“You said please.”
“That usually makes a request nicer.”
“It sounded serious.”
“It was serious because I was hot.”
“And now you’re not.”
You rubbed one hand over your face.
“Sukuna, there are other options between crushing me in your sleep and abandoning the bed entirely.”
He shrugged.
You could tell he was trying to appear indifferent.
He failed.
His shoulders were stiff. His mouth was set in a firm line. He looked offended, but beneath it was something almost embarrassingly soft.
He genuinely thought you did not want him near you.
The realization made your irritation fade.
Mostly.
“You’re being dramatic,” you said.
“You’re being controlling.”
“You were wrapped around me like a heated blanket.”
“You usually like it.”
“I do usually like it.”
His eyes flicked toward yours.
You softened your voice.
“I’m just tired tonight.”
He studied your face carefully.
Then he looked away again.
“Fine.”
He stayed on the floor.
You stared at him.
He stared at the wall.
The fan continued turning overhead.
Somewhere outside, a car passed.
You were about to reach down and physically drag him back onto the mattress when Sukuna suddenly leaned toward the nightstand.
You watched as he opened the bottom drawer.
“What are you doing?”
He ignored you.
His hand disappeared inside.
Then he pulled out a small bag of candy.
You blinked.
It was your favorite candy.
The kind you always forgot to buy for yourself. The kind he complained was too sweet while somehow keeping emergency bags hidden throughout the house.
Sukuna opened the bag.
The plastic crinkled loudly in the quiet room.
He took out one piece and held it up.
You stared at it.
He stared at you.
“What is that?” you asked.
“Candy.”
“I can see that.”
He extended his hand slightly.
You narrowed your eyes.
“Are you bribing me?”
“No.”
“You’re offering me candy immediately after I asked for space.”
“Yes.”
“That is a bribe.”
“It is a negotiation.”
You looked at the candy again.
Then at him.
His expression remained perfectly serious.
You took it.
His eyes watched as you unwrapped it and placed it in your mouth.
The sweetness bloomed across your tongue.
Sukuna waited exactly three seconds.
Then, in the calmest voice imaginable, he asked, “Can I cuddle now?”
Your heart broke.
Not dramatically.
Not painfully.
Just softly, all at once, under the weight of how ridiculous and sweet he was.
You stared at him on the floor, hair messy from lying down, candy bag in one hand, his entire intimidating body folded beside the mattress because you had asked for a little room.
He looked so serious.
So hopeful.
So stupidly cute.
You sighed.
“Oh, baby.”
His brows pulled together. “What?”
You reached down and grabbed his wrist.
“Come here.”
He stood immediately.
Too quickly.
You almost laughed.
Sukuna climbed back into bed, and before he could arrange himself around you again, you caught him by the shoulders and pulled him toward you.
He blinked in surprise as you wrapped both arms around his neck.
You hugged him tightly.
Not politely.
Not delicately.
You squeezed him until his cheek pressed against yours.
“There,” you murmured. “Happy?”
His arms came around your waist slowly.
“Yes.”
“You’re such a baby.”
“No.”
“You moved to the floor.”
“You asked for space.”
“You brought me candy to negotiate physical affection.”
“It worked.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
His face had gone smug again.
The softness had not disappeared, though. You could still see it beneath the smirk.
You lifted both hands and squeezed his cheeks.
His lips pushed forward.
His eyes narrowed immediately.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re so cute.”
His expression darkened.
“Stop.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You had emergency candy in the nightstand.”
“That was for me.”
“You hate that candy.”
“I tolerate it.”
“For me.”
“No.”
You squeezed his cheeks harder.
His mouth compressed between your palms.
“You’re adorable,” you said.
His muffled voice came out furious. “Take your hands off my face.”
“You’re my cute little clingy husband.”
“I will leave again.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I might.”
You released his cheeks.
He stared at you with deep offense, red eyes narrowed, face slightly pink where you had squeezed it.
You kissed one cheek.
Then the other.
His expression softened immediately despite his best efforts.
You smiled.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“My sweet baby.”
“I’m older than you.”
“By one year.”
“And larger.”
“Much larger.”
“Then stop calling me baby.” You kissed the tip of his nose.
“No.”
He glared.
You grinned.
Then his arms tightened suddenly, and he rolled you beneath him in one smooth movement. You gasped, laughing as he buried his face against your neck.
“Sukuna!”
“You wanted to cuddle.”
“I did not say suffocate me.”
“You hugged me first.”
“I felt bad.”
“That sounds like permission.”
“It is not.”
He settled more of his weight carefully over you, still holding himself up enough not to crush you.
You were warm again.
Too warm.
His chest was a furnace.
His breath tickled your neck.
But now you could feel the way he smiled against your skin, satisfied and peaceful, as though the universe had been restored to its proper order.
You sighed.
“Can we at least compromise?”
“No.”
“Sukuna.”
“What?”
“You can cuddle me, but no leg trap.”
His thigh was already wedged between yours.
He moved it reluctantly.
“And do not put your whole body on me.”
He shifted half an inch.
“More.”
Another inch.
“Sukuna.”
He rolled onto his side and pulled you against his chest.
It was still warm, but less suffocating.
You rested your cheek against him.
“Better?”
He grunted.
“That means yes.”
“It means I’m tolerating your rules.”
“You love my rules.”
“I hate rules.”
“You make rules for everything.”
“Mine are correct.”
You smiled into his chest.
His hand moved slowly along your back.
The room settled around you again. The fan whispered overhead. The candy bag remained open on the floor beside the bed, one piece missing, the evidence of his absurd little peace offering.
After a few quiet minutes, Sukuna spoke.
“Do I bother you?”
His voice was different.
Lower.
Careful.
You lifted your head.
“What?”
He did not look at you.
“When I follow you around.”
Your heart softened again.
You shifted higher, propping your chin against his chest.
“Sometimes.”
His eyes snapped toward yours.
You laughed quietly.
“Not in a bad way.”
“That is exactly what someone says before saying something bad.”
“I like that you want to be near me.”
He watched you closely.
“I also like being alone sometimes.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you stand behind me every time I cook?”
“You could burn yourself.”
“I have never burned myself.”
“You could.”
“Why do you follow me into the bathroom?”
“You take too long.”
“You brush your teeth twice just to stand next to me.”
“That is dental responsibility.”
You smiled.
He looked away.
You touched his cheek.
“Sukuna.”
“What?”
“You do not have to be touching me every second to know I love you.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“I know.”
“You’re saying that like you don’t know.”
“I know.”
You waited.
His fingers continued tracing slow lines along your back.
Finally, he sighed.
“You’re quiet.”
“I know.”
“You disappear into your own head.”
“I do.”
“And sometimes I can’t tell if you want me there.”
You stared at him.
Sukuna was not shy.
He was not insecure in the ordinary way. He walked through the world like it belonged to him and merely allowed other people to occupy portions of it.
But with you, beneath all the smugness and possessiveness and constant touching, there was something unexpectedly vulnerable.
He loved you so much that sometimes he did not know where to place it.
So he placed it everywhere.
Against your waist while you cooked.
Across your lap on the couch.
Beside you at the bathroom sink.
Wrapped around you in bed.
You leaned closer and kissed him gently.
“I always want you in my life,” you whispered. “I just do not always want you physically attached to my spine.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That sounds contradictory.”
“It is not.”
“It is.”
“You can sit beside me without sitting on me.”
“Why?”
“Because I am a person, not furniture.”
“You’re comfortable.”
You laughed softly and kissed him again.
He followed your mouth when you pulled away, stealing one more.
Then another.
“You’re impossible,” you murmured.
“You like me.”
“I love you.”
The smugness left his face.
It always did when you said it plainly.
His eyes softened, his hand moving up to cradle the back of your head.
“I love you too.”
You smiled.
“Even when I need space?”
He stared at you.
“Unfortunately.”
You pinched his side.
He caught your wrist.
“You’re aggressive.”
“You called loving me unfortunate.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I did.”
You settled back against his chest.
He adjusted the sheet over both of you and tucked you closer, but this time he left enough room for air to pass between your bodies.
Barely.
It was an improvement.
After another minute, you felt his breathing deepen.
His grip loosened.
You considered moving.
The old routine.
Wait until he slept, then carefully slip away.
You lifted your head slightly.
Sukuna’s eyes remained closed, his face peaceful in a way it rarely was during the day. One hand rested loosely at your waist. His hair fell over his forehead. His mouth, so often curled into a smirk or sharpened by irritation, had softened in sleep.
Cute.
Painfully cute.
You reached up and squeezed his cheek once more.
His eyes opened instantly.
“What?”
You smiled.
“Nothing.”
“You touched my face.”
“You’re cute.”
“Go to sleep.”
You kissed his cheek.
He closed his eyes again.
Then, without opening them, he tightened his arm around you.
“Don’t move.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I was.”
“You answered immediately.”
“Instinct.”
“Clingy instinct.”
He pulled you closer.
You laughed quietly.
The summer heat still pressed around the room. His body was still warm. You would probably wake up sweating at some point and regret every decision that had brought you here.
But for now, you tucked your face beneath his chin and wrapped one arm around his waist.
Sukuna hummed, satisfied.
“There,” he murmured sleepily. “Better.”
You smiled against his skin.
“For you.”
“For us.”
“Mostly you.”
He kissed the top of your head.
“You love me.”
“I do.”
“And I’m cute.”
You lifted your head.
His eyes remained shut, but the corner of his mouth had curved.
You narrowed your eyes.
“I thought you hated being called cute.”
“I do.”
“You just called yourself cute.”
“I said you said it.”
“That is not what happened.”
“Go to sleep.” You laughed softly and settled against him again.
A few minutes later, when you thought he had finally fallen asleep, his voice rumbled through his chest.
your friends always lower their voices when they ask, leaning over the cafe table with a nagging sense of concern, eyes tracking the faint, reddish-purple blooms peeking out from the collar of your shirt.
"is everything okay at home?"
"is he... violent to you?"
they whisper, because to strangers, ryōmen sukuna is a guy that could break someone in two just for breathing wrong. they look at his mountainous physique and immediately assume he’s striking you—that the wine-stained rose traces under your clothes are from hands raised in anger, because what else does a monster do with his strength?
you just stay quiet, pulling your sleeves down, given that you can't exactly tell them that the truth is so much more embarrassing.
because how do you explain that these deep, hand-shaped marks come from him getting a sudden, overwhelming rush of affection while you are just... existing?
the second you walk through the front door, he doesn't even let you take off your shoes before his thickset arms are securing your body against him. his face is entirely vacant, his expression as deadpan as if he were reviewing a tedious financial ledger while hauling you impossibly close; the desperate zeal of his hug making your lungs burn for every silver of air
“i missed you, baby,” the words are an incredibly sweet confession—completely at odds with his flat, menacing demeanor as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.
sukuna possesses absolutely no concept of his own magnitude, and when these sudden surges of intense adoration overtake him, his massive hands just react by pure instinct. his thick fingers dig deep into the meat of your arms, squeezing and kneading the flesh while he stares down at you with his crimson eyes tracing heart shapes. it is pure agony for your skin, a sharp ache that you know will turn into dark blooms by tomorrow.
“my pretty girl,” he mumbles, his lips caressing your skin in messy nuzzles before he sinks his sharp teeth down on your shoulder in a brutal display of fondness that makes you whine and arch into his chest; yet he gives your body no room to escape the extreme weight of his affection. his lower hands come up to cup your face, big thumbs pressing into your cheeks to hold you still while he overindulges in your scent.
a rare sensibility of content descends upon sukuna as he realizes: he is exactly where he wants to be.
cw ; based on what you know. f!reader. fluff! mentions of sex.
i definitely think wyk!sukuna would struggle with the idea of marriage. not because he doesn't love you or want to spend the rest of his life with you, he has no doubts about that- but because he's afraid. he never experienced the love of two married parents and he doubts his ability to provide for you, and he fears the idea of tying you down when he knows his life is a lot to handle. he fears it isn't what you want.
for that reason, it takes wyk!sukuna a long time to work up the courage to propose. when he finally does, he's beyond relieved that you say yes, overjoyed. he doesn't do grand gestures, he's not the type to make a big show of the proposal, but he does want it to be intimate, something memorable and special for you.
wyk!sukuna doesn't dress up often beyond slacks and a button-up, so seeing him in a full suit at the end of the aisle is just about the most jaw-dropping sight on the planet. his hair is freshly cut, his face clean-shaven, unable to stop fiddling with the sleeves of his suit. when he sees you, every fear fades away because nothing else matters anymore.
husband!wyk!sukuna is obsessed with you. he's not overly vocal about it, he's still the stoic and grumpy man you fell in love with, but it's clear if you're looking for the signs. no matter how quiet he is though, there's no greater pleasure than calling you his wife.
husband!wyk!sukuna is the type of man to show his love primarily through acts of service and physical touch. he's so accustomed to working himself to the bone that he's more than willing to do a few extra chores around the house if it means you don't have to. to him, it's still way less than what his schedule used to resemble, even if you complain that he never lets you help. you help him more than you could ever know, in other ways.
speaking of physical touch, husband!wyk!sukuna is touchy to an almost annoying degree. you're busy working? he'll come up behind you and massage your shoulders, but that quickly devolves into him trying to distract you to gain your attention. cooking something in the kitchen? there's a good chance he's there behind you, his lips on your neck and hands on your hips.
husband!wyk!sukuna has a high sex drive for sure, but the truth is that he just enjoys being the apple of your eye. he enjoys the intimate little pieces of love found within quiet moments watching movies with you held tightly against him. he's at his happiest when you give his foot a gentle nudge under the table at dinner, for no other reason than to shoot him your gorgeous smile.
husband!wyk!sukuna doesn't like to give you flowers. not because he doesn't value the thought behind it, but more because he doesn't like the idea of giving you something with an expiry date. his love for you will never die so why should he give you a gift that will? you're worth more to him than that, so he's more likely to give you a whole plant.
he can't get you too many plants though, because husband!wyk!sukuna wants to make up for all the experiences he missed out on over the years, and travel is absolutely one of them. he loves history and art and wants to visit all the places his dad mentioned when he was younger, but not without you there with him.
outwardly, sukuna comes across fairly cold, but you swear husband!wyk!sukuna melts when you visit paris and ask to do each and every romantic activity. he wants to visit the catacombs and the louvre, but you? you want to write your names on a lock at the pont des arts. he scowls the whole time, but only because if he doesn't, he'll be a big ol' mushy mess.
your house is filled with photos that husband!wyk!sukuna sneaks while you're traveling, though his favorite was taken beneath a waterfall. you caught him off-guard, his attention on the flowing water with his arms around your middle while you grin at the camera. it sits on his desk at work as well.
you're husband!wyk!sukuna's muse. he never stops drawing and sketching, he adores doing landscape pieces based on places he's been and photos he's taken, but you're a part of all of them, whether you're in the original photo or not.
anyone who meets you after college is caught by surprise when you introduce them to husband!wyk!sukuna. he's snide and cold-shouldered, while you're sweet and open. they don't know the bond you share, and honestly, you're more than okay with that. your husband prefers to keep the details of your life between you, anyway. his life is something he shares only with those he's closest to.
still, your new friends begin to warm up to husband!wyk!sukuna through his eye rolls and snarky comments when they get a glimpse of the person he is around you. all it takes for you to get his attention is a simple nudge and he's all yours. anything you need, he's at your service, even if he's teasing you or making a big deal out of it. it's all just a show, when it comes to you.
oh, and those who are privy to the fact he took care of his brothers? husband!wyk!sukuna becomes the go-to babysitter for them. he doesn't mind, either. he likes the opportunity to give his and your friends a break to go out, because he gets it. and although it might not have been the greatest point in his life, sometimes he misses when his brothers were younger and their biggest worries were who would get the last chicken strip. he may not want kids of his own, feeling as though he already has them in a sense, but he likes being an uncle of sorts to your friends' kids. plus, he's a great target for nerf darts. and when they get older? he's the cool uncle who takes them to paintball and horror nights at the local fair.
husband!wyk!sukuna is a dry texter, he's a man of few words both when chatting and texting, so it makes it that much funnier when he sends you a photo out of the blue, no caption. just a photo of a plush rabbit. why? "it's you," he texts back. this is an oddly common occurrence. anything that looks remotely cute and tiny to him, that's you. and when you're 6'11" and pure muscle, most things are small and cute.
husband!wyk!sukuna's prized possessions are the woven bracelets from his brothers and his wedding ring. As the years go by, the bracelets eventually tear and fall off, but Sukuna still keeps them. In fact, many years later, you notice there's a new ring that sits on his right middle finger, and upon closer inspection you find that the torn bracelets have been turned into a ring. nothing means more to him than family.
husband!wyk!sukuna knows he's a lot to handle, and he knows his temper is the biggest thing he needs to work on. he gets snippy easily, but he'll also own up to his mistakes before it gets anywhere. he's lost you once, he's learned his lesson. no amount of frustration is worth losing you.
your happiness is husband!wyk!sukuna's priority. he may be dense as hell when it comes to little signals (he begs you to just spell things out for him), but he's in tune with your discomfort and won't take it lightly. you're out with friends and your social battery runs out? expect his voice in your ear, telling you he's ready to go. he'll always present it to the group you're out with like it's him that wants to go as well, never forcing you to be the center of attention. he knows you wouldn't like that.
husband!wyk!sukuna tucks you so tightly to his chest while you sleep that you can't even get up to use the washroom in the middle of the night. and don't think about waking him up either, he gets so grumpy the moment he's half-awake and thinks you're trying to get away from him. and in case you're wondering, yes, summers are hell. you do need to get a/c.
husband!wyk!sukuna longs for nothing more than simplicity in life. nothing helps him wind down from a long day more than laying his head on your chest while you read, but he certainly won't turn you down either if you run your hand through his hair. he enjoys the silence, and finds joy in doing absolutely nothing, in particular if you're there with him. the greatest treasure for someone who once carried the weight of the world on his shoulders is doing nothing with the person he loves most.
husband!wyk!sukuna makes sure you know how much he loves you. he writes it on your skin in kisses and hickeys. he knows he isn't always the best with emotions, or showing his love, and he particularly knows his eloquence dissolves when it comes to words. sex with you isn't just about pleasure for him. it's the one moment where he feels like he knows what he's doing and can genuinely please you. maybe it's crass, but it lets him show you his love for you how he knows best, physically.
husband!wyk!sukuna is extremely secure with you. he trusts you to the ends of the earth, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like the look of hickeys on your skin. the sly bastard loves to show them off too. you've covered them in makeup? nope. he'll whisk you away for a makeout session and make a point of smudging the makeup, much to your dismay. yes, even at work. to him, it's about the way his love is written in the language that husband!wyk!sukuna knows best.
husband!wyk!sukuna is a quiet lover. You need to read between the lines at times to find the signs, but they're always there and he'll never let a day go by without showing you, even if he rarely uses words.
ITS SO FUCCKING HOT so toji x reader at the beach with their kids please bless us pope
🏩 anon
papa!toji x chubby reader at the beach with their kids ♡
Its hot as shit and toji feels like hes been baking alive for the last three hours. the kids are having the time of their lives, one toddler is busy filling a bucket with wet sand only to dump it out five seconds later while the other keeps running dangerously close to the shoreline before turning around and sprinting back when toji shouts out at him.
toji watches them from beneath the umbrella with a bottle of water hanging loosely from one hand, broad shoulders taking up most of the beach chair, sunglasses pushed onto the top of his head.
then you stand up, and his eyes follow automatically, because they always do.
you tug your cover up over your head and toss it onto your beach bag before stretching your arms above your head, completely oblivious to the way his attention is now on you.
the sunlight catches against your skin, making your curves glisten like something out of one of tojis wet dreams. and before long youre settling onto your towel a few feet away, turning onto your stomach and making yourself comfortable while the kids remain occupied. toji watches the whole thing happen knowing damn well hes about to pounce onto you.
a tiny hand suddenly shoves a crooked sandcastle toward him, and he glances down at his toddler, nodding once.
"lookin good." he grunts.
his son beams and then immediately runs away again.
the kids eventually wander farther down the beach, close enough to keep an eye on but far enough that theyre fully distracted now, and the second toji realizes nobodys going to need him for at least five minutes, so he stands up.
you dont even open your eyes when the shadow falls across your towel. a rough hand lands on the back of your thigh, and the other settles against your side.
"comfy?" he asks.
a small hum leaves you.
toji crouches beside you, forearm draped across one bent knee while his gaze drags shamelessly over you from head to toe. the heat has gone straight to his brain at this point. his hair is messy from the humidity, his chest is bare and borderline sweaty, and hes looking at you like hes trying very hard to remember he's in public.
"aint fair," he mutters.
you finally crack one eye open, and he immediately reaches forward and pinches your side. you jolt, suprised, and toji grins. the freaking bastard.
his hand slides down to your calf before giving it an absent squeeze, then another because he cant keep his hands to himself anymore. every time you try settling back down he finds another excuse to touch you, thumb dragging along your leg, fingers tapping against your hip, hand settling against your waist like it belongs there.
"toji." you warn.
"aye, I'm behavin'." he drawls out, and you can tell he probably has that smug look plastered over his face.
you swat at him without opening your eyes, and toji laughs under his breath and immediately does it again.
the second you finally sit up to glare at him, he looks entirely too pleased with himself. his massive arm hooks around your waist before you can move away and he drags you closer through the sand, completely unbothered by your complaints, settling you against his side while his chin drops onto your shoulder.
the kids are still playing, and the beach is still crowded as hell.
he presses a lazy kiss against the side of your neck before squeezing your waist again, rough hands entirely incapable of staying still for more than ten seconds.
"missed ya." he grunts.
you have literally been sitting twenty feet away from him, and apparently that was way too much for your husband.
his daughter starts waddling back toward him through the sand, arms swinging with determined little steps, clearly on a mission to launch herself into tojis arms. toji notices instantly, eyes flicking over your shoulder as his daughter gets closer.
his grip on you tightens for half a second, and he moves real fast.
his hand slides up to your jaw, turning your face toward him before you can even react, and he kisses you properly this time, rough and immediate, trying to get as much of you as he can in the seconds he has left before his baby interrupts him. Its warm and rough, his thumb presses into your cheek to keep you right where he wants you.
behind you, the tiny footsteps get closer. stupid kids always getting in the way of wife time, he thinks.
toji breaks the kiss just barely, still hovering close enough that his breath brushes your lips, eyes flicking past you again to confirm the situation. the second he sees how close she is, he exhales through his nose, but he still pulls you in once more for a shorter kiss, firmer this time, like hes squeezing the last second out of it before he has to behave again.
then he finally lets you go, leaning back just as his daughter reaches the edge of the towel, staring up at him with her wide eyes.
"..dada," she mumbles.
he stretches his arms out, coaxing her forward once, she waddles closer, chubby hands landing on his arm.
he huffs, holding her close once she settles into his arms. you smile, leaning back to coo at her, your hand brushing over her hair, and now tojis hoping she waddles off again real soon.
