If Yuji was asked to describe his girlfriend? There was only one way ⸻ pink, glittery, vanilla scented, pretty.
But don't be fooled. Most men would want a way out. Yuji does not. In fact, if he could be anywhere in the world, he'd choose to be with you.
He is exactly where he wants to be.
"Yuji?" You're sprawled on his bed, watching as he games. It's some dumb fighting game he'd insisted on buying.
"Hm?" He doesn't glance up from the console.
"Do you know where my lipgloss is?"
He immediately abandons his game, clocking into his boyfriend duties. "Which one?"
"The clear gliterry one." You reply, watching as he searches the wrinkles in his duvet, under his pillows, the floor, his desk.
"Have you checked your bag?" He asks as he peers under the bed.
You glance towards your little pink handbag. "No." You frown. Reaching for the bag, you rummage around a bit. "Found it! Thank you, Yuji. You're the best."
He beams at the praise. "Of course, baby." He tosses himself down beside you, watching as you apply the lipgloss.
As the designated taste-tester, once you've coated your soft, juicy lips in shimmering gloss, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours.
You make a small whiney sound in the back of your throat. When he pulls back, your lips are pushed out into a pout.
He licks his lips. Vanilla flavoured. "10/10, baby." He says trying to go in for another taste.
"Stoppp," You giggle, pushing him back. The sound makes him smile.
He is absolutely, undeniably obsessed with you.
"Fine." He relents with a dramatic, mock sigh, rolling over theatrically.
"C'mere." You whine.
The second he rolls to face you, you're on top of him, your thighs on either side of his torso. His hands instinctively find your hips to hold you there. You take his face gently, holding his chin with one hand, as you lean closer, applying the shimmering gloss to his lips. Your breath mingles with his. Yuji stays perfectly still until you're done, then his tongue darts out to lick his glittery lips.
"Yuji!" You huff as he laps up the gloss off his lips. He grins up at you unapologetically.
sneaking around with best friend!geto is all fun and games until pretty girls start feeling up his biceps at the bar :(
“someone jealous?” gojo snickered in your ear, slinking up by your side as he waved the bartender over to order another obnoxiously fruity and brightly-colored beverage while you nursed your own suddenly bitter drink.
“yeah, you,” you sarcastically muttered, refusing to feed into his (correct) suspicions that you were sleeping with your mutual friend. the year you’d spent between geto’s sheets didn’t make you his girlfriend though.
not that you ever asked to be either.
“come on,” he goaded, his hip bumping into yours as he cocked his head towards where geto was currently getting groped by a manicured hand. “i know you want to pry him away.”
“so you can grab him next?” you teased, trying to deflect as you twisted around just for his hand to cage you in between his broad frame and the bar top. his pretty blue eyes were fuzzy though, pupils blown wide as you realized that maybe what he’d been sipping on tonight weren’t mocktails after all.
“nah,” he grinned, white teeth glinting as he leaned in lower. “think i’d rather grab you.”
“how much have you had to drink?” you exhaled, eyes drifting down to his glossy lips, lingering there a little longer than they should.
“enough to want a taste of you,” he shamelessly smirked at his attempt to be seductive, his palm sliding up your side as if it always had a place there.
you’d never taken any of his flirting seriously.
but maybe you should’ve.
considering whether or not imploding your situationship over sleeping with your other friend as gojo’s fingertips gracefully slipped down to disappear underneath your dress.
“you’re touching something of mine,” a honeyed voice interrupted with a drawn-out huff, but gojo didn’t pull away.
and a new idea blossomed, your mouth curling up as you glanced between the two men too busy glaring at each other to notice the sparkle in your stare.
what better way to punish your man by showing him just how swiftly a certain someone else would swoop in to steal you?
“boys,” you hummed, clicking your tongue. “don’t you know how nice Paris is right now?”
Synopsis: you and prisoner Toji have been married for years now, the kids are older, there’s more chaos. Now everything is perfect accept for…the sex.
Pairing: Tojixreader
Content MDNI: ex-con husband!toji, SAHM!Reader, married life, the two of you are arguing, EDGING, sexual frustration, Toji is moody, you have 2 kids, date night, DOGGYSTYLE, COWGIRL, BLOWJOB, disturbances, oral (fem. Rec), FINGERING in the car, multiple orgasms, intense orgasms, MARATHONS, toji is STRETCHING YOU, SQUIRTING, MANHANDLING YOU, Toji is BIG, he lasts a long time, slight degrading, hair pulling, spanking you, DRY HUMPING, Toji is FAREL, you’re NEEDY, BREEDING YOU, creampie, happy ending
Word count: 7.6k
Disclaimer: I’m going to miss writting him :(
Your snug canal sucked him in with a tight pull with each mean and powerful thrust, and the sound of moaning and groaning filled the space of your bedroom. The sound of your slick smacking against Toji's v-line echoed as he frantically pushed his needy cockhead against your g-spot, already tenderized and sensitive from the rough way he was relentlessly shoving his girth into you with single-minded urgency. Smoke clouds collect at his parted lips as he pants between his punishing strokes. Your broken whines echo through your room as Toji's large veiny rough hands clamp hard to your hips with a firm hold to squeeze into your womb like you were a lifeline. He threw his sweet damp forehead back with a breathy groan.
"F-fuckkkk"
The sounds of your ass and wet slick from your dripping wet folds smacked against his toned v-line. His other hand was already filled with a twisted handful of your hair around his palm as he yanked with each hard thrust.
"Darling! P-please n-not so rough..."
But toji couldn't hear a damn thing you were saying, not that he was deaf, he was just lost in the feeling you two were rarely able to share. When was the last time the two of you had alone time like this? Where could he really get serious and get into it? He growled thrusting so hard it knocked the air out of you, making you tremble harder. Your whines and moans are becoming broken whimpers. Your husband Toji Fushiguro knew just how to please you, and with practiced ease, he'd always hit your g spot hard with his tip until it was so tender you had no choice but to orgasm. His cock was working you so good tonight your eyes rolled back as you bounced back against his hips with furious reckless abandon. His cockhead was slamming throughout your womb, precum sloshing and mixing with your running slick so much it leaked down your thigh. He was still as big as ever, stretching you to capacity each time you guys would take 'time for yourselves.'
Toji groaned as your tight heat squeezes and sucked up his cock in the most blissful way. And then? A frantic growl tears from the back of his throat with a rough smack of his hand on your ass again, leaving a burning sting in his wake. Oh, you'd been doing so well keeping quiet up until now, holding all of your strained moans back because this was still the one thing you couldn't master in this marriage especially because now you were close. And how could you keep quiet when you're sure you were close to orgasming harder than you had in your entire marriage?
You let out the wildest moan as your body locked up tense building up to that perfect release, and toji? The bull of a man you man who did 10 years in prison and knew your body like the back of his hand, was not stopping at all, slamming and ramming away inside of you with an intensity that made the flesh on your ass raw from the powerful smack of his thrusting v-line. Until. There was a tiny cry at their bedroom door.
"Mommy? Daddy?"
Your youngest son Rin. Crying on the other side of the door. Toji's rough and relentless thrusts stop immediately at the sound of the tiny sniffle and cries. Toji could only barely hide the level of irritation in his face and demeanour. Your hand shooed him away from behind you as he reluctantly extracted himself from your leaking folds with a disappointed groan. You sat up straight adjusting your disheveled nightgown that Toji had almost ripped to shreds just moments ago. But he didn't even have the patience for that the way he wanted you tonight. Toji rolled out of the bed grumbling under his breath while sliding on his grey and black boxer briefs and sliding under the blankets of your marital bed.
"I got it..."
You said finally standing and walking to answer your bedroom door to reveal your 5 year old son Rin who was rubbing his eyes and crying his heart out.
"Mommy!"
The little dark-haired baby boy couldn't stop the tears from flowing until you picked him up in your arms.
"There there bud...you okay? Bad dream again?"
He nods his head dramatically, and drags his arm across is bugger encrusted nose. You kiss his forehead gently.
"Let's get you all cleaned up"
You peek over your shoulder to notice that toji is rolled over on his side facing away from you. You can feel your heart racing with irritation before you walk away to cater to your son.
"Mommy? Was Daddy mad at you?"
Your face twists with confusion.
"Sweetheart...what? No...no! Of course not..."
Rin tilts his head like a curious puppy.
"So why was Daddy making that sound? And he was hitting you!"
Your heart drops to your feet and your head spins for a second. He heard. Fuck.
"No no sweetheart that was just your imagination! The same way we dream about unicorns and vampires!"
You kiss his forehead with a deep feeling of looming guilt. You guys enjoyed the free time a bit too much. You let out a deep sigh wiping away the remaining boogers from his nose and arm before walking out of the bathroom with his tiny hand in yours. When the two of you reach the dark hallway he buries his face in your leg.
"Rin sweetheart are you scared?"
The green-eyed toddler nods with a pout.
"Can I sleep with you and daddy?"
You sigh slightly reluctant (hoping to finish what you started with toji) and guide his hand in yours to the master bedroom. Rin follows you popping his head into the bedroom door where Toji was still facing away from the two of you. Closing the bedroom door behind you, you slip into the bed next to him while Rin struggles to climb over you to scoot between the two of you. Snuggling Rin was peace. This life with Toji? Was peaceful for the most part, most would say you were lucky, big handsome husband who works hard (seemingly so), a beautiful suburban home, and two perfect children. And you know what? You'd probably agree with most people that this life was perfect but, there was just something missing.
The sex.
Now of course it's limited because Toji has work and if he works a later shift he'll be moodier. But it's also the fact that intimacy simply hasn't been the same. Goosebumps rise on your skin when you think about the way sex used to be before the kids, always having to sneak around or be careful not to be too loud. But back a couple of years Toji would have your legs shaking, driving you absolutely insane until you were cock drunk on him, drooling like a starved woman, and cuming more times in one round you could even count. Even the memories are simply too much. But Toji's been moody from work, lazier too, and the two of you? You've been arguing and in front of the kids too sometimes. You'd closed your eyes grinding your teeth in frustration. Things have to change and fast.
.
.
.
The following morning the first morning light from the sun filtered through your bedroom window making you stir before you noticed Rin wasn't behind you, just feeling your broad-framed husband had his arms wrapped around your waist. He was pressed firmly against your back hard enough for you to feel how hard he was and oh you hadn't realized how clearly rock hard your husband was until just now. So hard it almost kinda hurt. His breath was lingering huskily on your neck, with heavy aroused pants and warm breath kissing your neck. His arms squeezed tightly around your frame, a gentle breathy kisses mingaling along your neck.
"Good morning beautiful"
He murmurs low and gravely along your neck with another kiss to it. A strong hand rubbing down your thigh in circular motions slowly hiking up the fabric of your nightgown.
"Darling...the kids..."
Your stammer out face hot as a sauna. You can feel him grinning against your neck as his fingers dig into your thigh softly.
"Having breakfast, how about a quickie before work? Hmm?"
He rolls his erection tight against your ass one time, agonizingly slow, almost stabbing you. Your breath catches in your throat, not that you weren't expecting anything less from your insatiable companion but you were still shocked to say the least. And so early too? This was new.
Without a word, you brush your backside up against him with a silent and polite permission. And oh it was all the permission Toji needed. He immediately growled and gripped you harder against his chest and erection. His hand on your thigh lifts your nightgown over his hand to trail his hand into the fabric of your panties. Another warm kiss to your neck before Toji was rubbing your clit between his large fingers, drawing out a soft moan from you, breathy, and involuntary.
"Mmm...already so wet for me huh?"
Toji teases huskily against the back of your neck planting feather-light kisses while his fingers trail lower to massage your already damp and slick folds. And then pushing his fingers through your snug canal. Warm and tight making him groan sending vibrations through you like electricity.
"Mmmhmmm..."
When toji can get just one more soft and weak moan from you, from his working fingers pumping into your slick walls, he pulls your panties down from beneath your nightgown. And then? Your breath catches hard in your throat like you can't even speak when you feel him free himself from his boxers oh that was an amazing feeling. His free rock hard cock immediately slapping into your ass like a spring. And before you can register that this is really happening? That you guys are finally gonna be able to have sex, you can finally have each other, Toji's large firm hand lifts your ass cheeks just to tease and slowly slide his thick, heavy cock between your thighs. One quick tease before he guided it up to push it right up into your pussy lips. Yours and Toji's sounds mingle together as you both let out satisfied sounds, soft and grateful before he was pushing in and spreading you inch by agonizing inch until his cock was finding its curved and imprinted place in your womb. Your wet and tight heat restricting Toji instantly. He presses a slow and savory, hungry, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. His arm wrapped around you moving up to grab a tight and firm grip of your breast in his palm.
"Sweetheart..."
Toji barely makes out words before he's so overcome with pleasure that his hips start moving. Each roll of Toji's hips from behind you pushed his cockhead harder into your womb making a soft, strained whine tear from you despite you trying to hold it in.
"God I'm so lucky"
He murmurs against your neck with a slightly firmer thrust that steals your breath. His bulky arm wraps around you in quiet affection, holding your firm (or to keep you from squirming) while his other hand keeps your breast in his firm grip and oh you were panting. Hard. Toji hadn't touched you like this in...weeks? Months? Your cunt was throbbing with each and every slow building thrust, your slick was dampening the space between your thighs as Toji groaned softly picking up the pace. You bounce with each thrust that's spreading you further, and further. Your soft moans were increasing and that space between you and Toji that was there first thing that morning? Non-existent and replaced with thick tension and aroused heat and sex sounds. The bed creaks low beneath the two of you as tho grows greedier, thrusting harder with an animalistic grunt growing more and more intense by the minute.
Between Toji's wild thrusts, you turn your head to capture his lips in a searing kiss full of teeth and tongue, messy, needy between grunts and moans. Until.
"Mommy!!! Rin keeps trying to take Batman to school!!"
Toji slows his thrusting as you sigh and turn to him.
"Can you handled it this time?"
Toji looks you dead in your eyes and scoffs while sliding from inside of you.
"Toji!!"
Now you're raising your voice and Toji's eyes widen.
"What!?"
You fling the sheets off of you to jump out of the bed in frustration, yanking down your hiked up nightgown roughly.
"You're being selfish! The children need their father toji!"
He groans in agitation before slowly rolling and scooting out of bed and sliding on his boxers again.
"You're being bitchy again you know"
You couldn't help the rough slap of your palm hard across Toji's cheek, hot and stinging. But he just stares at you with that stupid empty look that's been getting on your nerves. Your blood boils with rage as he shifts past you to dig into a clothing drawer. Shuffling for a button-down for work.
"Toji what are you doing!? Didn't you hear what I just asked you!?"
Toji shoots a glare over his shoulder.
"Work. I told you this morning"
He was right. He did tell you, but now you're wondering if he's just using it as an excuse.
"Toji I've been handling the kids alone for a little while now, they need you..."
Toji stands in front of the mirror buttoning a crisp white button-down that you'd pressed out that weekend to perfection like the perfect housewife you've been all this time. But Toji doesn't look at you, focused on the buttons in the button-down until he is done.
"I'm out the door in 5,"
You fold your arms to your chest and look at him through the mirror.
"We need to talk after you get home. There have been some things I've noticed going on with you...."
You say approaching him to help him with his tie (he's hopeless)
"You noticed?"
He grumbles softly.
"Of course I noticed darling. You're my husband"
He scoffs.
"Ex-con husband."
Your eyes meet his intensely with devotion.
"You're just a husband. Not an ex-con husband. What you went through isn't who you are"
You adjust his finished tie.
"While your behavior is questionable this morning, you're a good husband. And a good father...don't take this new life for granted darling..."
You say planting the fastest peck kiss to his lips and rubbing his shoulders reassuringly before walking away from him and leaving the room to handle the children outside of the bedroom door. Toji glances over his shoulder to watch you leave. Eyes softening with the faintest reminder of why he married you and changed for you.
The living room was chaotic when Toji finally entered in his navy blue suit and tie, adjusting it with a stoic expression. 5 year old Rin and 7 year old miyuki fussing with you to get ready for school. Rin had eventually gotten you to allow him to take his Batman action figure to school pretending to make him fly around making airplane sounds while you adjusted his uniform shirt and Miyuki's bookbag.
Toji waltzes over to press warm and firm kisses to his children's heads and one to your cheek before adjusting his tie again and gripping his briefcase. Your eyes narrow on him unforgivingly for what he said this morning but Toji sees them and doesn't meet them. They're a trap and he knows it, he strides for the front door and leaves behind it in a flash. You roll your eyes moving and urging the children to the front door.
You and the children wait for the bus on the front lawn, the lawn Toji cuts the first Sunday of every month. Muscles tense, glistening with labored sweat when he'd wipe his forehead. You bit your bottom lip at such a sudden flashback. This morning was overwhelming, you're not too sure if you should be pissed with your husband or throw yourself at him the first opportunity that you get.
"Mom? Why do you look like you're daydreaming?"
You immediately shake your head to snap yourself out of it.
"Rin sweetheart I-I, look! Your bus is here!! How great!"
You say pointing at the yellow bus driving up your street in the morning sunlight. Miyuki rolls her eyes and smirks at you.
"What?"
You ask with your face redder than a tomato.
"Bye, Mom! See you after school!" Miyuki says grabbing Rin's hand as the bus stops in front of your house.
"Have fun! Have a good day!! And look out for your little brother please Miyuki you know he's a bit rough!"
You shout toward the yellow bus and your children step up. Your heart swells with affection for them as they wave goodbye in the window of their seat, as the bus pulls away down the road.
.
.
.
Around noon while you tidied up the morning mess between the kids and Toji you'd gotten a notification ding from your phone. It was Toji, you only text your husband of course.
'Husband sent $500 in Venmo'
Your face scrunches up in irritation and you immediately text him.
"If you think this money fixes what you said this morning you're going to be disappointed!"
The chat bubble pops up for a moment as Toji responds.
"No. But it's a start. Take yourself out. I'll watch the kids when I get home after they get dropped off from school"
Your face burns pink. He wants you to pamper yourself. Since when? You look down at your hands and feet that have overgrown cubicals and feel your forehead for the tiny bit of extra hair growing between your brows before you pout and respond.
"Okay"
.
.
.
For once the salon was nice, you'd kicked your feet up and relaxed in the massage chair for your pedicure getting your favorite color for your toes, and your nails. And then? A little trip to the hair salon, a cute little trim to your ends, and a blow out was perfection. It wasn't long before you'd started to miss your kids. And maybe even your husband, the gesture was certainly suspicious. Was he cheating on you? Oh, your mind was in different places at once.
You'd been out all day, even taking it upon yourself to do a little bit of shopping! And it wasn't long before you'd finally opened up the front door to your house and to your surprise the house was clean and the kids were gone?
"Toji?"
You'd called out to him until he was stepping out of your bedroom in casual clothes at the top of the stairs. White v-neck cotton t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He tilts his head calmly with his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, doll? What's up?"
You gulp. When was the last time he'd called you 'doll?' You step toward him up the stairs.
"Darling? Where are the children?"
Toji grins softly like he's proud of himself.
"In the backyard. I wanted to keep them occupied"
Your eyes widen with surprise.
"Occupied for what?"
You'd finally reached him at the top of the stairs letting him hold you tightly. His large hands snaking around your waist before squeezing them and pulling you in for an affectionate press to your lips.
"For date night"
He says murmured between kisses. You break the kiss, pulling away slightly to meet those green eyes you'd always loved since those small meetings in that visitation room.
"Date night?"
Date nights were rare. Toji worked a lot but they only made just enough to live comfortably so having the extra funds for date nights was rare. You're not even sure how he managed to get ahold of a babysitter. Your eyes soften on him with deep fondness before rubbing his big broad shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Who's going to watch the kids?"
Toji grins, that cocky grin that's always given you butterflies.
"Who else?"
.
.
.
(2hrs until date night)
Your lips pop from the swollen and needy twitching cock of your husband. Toji lets out a low, drawn-out groan as your tongue teases along the veins on his shaft. Your lips swallow and suckle around the girth stretching your lips letting out with a strangled whine. Your lashes flutter damp and wet making your mascara and eyeliner runny between the struggle of your working mouth and his throbbing girth. Toji throws his head back in his office chair with a ragged groan.
Toji really lost his shit when he'd officially seen you in that dress. Your date night dress was a changed man's worst nightmare and his greatest dream. And those red lips? You knew exactly how to get him started and Toji was on you immediately gripping your throat and pressing a rough and slow kiss to your luscious red lips. And when you spotted that massive erection he always flaunted proudly you'd wanted him for just a moment. Just a minute you'd thought. But you should've known better.
"Since when did you...ngh, fuck"
The suction of your lips tightens around the pulsing of his length with a satisfied hum smearing the red lipstick you were wearing. Before you began bobbing your head up and down to give him the motion he's been clearly craving. Toji's hands were clenched into tight fists, his thighs tense under your grip on them. The wet and slobbery suction of your mouth sliding up and down his shaft was drawing ragged groans from his throat, needy, desperate. His strong hands tangle his fingers through your hair to grip firmly and jerk his hips to push his precum-smeared tip to puncture the back of your throat.
Your eyes roll back as he fucks your mouth. Drool dripping down your lips and mouth while making gurgling sounds as your insatiable husband pounds your throat with his cock.
"Mommy!!! Miyuki keeps throwing dirt at me!!"
The scream echoes throughout the house laced with annoyance and the obvious bickering of siblings. Toji growls in frustration.
"Fuck!"
He says as his hips settle into the office seat. Your lips pop his cock from your lips as you freed him from your wet suckling.
"Darling..."
You begin before you scold Toji for losing his temper while you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand across your glistening lips with drool dripping down your chin.
"We can finish."
Toji says insistently as his cock twitches, tapping your still wet lips. But you stand between his thighs and adjust the black dress covered in red roses, letting it fall down your legs, long. The slit perfectly reveals the curve of your thigh. Toji's hands cup it to plant a reverent kiss there before you'd departed from the room to handle the arguing siblings. Toji watched your hips sway away in your dress with a bite to his bottom lip as he pulled up his black slacks.
.
.
.
The drive to your parents' house was a bit rough. Between the sound of Miyuki and Rin bickering over who would get to play with their grandpa's cool antique action figures first and you touched up your makeup in the mirror inside of the sun visor your small family sedan was chaos. Once you’d arrived at your parents’ house Toji had kissed you on the cheek.
“You wanna take them in or…”
He says shrugging and nodding his head to their lit-up porch. But you nod, putting away your lipstick and makeup before stepping out of the car and removing the children. The children poked and teased each other even up until you’d reached the front door. After just two knocks your parents had happily opened the front door to greet the children.
“There go my favorite mongrels!”
Says your father with his arms stretched out wide for a hug to embrace the children. His silver hair was slicked back as he always had it, and the strong smell of his 80s cologne still burned your nostrils to a crisp. The children charge at him throwing themselves into big hugs. Your mother watches them, her grey hair wrapped into a bun at the top of her head as always (tired of always having to style it at her age) as a soft smile spreads across her lips before turning to look at you in the doorway.
“Sweetheart, you look beautiful! Where’s your husband?”
You shift your head toward the car parked on the curb. Toji waving noticed the gesture.
“Date night…”
You say awkwardly rubbing the back of your head.
“Well yes…I figured. You don’t seem all that happy about date night, you haven’t asked me and your father to watch the kids in years…”
You avert your eyes from your mother as your father herds the children into the house shouting “Who wants to play with my Wolverine action figure!” In his old scruffy tone, the children exclaim with excitement, “We do! We do!” Into the distance.
“Things between me and Toji…they’re just difficult right now Mom…”
Your hand coming up to rub your opposite arm. But your mother smirks.
“You’re married, it will always be difficult darling. Make the good times count. Like date night…the two of you need this…don’t let what the two of you are having going on ruin this tonight. You have to remember that you’re not just parents…you’re lovers too…”
Your mother’s wisdom makes your heart swell with affection as you pull her in for a hug.
“Thank you, Mom. " You’re right.”
Your mother kisses your cheek before pulling away from your hug.
“Now please, go enjoy yourself for the children?”
You nod with a weak smile. And just as your mother finally closed the front door you’d turned around to see your husband leaning against your family’s black sedan with a bouquet of roses. You approached him with eyes wide and lips parted with shock.
“Toji…”
“I’m sorry.”
He says it clearly. Not like he didn’t mean to say it, or like it pained him to say it. He said it like he meant it. Like it held weight, because it did. your cheeks boomed pink as your eyes glimmered and softened on him with an affectionate expression. He holds out the flowers to you properly.
“I’m sorry for what I said. And how I’ve been acting. Let go, we can talk about the rest over dinner…”
Your hands gently reach out to grasp the perfect bouquet of roses to inhale them. They weren’t a modest bouquet of flowers you get at the grocery store either. These were REAL apology flowers and you couldn’t help but pull Toji down by his collar to kiss him. You two had typically kissed with a more hungry and desperate fervor but your lips now massage his with savory slowness. And for Toji while it was rare it made something in him spike with heat and arousal, as he deepened the kiss turning his head to kiss you just right, lips pressing harder into yours. Still slow, still reverent. His hand moves to gently grasp your waist as if you were as fragile as glass. He groans, low and drawn out before breaking the intimate kiss to look down at you with those piercing green eyes.
“How about date night at home?”
You giggled softly.
“Sure….why not”
(Even though you’d taken close to an hour to get ready)
.
.
.
The drive back home was….tense. That kiss had something in it. Maybe a love spell of some kind. You’d watched Toji in the driver's seat from the passenger seat. You were finally taking him all in (not that it wasn’t something you didn’t always do) but especially right now. Toji apologizing meant more to you than what you were saying. Your bulky husband always had a big ego, but it was never bigger than your marriage. You thanked god you had your children. Toji changed after the two of you had kid. Especially his ego, kids…are a humbling experience for everyone and Toji was no exception. His hand rested on the skin peaking from the slit of your dress. You could tell he had no idea the way your eyes were taking in his nonchalant expression as he relaxed behind the wheel. Cool, calm and collected as he typically would be when he wasn’t frustrated about….yeah. You watched the yellow street lights and the darkness of the car rise and fall over his face. His muscles and shoulders. Oh, how you loved how broad and big your husband was. Everything about him was big. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your hand covers his on your thigh to guide his hand beneath your dress. Toji was still mindlessly focusing on the road until he felt the pads of his fingertips press against your damp panties and his breath caught hard at his own unexpected arousal.
He shoots a look at you quickly before his eyes return to the road. It was a look of shock at first but then? There was that grin again. And you suddenly felt your heart drop remembering that the kids were gone, and you didn’t have to sneak around and oh? Toji was lifting your thigh now and opening your legs wider. He guides your leg over the console between you before rubbing his thick fingers right through your panties. You gasped softly at his sudden boldness, the cool air meeting your wet panties through the wind of the passenger window. Toji’s eyes never left the road again, his hands doing all of the work. Knowing just how to please his wife, he moves his hand beneath your panties to slap your pussy gently, letting the faint sound of your splashing slick echo between you. He pulled his hand from your panties and quickly sucked his index and middle finger before sliding them under your panties again, but this time pushing into you, past your dripping folds and between your walls.
“You wet for me already doll…?”
He says with a cocky grin before pushing his fingers deeper so he could push right up on that nerve at the top of your womb, forcing a soft yelp from you. Your head was thrown back against the seat with ragged moans as his fingers pumped into your over and over. Pushing his fingers harder against that little sweet bundle of nerves.
“Gotta make sure it’s nice and ready for me…”
He growls out over the gushing sound of his working fingers and your moans. And when the car finally pulls up in the driveway of your suburban house, Toji immediately extracts his fingers from you and rounds the car just to pull you out and toss you over his shoulder. You weren’t fighting it either. You flailed your arms and legs with a playful giggle knowing what you were in for…or did you?
As soon as the front door to your house shut Toji was slamming you against the wall hard enough for you to lose your breath and leave a crack in the sheetrock wall. He immediately lifts you pinning you there, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Toji’s hands squeeze your thighs roughly with a starved and animalistic groan. He was starved, oh so starved of his wife you were pretty sure you heard him gnarl just as his mouth found the curve of your neck to suck and bite you there. And just when you’d let out that pretty sound you make that Toji loves he drops to his knees like he was worshipping a goddess without hesitation and lifts your legs around his head. He pulls your panties to the side to hurry his face in your already soaked pussy, growling as he suck and kisses the whole of your slick folds. He growls hungrily squeezing your thighs roughly dragging his tongue up and down moving his head with the motions, the feeling of his tough tongue brushing against your opening. His lips pursed and sucked and slurped you up as if he hadn’t been fed in DAYS. His lips rubbed and moved in a kissing motion with a rough and loud slurp each time his pursed lips met together on your clit. And it wasn’t long before slurping you up was all he wanted to do. Growling low in his throat muffled and sending vibrations through you as he wildly feasted on your pussy. You were gone, rolling your hips against his mouth frantically and greedily seeking more from his mouth. But your rubbing your folds along his lips only made Toji more insatiable as his tongue lashes your already slick flesh before humming and suctioning his entire mouth around you. Each time his lips would part from you a SMACK sound would echo from the suction of his lips.
“Cum on my tongue…”
He huffed out muffled between your thighs as his mouth continued to suck and lick you up. And yes you were ready to, you wanted to so badly but it was too soon, your whining and straining to hold back made Toji push you further across the edge pushing your thighs to your chest, and smearing his face into your pussy like a wild Farel man, growling and groaning as he slurped up your pussy like juice on a table.
“Toji!!
You’d cried out your hanging feet trembling with pent-up desires.
“Oh god yes!”
And just then Toji knew you were close. He was determined to make you cum hard, his mouth ravishing you, rubbing his mouth and smearing your juices as he dragged his wide tough tongue up and down your folds until he was tasting your cream, groaning and squeezing your thighs harder in appreciation like you were finally feeding him what he’d been seeking. His lips smacked on your dripping pussy as he dragged you through your orgasm before he was diving in for more. Focusing on your clit, his tongue teasing at the bundle of nerves while sucking on it. He lowered your thighs down onto his shoulders again lips still suctioning you and slurping you. But you can feel his fingers joining in this time. Spreading you around his thick fingers and pushing into and up in a curling motion just enough to make you see stars as his mouth relentlessly sucked up your clit like he’s hoping he could remove it from you.
“Again”
He demanded firmly frantically shoving his fingers against your g-spot enough for the sound of your dripping slick and the collision of his working palms and your broken whimpering could echo through your dark living room.
“Come on, one more time baby,”
He begged slurping you up he was never going to be able to taste you again. And that collision? His sucking and slurping and drinking you up like a desperate and starved man who wanted to worship his wife and his thick fingers ramming away at your g-spot you were absolutely undone. Your whimpering grew pathetic just when you were so absolutely overwhelmed by your begging husband for your orgasm. Your hips jerked furiously as Toji continued the rhythm of his fingers and sucking lips. He could see you were going to give him just what he wanted all over again.
“Come on baby please”
You’d never heard Toji so absolutely down bad for your cum, in all of your years of marriage Toji was always dominant, non-chalant, he rarely ever gave you head let alone begging, and then?
“I’m so fucking sorry baby cum on my tongue…”
And that was it, that single line “I’m sorry” wrecked you, and you were absolutely and utterly seeing vibrant stars as you jerked uncontrollably and dug your nails in his hair before cumming hard all over his mouth. Toji was groaning in aroused satisfaction licking and sucking up every last messy drop of you. He licked you up and kissed your inner thighs affectionately before finally letting you down to stand, your legs trembled jellylike as he’d tossed you right into the dinging room table rougher than he’s ever been with you. You almost thought he was mad at you, at just the way he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head down onto the wooden table. You’d let out a cute little yelp as he arched your ass up and tossed up that pretty date night dress you’d worn just for him before squeezing and grabbing your ass with his free hand, like your ass was a stress ball. And you were just as needy, pushing your arched ass up against that big bulging erection that was ready to burst from his business casual slacks leaving a wet smear of your slick. Toji let out a ragged groan before landing a mean palm on your ass cheek with a growl.
“Fuck babe, such a needy little thing yeah?”
He taunts rubbing his fingers along the lips of your glistening pussy just to smear your slick in his fingers as he teases it there, rubbing in circles with a ragged groan.
“Fuck….”
Toji groaned from the back of his throat just as you’d begun rubbing your ass harder against his bulge silently begging him to fuck you again. Toji bit into his bottom lip spanking your ass again before undoing his belt buckle to his slacks. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you get chills just from the rough sound of it being tugged and undone, as he clanks the metal impatiently while freeing himself. His cock immediately falls between your ass cheeks. He takes the shaft to smear it right along your entrance just to hear those pretty sounds you make as you mule desperately.
“Darling please!!”
You’d bellowed out before Toji was fiercely gripping you by the neck and pulling your head back to press a tough kiss to your lips rubbing his tongue between and along yours and finally squeezing his massive cock through your snug canal. Toji usually takes his time to warm you up to the whole of his manhood, but with all of the distractions and the built-up sexual frustration, Toji was smacking your ass against his cock and pushing his cockhead deeper into you than you’d ever believed possible. With a fist full of your hair and a tight bruising grip on your hip Toji was drilling your tight little hole with the force that was making the table rattle and shake and even move. He was grunting like a pissed-off bull, the way he was huffing and panting you could tell just what he was pile-driving his hips into your cute little hole that he had blacked out, just driving into you on pure instinct. Lost in the pleasure, the high, the intense need to fill your womb with every inch of his monstrous cock.
Your legs were shuddering like you were in the middle of a seizure.
“Toji darling!! Fuck!!”
But he had no intention to stop. Toji had already decided that tonight was all about you. That blowout that you’d gotten done earlier that day? Destroyed in the tight grasp of your husband’s large palms as he’d buried his cock hard into your cervix until you were letting out a wet raining liquid with a weak whimper.
“More”
Toji huskily demanded as his hips smack into your ass on the dining room table, he lifts your leg onto the table, and releases your hair to grab your wrists to restrain them behind your back and not hesitate to pound harder into you.
“Gonna have to ngh—, make you cum over and over”
He says roughly driving the tip of his girth through you and ramming into your g-spot with a force that brings you to tears of pleasure. You throw your head back to let out a shattered mule as you leak your white glue-like fluid down your folds and around his pulsing cock still inside you. And with a hard shudder of your body in your orgasmic release, he slows his pace gradually humming and groaning with satisfaction.
.
.
.
Toji’s hands gripped your thighs hard with ragged groans as you bounced on his cock with a mean and erratic pace. Your pussy sloppily mixing your slick with him pre-cum as your walls squeezed toji involuntarily as you moved up and down. Each push of his throbbing needy cock against the deepest parts of your womb had your head spinning and your body lit up with rounded heat. Your nails were digging into his shoulders as Toji’s hips followed yours. The collision of his thrusting and your bouncing had me your eyes roll to the back of your head, the feeling of Toji’s strong fingers digging into your plush fleshy thighs made you shiver with goosebumps. He’d eventually gotten that dress off you(no point in it now) his mouth suckling one of your free breasts as you chased yet another coiling orgasm. Because you simply couldn’t get enough. It had been hours now, he’d gotten you folded on the kitchen counter and on the kitchen floor, you couldn’t even see straight now either how many times your ex-con husband had made you tremble and shake through orgasm after orgasm. You were bouncing on Toji with complete and utter unapologetic desperation because guess what?
“I’m not stopping until you give me another baby”
You couldn’t believe you’d even said the words but you were so deeply and utterly cockdrunk you’d said it between babbling and uttering complete nonsense. But even still, your wish was your husband's command. He’d taken his hand and gripped your ass firm enough to spread your cheeks before thrusting from beneath you. His bolbus cockhead pounded away at your raw, bruised, and tenderized cervix. Pushing, pushing, pushing further and further up your womb until you felt like he was bulging from your stomach. The sounds you were making? They were turning toji full-blown farel as his thrusting grew uncontrollable, uncoordinated, and frantic chasing his on release now. He groaned ragged not even able to keep the suckling of your breast going. And just as you’d fallen apart on top of him gushing your white cream down his cock toji pushed his shaft so far into you that you’d squirmed until he was releasing every pulse and throbbing wave of his cum expelling from his swollen tip. Filling you up like a jelly-filled donut until your cream and his liquid baby batter were mixing between the two of you.
Toji’s palms loosened on your thighs leaving little purple marks behind as you’d collapsed onto each other utterly spent. His head rested in between your breasts with arms wrapped around you now as you’d collapsed letting your head drop to his shoulder. The only thing filling the space between you now was silence and the sound of your exhausted breaths mingling.
.
.
.
The two of you lovebirds had had sex at every corner of your home the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom (both of them), and of course your bedroom. What round the two of you were on by the following morning was unknown but who’s keeping count when your husband has you folded like a pretzel at every corner of your home? The two of you had decided to take the full night to yourself, trying to make up for lost time. But by first morning light, you and Toji had been tangled up in bedsheets in the aftermath of last night's chaos. Toji’s work alarm had gone off blaring in the sunlight-lit room as he groaned with irritation at having to get up to turn it off.
“I gotta go to work…you go get the kids”
You whined awake smacking your lips in a well-rested bliss with a nod barely awake. Toji had surely gone to work as brooding as he was from not getting any sleep. He’d pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, not pressuring you to wake up before he left for work. You’d eventually gotten up to go and get the kids and things were back in order. Toji had returned from work in the shittiest of moods (considering the two of you hadn’t slept much) so he’d done what he had been doing for years when he was beyond annoyed. He’d hide in his office until he was calmer.
Weeks had passed and well let’s just say your marriage had seriously taken a turn for the better. Toji brought you flowers home every Friday, and the two of you now had a designated date night once a month for just the two of you. And it was certainly a pleasure having your parents openly comfortable with getting more involved in their grandchildren’s lives. And every morning you’d always made Toji’s coffee before he’d head out to work. This particular morning as your husband had stolen a few sips of his coffee before strutting across your freshly cut lawn to anxiously attend work, you’d stopped him.
“Darling…hurry home?”
You’d said softly leaning your forehead against the doorframe as the children bolted out of the door for their arriving school bus. Toji paused his urgent strides to stop and look at you. You’d never rush him. He hated that. So it must be important. Toji was now on edge. Hurry home? Why couldn’t she just tell him now?
“What is it? An emergency?”
You shrug in your nightgown.
“Idk, we might have to turn your office into a nursery…”
Toji’s eyes widen with surprise. The sound of your children’s school bus pulling away from the curb loomed in the distance as Toji loosened his grip on his briefcase slightly. Toji’s urgent strides to his car became bolting footsteps toward you across your lawn as he threw his bulky arms around you in a loving embrace
Toji’s voice cracks with emotion as your hands find his broad back.
“Jesus Christ doll…”
He’d let out a sniffle to hold back his tears. As you mouth the words.
“I’m pregnant…”
Inspired by tonycries, I still own this works :3 ps. This was a special treat after the complete prisoner!toji series, here’s the link to all parts of this series on my page here
there's something oddly charismatic about a man who's cocky about the monster he's packing in his pants. your boyfriend shouta is no exception - any man or woman could tell by the wolfish grin on his face when he passes by, that someone is extremely lucky at home. the envious stares from strangers and jealous altercations with any male who interacts with you are a product of his ego. and well, after the string of losers you've dated, being with shouta felt like emotional and physical whiplash in the best way.
he knows he's in a completely different league than your exes and beats them in all categories. but the one that really, really gets him going is how much bigger his cock is. you recall the predatory glint in his eyes the moment he kicked off his boxers. "it's okay to stare, sweetheart." it's all you can do - jaw dropped and pussy that much wetter just by the sight of his cock. "just know, it always gets the job done."
it's noticeable - when he's repeatedly shifting in his seat because his huge dick is in the way all the time. he prefers the gray sweatpants that have your mouth watering from the print forming near his inner thigh. "can barely contain it," he brags rightfully. "too big, eh? can't decide which hole of yours i wanna over stuff." he's not heartless - there's a good amount of prep involved to ensure pain is never a part of the equation. after all, feeding his ego is a kink both of you know consent is the key to enjoying.
with a cock as high maintenance like his, variety is the way to go. sliding nine whole inches between your tits all soaked with lube and precum while tweaking your cute and ultra sensitive nipples. smearing the head of his cock all over your face, lips and cheeks before lustfully tilting your chin up so you can open nice and wide. gripping your ass with one hand aggressively enough so your pussy lips easily spread open for his awaiting girth.
once (and only once) you jokingly referred to him as small and nearly ended up with a bruised cervix. "think i'm small, huh? this dick not good enough for your greedy pussy?" not only does he feverishly mock you with words, but quickens the pace of his thrusts, applying more of his body weight onto you. the experience taught you and your pussy a valuable lesson in how not to tease your overly endowed boyfriend.
synopsis : you moved in for cheap rent, not to get passed around. but with four insanely hot men under same roof, it didn’t take long before things got messy. now you’re cockwarming nanami at midnight, riding gojo in the shower, bent over for geto before dinner, and getting your throat fucked by toji. college? peace? who needs it when you’re getting dicked down for good?
a/n : this fic is very smut-heavy and most chapters contain multiple smut scenes. if that’s not something you’re comfortable reading, please feel free to skip this one *.✧ art by @/thatsallitchief
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Chapter 5
Monday dragged like molasses.
Your lectures were back to back, your stomach was a hollow pit of instant noodles and too much coffee, and every professor decided today was the perfect day to drop a presentation or assignment.
By the time your last class ended, your legs felt like bricks and your brain was pudding. You barely remembered the ride home, just the hum of exhaustion carrying you up the elevator to your apartment and straight into the soft embrace of the couch. Empty. The place was completely silent when you walked in. A small miracle.
Everyone was gone — off to work or errands or wherever they disappeared to when you weren’t around. The absence of their presence was liberating in a way that sent a giddy, private joy rippling through your chest. No footsteps. No teasing voices. No Toji walking around in low-slung sweatpants. No Geto calling you his little thing just to make your face burn. And no Gojo with his wandering eyes and suggestive comments he somehow made sound innocent. Just you, and the still, rain-wrapped peace of the apartment.
You kicked your shoes off and peeled yourself from your clothes like they were weighted chains. The warm water of your shower rolled over your body, washing away the day. You stood under the spray longer than usual, letting your mind wander. You could wear whatever you wanted right now. No one's gonna pounce on you.
So, naturally, you reached for your absolute favorite outfit. A thin tank top—slightly see-through and completely braless—and those tiny black shorts that barely covered your ass. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment after dressing, feeling a little scandalous. The kind of scandalous that made your skin feel warmer than the towel you’d just discarded. You never wore this around them. Not even once. Maybe Nanami could be trusted around you in it… maybe. But the others? Definitely not. Especially Gojo. And definitely, definitely not Toji.
You padded through the apartment barefoot, the wooden floors cool under your feet. The soft patter of rain outside was the perfect backdrop as you turned on some low music and moved through the living room, hips swaying, humming under your breath. You danced a little, spinning once, letting yourself enjoy this rare moment of total freedom. Your body still buzzed from the shower and the heady rush of privacy. Just you, your music, and the sound of rain.
Feeling refreshed, you headed to the kitchen to make some coffee, comfort in a mug for the stormy weather. You hummed while setting the kettle, turning your head toward the window to watch the sheets of rain blur the city view.
And then—crack—a sharp, metallic snap from the faucet made you jolt.
The kitchen’s a mess. Water sprays from the broken pipe like it’s got something to prove, and you—drenched, shivering, tank top soaked through and clinging to your every curve, nipples stiff against the fabric, stare down the disaster. You’re about to go grab a towel when the front door opens.
Footsteps. Voices. Gojo and Geto.
You freeze.
They're wet too—caught in the storm on the way back from god knows where. Gojo’s shirt sticks to his abs, transparent now, his silver hair dripping. Geto pulls off his soaked jacket, the black tee underneath riding up just enough to show a sliver of toned stomach. And then Gojo sees you.
“Holy shit,” he mutters, pale blue eyes dragging over your soaked figure like he’s starving. His tongue slides across his bottom lip, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way his hand drops to his crotch. He palms himself through his jeans, slow, lazy, like it’s routine. Like he’s seen something he just has to jerk off to.
You blink. “Satoru—”
“Keep standing there like that and I swear I will cum in my pants,” he says, tone playful but strained, voice a little breathy. “That top’s so slutty, bunny.”
Geto’s quieter. He leans against the doorway, watching with dark, unreadable eyes. But his hand’s already under his shirt, sliding up his abs, and you realize he's hard too—his thick cock outlined clearly against his soaked jeans.
“Was just gonna grab a towel,” you say, stepping back. But you bump into Gojo’s chest, and he doesn’t let you go.
“Nuh-uh.” He crowds you, his breath hot against your neck. “You walk around dripping wet like that and expect us to behave?”
His fingers skim the hem of your tank, tugging it up just enough to reveal underboob. “Look at you. Fuck.”
“Can’t let her get cold, can we?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-slick. “Might as well help her out of those wet clothes.”
Gojo hums in agreement, hands slipping under your tank. His thumbs circle your nipples, already hard from the cold. He chuckles darkly.
“Fuck, baby… you’re freezing. Should let me warm you up with my mouth.”
Geto’s fingers find your waistband, tugging your shorts down. “She’s soaked here too,” he says, voice thicker now, rougher. “Is this from the kitchen… or us?”
Your breath catches as Gojo drops to his knees, mouth brushing the inside of your thigh, his teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper. “C’mere, Suguru. Hold her steady.”
Geto steps behind you, big hands on your hips, pressing you forward. His cock grinds against your ass through his jeans as Gojo’s mouth finally seals over your soaked panties, tongue licking a stripe over your clit, hot and wet. You gasp, legs trembling.
“She’s dripping,” Gojo groans against you, his fingers sliding the fabric aside. “Tastes so fucking good.”
Geto’s lips brush your ear, one hand sliding up to palm your breast, thumb teasing your nipple through your soaked top. “You really let us find you like this? What were you thinking, baby?”
Gojo’s tongue works you open, flicking and sucking, relentless. He moans into your pussy like he’s starved for it, messy, wet, shameless.
Geto’s fingers dip between your legs from behind, two sliding in beside Gojo’s tongue. The stretch makes you cry out, body jerking in their grip.
“Fuck,” Geto hisses, “So tight. So fucking soft.”
Gojo looks up at you, lips slick, chin shiny. “You’re gonna cum just like this, aren’t you? Standing, soaking, stuffed with his fingers and my tongue.” He growls, “Do it. Fucking cum on my face.”
And you do—hips jerking, thighs shaking, their filthy mouths praising you as they devour every reaction. But they’re not done. Not even close.
Geto spins you around and lifts you effortlessly, carrying you toward the couch as Gojo strips off his shirt and pants, cock hard and flushed.
“Round two,” he grins, “and this time, I’m not just using my mouth.”
Geto pulls you back into his chest, lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss, tongue sliding against yours, rough and demanding.
Gojo stands, having his jeans down, cock heavy and leaking precum. He grabs your waist, lifting you with ease and setting you down on the couch.
Geto follows, stripping off his shirt and pants in one fluid motion, cock thick and glistening in the dim light.
Gojo kneels between your legs, fingers parting your folds, lips pressing hard to your entrance.
Geto leans over, lips trailing hot kisses up your neck, teeth grazing, tongue flicking, hands kneading your breasts, thumbs rolling your nipples until they ache.
“You’re such a filthy girl,” Geto growls. “Letting us see you like this.”
Gojo’s cock presses to your entrance, teasing, brushing over your folds.
“Ready for me?” Gojo rasps, voice thick with lust. You nod, breathless, trembling, soaked and slick and aching.
Gojo slides between your folds with one slow thrust, groaning as he felt the softness around him and started grinding into you. Geto’s fingers slide back inside you, curling deep as Gojo begins to grind more — slow, hard, claiming you with every stroke.
You’re lost between them, used, everything spinning as they take what they want. Gojo’s lips find your ear, hot breath and whispered filth making your skin crawl. “All mine. Our dirty little fucktoy.”
Geto’s hands knead your ass, pulling you closer, fingers tracing sinful patterns on your skin. “Say it, baby. Say you want us.”
You can barely speak, but you nodded, trembling, desperate. Gojo’s starts rutting into you grinding harder, faster, teasing your folds. Geto’s fingers move inside you, nails scraping just right.
You scream, lost in the fire of them, soaked and filthy and utterly, deliciously theirs. Gojo’s lips are still brushing your neck when he suddenly scoops you up, a gleam of mischief and want in his eyes. You're breathless, heart racing, as he carries you to the bedroom like you weigh nothing. Geto follows behind slowly, his gaze heavy on your hips, your ass, the way your thighs tremble around Gojo’s waist.
The room is dim, golden light filtering in through half-shut blinds. The rain outside pounds softly against the windows, a rhythmic, steady drum that matches your heartbeat.
Gojo drops you onto his mattress with a bounce and climbs over you immediately. His cock straining, thick and twitching, hard and flushed, leaking at the tip.
You barely manage a gasp before he’s grinding down into you — slow and deep, right between your legs — dragging the length of himself over your cunt like he’s starving.
“Fuck,” Gojo groans, letting his forehead fall against yours. “This—this is enough to ruin me.”
Your back arches under him, the pressure making your thighs shake, that slick mess between your legs getting hotter with every rut of his hips. He moves deliberately, pelvis rocking against yours, the friction unbearable. There's no protection from the drag of his cock along your folds, the way his cock slides up and down with every thrust.
You gasp again, head falling back, and Gojo takes the opportunity to mouth at your throat — biting, licking, sucking like he wants to mark every inch of you.
“Feel that?” he pants, grinding slower now, dragging his cock right over your clit. “I can feel how wet you are. You’re fucking soaking, baby—this cunt's beggin’ for it.”
He doesn’t stop rutting, hips rolling deeper, humping you like a dog in heat. His hands roam everywhere — squeezing your tits, palming your ass, curling around the back of your knees to press you open wider, just to rut harder between your thighs.
Geto watches from the door, arms crossed, a crooked smirk on his face.
“You two gonna burn the mattress before I even get a turn?” he mutters, but he doesn’t move to stop it. Just watches. Eyes sharp, jaw clenched, the thick bulge in his own boxers telling you exactly how much he’s enjoying the show.
Gojo laughs breathlessly, still humping into you with a steady, filthy rhythm. “C’mon, Suguru, look at her—look how much she likes this. Can’t even lie, can you, baby?”
You don’t answer. Can’t. You’re too gone — head spinning, nails raking down Gojo’s back, breath coming out in soft, broken gasps. Your clit is throbbing, pulsing under the drag of his cock and your thighs squeeze around his hips instinctively, like you’re trying to trap him there forever.
Geto hums, then turns. “I’ll grab water,” he says with a lazy grin. “Since you’re clearly not done anytime soon.”
Gojo doesn’t even look up — just bites at your shoulder and grinds harder. “Mmm, more for me.”
You let out a strangled whimper, hips bucking up into his, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming stimulation. Gojo shifts his angle just enough to rub over your clit more firmly, and your legs twitch, a choked moan slipping past your lips. He groans at that.
“Shit, I could hump this little pussy for hours. You like that? Like me using you like this?” He’s panting now, messy and loud. “You’re making a mess on me, fuck—your slick’s all over my cock.”
You barely manage a nod before his hand slides under your ass, grabbing a handful and grinding in even harder. Your whole body jerks at the pressure, and he chuckles darkly.
“You gonna cum like this, baby? From just humping?” He kisses your cheek, then your mouth — dirty, open-mouthed, breath mixing hot between you. “Yeah you are. Fuckin’ filthy.”
The door creaks. You hear Geto return, but you’re too dizzy with pleasure to react. He sets the glass on the nightstand and walks back to the bed just as Gojo drags out another slow, brutal grind against your swollen clit. You gasp so loud it echoes, thighs trembling around his hips.
Geto's voice cuts through the haze, low and sharp. “Alright, my turn.”
Gojo keeps going, even as Geto steps closer.
“Oi—Satoru,” Geto says again, more firmly this time.
Gojo groans in frustration but doesn’t stop, grinding down hard again. “C’mon, Suguru—she was about to cum on me—just a little longer—”
Geto doesn’t wait. He grabs Gojo by the shoulder and yanks him back with enough force to break the rhythm. Gojo curses and flops onto the mattress next to you, chest heaving, hair a mess. He’s pouting, literally.
“Bastard.”
Geto ignores him completely. He climbs over you next — slower, more controlled, but the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable. His body is hotter, heavier, more intense. He slides between your thighs and presses down, his thick cock grinding into the same soaked spot Gojo left wet and throbbing.
“Already ruined her for me,” Geto mutters, voice low and rough. “Look how soaked she is... fuck.”
You gasp again as his first thrust rolls into your hips, the friction deeper, firmer, grinding hard right against your clit with devastating precision. His cock drags through your folds, slow and cruel.
“You feel this?” he whispers against your neck, biting softly at the skin just under your ear. “I could do this for hours. Keep humping this pussy ‘til you cry.”
His hands grab your thighs, spreading you open so he can rut deeper. His abs flex with every rock of his hips, his cock grinding against your soaked slit over and over, dripping precome mixing with your slick until there’s a sticky mess between you.
Gojo flops over to your other side, breath still shaky. He grins lazily, eyes half-lidded.
“Looks so good, huh?” he murmurs, brushing your hair back. “Watching him fuck you like that…”
You whimper, too overwhelmed to reply, hips jerking up into Geto’s grind. Then Gojo’s voice turns playful — softer, filthier.
“Hey... y’wanna help me out, baby?” he whispers, curling closer. “My cock’s so hard it hurts…”
You look over at him, dazed and trembling. He’s already stroking his cock, thick, flushed, twitching against his stomach, a drop of precome glistening at the tip.
Gojo smiles like he’s won a game. “Use your mouth, baby. Please? Just a little?”
You open for him. He sighs in bliss the second your lips wrap around the head of his cock.
“God—yeah, just like that…”
Geto is still grinding deep into you, slow and heavy, hips rolling like waves crashing into your soaked pussy. Every thrust sends pleasure up your spine, while your tongue works around Gojo’s cock, licking and sucking the head, letting him slide in and out of your mouth.
They moan together, deep, masculine, wrecked sounds. Their bodies are pressed against yours, the heat unbearable, the room filled with the slap of skin on skin, the wet sound of cock grinding against your soaked cunt, and Gojo’s cock slipping past your lips.
“Fuck, I’m close,” Gojo pants, hips jerking forward into your mouth.
Geto grunts above you, grinding harder, faster, your clit screaming from the overstimulation. “Me too—fuck—gonna cum all over this little cunt.”
You’re a mess between them. Slick. Trembling. Whimpering.
Gojo cums first, hot and thick, spilling onto your tongue with a gasp, his fingers curled in your hair as he rides it out.
Geto’s next. A few more brutal grinds and he’s groaning, voice strained and rough, humping into you until his cock twitches against your cunt and he spills onto you, all over you, hips stuttering.
You’re gasping between them, lips swollen, pussy aching and soaked, body trembling as they finally collapse beside you — two wrecked, breathless men and one utterly ruined girl.
They’re still touching you. Still murmuring filth. You’re barely catching your breath when Geto sits back, dragging his shirt on, body still glistening with sweat. He leans down, presses a soft kiss to your temple — a rare act of tenderness after such a filthy hour — and mutters, “That’s enough for now. Poor girl needs a damn break.”
You nod absently, body sore and trembling beneath the weight of it all. But Gojo hasn’t moved. He’s still next to you, half-naked, his briefs damp and clinging to his thighs, his cock twitching against the waistband like it didn’t just finish minutes ago.
His eyes are glassy, lips parted, and he’s looking at you like a man starved. His cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess, and he hasn’t blinked since Geto spoke.
Geto stands up with a roll of his shoulders, glancing down at him with a raised brow. “Seriously, Satoru?”
Gojo’s hand drifts across your belly, fingers brushing just beneath the dio of your waist. His voice is hoarse, wrecked.
“…I need more.”
Geto sighs. “Let her breathe.”
“She said yes,” Gojo mutters, almost like a plea. “Didn’t even have to beg. She wants me too.”
You didn’t mean to, but you had. How could you not? When he whispered that filth into your ear, when his hand slid back between your thighs… you nodded, drunk on the aftershocks, dazed and aching and needy. Geto mutters something under his breath, rubbing his temple.
“Insatiable bastard,” he says as he steps out of the room. “I’m getting snacks. Don’t kill her.”
And then the door closes.
Gojo wastes no time.
He shifts, sliding between your legs again like it’s the most natural place in the world. His eyes are blown wide, jaw clenched as he hooks your thighs around his waist and presses his body flush against yours.
There’s no more teasing in his expression, only hunger. A sick kind of reverence. Like he needs this. Like his sanity depends on the heat of your body and the way your breath hitches every time he ruts against you.
“Fuck—can’t stop thinking about it,” he groans, grinding down into your soaked folds again. “You let me do that... you took it so good. I need to feel you again. Just one more—just one more, bunny, please…”
He’s already humping before you can answer, his hips thrusting slow but deep, his cock dragging through the mess between your legs, soaking yours all over again.
Your mouth falls open in a silent moan.
His grip is tighter this time, desperate, one hand on your waist, the other cupping the back of your thigh, holding you open as he rocks into you.
The friction is torturous. The wet slaps of his cock to your cunt, grinding perfectly against your clit with every rut.
“You’re still so wet,” he pants, his lips brushing your collarbone, kissing, licking, mouthing against your skin. “It’s like your cunt missed me.”
You whimper, hips bucking into his rhythm, and that only makes him go harder. His hips snap forward, and the noise that escapes him is borderline unholy, loud and broken and filled with need.
“Fuck, yes—just like that. Gimme that pretty cunt, baby. Lemme fuck it like this—raw, dirty, fuckin’ messy.”
His voice is a growl now. Every movement is greedy, possessive, he’s not trying to edge anymore. He wants it. Craves it. He’s chasing that high again, already close but drawing it out, grinding like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to feel you.
You sob against his shoulder, body rocking with every thrust, your clit burning from the raw friction, the heat unbearable. Gojo presses his forehead against yours, breath hot and ragged.
“You’re so fuckin’ perfect—God, I can’t stop,” he whispers, thrusting harder now. “Don’t stop me, baby, don’t—lemme have you, lemme use you just like this.”
You cling to him, nails digging into his back, letting him take what he needs.
The bed creaks beneath you both. The sounds are obscene—slickness grinding against slickness, skin slapping, Gojo’s desperate moans echoing off the walls.
Outside the bedroom, the door creaks open again.
Geto peeks in, maybe to ask if you’re still breathing — only to see Gojo buried between your thighs, his hips moving in frantic, sloppy thrusts, his voice whimpering your name like a prayer.
Geto exhales like he’s seen this before. “Christ.”
Gojo doesn’t even notice him. “Gonna cum,” he groans. “Gonna fuckin’ cum like this—don’t stop me—please—”
Geto stares for another second, then quietly shuts the door again. You hear his voice fading down the hall. “I’m turning the volume up.”
Gojo’s humping even faster now, cock twitching on your cunt, the muscles in his stomach clenching as he chases his release.
“Almost there,” he moans, face buried in your neck, tongue dragging up the side. “Almost—fuck—fuck, baby—keep takin’ it—be my good girl—”
Your body jerks beneath him, every nerve raw and overstimulated, pleasure blinding, white-hot. He lets out the loudest moan yet — wrecked and high — and then his whole body shudders. He keeps grinding, slower, through the orgasm, panting into your skin, spilling all over you again while your thighs squeeze around him.
The wet heat of his cum soaks through your folds and hot against your cunt, and he finally collapses with a groan, body heavy on top of you. You’re both drenched. Breathing hard. Still twitching from it all. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t move. Just rests there, lips brushing your shoulder, hips twitching every now and then like he still hasn’t come down.
“…Thanks bunny,” he whispers, voice ragged and dazed.
You hum in response, your fingers brushing through his hair as he nuzzles into your neck like he belongs there.
And in the other room, the sound of the TV drowns out everything else.
**********
You’re still lying there, tangled up in Gojo’s arms under the mess of warm, sweat-damp sheets. The room’s dim now, dusky with late evening light bleeding in through the blinds. Everything smells like skin and sex and sin. Your legs ache, your thighs sticky, your lips -swollen and tingling. You feel ruined. Fuzzy. Floaty.
And Gojo’s still not done talking.
He’s sprawled beside you, hair sticking to his forehead, his chest rising and falling beneath your palm as you rest your hand on him. He’s got that post-orgasm haze in his eyes, soft and sleepy, but the grin on his face is all wicked. Mischievous. Filthy.
“Y’know…” he murmurs, voice low and playful, “I’ve been thinking about doing this to you since the day you moved in.”
You blink slowly, heart skipping.He hums and continues, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.
“The way you walked in that day—wearing that cute outfit, acting all shy and proper? You drove me fuckin’ insane.”
He shifts closer, one hand sliding over your belly, teasing.
“I wanted to get my face between your legs before I even knew your name,” he laughs, voice shameless, lips brushing your ear. “Bet your pussy’s even prettier when you cry.”
A shiver rips down your spine. You can’t help it. The heat in your belly sparks again. Gojo grins when he feels you react.
“You’re so sensitive. Still trembling for me. God, baby… if Toji ever finds out, he’s gonna be so fucking mad.”
You flinch at the name. Gojo sees that. He doesn’t stop.
“You think he’d lose it? Bet he’d throw me through a wall,” he snorts, nuzzling into your neck like the thought actually amuses him. “He’s probably gonna rip my dick off. But… worth it.”
He’s so casual about it, like this isn’t a disaster waiting to happen.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Geto’s lounging on the couch, snacking from a bowl of chips, watching TV like he didn’t just spend an hour raw-humping you into the mattress earlier.
And that’s when the front door opens with a thud. Toji stomps in, drenched in sweat, his tank top clinging to every muscle, hair wet from the gym and the weather. He’s muttering curses about the rain, his duffel bag swinging over his shoulder.
“Fucking weather,” he snarls, toeing off his sneakers. “Almost drowned out there.”
Geto smirks at him from the couch. “Welcome back.”
Toji wipes his face with a towel, glancing around. “Where’s Gojo?”
Geto lazily gestures toward the hallway. “In his room.”
He storms down the hall before Geto can say another word. His footsteps are heavy, furious, the kind that make the floor vibrate slightly.
The bedroom door slams open with a bang. You jolt up, heart leaping into your throat. Toji stands in the doorway, drenched, wild-eyed—and the second his gaze drops to the bed, to your disheveled figure under the sheets beside Gojo, his expression shifts into something violent.
“What the fuck is this!?”
Gojo barely has time to sit up before Toji’s yanking him out of the bed by the hair.
“Fuck—Toji, wait!—ow—!”
He’s completely naked, trying to swat Toji’s hand away while shouting a breathless string of apologies that sound more like mocking laughter than regret.
“I was gonna tell you! I swear—!”
“Tell me!?” Toji roars, eyes flashing, “You’re buck-ass naked in bed with her, and you were gonna tell me?”
You’re trembling, gripping the sheet to your chest, unable to speak. Shame and adrenaline war in your chest.
Toji’s chest heaves. His glare turns to you briefly—but the rage in his eyes softens just enough to make your stomach twist. You’ve never seen him like this. Furious. Protective. Possessive.
Then he storms back out, dragging Gojo with him.
“Geto!” Toji barks, stomping into the living room.
Geto doesn’t even look fazed. “Yup?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you two!?”
Geto shrugs, still eating chips. “Relax, old man.”
“Relax!? You two were in there with her! Doing shit! Don’t play dumb with me!”
Geto raises an eyebrow. “We didn’t fuck her.” He laughs loud, casual.
Gojo snickers, now struggling to pull his shirt over his head. “We left that to you, old man. We knew you’d been dying to pop her cherry.”
“Are you insane—!” Toji snaps.
From the room, you can hear all of it. Your face burns hotter and hotter, body curling up beneath the blankets as you hear their words. Your heart pounds. Embarrassment curls deep in your gut.
Then silence.
The door slams open again. And this time, it’s Toji.
Toji steps in, still seething, and slams it shut behind him with a click of the lock.
You scramble to sit up. “T-Toji—”
His eyes are blazing.
“Get under him once,” he growls, stalking closer, “and suddenly you forget about me?”
You shake your head. “It wasn’t—”
He grabs your face with one hand, tilting it up, thumb stroking your lip. There’s fury in his eyes, but underneath it—something darker. Something simmering.
“You let them touch you?” he mutters, voice low, dangerous. “You let that dumbass Gojo put his hands all over this body?"
You swallow hard, unable to answer. He pushes you back against the mattress with one hand, climbing over you with slow, deliberate movements. Every line of his body is taut, wet, heavy with power. Toji cages you in, his breath warm, furious against your cheek.
“They got their fill,” he murmurs, voice dipping lower. “Now it’s my turn.”
to be continued in the next chapter
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bakugou finds a list you made before you dated him
“one. big cock and knows how to use it. two and it’s in all caps. EATER.”
you rest on your forearms on your sofa, looking across the living room to your boyfriend who has appeared from your bedroom. he’s reading a crumpled sheet of paper from god knows where with a massive grin on his face.
“did you get the fan from my room? katsuki, it’s hot!” you whine petulantly. you've got your thin shorts and bralette on, trying to fight the heatwave that has taken over your city.
the heat has beat you down, left you stranded in your living room with three ice lolly packets in your path and skin sticky. you can feel the sweat trickle down your spine, you can see it gathered on katsuki’s exposed forehead, yet he still stands there reading.
“hold on, i’m lovin’ this,” he says, gold tooth shining as his mouth stretches wider, “three. rich and generous with it. is that right? you with me for my cock and money?”
you blink at him a few times, trying not to get distracted by his shirtless bare chest or the black headband he’s got on to push his unruly blonde locks back. he’s handsome, deliciously so. still, you think back to why everything he’s saying is so familiar.
“four. handsome. deliciously so. body and face. rare,” bakugou laughs, boyish and booming, “thanks, babe.”
you feel uncomfortable, perspiration dribbling between your breasts, limbs heavy with exhaustion.
“what is that? what are you reading?”
still bakugou ignores you and continues reading from the paper, “five. successful and ambitious. six. good friend even though he pretends he’s not. protective!! seven. so gentlemanly, holding open doors, paying for dates, very clear on why he likes me.” ruby pupils flicker over to you, “that last one is bare minimum.”
then it clicks, about seven points too late. your head snaps over to him robotically, eyes about to fall out of your head. “where the hell did you find that! stop reading it! stop katsuki!”
you hop up from your seat on your sofa, speed like no other taking over you as you run across the room to grab at the paper in bakugou’s hands. his laugh only booms louder, holding the flimsy sheet in the air over your head as you jump like a child.
“seriously, don’t read anymore!” you shout, trying to hoist yourself up his larger body, using his arms and shoulder as a climbing frame.
nothing about bakugou budges, he just continues reading with the paper in the air.
“it’s getting good, baby!” he laughs, ignoring your jumps and furrowed brows, “eight. listens to me. really listens. makes me feel heard and remembers what i say.”
he looks down at you, whose fingertips are slapping the bottom of the paper. you recognise it all too clearly now. the pink ruled lines, the edges ripped out from one of your old notebooks. your handwriting. “that’s cute. i still listen to you, don’t i?”
“you’re not now! give it back!”
“i’m almost done, two more,” bakugou says, hooking his arm behind your back to keep you locked close to him. you’re both sweaty and sticky. you’ve got no choice but to listen, “nine. cooks. such a good cook! you added five exclamation marks there. ten. fulfils some of my love languages. some?”
“now stop.” you urge. he can’t turn the paper around. he can’t.
bakugou pecks your forehead, his cheeks blushed with all the compliments. he continues skimming the list, rereading it.
“so this is why you chose to date me, huh?” he looks down at you, pouts his lips, “c'mon gimme a kiss.”
if you just grab it out his hands, he won’t see the other side. with pros always comes—
he stops pouting at you.
“give me the paper. i wrote this all a few years ago!”
“if these are the pros, where’s the cons? you must have done a cons list.”
you shake your head, side to side. he holds the paper away from you. the opposite side, the list of all your cons, written back at you. you loop out of his arm, trying to reach for it.
he notices you staring, eyes fixated and that’s when he flips the paper around. CONS in big red capital lettering.
“this is private! you weren’t meant to see this, you shouldn’t be snooping in my room!” you squeak but bakugou’s already half down the page, pupils running across every line like he’s in a race.
“one. WILL choose his job over me—,”
“well obviously, your job is to save the world!”
“two. odd relationship with his mother? but apparently it’s better than before.”
“it’s so much better now!”
bakugou’s eyebrows drop now, voice getting lower as he continues, “three. argumentative. argues with EVERYONE. his agency workers, the media and his friends.”
“i understand why you argue with them all now! it makes sense!”
“three. his job is terrifying.”
bakugou looks over to you, solemn narrowed eyes and you don’t have a positive word to say about that.
“it is, sometimes i don’t know if you’ll come home.”
“four. he doesn’t do much else besides work. all his friends are from work.” bakugou pinches his nose bridge, “really? you think that?”
“now i don’t! and i know they’re childhood friends and… and we do things together all the time. i know you love to read, game, you’ve got your lego. i didn’t know all of that then.”
“five. don’t know if my friends and family will understand.” bakugou steps away from you, “the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
you huff on the spot, “this was from when i met you! all they’ve seen of you is shouting and yelling on the television. they didn’t know how lovable you are. how well you treat me.”
bakugou looks at you, then back at the paper. scratches his head. “six. inexperienced with sex but it’s really cute. has never had a girlfriend?”
“but number one pro is that you know how to use it. obviously we’re experienced now, we know everything about each other,” you flick your finger between you and your boyfriend.
“and the girlfriend comment? i can’t help the fact you’re my first.”
“no, i mean yes i know that. it was just a question as to why. it doesn’t mean anything to me now.”
“but it was a factor in whether you wanted to be my girlfriend,” he states.
“well, yeah,” you drawl, “i thought maybe there was a reason as to why. that’s all.”
bakugou raises his eyebrows, looks back at the sheet, “seven. doesn’t always have time for me. travels a lot for work.”
“that hasn’t changed.” bakugou grunts. it’s something he knows you struggle with while dating him. it’s even been a conversation you’ve had a few times throughout your relationship. quality time. you want to spend more time with him but he simply can’t.
you sigh, grabbing his chin between your fingers so he looks directly at you. his eyes are half lidded, cheeks red and exhausted from the negativity and heat. “we’ve been through this. i’m still gonna stick by you, everything i love about you means more than all the things i find difficult.”
he takes your palm away from your face and squeezes it. but you can tell he’s feeling off. “the last one. eight, he’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time.”
“you’re with celebrities, pro heroes, socialites a lot,” you shrug, “that was jealousy on my part, nothing to do with you.”
“i don’t give a fuck about any of that.”
you nod sharply, “i know! i wrote this a while ago, two years even? a lot has changed.”
bakugou sighs from the pit of his stomach, then flings his head back in a huff. “fuck, baby.” he groans.
then he looks down at you, looking up at him.
“just wanna put it out there, that was private, you weren’t meant to see that, my opinions have now changed and i’m sure you had a mental pro con list for me. i just wrote mine down.”
bakugou folds the paper, “yeah, yeah, i get it. you hate my job that much, huh? it covered half of the fuckin’ cons.
“i also said i liked you were successful and ambitious.” you sit on the back of the sofa, crossing your arms.
bakugou mirrors you standing, crossing his arms too. “but nothing about my job has changed since we’ve got together.”
you groan, leaning your head on your shoulder, “katsuki, i think you’re making problems out of nothing here.”
“you made a list of the problems with datin’ me.” he frowns, holding the folded paper between two fingers.
“and a list of the reasons why i wanted to date you. obviously the good reasons won if i’m with you now.” you glare at him with a sharp tone.
he begins to pace around the room, paper still in hand. a terrible sign. you watch as sweat trickles down his skin, body flush with heat.
“but, babe. the problems you’ve had with me from before we were dating are still problems now. i still don’t have time for you, you still are terrified every time i’m minutes late from a mission, you don’t think i’d choose you over my job and you don’t think i do anything but work.”
you moan aloud, “and i still want you despite that all. i get the world needs you, heck, i need you if i come across a villain. i don’t hate you for being a hero.”
he stops behind you, on the other side of the sofa, “i don’t want you to resent me when you realise you could have been with someone who does have more time for you, isn’t obsessed with their job, can put you first and doesn’t scare you.”
you hop off the sofa. leaning your forehead on his collarbone. “katsuki. i wouldn’t be here if i didn't want to be. i love you. i choose you everyday. i don’t want to argue with you.”
bakugou doesn’t touch you. there’s a shake to his voice, “i’m sorry i’m not better. i’m gonna try to be. just wait for me, fuck, maybe when i’m slower and the younger lot take over, they’ll need me less. it’s just now—,”
“it’s okay. you have time for me right now but you wanna argue with me," you pout up at him.
“you did put that i’m argumentative,” he looks away from you as your hands link around his neck.
“look at me.”
shiny lava red pupils find you. you ground him, takes him out of the what ifs and the failures of his past and places him in the present with you.
“i have dated bakugou katsuki for two years and i love him so much. i love how kind and generous he is, always putting his loved ones first. how he dedicates his life and body to saving the world. how even if he’s tired from a long week of working, he still comes over to cook me a three course meal because he wants to see me eat his food. who was so open and willing to change for me. to change his routines and learn my body. who is argumentative because he wants to make things right. who wanted so hard for my family and friends to love him and manages to see his mother once a week just to check up on her.”
you search in both his eyes and he’s listening, he always is.
“i can write an updated list for you, if you want.”
he shakes his head, stuffs his forehead into your neck and slowly pushes you down into the sofa. you laugh, his hands plastered into your waist as his body crushes you in the plush cushions ever so slightly.
“‘m sorry. i shouldn’t have read it. even though i enjoyed the pros.” he muffles, lips tickling your skin.
you tap his shoulder. “you shouldn’t have but it’s okay. i still need you to get my fan. it’s hot.”
“promise you’ll tell me if you want somethin’ to change between us. i’m not wakin’ up one day to you leavin’ me for a reason right under my nose.” he urges and you can see him pleading. the desperation for you to agree.
“promise. now you promise me.”
“course i promise. i couldn’t even fill out ten reasons as to why i hate you.”
“i didn't say i hate you. and sure you can. you hate my cold feet. you hate how i moan about my job. you hate how i hate your job. you hate how i always want a massage. you hate how i wait until the last minute when you’re tucked up in bed for you to get me a glass of water. you hate how i’m indecisive for what i want for my birthdays and—,”
bakugou sits up, “i don't hate any of that shit. love listenin’ to you and half that shit is cute as hell.”
you pout, “you hate when i wear low cut tops out—,”
he frowns, “that’s foreplay, baby. you let me suck your tits after to make me happy. couldn’t give a shit what you wear.”
“how about how protective my friends are? and the fact i tell them everything?”
bakugou shrugs, “you deserve friends that love you that much and that you can tell everythin’.”
“i get snappy when i’m running late or too much is going on or i’m hot.”
with that bakugou gets up. your fan. though not without hovering over you to give you a peck. then another. you press your soft lips against his though you don’t open up because then you will get even hotter and snappy.
he pulls off you and rises from the sofa, “that makes sense, baby. you’re stressed and uncomfortable.”
you roll your eyes, “stop being so understanding!”
he walks towards your bedroom, but not without turning around to look at you. his fingers grip the door frame, “i love you.”
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else ✦ frat!kuna fwb ✦ ongoing series
[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ only. nsfw. angst. FAMILY DRAMA. a wholeeeeeee lot of plot. fwb. slight degradation. dumbification. sukuna’s thick happy trail. SEXTING. phone sex. dacryphilia. toxic frat culture. sukuna has ANGER issues. crying. toxic co-dependency. TRAUMA. domestic abuse. child abuse. depression. anxiety. wc: 22.6k
series masterlist ✮ previous chp ✮ next chp (coming soon)
the buzzing in sukuna’s ear was deafening.
all the blood in his body felt like it was burning through his skin. anger pounding behind his eyes as they stare at the red hand print on his little brother’s cheek.
the band on stage continues playing, a backdrop of chaos and cheering, all while sukuna stands completely still backstage. his heart pounds against his chest, cracking his ribs with boiling rage. the sweat builds on his face, and he slowly drags a finger towards kaori.
“…did you fucking touch my brother?”
choso, eyes rimmed red and glossy, glances up quickly at the familiar voice. his pupils grow wide at the sight of sukuna, shaking with rage. and already fallen off the edge…actively losing it.
kaori’s eyes widen in shock, her gaze drops to her hand then to her step-son. she swallows thickly. her short black bob lays flat on her head, a black skirt hugs her waist, as the rest flows, reaching her boney ankles. her formal attire stands out in the sea of casually under dressed teenagers and young adults. and none of it can hide the slight wrinkles around her neck, or the unnerving sensation that shoots through sukuna when she meets his gaze.
“choso said you weren’t here—“
she doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence when sukuna’s suddenly slamming the frail woman into the wall. choso’s eyes widen as sukuna’s frame towers over her with little effort. he ignores how his hand shakes, gripping the collar of her blouse, squeezing. every muscle in his body shifts, tightening his hold on her.
“I asked you a fucking question!” he shouts in her face. unbothered by the sudden looks of people backstage, including ino, who ran into the crowd to call for sukuna when the woman came in.
a few moments earlier….
ino’s standing beside mechamaru, the two watching over choso as he adjusts his guitar for the fourth time that night.
“dude it sounded fine before, now you’re just messing with it,” mechamaru exhales in exasperation.
choso’s brows pinch, “no, this chord is loose.”
“because you keep playing with it.”
“just give me a sec!” choso snaps.
the two boys glance at one another, looking down at their distraught friend. it’s obvious choso’s been on edge since they arrived. but the guy won’t give them a straight answer. instead he keeps fidgeting and messing with his guitar like there’s a fly constantly buzzing in his ear. to make matters worse, ino and mechamaru noticed sukuna coming in with a couple of his friends. last they heard, choso still hasn’t cleared the air with him. is that why he’s on edge?
“got it,” choso finally exhales.
unfortunately, the good news is immediately cut short when choso notices his bandmates looking like they’ve just been shot.
standing behind him is the uncanny woman that looks like a spitting image of their best friend. choso’s heart drops to his ass, and the blood drains from his face in seconds.
“choso.”
the unnerving sound of his name coming from this woman’s lips has a chill running down his spine. his sweat turns cold as he looks up from his seat on the ground, quickly moving to stand up. choso stands at nearly the same height as the tall skinny woma, maybe an inch or so taller.
“mom, how’d you—“
SLAP!
the sound rings so sharp it cuts through the muffled bass bleeding from the stage outside. choso freezes. completely still. his head jerked with the impact, black hair falling into his face as the sting blooms hot across his cheek. for a second, he doesn’t even process what happened. his body locks up as his brain tries to catch up. his eyes are wide and unfocused as he stares somewhere past her shoulder.
ino and mechamaru go dead silent. the two boys stand there like statues, shock written all over their faces as kaori lowers her hand with terrifying calmness. there’s no guilt at all, just that same unreadable expression.
“you lied to me,” she says coldly. the authority in her voice settles instantly, suffocating the space around them.
choso slowly lifts a hand to his cheek, fingertips brushing over the burning skin, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that she actually hit him. it’s been years— his throat feels tight.
“choso,” she says again, sharper this time. “i’m speaking to you.”
his eyes flick up properly now, confusion and disbelief behind his eyes as he finally looks at her. then instinctively, his gaze darts toward ino and mechamaru.
his jaw clenches.
“can we talk after?” he mutters quickly, voice rougher than normal. “i’m about to go up—”
“no. we’re talking now.”
her fingers wrap around his wrist immediately. it tightens, making choso stiffen as she pulls him toward the farther corner backstage, away from the noise and people passing through, heels clicking.
the second they’re out of earshot, mechamaru’s neck nearly snaps as he whirls toward ino. “why is she here?!” he whisper-shouts.
ino throws his arms up, drumsticks still clutched in one hand. “i don’t know! that was a hard fucking slap too—”
both boys suddenly glance back toward the corner kaori dragged choso to, he’s sitting on a stool as she stands in front of him. and the reality settles ugly in their stomachs. maybe this is exactly why sukuna didn’t want choso around her alone. and neither of them have to voice that realization.
“should we—”
“i don’t want him killing us though—”
“he’ll kill us for sure, but if we call him he probably won’t!” ino cuts in frantically, already moving. “c’mon!”
the two practically trip over themselves rushing out backstage. the second they hit the main crowd, the noise slams into them full force. music shaking the grass, colored lights flashing violently overhead from the strobes attached to the makeshift stage, and bodies shove shoulder-to-shoulder near the elevated stage as another band screams through their set on stage. the battle of the bands was the first huge event kicking off summer break, and the turnout at the rented park is insane and only getting bigger as more people flood in.
finding sukuna in this mess feels impossible.
“i honestly don’t know which way he went!” mechamaru yells over the music, shoving past a group near the bar trucks.
“split up!” ino shouts back immediately. “call me if you find him!”
they separate without another word, because somewhere in this packed park is a six-foot-four soccer captain with face tattoos, a terrifying temper, and enough presence to make grown men shut up when he walks into a room, and right now they need him.
eventually, ino spots a familiar head of pink hair through the sea of people. well….two heads.
an almost identical, much smaller version of the man he’s looking for sits perched on sukuna’s shoulders, glow sticks hanging around yuuji’s neck as the eleven-year-old screams along to the music like he’s completely lost his mind. sukuna isn’t much better, one tattooed arm is hooked around yuuji’s leg while he shouts something toward the stage, feral under the flashing lights.
ino nearly cries in relief, “sukuna!”
he starts shoving through people immediately, bumping shoulders and muttering rushed apologies until he finally reaches the college student. his hand grabs the back of sukuna’s plain black tee.
sukuna whips around instantly, ready to shove whoever grabbed him, then stops. “ino—”
“there’s a small problem!” the drummer’s panting, sweat dripping down his temple from sprinting around the park venue. sukuna’s expression shifts immediately. brows pinching sharply as his stomach drops before ino even finishes speaking. he can see it all over the kid’s face.
“choso’s mom is here.”
everything happens at once. yuuji yelps as sukuna grabs him off his shoulders without warning, shoving the younger boy toward gojo’s side. the white-haired man barely catches him properly before sukuna’s already gripping ino hard by the arm.
“where?”
“backstage—she took him—”
“watch him,” sukuna snaps toward gojo and geto, voice suddenly low cutting through the music.
gojo’s grin vanishes instantly. geto’s brows pinch instantly, that tone isn’t new to them. “for sure,” gojo says immediately.
ino doesn’t hesitate. he spins around and starts forcing his way back through the crowd, sukuna right behind him. except “behind” isn’t even the right word, his shoulder slams into strangers hard enough to make them stumble, dark eyes fixed ahead as the noise around him dulls. his pulse pounds violently in his ears with every step, ino’s words looping over and over in his head.
choso’s mom is here. his jaw clenches so hard it hurts. and somewhere deep in his chest— something ugly starts waking up.
present….
“I asked you a fucking question!”
kaori raises a hand to her step-son’s forearm. lips parting as her eyes dart over his hardened expression, his eyes flashing red, every muscle on his body protruding as sweat beads down his forehead.
“are you deaf?—“ he snaps after she takes too long to respond. his head snaps to choso still sitting on the stool. “she hit you?”
choso stands, head dropping and hand covering his face. his heart pounds against his chest.
“choso—“
choso’s clenches his jaw, blood boiling.
“choso—“
“forget about it!” choso snaps.
sukuna suddenly lets go of kaori, taking the single step to uncover choso’s face. his other hand cups his chin, tilting his face up, and it all hits him at once. the tears building behind his brother’s brown eyes, looking away from the older as he bites down on his teeth, and the bright red hand print on his right cheek.
kaori smooths out the front of her wrinkled blouse, eyes cold as ice.
“choso lied to me,” she says flatly, but not to sukuna, she never talks to him, it’s always at him. “he told me the money was for cram school because he was falling behind in his classes and needed it for his finals.” her lip curls faintly as she gestures toward the backstage area and the unruly screaming crowd beyond the curtains. “then i find out it was for this.”
choso tries pulling away from sukuna’s grip, but sukuna’s frozen, completely still as he stares at the red handprint burning against his little brother’s cheek. the heat builds u see his skin, sweat collecting behind his neck.
“spending time with you has rubbed off on him, something I did not want to know.”
that finally makes sukuna’s eyes snap upward, sharp and furious as his gaze cuts to choso instead of her. “how would she know to give you that money?” he asks quietly, that tone is worse than yelling.
choso visibly shrinks, shoulders tightening as he avoids eye contact. “she asked to meet with me,” he mutters, uncomfortable. “and asked if i needed anything.”
sukuna’s jaw flexes hard enough to hurt. “so when I asked you, it was before that?” choso looks away. and that’s all he needs. sukuna’s head whips toward kaori so fast it nearly startles ino beside them. “I’m getting a fucking restraining order on your fucking ass.”
kaori scoffs immediately. “we both know that’s not an option.” she crosses her arms now, anger bleeding through her composed expression. “i’m more concerned about my son going around asking people for money over some ridiculous band competition while struggling in school—”
“choso isn’t struggling with shit!” sukuna barks. “he’s a fucking genius. that’s how he scammed your psycho ass in the first place.”
people nearby are definitely staring now. a few phones are raised before mechamaru immediately starts hissing at people to stop recording while ino frantically waves others back. choso looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.
“are you seriously praising him for lying?” kaori demands.
“to you? fuck yeah.” sukuna steps closer. towering. violent rage practically radiating off him. “actually, i’m disappointed he didn’t ask for more money.”
“ryo—” choso starts weakly, oozing with embarrassment.
“that’s what you get for going behind my back,” sukuna cuts over him, eyes locked onto kaori. “throw all the money you want at him. choso isn’t going anywhere near you.”
“choso,” kaori says again softly, completely ignoring sukuna, that sets him off. choso’s face twists, confusion and guilt and stress all mixing together as he looks between them. “you know i’m just disappointed in your actions,” kaori tells him, voice suddenly gentler in a terrifying way that makes sukuna see red. “you can tell me if you’re having trouble asking your grandfather for things.”
the faux sweetness hits choso like another slap. sukuna sees the hesitation and confusion immediately. choso’s chest tightens, and suddenly sukuna’s moving again.
“stop fucking talking to him like that,” he snarls, voice low and shaking with fury. “jus’ ‘cause he answered your texts doesn’t mean you can suddenly care about him.”
“ry—” choso tries, voice tight.
sukuna doesn’t even hear him.
“you’re outta your fucking mind if you think giving him money is gonna win him over.” sukuna spits at kaori.
“i was helping my son,” kaori fires back immediately.
“your son?” sukuna laughs harshly. “now he’s your son?”
“ryo,” choso says again, louder this time, but sukuna’s blood is roaring too loudly in his ears to listen.
“i didn’t forget the way you fucking treated them,” sukuna steps closer. “some mother leaving bruises on her fucking kid, making him all jumpy. not after the shit you did with me—“
“i said stop!”
the shout cuts through backstage so sharply that even the people shouting over the music nearby go quiet for half a second. sukuna freezes. choso’s chest heaves. his face is bright red now from humiliation and anger. his eyes are glossy with held back tears that only seem to piss him off more.
“I don’t give a shit!” he snaps, voice cracking despite how hard he’s trying to keep it steady.
kaori’s expression shifts quick. “choso—”
“no—” he jerks away before she can touch him again, stumbling closer to sukuna, instinctively. “don’t— don’t touch me.” his breathing is uneven. ino and mechamaru exchange nervous looks from a few feet away. “I don’t fucking care about anything other than playing tonight—that’s it!” choso gestures wildly.
sukuna’s jaw clenches.
“i can handle my own shit,” choso continues, breathing shakily now, attention now on his older brother. “ya don’t have to make a big deal outta something when I didn’t ask for it!”
sukuna’s eyes darken immediately. “the hell you mean by that?”
“i mean i’m not yuuji!” choso explodes. “you don’t have to hover over me every second like i’m two!” a thick ugly silence follows, even choso goes quiet after saying it, but he doesn’t take it back. instead he glances briefly at his older brother, than at his mother, his jaw tightens. “i’ll pay you back the money by the end of summer,” choso snaps, eyes burning now. “so you can be disappointed at me, somewhere else.”
the words hit hard, then choso walks away, angry. truly angry.
sukuna watches his younger brother shove past the backstage clutter, shoulders stiff and fists clenched at his sides and for a split second, the resemblance is almost nauseating. not in appearance — sukuna’s always known choso looked too much like her — but in their temperament. the rage settling ugly beneath his skin until it explodes. sukuna never really noticed how much of himself choso inherited. but kaori notices it immediately, especially when her expression flickers.
choso reaches ino and mechamaru, both immediately crowding him with questions.
“dude are you okay?”
“what the hell was that?”
“did she seriously—”
“i’m fine,” choso cuts sharply. the three fall quiet, choso’s fingers tighten around the neck of his guitar before he looks toward the stage entrance where the current band is finishing up.
“we’re up next,” he says, jaw locked. “and we’re gonna fucking win this.”
ino blinks, then quickly grins. “HELL YEAH,” he shouts, shaking choso’s shoulders.
mechamaru nods quickly beside him, still nervous, but determined all the same. and just like that, the three disappear further backstage toward the stage call area, leaving sukuna alone with kaori.
sukuna’s sharp eyes cut through her, there was no holding back now that choso was gone. his hand snaps back onto her blouse, fingers curling in the fabric until it bunches tight and strains under his grip. he yanks her forward, lifting her just enough that her heels barely touch the ground.
“i’m going to fucking kill you,” he spits. his voice is low, and shaking with controlled rage. it was worse than shouting. “I’ll rip your arm straight out of your body if you—” his grip tightens again, the words weren’t enough to contain what he meant. “—ever lay a finger on him.”
kaori’s breath catches. she’s on her tippy toes now, frozen, sweat gathering at her temple, and for the first time, something in her cracks. this wasn’t another intimidation tactic or performance. it was a real threat from sukuna.
he leans in closer, voice dropping even further, every word precise, already imagining how it would happen. “i won’t even give you a chance to breathe,” his eyes are deep crimson blood, “if you touch them again… i’ll rip you in half before you even know what’s happening.”
and with that, sukuna lets go of kaori, and she stumbles back a step, catching herself with a sharp inhale.
“keep threatening me,” kaori spits, chin lifting even as her voice wavers at the edges. “I don’t take childish boys seriously—“
something in sukuna snaps again. “i’m gonna fucking kill you, you cunt—”
he steps forward, already closing the distance with terrifying quickiness— and then an arm locks around his chest and yanks him backward.
“what the fuck?!” sukuna twists immediately, muscles tensing as he fights the grip, but it holds him steady, pulling him off his line like he weighs nothing. he doesn’t even need to see the face at first, he just knows from the strength alone.
toji.
sukuna digs his heels in, shoulders straining as he tries to wrench free. “get off me,” he snaps, still fighting forward, still locked on kaori like she’s the only thing in the room. but toji doesn’t budge. he just drags him back another step, grounding him with pure force, cutting through the athletes strength with some struggle.
“get a fucking grip!” toji snaps in his ear. he uses every muscle in his body to knock sukuna off his weight again and drag him further away.
sukuna digs his fingers into toji’s forearms, but it’s too late when he’s pushed back to the exit, joining the crowd cheering the current band.
“fuck!” sukuna shouts, receiving a hard shove from toji until he’s completely knocked back. the rage had boiled way over, that toji standing in front of him, just as pissed, then he’s gripping sukuna’s collar, bringing him to his face, fist raised.
“are you fucking seventeen again!” he shouts, the music and chaos around them made everything much calmer than what was actually happening. “I’ll knock your teeth out if you don’t calm down!”
sukuna still struggles—
PUNCH
the hit directly lands on sukuna’s eye, sending him back, but toji keeps him up. fist curling tighter. “you wanna fuck everything for your brothers? do you!”
“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits on toji, just to receive another punch directly in his solar plexes, almost knocking the wind straight out of him.
his breath catches, a few people nearby step away in surprise. the ocean crashes in the distance. toji still grips his shoulder. sukuna is hunched over, catching his breath, back rising and falling like a beast ready to attack. but instead, sukuna aggressively shrugs toji’s hand away.
“I’m going to fucking kill her,” he repeats under his breath.
toji rubs his face, chest heaving with his own rage.
“woah! what happened!” yuuji shouts over the music, eyes wide as sukuna finds them in the crowd again, toji not far behind.
gojo, geto, megumi, and now nanami, all glance up, all stunned at the bruise slowly forming around sukuna’s eye. sukuna looks furious still, not explosive like before, but still pissed. the anger settling deep. his chest still rises hard under each breath, jaw locked tight enough to crack teeth.
toji walks a few steps behind him, equally pissed, rubbing at his own face.
“jesus christ,” gojo says first, brows lifting. “did you get jumped?”
“shut the fuck up,” sukuna mutters instantly.
his voice comes rougher than usual, and he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand standing back beside his brother.
yuuji stares up at him wide-eyed. “did someone hit you?!”
sukuna finally looks at him then. his expression doesn’t soften much, but something in his eyes shifts slightly at the sight of his little brother hovering there, worried out of his mind.
“i’m fine,” sukuna says shortly.
yuuji clearly doesn’t buy it. “your eye’s all swollen.”
“and?” sukuna shoots back, dismissive, though the edge in his tone dulls just a little. “still standing.”
toji scoffs behind him. “barely.”
sukuna cuts him a glare sharp enough to kill. for a second, it looks like sukuna might start yelling again, but then he just exhales hard through his nose and leans his head back instead. the ocean crashes somewhere behind them. music shaking the ground beneath their feet.
geto studies the tension between the two men carefully. “what the hell happened?”
“nothing,” sukuna says immediately. yuuji still lingers beside him, nervous energy practically radiating off him, and sukuna notices immediately.“quit staring at me,” he mutters, finally shoving lightly at yuuji’s shoulder. “i said i’m fine.”
yuuji doesn’t even get the chance to respond before sukuna suddenly grabs him by the waist and lifts him back onto his shoulders like nothing happened. except everyone notices the slight wince that flashes across sukuna’s face. his hand brushes his stomach for half a second, fingers pressing there instinctively before he adjusts yuuji’s legs over his shoulders again.
toji notices immediately. his jaw tightens.
“choso is up,” sukuna says instead, voice flat, already looking back toward the stage through the crowd.
yuuji steadies himself, hands gripping the top of sukuna’s head as he tries to lean down to see his brothers bruised eye. “are you sure you’re okay?”
“you ask too many questions,” sukuna mutters. but he keeps one hand locked around yuuji’s calf anyway, secure and steady despite the bruise forming around his eye and the ache spreading through his ribs.
gojo watches the whole thing with raised brows. “wow. tough guy for real.”
“say another word and i’ll knock your teeth out.”
“there he is,” geto sighs. nanami shakes his head slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitches for barely a second. behind them, toji exhales through his nose, still irritated, but at least sukuna has settled for the time being.
everyone’s attention shifts fully to the stage as choso’s band gets called up. megumi sits on toji’s shoulders, arms loosely resting over his dad’s head as the whole group drifts closer to the center front where the crowd thickens. lights flare across the stage, as the anticipation of the next band rolls through the audience. yuuji immediately lights up the second he spots choso stepping into place.
“CHOSOOOO!!!” he screams at the top of his lungs, bouncing on sukuna’s shoulders. sukuna tightens his grip instinctively, keeping him steady. the motion pulls at his bruised ribs again, but he doesn’t show it beyond a slight tightening of his jaw.
“THAT’S MY BROTHER!”
sukuna exhales through his nose, eyes fixed on the stage. choso stands under the lights now, adjusting his position at the mic, shoulders rolling back shaking off everything that happened earlier. the crowd noise builds around him, voices overlapping, everyone cheering.
gojo cups his hands around his mouth. “YOU GUYS GOT THIS!!”
on stage, choso finally looks up, and for a split second, his eyes find the group in the crowd.
yuuji waves wildly like his life depends on it. “you got this choooo!!!!”
sukuna doesn’t wave, but he holds eye contact with choso for a moment longer than anyone else, steady and sharp. the bruise on his face not visible under the shifting lights.
choso inhales sharply, shaking off the rest of his anxiety. sweat building from the nerves and heat. and then they start.
the first hit of ino’s drums sends the entire crowd shouting with excitement…
sukuna’s chest tightens. the uneasiness weighs on his shoulders as a dark pit quietly stirs awake inside him. though his focus remains ahead, eyes locked on his brother performing their first set, there’s that lingering anger that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
not since he was seventeen, standing by the intersection, red and blue lights flashing across his face, and his dad’s car jammed slightly beneath the truck, completely crushed.
“shit—that’s your dad’s car?” kashimo repeats, as if saying it again will snap sukuna back.
but he’s already moving. his feet stumble off the sidewalk before his mind catches up, shoving straight into the street. his skull is split open by the sirens screaming loudly. ambulances and police cars clogging the street. the headlights blur his vision, only seeing the wreck straight ahead.
“SUKUNA—!” kashimo pushes after him, nearly slipping as he forces his way through the growing crowd. officers notice immediately when the two teenagers duck beneath the tape.
“hey! kid—!” an officer grabs for sukuna’s arm.
sukuna violently shoves him off. “THAT’S MY DAD —!”
his voice sounds unfamiliar to him as it tears straight out of his throat, making the officer stumble back just enough for sukuna to break free and start running the second he sees paramedics dragging someone out from the passenger side.
his stomach drops.
the familiar body is pulled out, and all he sees is his father covered in deep red blood.
blood coats his face, runs down his neck, soaks through the front of his shirt. glass sticks to his skin. bruises already spread dark beneath the flashing lights while firefighters shout over each other around the wreck. controlling the truck from starting a fire. sukuna drops beside his dad so fast it scrapes the skin clean off his knees.
“shit—shit, shit, shit—” his hands shake violently as he looks at all the blood.
one of the paramedics tries pulling him back. “kid, you need to move—”
“dad?” sukuna grabs onto jin’s arm anyway, panic rising so violently inside him it feels like he’ll throw up. “dad, what the fuck—? WHAT THE FUCK?!”
his voice cracks at the end, eyes wide as jin tries to respond but only wheezing comes out. blood covers one of his eyes as he struggles to open them properly. every breath sounds wet and broken.
“r-ry—” his fingers twitch upward weakly, trying to reach him.
and suddenly sukuna can’t fucking breathe, the anger explodes through his chest making him dizzy. “YOU SHOULD’VE STAYED WITH ME!” sukuna shouts, tears burning hot behind his eyes. “WHY DID YOU GO AFTER HER?!”
jin barely seems aware of the wreck around him, or the paramedics putting a mask on him, or the blood soaking through his clothes. instead, his entire focus stays on his eldest son kneeling beside him with bloodshot eyes, and an anger he can’t seem to ease.
“ryo…” he wheezes painfully. “men…” his hand finally reaches sukuna’s hand, smearing blood across his skin.
behind them, paramedics pull another person from the opposite side of the car, alive and walking. kaori stumbles against the police cruiser, hysterical, mascara running down her face. her eyes are bloodshot and unfocused.
“ma’am,” an officer says sharply, catching her arm before she falls again. “have you been drinking tonight?”
another officer immediately steps in beside him after smelling it. kaori starts crying harder, words slurring together into panicked nonsense.
sukuna looks up. then something inside him twists… his father is laying in front of him and she’s standing.
“you fucking bitch,” sukuna spits, shoving himself to his feet so fast his knees nearly give out beneath him. jin’s bloodied hand slips from his sleeve, still reaching after him weakly.
“ryomen…”
but sukuna already storms forward. an officer immediately moves between him and kaori. “hey—hey! back up!”
“get the fuck out of my way!” sukuna barks, trying to shove past him again, completely losing it.
kaori sits against the side of the ambulance now while a paramedic presses gauze against the cut on her forehead. another wraps a blanket around her shoulders despite the smell of alcohol practically soaking the air around her. she looks up just in time to see sukuna lunging toward her and for the first time that night, genuine fear crosses her face.
“you did this!” sukuna screams.
two officers grab him before he reaches her. sukuna fights violently in their grip, rage tearing through him he can barely see anything besides red.
“HE WENT AFTER YOU!” he shouts. “HE FUCKING WENT AFTER YOU!”
“kid, calm down—”
“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN!”
behind him, paramedics suddenly start shouting near jin’s stretcher. one of them yells for another medic, and starts pushing sukuna’s father faster toward the ambulance.
what followed turned into a blur that sukuna’s mind never fully managed to piece together afterward. his body moved before his mind did. one second officers held him back, paramedics shouting around him, and the next he climbed into the ambulance beside his father while someone yelled that he couldn’t ride along unless he stayed seated.
sukuna didn’t even remember agreeing, he just remembered the inside of the ambulance feeling freezing cold, remembered the medic cutting jin’s shirt open, and remembered the blood. so much blood.
sukuna sat there with blood covering both hands, staring while they worked on his father right in front of him. jin barely stayed conscious the entire ride. every now and then his eyes opened halfway, searching weakly until they landed on sukuna again. like he needed to make sure he was still there. and every single time, sukuna felt something twist apart inside his chest.
then the hospital lights replaced the sirens. people moved around him constantly, nurses, doctors, officers asking questions—but sukuna stayed hunched over in the waiting room chair with his elbows on his knees and his father’s blood smeared across his hands. he stared at the floor so long he lost track of everything.
the automatic doors eventually opened again. heavy footsteps quickly coming towards him. toji. and then his gramps following close behind him.
“ryomen,” toji says immediately, breath uneven like he rushed there as fast as possible. “what happened?”
sukuna doesn’t answer. he just sits there, shoulders tense, brows pinched tight while his fingers curl harder against his palms. staring at the blood in the creases of his hands. then he mutters. quietly. low. “she killed him.”
toji’s expression shifts instantly. “what?”
“she killed him,” sukuna repeats, harsher this time, the words scraping out of his throat. “she killed him.”
sukuna barely notices the two men hovering around him. he keeps staring at the blood on his hands instead. his scraped knees. his football uniform still on.
sukuna genuinely can’t tell how many hours or minutes pass. the hospital waiting room grows quieter as the night drags on. his grandfather quietly rests his head back, while toji paces near the windows like he might punch straight through the glass. and then finally, the doors open again, a doctor walks out. everyone freezes immediately. and sukuna doesn’t need to hear the words, before the doctor even speaks.
he’s dead.
and it’s her fault.
the hard yank on his hair snaps sukuna straight back into the present. music crashes through the field while people scream their heads off around them. yuuji sitting on top of sukuna’s shoulders has one hand gripping sukuna’s phone while the other fully tugs on his brothers hair to keep balance.
“GRAMPS DO YOU SEE HIM?!” yuuji screams into the phone loud enough to blow out the speaker.
gramps voice crackles back immediately. “you keep shaking the damn phone!” the camera angle violently jerks around. all yuuji can see is the top half of the old man’s forehead shoved way too close to the screen. “stay still!”
“OHHHHHHHHH!!!!” yuuji completely loses his mind the second choso steps up to the mic again.
the entire field erupts with him.
ino’s drums shake through the speakers while the guitars kick in harder, the stage lights flashing over choso and his band as they absolutely light up the crowd. even nanami cups his hands around his mouth to yell, whatever dignity he usually carries cracking under the sheer energy of the performance. gojo screams something incomprehensible beside him. geto laughs while shoving him. megumi claps from toji’s shoulders with far more enthusiasm than he’d ever show on a regular day.
and somehow yuuji’s excitement finally drags sukuna with it. the tension in his chest loosens for the first time all night as yuuji bursts into louder cheering.
the two brothers start yelling toward the stage together, voices getting swallowed by the music and chaos around them while choso stands under the lights. and sukuna’s resolve hits him that very moment too.
he’s not letting these two out of his sight.
the celebrations, surprisingly, continued through the night until all the performers were done.
sukuna and the boys watched in the audience as all the bands crowded onto the stage and the promoters stood in the middle with a list and began announcing the six bands that will be proceeding to the semi-finals in two weeks.
“DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTINGS DEATH PAINTING!” yuuji starts the cheers, sitting back on sukuna’s shoulders. the rest quickly join, and as the four bands are announced, the chanting grows louder. the crowd joining, a universal want for choso’s band, death paintings, to be one of the semi-finalists.
“and the final band to make it into the semi finals is….” the host waits for the anticipation to simmer, but it’s not realized with how unbelievably loud the chanting has gotten for different bands, but the loudest being for— “DEATH PAINTINGS!!”
—
the culmination of celebration among the group extends to choso. him and his two friends are on cloud nine after the announcement, riding the adrenaline. somehow, choso manages to push everything else aside that almost swallowed the entire night.
people keep stopping him before he can even take three steps, congratulating the band, asking questions, slapping him on the back. toji leaves before everyone else, megumi staying behind with the group as security pushes the crowd out of the venue field and toward the beach nearby. bonfires burn in the distance and music continues from portable speakers.
everyone was distracted, except sukuna. his decision settled during the performance and by the time they return home, well after midnight, the house felt exhausted. choso’s friends immediately crash his room. megumi sleeping in yuuji’s room without complaint. doors shut, voices fading until silence settles over the house.
sukuna sits alone at the kitchen table. the only light comes from his laptop screen.
the black envelope sits beside it. opened.
a thick paper rests beneath his hand as he reads the letter again for what must be the hundredth time. an invitation. the one he’s waited to receive again for the past five years.
a la liga club. three weeks training with one of the best clubs in the world. three weeks that could change his entire future. the letter might as well weigh a hundred pounds. for weeks, sukuna pushed away replying, even when everyone brought it up. he had more pressing things at the front of his mind….
his eyes drift toward the hallway where his brothers sleep. a few months ago the answer would’ve been simple. obvious, even…but since kaori, everything’s changed.
his jaw tightens as his fingers move across the keyboard.
Dear Recruitment Team,
Thank you for extending the invitation. I am honored by the opportunity and would like to formally accept.
But before finalizing travel arrangements, I would like to discuss one logistical matter. I am the primary caretaker of my two younger brothers and am responsible for their supervision and wellbeing during the summer. As a result, I will not be able to travel without them and would like to ask whether accommodations can be made for my brothers to accompany me during the three-week training period. Their presence would not interfere with my participation in training or any club obligations.
his eyes narrow, reading over the email. he isn’t asking, he already knows what he’s doing. if the club says yes, yuuji and choso are coming. end of discussion. if they don’t…then. his fingers flex, veins straining.
both outcomes will result in consequences. the first is choso, but after today, he doesn’t care if choso throws a fit, or if he gets called controlling or insane. he isn’t leaving them behind after tonight and remembering exactly how fast everything can disappear.
his fingers resume moving.
I understand this is an unusual request, but I wanted to address it before confirming. If necessary, I would be happy to discuss the situation further and provide any information you may need.
Thank you again for this opportunity. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Ryomen Sukuna Itadori
sukuna leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. for a moment, the silent churning deep in his chest twists… the lingering feeling that’s been pushed returning. a familiar one that’s ruled his life for years. bad things happen whether you’re ready or not. people leave whether you hold onto them or not. life keeps moving whether you’re scared of it or not. and if that’s true—
his gaze drops back to the laptop. the cursor hovers over the send button. the house remains completely silent. inside their rooms, his brothers sleep peacefully, completely unaware that their summer plans are about to change.
SEND
the email vanishes.
for several seconds he simply stares at the screen. then he reaches over, grabs the black envelope, and crushes it in his fist. three weeks in spain. suck it up.
—
the following two weeks went by with a breeze. aside from two separate incidents in two completely different places. one unraveled in the itadori household a few days after the battle of the bands tournament, and the second was in a certain hospital staircase that same day.
your jaw tenses. shoko quietly stands beside you, your hands tucked behind your backs. a resident stands across from you while an attending stands front and center. the staircase feels too small and you already know this isn’t about a patient, glancing at shoko beside you.
the attending, your father, removes his glasses, folding them in his hand. “you know why we’re having this conversation?”
you shift your weight, shoko glances at you. heat crawls up from the back of your neck. you finally respond with a small shrug. the resident cringes, your father doesn’t. “you asked shoko to ask a resident physician to prescribe medication to you.”
you swallow thickly biting your cheek. shoko opens her mouth, but your dad holds a hand up.
“I’ll give you a chance. I’m asking her to answer first.” you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for you to meet his gaze. which you do.
“i asked a question,” you clear your throat. “I was asking shoko to ask for me.”
“you put them in an inappropriate position,” he cuts, silencing you in seconds.
your chest tightens, heat spreading to your face now. the embarrassment sits heavy on your chest now. you see shoko try to raise her hand beside you again.
“can I—“ the attending finally turns his head to shoko. “we were just talking.” she clears her throat, “we both didn’t know what the policy was on—“
“the policy is your supervisors can’t prescribe you medication,” he snaps.
shoko nods, glancing at the resident, who’s supervising this summer’s undergrad students, including her and you. “yeah, I was told.”
you scratch your wrist awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to put anyone in an…inappropriate position.” you wet your lip, pushing the coil crawling up your throat. “it won’t happen again.”
he processes your apology. his eyes flick to the resident and shoko, dismissing them. shoko glances at you as she follows the resident out, the staircase door shutting behind her. the silence grows louder with just the two of you. you inhale sharply, your head falling back, hands covering your face.
“dad—“
“do you need a new prescription?”
“no,” you cut, hands shielding you from his gaze.
“then why did you ask? have you spoken to your doctor about this?”
“I’m not—“ you stop, taking a deep breath. “I don’t need another prescription. and I told you already I’ve been talking to my doctor. I was just asking a question— I was just stressed.”
“why? you’ve done all this before,” he cuts, brows furrowed, and arms crossed in confusion.
“I’m stressed about other stuff,” you exhale, hands falling, face still burning from the humiliation earlier.
“what other stuff?” he pushes. genuinely confused about what you could be worrying about. “you don’t have classes or exams. you know everything. if you have any questions you can ask me—“
“yeah, I’m worried about other stuff, like generally,” you huff, rubbing your face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“you’re not taking any medication now?” he changes the subject back, brushing off your concerns to push his own out, “jennie told me you weren’t when she visited.”
your teeth clench, rubbing your eye, “yeah, I don’t need it anymore. I haven’t had them since finals.”
his eyes narrow, you can see the concern pinching his brows. “I don’t have a problem if you still need to take them. you know that—“
“yeah, but I don’t need them,” your stomach curls tighter, especially when he glances over you like…like you’re causing him more stress. it’s confusing, you know tjat. saying you don’t need any more medication, but then asking a resident a question about whether they can give you some for stress. it doesn’t make sense, and at this point you’re getting frustrated with yourself. “it’s not a big deal. next time I just won’t ask anyone anything,” you mutter.
“we’re having a conversation, so don’t do that,” he shakes his head in disappointment. the pit in your stomach growing at the sight. “I want to understand why you asked.”
you stomach churns, “it’s fine.”
the silence stretches between you, then you finally decide to leave.
“you should go home,” he steps to block the door.
you barely blink, the comment rolling off your back as you hum. “great.”
your father exhales through his nose. “i’m serious.”
“i know.”
“you don’t sound like you know.”
your jaw tightens, ignoring the passive aggressive tone. “can i go now?” you ask.
he stares at you for another second before stepping aside. the staircase door swings open and you leave. your shoes slap against the floor as you move through the hallway. nurses pass, residents pass, families pass, and it all irritates you. you don’t even realize how fast you’re walking until another set of footsteps catches up beside you.
“hey.” you don’t look over. shoko keeps a quick pace beside you anyway. “hey.”
“what?” you stop.
the word comes out harsher than intended. shoko is unfazed, “i’m sorry.”
you glance at her. the two of you standing by the lockerroom. “for what?”
“for telling the resident.”
“yeah well you didn’t tell on me.”
“still.”
you put the code in before entering the locker room, shoko follows. “still what? i asked a question and apparently that’s illegal.”
“that’s not what i mean,” shoko sits on the bench as you take your backpack out.
you sigh, “i know what you meant.” you start changing. “it’s just annoying that I was scolded like that and I didn’t even wanna do this stupid ass program in the first place. no offense,” you start rambling. “but seriously, how many times does this make it—like the fifth freaking time I get yelled at in front of these residents and I haven’t even done anything that crazy. asking a question?! god forbid!” you throw your hands up in sarcastic defense. you scoff at the situation rolling your eyes.
“this whole thing is just a humiliation ritual of being a fucking doormat, and having every single person around me be the biggest ops ever—not you,” you put your shirt on, pulling your jeans up right after. “let’s bet how much shit I’m gonna get if I just mention to jennie how annoyed I am,” you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what she’ll say. “if yOU doN’t LiKe it sO mUCh jusT qUiT,” you mimic her voice.
shoko, who has been quietly listening, stifles her own laugh. “why do you let her get under your skin?”
you deadpan. “she is the only person that can ragebait me until i wanna tear my hair out,” you’re basically clawing at your skin. “can’t even complain about anything anymore,” you mutter more to yourself. “whatever.”
shoko gives you a sympathetic look.
“call me when you finish, I’ll come pick you up,” you conclude, waiting for shoko’s hum before leaving.
and just a few miles away, another incident was unfolding in the itadori garage.
“what?” choso’s voice cuts through the room. “you’re lying.”
“you don’t want a free vacation?”
“it’s not a free anything! i’m not going to spain! the tournament—”
“yeah, the finals are the day before our flight, still lying—”
“i’m not lying! when we win we’re gonna be meeting with producers and stuff—”
“and stuff,” sukuna laughs. “you can zoom in.”
“that’s not the same thing!”
“sounds the same.”
“it literally isn’t!”
the garage erupts. the old fan rattles uselessly in the corner, guitar cables snake across the floor and choso stands in the middle, face red with frustration while sukuna lounges against the workbench like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all week.
“i’m not missing opportunities because you’re going to spain!” choso shouts.
sukuna shrugs, “good thing i’m not asking.”
“you can’t do that!”
“watch me.”
“ryomen!”
“choso!”
the younger teen looks seconds away from committing a felony, his jaw tightens, anger bubbling dangerously, “you’re possessively controlling.”
“shocker,” sukuna replies lowly, checking his phone after it buzzes.
“you can’t just drag people across the world!”
“sure i can.”
“i’m sixteen!”
“exactly.”
choso makes a strangled noise just as the garage door suddenly slides open.
“hey, i brought—” ino freezes, a pizza box hangs from one hand. his eyes dart between the brothers. “…oh.”
“tell him he’s insane!” choso shouts, voice cracking and pointing at the tattooed brother lounged in the corner on his phone.
“tell him i’m right,” sukuna says at the same time with less effort as his younger brother.
ino slowly starts backing out. “nope.”
choso’s jaw clenches, “ino.”
ino shakes his head more, “no.”
“ino,” choso’s words strain.
“naaahhhh man.” the teen points at both of them, pizza box fumbling. “last time i got involved in your family drama i got interrogated by psycho satan.” he means sukuna.
“that’s dramatic,” sukuna snorts.
“you threatened me,” ino huffs.
“that’s different,” sukuna casually scratches his large tatted bicep, with an added shrug.
ino frowns, “how is that different?!”
suluna shrugs, while the younger teen throws his hands in the air, choso’s black hair is messy and pushed out of his face from how much he’s run his hands through it. “he accepted the offer!”
“what offer?” ino asks.
“the spain one,” choso frowns, and sukuna eyes dart up, not realizing how many people knew about this offer. ino blinks, lips parting and eyes lighting up.
“…spain spain?”
“yes, spain spain,” choso snaps.
“like beaches?”
“yes.”
“europe?”
“yes!”
“yoooooo,” ino is smiling wide now, stepping further into the garage. “that’s so cool!”
“dude—“ choso snaps.
ino cringes, but the smile doesn’t go away, “sorry, but like DAAAAANG, remember a couple years ago, we talked about it—duuude,” ino’s attention shifts to sukuna, smiling wide. “congrats!!”
“what—stop glazing him!” choso interrupts, and ino holds back his tongue, conflicted.
“cool but like yeah, no, that’s actually insane, why does choso needa go with you? not cool,” ino falls in line.
choso relaxes just a bit, “thank you.”
“but also…” ino hesitates, and choso’s eyes narrows immediately.
“don’t.”
ino puts the pizza on the table, shrugging, “i’m just saying—”
“ino.”
“i mean…spain is kinda sick,” he plays devils advocate. and sukuna barks out a laugh.
“ino!” choso looks ready to throw his guitar right at his best friend. “you never help, shit friend.”
“he’ll get over it,” sukuna says to ino, who feels slightly guilty, opening the box to take out a slice while it’s hot.
“i won’t!” choso shouts, putting his guitar down.
sukuna ignores him, “he will.”
“i won’t!”
“you always do.” the words come out too casual, and for half a second, the garage falls quiet. choso’s jaw tightens, and sukuna’s grin fades slightly, watching his younger brother’s expression shift, the anger burning hotter. the same anger claws at sukuna’s own chest remebering why he has to force choso to come with him.
“I’m staying with gramps,” choso’s voice is lower. his own brain trying to wrap around the sudden information. he hadn’t even known that his brother accepted the offer when he wouldn’t even talk to anyone about it. and to find out he accepted it and was told it’s okay for him to bring his brothers without even asking him?!
“gramps is going to the lake with his war buds like he does every summers so yeah, you’re not staying here alone.” sukuna tsks, standing up. he glares at choso across the garage, waiting for choso to test him. the tension suddenly hits ino full force. the bickering had turned into something charged in a matter of seconds. his chewing slows, awkwardly.
“I’ll stay with ino,” choso pushes, eyes darting between sukuna’s.
“this lying shit?” sukuna scoffs pointing at ino without glancing at him.
ino chokes, coughing, “me?!!”
sukuna frowns, eyes narrowing sharply, “I fucking asked you if he saw that bitch of mom and you said no. that constitutes as lying.”
ino lowers his head.
“I told him not to say anything,” choso defends, “he’s my friend.”
“exactly why you’re not staying with him because he’ll lie and I won’t know if you see that woman again or not.” sukuna takes a step towards his brother.
“i took money from her,” choso tilts his head, clearly not afraid of the older as his eyes narrow. “I’m gonna give her that money back.”
“I don’t give a shit if you don’t or if you take more money from her. she owes you and yuuji a shit ton of money anyways,” sukuna stops in front of choso. an unknown look crossing the man’s face, and choso hesitates for a moment. “I have a problem that she laid her hands on you.”
choso’s jaw clenches, stepping away. “I stole money from her.”
“so you think you deserve to get hit?” sukuna snaps. choso rolls his eyes, grabbing a slice of pizza, forcing himself to act casual. “she’s a toxic psycho.”
“whatever, man,” choso mutters, dismissing the conversation about his mother. an uncomfortable twist settling deep in his stomach making him slightly nauseous. “I don’t wanna talk about her with you.”
“why because I don’t sugarcoat how horrible she is?” sukuna scoffs. choso’s defensive attitude quietly triggers the older. choso rolls his eyes again, gaze locked at the pizza, but sukuna catches it and ino sinks further in the corner. “stupid ass teen,” sukuna grabs his keys from his pocket, walking towards the door, opening the garage. “fucking proving my damn point by acting stupid as fuck.”
sukuna scoffs, pissing himself off as the memories of this woman flood his mind. jaw tensing as he looks at choso turning away from him. “mothers don’t beat their kids, and she was more of dad’s fucking mental patient than a mom to you”
“how the fuck would you know!” choso finally snaps. “your mom left and my mom isn’t yours, I have my own memories!”
“the ones when you were two?” sukuna scoffs, walking towards the parked pick-up truck. “I doubt you remember shit before you were twelve,” sukuna says the comment without realizing the flame he lit.
“I remember you going to jail too and losing your first club offer,” choso spits. “great example compared to her. definitely my role model!”
sukuna stops dead in his tracks, jaw tightening, he glances over his shoulder and choso doesn’t back down. “you’re more like her than me or yuuji are, so it’s pretty hypocritical that I’m being forced to go to spain with another psycho.”
mechamaru had just parked his car and is exiting when he hears the yelling from his friend’s open driveway. ino has attempted to blend in with the couch, empty plate in his lap while choso’s chest heaves. the strings in his heart strain ignoring the unfamiliar look on his brothers face. especially when sukuna fiddles with his keys with one hand, the jangling fills the tense air, before sukuna licks his teeth.
“at least I’ve never hit you guys.”
the response is deeply honest that choso pauses, unable to respond. sukuna swings his keys between his fingers, rubbing the back of his neck and walking down the driveway. he passes mechamaru silently, unlocking his truck.
the teens are left in defending silence minutes after sukuna’s already driven away. ino and mechamaru exchange looks, especially when choso disappears into the house to wash his face.
at some point the houses thin out and the ocean appears. the clouds hang low and heavy overhead, turning the late afternoon gray. rain threatening to fall any minute. sukuna parks in an empty lot overlooking the beach and kills the engine. his hands are locked around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.
you’re more like her than me or yuuji are.
his jaw aches. choso hadn’t even sounded afraid when he said it, he was angry enough to mean it. sukuna drags both hands over his face, wishing he can claw at everything. “fuck.”
the word disappears, waves crashing against the shore, ahead as his phone vibrates inside. and miles away, parked beside an empty field, you do the same.
the hospital sits somewhere behind you, and your home is in the opposite direction, and neither destination sounds appealing. the engine is off. the windows are cracked. summer wind drifts through the car as you stare at absolutely nothing. your father’s voice rings around your skull making you rest your head against the window. you don’t want to go home or go back or do anything.
eventually your phone lights up.
after another few minutes of staring at the ocean, his hand finally reaches for his phone. notifications flood the screen, group chats, soccer shit, gojo being annoying, something from toji, and his thumb scrolls through the usual unopened messages until he sees a certain contact.
his thumb stops. three days ago.
crybaby: where’s the video of your brother’s band?
his gaze lingers. for some reason, that message irritates him less than everything else. he opens the chat and for a moment he considers not responding, his thumb mindlessly scrolls through your earlier conversation, until the photo you sent him fills his screen.
dumbass: they made it to the semifinals
a beat passes..
dumbass: i forgot to send the video
your phone vibrates against the passenger seat making you glance down and see his name, and despite the day you’ve had, despite everything, your chest loosens just a little.
crybaby: woww
crybaby: a whole 3 days later
crybaby: i was starting to think u hated me
sukuna snorts. his head tips back against the seat. outside, thunder rumbles somewhere over the water.
dumbass: good guesser
you roll your eyes, holding back a smile.
crybaby: haha u’re soo funny
sukuna scrolls through his camera roll. easily finding the video gojo had taken and sending it to you. you heart the message, and a few minutes later the texts flood in.
crybaby: WHAAAA
crybaby: WTHHHH UR BROTHER IS SO GOOD
dumbass: u def thought they were gonna be ass
crybaby: ngl…I wasn’t expecting much
dumbass: rude
crybaby: ONLY BC I’ve gone to a few in the past and RARELY r they ever good
crybaby: NO OFFENSE
dumbass: I’m offended
you don’t realize the smile on your face as you watch another video sukuna sends. relaxing back in your seat, jaw agape.
crybaby: no like actually wth — ur brother’s voice is making me tear up
crybaby: it’s so angelic esp for a hard rock band
sukuna snorts.
dumbass: crybaby
crybaby: did I say CRY? I said TEAR UP smh smhh
a few beats pass, not long enough for you to fully exit your messages, but long enough to watch the little typing bubble appear then disappear, and then your face fills your screen.
….incoming FaceTime from dumbass….
your lips part, cheeks warming as you easily click accept, the call connecting. sukuna’s face fills your screen, the camera angle is terrible, but somehow he still looks unfairly attractive.
the lighting inside the truck is dim from the storm clouds outside, shadows cutting across the sharp lines of his face. his pink hair looks soft, a few strands hang loose across his forehead. his tattoos disappear beneath the collar of his black shirt, the dark markings curling up the side of his neck. his forearm rests against the driver’s side window, broad shoulders, strong jaw—you hate how hot he looks.
on the other side of the call, sukuna feels much the same.
he expected your voice, but there’s something about seeing your face. your hair is slightly messy from your long day. you’re leaning sideways against the drivers seat, cheek pressed against the headrest of your car seat. golden evening light spills through the window in front of you, softening everything. you look tired, but pretty…really pretty. something in his chest loosens.
your eyes blink slowly, then narrow, “what happened to your face?”
sukuna’s brow furrows, “what?”
you lean closer to the camera, “your eye.”
his hand immediately comes up, glancing at the mirror in front of him. forgetting about the faint bruise caused by toji a few days ago, and barely noticeable to anyone except apparently you.
his fingers brush beneath it. “nothing.”
you stare and sukuna stares looks back at his phone, “that’s not nothing.”
“it’s nothing.”
“yeah definitely,” you sarcastically quip.
“it’s literally nothing.” your expression flattens. his matches yours instantly. neither of you budge. the silence stretches then—
“did you get punched?”
the offended look that flashes across his face almost makes you laugh. “the fuck kind of question is that?” he snaps.
you shrug fast, “it’s a valid question.”
“no it isn’t.”
“it is, since that’s what people who get punched in the face look like,” you say, like you’re some expert.
“speaking from experience?” he tosses, irritation scratching at your questions.
“yeah,” you lie, and he probably knows that, but still he leans back in his seat again. “it definitely looks like you got a bruise.”
“yeah, because i play a contact sport,” he huffs. you squint suspiciously as he rolls his eyes so hard it physically pains him. “gojo elbowed me in the middle of a game.”
“see?” you point triumphantly. “that wasn’t hard.”
sukuna tsks, “you’re annoying.”
“i was curious,” you shrug.
“it’s a bruise.”
“on your face.”
“you sound like yuuji.” the corner of his mouth twitches, barely there, but enough for the tightness in both of your chests to ease just a little. your lips part, still looking at the bruise.
“does it hurt?” your voice is softer, allowing something warm to settle in sukuna’s chest.
a smirk tugs on the players lips. “yeah. you gonna come make me feel better?” the teasing has your thighs clenching. his voice is low, deep, watching your eyes dart off screen. “where are you right now?”
you shift in your seat, flipping the camera to do a 360 of your surroundings. sukuna notices your bag in the passenger seat, “you get off work?”
“yup left early,” you flip the camera back, your phone on your lap as you fix your necklace in the mirror.
“you ditched?”
you laugh, “no,” you pick your phone back up, “I was kicked out.”
sukuna whistles. “bad girl. what’d you do?”
you shrug, leaning back in your seat, “I punched a patient.”
sukuna’s eyes blow wide, “you’re lying.”
you snort, “obviously,” you smile, pretty lips glossy as you wet them. “just had a chat with my dad and he told me to go home.”
“are you home?”
you shake your head, tilting just a bit as you watch sukuna through the phone. the silence fills both your environments. “doesn’t look like you’re home.”
“got work soon,” he answers, eyeing the curve of your jaw as you look out the window as if you weren’t parked in a deserted lot. still he can’t help the churning in his stomach as you fiddle with your earrings, lips parting again.
“so you gotta go soon?”
sukuna can’t fully read your emotions through a shitty phone screen, but he can catch the slight sweetness in your tone. and that was enough to pull a subtle smirk from him. he’s fully resting his back against his seat, arm propped on the open window holding his phone, while the other rests on his lap.
“I have some time,” he tilts his head, eyes narrowing a tad when you hum. “you have something in mind?”
you wet your lip, eyes twinkling as you nod your head. “yeah, i wanted to ask you a question.” he smirks, letting you continue. “how fast did you cum when i sent you that picture on saturday?” sukuna’s smile falters. “because you sent me a pic like three minutes later.”
you really love to push his buttons. the scowl is written all over his face. “i was already on edge, so i was doing it for awhile before you even sent it.”
your smile grows, if possible, a devilish twinkle in your eyes. “so i really helped you cum, ryo, hmm?” you wet your lip, and the action, coupled up with your sultry tone, has sukuna’s pants growing tight, “you made a big mess. cumming all over yourself like that,” you tsk, teasingly. “do you always make a big mess when you play by yourself?”
sukuna’s jaw tightens, his crotch swelling from your teasing. the bulge pushing up against his jeans, just as his palm digs against the evidence. unable to hide the fact that you’re turning him on.
“don’t be embarrassed, ry,” you coo with faux sweetness. “big boys make messes too.”
a loud, strangled scoff, escapes the man’s mouth. cheeks hot, as you continue degrading him. “suddenly y’er all confident because I can’t pin you down from here?”
you shrug, little smirk still playing on those pretty lips of yours. fuck, he misses having those lips on him. kissing you deeply, swallowing your whines and strangled moans. “am I not allowed to make you feel better?”
“fucking teasing me,” he grunts, jaw tightening as he palms his bulge.
heat pools between your legs, face warm as you see his shifting. “did I make you hard?” the excitement was obvious in your tone.
“don’t act surprised,” he mutters, flipping the camera to see the big bulge he’s gripping over his jeans. sukuna see’s the dizzy like look you have, lips parting.
“take it out.”
he smirks. you’re a little perv. and not so surprisingly, you see the uncoordinated moving as he unbuckles his belt, the phone dropping then getting raised again to see the way he pushes the waistband of his black Calvin’s, dragging it down. his dark pubes not as well groomed as it usually is, and that has you biting back a whimper.
fuck fuck, you miss pressing your face there, licking the coarse hairs, kissing his base.
and finally his hand wraps around the chubby length, freeing his semi-hard cock in his car. thunder cracks in the distant, rain starting to pour.
“gonna keep telling me what to do, or do you want closeups?” he teases, stroking his base lazily, biting his lip.
you shift in your seat.
“spit on it—“
you already see his spit fly and hit his flushed cock, immediately making your cheeks sting.
“c’mon, gotta keep talkin’ to me like my personal slut,” he hasn’t done anything since spitting on his cock, waiting for you to continue your directions. if you’re gonna act all dominant, then he’ll give you all the control…at least when you’re separated by a phone screen.
“stroke your cock…slow,” you command, wetting your lip as you watch him, and he listens. a wave of quiet confidence floods your head at his submission. “rub your slit with your thumb…yeah…” your lips part watching him stroke his cock. “faster.”
his breath is heavy behind the phone, grip tightening when he reaches the base, before twisting his hand back up, thumb collecting his pre and spreading it to the rest of his cock.
“do you usually jerk off like this?” your lewd curiosity always makes him smirk.
“I’m taking your direction.”
“jerk off like you usually do then…I wanna see,” you interrupt.
he snorts, loosening his jaw, before his pace picks up, tugging on his impressive size, collecting more pre and doing his best to self lubricate. his grunts are slightly louder, sending heat to your pussy, you can already feel your drenched panties.
“let go.”
a strangled noise comes out of him as his hand lets go making his cock bob between his legs, his thighs flex, jaw tightening as more pre cum leaks out in humiliation. “fuck.” he runs his hand on his abs, lifting his shirt higher, watching his own cock throb and twitch mid-air. the weight angling his cock down.
“ow!”
he doesn’t fully realize what you’re doing, until you yelp. his brows pinch, eyes narrowing because your phone is no longer on your face, but on the ceiling of your car.
“what’re you doing?” his words fall on deaf ears, when you’re suddenly lifting the camera back up, and revealing the state you’re in. you’re completely naked from the waist down, shirt pushed above those beautiful tits, and your lips all wet from how much your biting them. “fuck, baby.”
you smile, pushing the drivers seat further back to give yourself space, cheeks hot as you spread your legs. “lemme see your face, ryomen.”
he easily flips the camera back. you blush seeing the pink dusting his cheeks. “you like risky stuff,” he points.
“I’m alone.”
“still public.”
your lips part, rubbing your nipple, slowly teasing yourself. his eyes darken, gaze darting between your face and those beautiful perky nipples he wishes he could suck this very second. fuck, when you’d run your nails through his hair when he’d bite your perky buds and you’d moan so sweetly.
“you’re not even twisting them hard enough,” he tsks, watching you play with yourself…incorrectly. “how often do you touch yourself.”
“not as often as you touch me.”
sukuna chokes. you’re way too fast for him, and it catches him off guard every once in a awhile. he quickly recovers, “show me how wet you are.”
you listen, managing to face the passenger seat and have the phone propped on your bag.
“aw, you’re dripping,” he coos, biting his lip, as you run your fingers through the mess, spreading your pretty folds for him. “dirty girl,” he groans, hand sneaking down to his twitching hard cock—
“don’t touch yourself,” you cut possessively. “it’s my turn.”
“I didn’t even cum,” he tsks, but still eases back, thick legs spreading wider as he watches you shrug. “fine, lemme see how many fingers you can put in that little pussy.”
“one.”
“I said: let me see,” his voice drops an octave and that has you clenching and blushing all over. “lick your finger.”
you lean close to the camera, making a show of caressing your plump bottom lip, then easing your middle finger in. your suck the digit, eyes heavy as they look directly at sukuna. he silently watches, jaw loosening as he tries his best to keep his hand away, especially when you pull your middle finger out, flipping him off.
“cute,” he smirks, screenshotting. “put it in.” he tilts his head, humming as you sit back just a little. he eyes the way you open your legs, running your finger down your body, before circling your clit. your lips part and sukuna notices the way your back arches just a bit, finally pushing in, “theere we go.”
you hum along, jaw agape as you curl your finger in slowly pumping your finger. it’s not the same though. you hate having to do this shit yourself, it would kill the mood if sukuna wasn’t praising you on the other line.
“fuck, your pussy looks so pretty,” he groans, “so hot.”
you bite back a moan, lashes fluttering as you move your finger back to your clit. unaware of the disappointment until you hear a loud tsk.
“why’d you take your finger out?” sukuna barks.
you frown, still rubbing your clit, “It doesn’t feel as good.”
“bullshit,” he huffs, “put two fingers in.” your cheeks flush hot, collecting your arousal on your finger and teasing your hole again. “fuck your pussy like I told ya too.”
you wet your lips with attitude he can clearly read, especially when you add a sarcastic, “yes, sir.”
pre oozes from the brute’s twitching cock.
still, his eyes narrow with lust as he watches you dip your pretty little fingers in that tight hole. it’s always the initial stretch that has your lips parting. “keep moving your fingers. curl ‘em,” he husks, voice much lower and sexier, unbelievably turned on. “dirty girl fingerin’ herself in her car.”
you whine, back pressed against the door, as you angle your hips up, back arching as you continue fingering yourself, especially when you curl them and finally feel that spot. “got it?”
your glossy lips part, nodding, “y-yeah haah—ry-touch y’rself to me.“
fuck.
he doesn’t waste a second grabbing his cock and working himself up to the pace you’ve set. his own jaw clenches, watching your legs tremble as you pump your pretty fingers in and out, watching the way your fingers glisten every time you pull out, pretty nipples all hard and exposed, and lips glossy.
his thigh trembles, jaw tensing as he squeezes his base, holding himself back as you pull your fingers out to stimulate your neglected clit.
“good girl,” he husks under his breath, unaware of how much he enjoys watching you and getting jealous from nothing. you respond with a heavy sigh, tongue poking out as you feel yourself getting closer.
“gun- cum with me…ry-haah?”
he starts working his chubby cock, wishing to death he can feel the heat of your pussy against his swollen tip. “yeah, keep working those little fingers, make yourself cum.”
your whine pitches a little higher in the small car. thighs spreading wider as you stimulate your clit, oblivious to the low praises sukuna is muttering, feeling his heavy balls clench up. and just as your about to reach the edge, toes curling in your shoes, your phone tips over, hitting the ground just as sukuna hears you moan—
“anhh—“
“what the fuck!?”
you whine, back hitting the door as your legs close around your hand. lips parted as your chest rises with each heavy breath. you don’t even realize what happened until you hear your name being called, followed be another “where the fuck did you go?!”
your brows furrow, glancing at where your phone once was, then to its place on the floor of the passenger side. “oh.”
you move over the center, reaching down to lift your phone, and the moment your face comes to view, sukuna’s jaw tenses more.
“you came?”
your lips part sitting back in your seat. “yeah, I think i accidentally kicked my bag. did you cu—“
“no.” he cuts sharply. you suck your lips in to refrain from laughing. “cum again.”
your brows rise. “I can’t.”
sukuna barks out a humorless laugh. “I always make you cum more than once—“
“yeah, YOU—not ME. I don’t know how to overstimulate myself,” you reach for some tissues to clean yourself off camera. but sukuna groans loudly, cock throbbing as he works himself. “just imagine me cumming.”
his jaw locks, head tipping back so you can get a perfect shot of his sharp jaw. the silence stretches for a second before sukuna opens his mouth, refusing to look at his phone, missing the way your lips part, and face burns.
“talk into the phone then.”
your stomach flips with something you don’t want to name, especially when he tilts his head back clearly still working his monster of a cock that’s painfully red. “I’m close. speak.”
the command has you closing your thighs tighter, raising the phone to your lips, inhaling slowly, controlling the butterflies.
another beat passes before you finally begin.
“my fingers are so wet after cumming…” you dramatize a gentle sigh, “my pussy is so empty…I need your big fat cock filling my tight…little…pussy…ryo.”
“fuck,” sukuna’s jaw clenches harder, abs tightening as he aggressively twists his hand up his cock, thumb digging into his slit, much more aggressive than how you’d touch his cock, but he just needs to cum.
“can’t wait to see you, ryomen,” you exhale sweetly, adding a little pitched hum, “want you to use my pussy like it’s your pretty toy,” you blush at your own words, keeping it just a little over a whisper because if it was any louder than you might melt into the seat with embarrassment. but sukuna’s strained, low grunts, is reassuring. “fuck me until I can’t move, kiss me until I can’t breathe…you wanna kiss me right, pretty boy?” your cheeks sting viscously at the pet name that casually rolled off your tongue—
but then, a long deep groan comes from the back of the 6’4 footballer’s throat.
your entire body catches on fire, and a smile quietly tugs at the corners of your lips.
“you wanna kiss me that bad, baby?” you tease lightly, and even though sukuna refuses to reply, his strangled grunts, and sounds of his squelching cock being tugged, is enough reassurance to give you that final sentence that pushes him off the edge. “you also wanna stuff my pretty pussy right: wanna fill me with your thick…heavy cum, don’t you ryo?” you bite your lip the moment you hear the choke on the other end.
you quietly listen, pulling your phone to see that sukuna’s phone is forgotten in his lap. your finger playing at your lip, still smiling, waiting for sukuna to come down from his orgasm.
the man’s jaw is locked. head tipped back against the head rest. chest heaving. and face burning with a light shade of pink.
“you cum?” you break the silence, tone laced with something that twists in sukuna’s gut. the phone shifts, your face unable to stop your smile when you see his flushed face. your fingers still playing with your lips with faux innocence.
“yeah.” his clipped tone isn’t too harsh, but definitely shielding something else as he looks down at the mess. his jaw tenses seeing his cum covering his hand and splattered on the steering wheel. even if the phone is on his face, you can see the way his eyes are looking past it.
“you made a mess?”
he licks his teeth, eyes catching yours. “yeah.”
dang he’s cold. is he embarrassed? a warmth settles in your tummy at the thought. it’s hard to read him, but it’s even harder when it’s through the phone. either way, you shift around your car, putting your panties and pants back on and pulling your shirt down, fixing your bra. on the other end, sukuna is pulling his shirt off, and using it to clean the mess he made. jaw tensing every time your voice rings in his head again.
“who taught you how to talk like that?” he raises his hips pulling his pants back up, tucking his softening cock in.
your brow quirks lightly, “nobody lol,” you look back at your phone. “I was just going with the flow,” you smirk, head tilting just a bit that the man freezes, stomach flipping at the pretty sight on his phone and he instinctively just….*screenshot* “was I good?”
he makes a grumbling noise, then, “made me cum.”
“so, good?”
he rolls his eyes, “sure.” he ignores your smile as he finishes cleaning his mess. the buzzing of your phone interrupting. “you have to go?”
you hum, “yeah, gotta pick up shoko.” you text her that you’re on your way. sukuna looks back at his phone as he starts his car up, you do the same. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”
and the second sukuna gives an affirmative hum, you hang up.
as the days pass. neither one of you found your stress levels steady. instead, you were tested again and again, more rejection emails coming in for writing and producing programs you applied too for the summer. and as was sukuna with his brother’s attitude, especially with this weird phase that’s caught his attention with yuuji.
“I thought you were seeing megumi tomorrow?” sukuna glances up from his spot behind the bar, stopping mid-wipe down to see yuuji slinging his backpack on.
“we’re going to the beach today to see them set up before the festival tomorrow,” yuuji mutters, pushing his overgrown hair off his forehead in quiet annoyance.
sukuna’s brows pinch tight, “thought we were gonna do that?”
yuuji shrugs already walking to the back of the bar, large open windows lining the back that overlooks the beach. megumi and nobara wait outside, chatting. “s’fine,” yuuji stops by the door, “choso doesn’t talk to you, and you’re always busy—so whatever.”
sukuna tenses, grip curling around the dirty rag as his little brother turns and leaves. what the fuck?? since when has yuuji been cut and dry with him!?
just as sukuna stresses about his younger siblings, you’re wondering how much longer you have to hold yourself back until you tear your eyes out. another rejection email, that could’ve been the reason why your sudden stress skyrockets and then it immediately crashes after higuruma finally texts you after not hearing anything from him since you first got his number.
[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: hey this is hiromi
[12:34PM] hiromi higuruma: sorry it’s been awhile but my uncle finally got back to me, he’s free thursday or friday around the afternoon to chat
[12:35PM] hiromi higuruma: lmk which day works so he can put it in his calendar before he gets booked
your lips part, standing outside a patient room staring at your phone. shit. your heart pounds rapidly against your ribs. you work until five everyday. your jaw tenses…just ask if he can do anything after—he can’t. unlike you, people can’t just move things around for you. your fingers quickly tap your screen.
[12:40PM] you: hii
[12:40PM] you: yea friday works for me, would this be a zoom call or phone call?
you see the bubbles appear, then disappear. you shift your weight, stomach churning.
[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: shit
your stomach drops.
[12:42PM] hiromi higuruma: I forgot—you’re not based in the city?
[12:42PM] you: no, I’m back home for the summer
[12:43PM] you: would it be a problem doing it on zoom?
your back leans against the wall, stomach aching as you wait for his response. seriously, can one thing not work out in your favor?
[12:44PM] hiromi hirguruma: I’ll talk to him, but I think it’s better to wait until you’re back in the city and do it in person
[12:44PM] hiromi higuruma: only saying this bc he forgets everyone he talks too on zoom but he’ll be much more helpful if he meets you face to face, plus you’re a good conversationalist (js from my perspective) so you’d leave a good impression
a beat passes.
[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: your call tho, i can still talk to him if u want
[12:45PM] hiromi higuruma: he's here all summer, so whenever you're back js Imk and I can set up a meeting
fuck!! your jaw aches, clenching down hard enough to break your teeth. hot tears sting behind your eyes, threatening to spill. you inhale sharply. grinding down harder on your teeth as you squeeze your phone.
what’s the fucking point in meeting with him now if he’ll just forget about you?
[12:47PM] you: oh okay, yeah I think it’s better in person then
[12:47PM] you: I’ll be in the city in august, is that okay?
your heart twists unbelievably tight, nails digging into your palm.
[12:48PM] hiromi higuruma: yeah for sure! and dw I’ll set a meeting up with u and him
almost like he can sense your disappointment through your hesitant texts. he sends another message.
[12:49PM] hiromi higuruma: how’s your summer?
wrong question…
[12:49PM] you: 😀 so good!
the bubbles appear then disappear, then:
[12:50PM] hiromi higuruma: that’s a sarcastic emoji right?
you can’t control the quiet chuckle that slips out.
[12:50PM] you: loll yeah
[12:50PM] you: its fine…working here…with my dad…yayy
higuruma seems to understand your tone as he responds.
[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: u losing ur mind?
[12:51PM] you: nope
[12:51PM] you: y would u say that (I wanna kms)
[12:51PM] hiromi higuruma: (rip) just a hunch, guess I was wrong
a smile threatens your face.
[12:52PM] hiromi higuruma: don’t stress tho, my uncle has some rlly good connects so he’ll help u out
you bite your cheek, pushing down the anxious twists that’s been eating at you for months. you’re still waiting on another possible opportunity for the second half of summer, but now you’re scared if that falls through, all you’ll have is nanami’s friend’s uncle as a connection..
[12:52PM] you: thanks🥹🙏
[12:53PM] hiromi higuruma: how long is ur program?
[12:53PM] you: till the last week of july so js two-ish more weeksss
[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: homestretch
[12:54PM] hiromi higuruma: u need a vacation after
[12:54PM] you: TRUSTT
[12:54PM] you: it is in the works🫡 my friends r planning it
[12:55PM] hiromi higuruma: where r u guys going?
you pause, lips parting.
[12:56PM] you: oh….i forgot
[12:56PM] hiromi higuruma: fr?
[12:56PM] you: no frrr shoko just told me to block off the dates but i actually forgot where we’re going bc they were planning it for awhile and i was too busy to pay attention
you cringe, trying to remember where shoko said satoru’s infamous mediterranean summer house is. either way higuruma responds with a cool message, unbothered by your lack of remembrance.
[12:57] hiromi higuruma: well it’s clear u need that vacation then
[12:57PM] you: 😪✊
you don’t realize you’ve basically been standing on your phone for awhile until a resident passes by, eyes flicking down.
“put the phone away before I tell your dad,” he mutters, and though the “joke” has been tossed around multiple times by the residents who know exactly what your relationship is with the chief of surgery, it doesn’t make it any funnier when you heard it the first time or the hundredth time —
your jaw tenses, glancing at your phone to see higuruma’s text.
[12:58PM] hiromi higuruma: make sure to stop in the city after tho and text me ahead of time
[12:58PM] you: i willlll
you shut your phone off, exhaling sharply as your head tips back. at this point…the only thing you’re looking forward to now is this trip. considering the second half of your summer is delayed after pushing this meeting back. and from the looks of it…you highly doubt you’re getting accepted into those writing programs.
“great,” you mutter to yourself.
your feet finally drag you away from the wall, and down the hall. unfortunately the pressure on your chest doesn’t leave, instead your mind quietly moves in circles as you continue the day’s work. unable to remove yourself completely from the stress of your future.
you smile at patients when they greet you. you laugh when shoko mutters something inappropriate under her breath. you still finish your notes, answer questions, make coffee runs, and remember to ask people how their weekends were. nothing is wrong enough for anyone to pull you aside and ask if you’re okay because you’re not falling apart. you’re just…tired. there’s a heaviness that sits beneath your ribs and makes everything feel harder than it should.
even when you check your phone during lunch. your conversation with higuruma sitting near the top of your messages. another month of waiting. another month of this feeling. you lock your phone just as someone calls your name, answering immediately.
it all keeps moving, dragging you along. the routine sucking you in. driving home as shoko talks from the passenger seat about the residents. about a movie she wants to watch. about a patient that yelled at her. about her not fully confident about her mcat studying methods. you nod and laugh, chiming in.
that’s how it goes in the mornings. driving at six am, music playing softly through the speakers. your eyes randomly burning behind your sunglasses, making you blink, unable to stop the tears from gathering for no apparent reason other than you can shake this heaviness on your chest. but it’s easy to wipe beneath your eyes during the red light. shoko doesn’t notice.
even at home, your sister asks how your day is, if you ate, how dad is, and you answer shortly without much thought. jennie watches you for a moment longer. her eyes lingering, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something before deciding against it. especially when you quietly play with yazzy now. playing with her barbie’s clothes in silence, clearly not fully present, but still able to pull a smile for your niece.
“fix her hair now!” yazzy shoves another barbie in your hand, the gum stuck to the ends making you scowl.
“why is there candy all over them?” you lightly scold, making yazzy cover her face with a doll, bashful and guilty.
“it was an accident!” she giggles, making you tsk lightly, giving her a faux disappointed look which earns you another loud giggle from her.
jennie quietly watches from the living room, eyes softening. she’s been gone for some time, but her concerns are present, so when shoko walks into the kitchen, her attention shifts momentarily.
“question,” jennie glances at the brunette. shoko hums, looking over her shoulder from the fridge. “how upset is she? because she’s working with our dad?”
shoko glances at you in the living room, the tv playing masking the conversation in the kitchen. “she hates it.”
jennie hums, looking down at her nails. “she said that?”
shoko nods, “she takes it on the chin though, but yeah…she hates it. she usually complains then feels guilty for complaining.”
that seems to twist something inside jennie, her jaw clenching. “yeah…she’s an idiot.” she mutters, hand rubbing her face. “there’s only so much you can tell her and she still won’t listen.” jennie stands straight. “it’s her life.”
shoko doesn’t respond. instead watching as jennie calls her daughter to head back to the hotel, and once they leave the house quiets, and you’re left alone with yourself.
you brush your teeth while staring into the bathroom mirror, foam gathering at the corners of your mouth as your reflection stares back. the faucet runs as you tilt your head. you look the same…same face, eyes, person — there’s no visible proof that anything is changing beneath your skin. but…you wonder if everyone else feels this way. is everyone secretly mourning versions of themselves they haven’t even become yet. are they walking around pretending everything is okay too? do they also hate where the direction of their lives are heading? can they even see what path they’ve taken—
you spit into the sink, washing your face.
once you crawl into bed, your room finally settles, feeling the darkness press close. and once again, your chest tightens. you think about the mcats. about the future. about all the people your age collecting internships and recommendations and certainty. you think about your father’s anxieties of your future. your mother’s concern. jennie’s harsh words—
you turn onto your side…then your back…then your other side. then…your eyes sting.
the tears build on their own, as they always do. your throat drying as you feel the warm liquid slide onto the pillow. you’re not sobbing. you don’t even know what you’re crying over. nothings happened. but eventually, sleep takes you.
“are you excited for college?” “what are you majoring in?” “you’re going to be a doctor, right?” “isn’t your dad a really good surgeon? my dad wants me to go into med school, but i don’t think i have the patience.”
the high school girls are packed into the locker room before gym, voices bouncing off metal lockers and tiled floors. someone’s trying to braid their ponytail in the mirror. another girl is complaining about wanting to get out of this gym period.
“wait, did they release decisions yet?”
“can your dad help me out when i’m looking for an internship?”
“yeah, you always work for your dad, so it’s not fair.”
“i’m jealous.”
your seventeen year old brain can only laugh, “it’s not like that,” you say automatically. but your friends only seem to double down. marking all your “wins” on one person who isn’t you.
“must be nice having your whole life figured out.”
the pressure in your chest tightens. you blink. you’ve heard these conversations a hundred times, so you should be used to them by now. but something tight twists in your chest. your fingers fumble with the combination lock on your gym locker. the metal slipping beneath your hands.
“you okay?”
“yeah,” your voice comes out too fast. you try again. however, it becomes harder to breathe, your vision blurring around the edges.
“shit!” your friend moves back just as you hit the lockers, falling to your knees as you grab your chest. is this a heart attack? people have heart attacks. can a high schooler have one? your dad would know—
“i can’t breathe.” the words tear out of your throat. your heart pounds harder, your fingers feel tingly and your head lightheaded.
“i can’t breathe.” you try again. nothing is coming out. air won’t come in. your hands shake violently, chest twisting.
“someone get the nurse!”
“she’s crying—”
you don’t feel the tears spill down your face before you even realize you’re crying. your chest hurts, your head spins, and the girls crowd around you.
—
the week leading up to the trip moved strangely, it was slow. the days blurred together as each individual hour stretched.
sukuna picked up more shifts at the bar, the smell of beer and musk clinging to his clothes long after he got home. when he wasn’t working, he was on the field by the beach, shirt sticking to his back beneath the summer sun as he played against whoever was willing to challenge him. usually it was gojo and geto. sometimes yuuji joined him, always laughing, but sukuna could feel the subtle shift. the kid lingered less…asked fewer questions, and as close as he is with gramps, even he wasn’t telling wasuke the full answer. and that was starting to make sukuna a little on edge.
then there was choso. it was inevitable after their argument. choso went out of his way to avoid his older brother and buried himself in rehearsals for the upcoming semifinals, spending more nights at ino’s, then with yuuji or gramps.
meanwhile, you’ve settled deeper into a routine. the hospital shifts, and early mornings that made you want to claw your eyes out. the drives with shoko that always eased you a bit. but then there was the wedding that jennie came for. and every aunt and family friend had something to ask. was there anyone special? were you talking to someone? how is it going into your senior year of undergrad? had you started studying for the mcat? have you taken the mcat yet?
your mother brushed them off, while your sister laughed because dating felt like the last thing on your mind. you smiled through it all, even as your stomach twisted tighter with every question you couldn’t answer honestly.
and then there was your father. he’d become quieter after the incident in the staircase, polite but distant in a way that unsettled you more. is he disappointed you aren’t taking the mcat yet? did one of the residents say something about your performance? you don’t ask. you just keep the questions with you, swirling in your mind whenever you see him.
none of the stress eases. not even when you quietly see sukuna in gojo’s ig stories. not even when yazzy tries to teach you and shoko a new dance move she’s learning. not even when your sister finally heads to the airport. none of it seemed to scratch that itch that kept your mind loud and irritating.
“did you get any sleep?” shoko pulls her shirt off, slipping into her scrubs. you stifle a yawn, shaking your head as you pull your scrub pants up. shoko yawns along with you, but exhales loudly afterwards. shaking her hands as she gives you smile. “last day though!”
your lips part, eyes widening, “oh snap.” and maybe that was what you needed because you’re suddenly smiling with shoko, laughing as you look at your phone. “last day!”
shoko hums, smiling wider as you both start dancing. and that definitely could be considered the longest, and best day of your week. and before you can blink, you’ve packed your suitcases and kissed your mom goodbye as she drops you and shoko off at the airport.
and with full unbridled honesty, you knew the best part of this trip was the excuse of being away from everything and everyone, and that’s what you’ve convinced yourself is what you need.
even after hours trapped in a middle seat, struggling to fall asleep, awkwardly folding yourself away from the men occupying both armrests beside you, you endure it. by the time the plane lands, your eyes burn with exhaustion and dark circles sit beneath them. the warm air greets you outside carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen.
you and shoko collect your luggage in a daze, exchanging tired glances until your attention catches on a sharply dressed man near the exit, holding a sign with both your names.
and that’s when your oasis begins.
the drive stretches along the coastline, blue water glittering beneath the afternoon sun. the mediterranean houses blur past the windows. shoko rests her cheek against her fist while you stare outside, feeling something inside your chest tighten again. what’re you even taking a vacation for?
you turn the corner into the neighborhood and your jaw drops. a villa sits at the end of the hillside like something straight out of a movie, and beyond the property is the ocean stretching endlessly, waves crashing.
“…you’re kidding,” you breathe.
shoko lets out a low whistle, stepping out of the car, “i forgot how disgustingly rich he is.”
the front doors slide open before either of you can fully process the sight, grabbing your suitcases.
“well, well, well!”
of course, the first thing you see is satoru gojo. he stands at the entrance wearing nothing but black swim shorts and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his white hair, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming royalty into his kingdom. his skin is slightly tanned, abs glistening, and veins crawling up his forearms.
“took you guys long enough,” he announces obnoxiously. “i’ve been suffering all alone.”
“you’ve been posting pool pictures for three days with everyone,” shoko deadpans.
“but we’re still missing people,” gojo rebuts.
shoko laughs despite herself, stepping forward to wrap him in a quick hug. gojo squeezes her dramatically before turning his full attention toward you, who’s still dragging your suitcase across the polished floors, gaze darting between the towering ceilings, the sweeping staircase, and the ocean visible through the open living room.
“…what the hell,” you murmur. “this is insane.”
gojo’s grin somehow widens, “i know.”
you finally look at him properly, “thanks for letting me join,” you say, sincerity slipping into your voice before you can stop it. “seriously.”
for a brief moment, he looks genuinely touched, then— “well, it’s the least i can do,” he says, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “i’ll just need significantly more praise from you and sho for being such a generous, handsome host—”
“sure,” you cut him off easily, making him pout. but you finally step closer, wrapping your arms around him in a greeting hug anyway. “thank you, satoru.”
the complaint dies in his throat. “you’re welcome,” he says quickly but sounding almost suspicious of your sincerity before recovering instantly. “see? this is why you’re my favorite guest.”
“sure,” you sarcastically hum. “I’m just guessing you say that to everyone.”
“i do not.”
“you literally called utahime your favorite yesterday on facetime,” shoko points out.
“that was an obvious lie,” gojo shrugs.
“you definitely told geto he was your favorite,” shoko adds quickly.
gojo points, “he’s my favorite best friend.”
you glance between them, exhausted laughter bubbling out of you despite the lingering ache behind your eyes. sunlight pouring through the windows.
your suitcase stands forgotten by the doorway. somewhere outside, waves crash against the shore. and as gojo continues arguing with shoko about favoritism while leading you deeper into the villa. more people start coming into view.
“ahhh!! finally!!” a familiar voice booms, suddenly seeing a blur before you’re being engulfed in a hug by utahime. “it’s been hell with just these guys!”
gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “why don’t you go ogle yuno, you perv—“
the harsh slap to his bare arm shuts him up, utahime glaring at him as she looks over her shoulder. luckily, yuno was still chatting loudly with nanami and some other guy you weren’t familiar with.
geto takes the attention as he steps in from the front door, sunglasses on and hair tied in bun. a smile immediately comes to his face when he spots more people. “it’s finally starting to feel like a vacation.”
you and shoko are taken upstairs. your suitcases bump softly against the polished tile floors as gojo launches into an overly detailed tour that neither of you retain, and something shoko’s already heard before.
but what you do manage to take in is how the villa becomes even more breathtaking the more you see of it. the arched doorways connecting the rooms, the patterned tiles lining the hallways, and carved wooden accents softening the stone walls. the villa held about eight bedrooms, and you and shoko barely process the number before finding yourselves in your room—or rather, your suite.
utahime’s presence is immediately obvious. her clothes are draped over the armchair near the balcony doors, makeup bag open across one of the dressers, bikinis and dresses laying on two of the beds, and several pairs of shoes already claimed near the closet.
“she really made herself at home,” shoko mutters.
you hum softly, too distracted by the room itself. two queen-sized beds sit beneath the exposed wooden beams, white linen curtains swaying every time the wind passes through the open balcony doors. the adjoining layout gives the three of you more than enough space, and the balcony utahime had apparently secured for the girls stretches across the back of the villa.
you wander to the open balcony before you can stop yourself, curious as to what the view is. warm air brushes against your dampened skin from the journey, but you’re immediately welcomed by the scent of salt and blooming flowers. below, you see the large pool, and then past the trees that circle the property, are terracotta rooftops of other villas, then the coastline in the distance. you can see the ocean glittering invitingly.
eventually, you peel yourself away making your way to the shower, washing away the hours of sticky travel air. the warm water loosens the knots in your shoulders, the steam clouding the mirror. by the time you emerge in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, toweling your hair dry, your body feels impossibly heavy.
the room is empty. you can hear shoko and the rest of the group outside from the open balcony. but all you can manage to do is walk across the tiled floor, barely managing to crawl onto the bed to turn of your phone alarm. your eyes struggling to stay open as you uncap your bottled water and swallow your scheduled pill. and once it goes down your throat, you toss the birth control pills back in your bag, and hit the warm sheets. you sink into the mattress with a relieved sigh.
the balcony doors remain open. the breeze filtering through the curtains. setting sun painting soft patterns across the tiled floor. and somewhere between one blink and the next, lulled by the sound of the ocean just beyond the villa walls, the exhaustion from everything finally catches up to you.
your eyes eventually drift shut.
unaware of what’s taking you so long, shoko and utahime go upstairs after an hour, freezing once they see you passed out.
“what the—“ utahime frowns. “we’re gonna go out to eat, wake up—“
utahime’s words die feeling shoko tug her out of the room.
“just let her sleep,” shoko cuts. “she’s been stressed for weeks, and i feel bad.” shoko’s voice is much softer, eyes down as utahime glances at her expression, then at the closed door.
“did something happen?” utahime’s brows are pinched.
shoko steps away from the door, shrugging, “I dunno,” a beat passes. “her sister just told me she doesn’t sleep well when she’s stressed, so just to keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t drink too much if she’s still, like,” shoko tries to find the right words. “funky, I guess. so like…this is a good chance for her to catch up on her sleep and relax a bit.”
utahime nods, immediately. “for sure. I’ll keep an eye on her too then— and we can help her destress in these next two weeks!—“ utahime suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth after she basically shouted.
shoko chuckles, but hums along.
the two had the right idea leaving you to sleep. you knocked out for the rest of the day, and by the time you wake up, the sun is only a few minutes from rising. you were slightly confused, having slept for so long. groggy, you sit up and blink around the unfamiliar room. the pale morning light filters through the open balcony doors, the curtains shifting softly with the breeze. and once you see the two other people sleeping in the room, you realize where you are.
utahime is asleep beside you, laying on her side hugging her pillow. shoko is sprawled across the other queen bed like a starfish, blanket tangled around her legs.
and you simply sit there, still waking up, until your stomach starts growling. you rub your eye, reaching for your phone, happy someone had put it in the charger.
6:02 a.m.
“…damn” you mutter to yourself, you hadn’t eaten since the shitty airplane food. careful not to wake either of them, you slide out of bed and slip out of the room.
the villa is quiet in that way when everyone’s still asleep. it’s peaceful and calming. you notice a few abandoned glasses still sitting on the kitchen island from the night before. some half-finished bags of chips on the counter and couches. through the open doors, the warm morning air drifts inside carrying the scent of the ocean.
gojo’s pretty rich to not care that all the back doors are wide open, you think.
you rummage through the mediterranean style kitchen until you find bread, cold cuts, cheese, and enough ingredients to throw together a decent sandwich. then with a plate in hand, phone tucked beneath your arm, you wander outside. the backyard overlooking the hillside below, terracotta rooftops spilling toward the ocean in the distance. the pool reflects the pale pinks and oranges beginning to stretch across the sky. and you settle onto one of the lounge chairs by the pool. your legs curl beneath you as you scroll mindlessly through your phone between bites of your sandwich.
it’s nice and quiet, and your shoulders sink further into the chair, slowly beginning to force yourself into a vacation mindset. and because of that, you don’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps crossing the brown tiled floors.
what you suddenly hear, mid-scroll, is a heavy unexpectedly loud thud of a duffle bag hitting the ground startling the living hell out of you. your heart hitting your ribs.
“…what the fuck?!”
you yelp entire body jerking, nearly tumbling off the chair as your heart launches straight into your throat. you’re still holding your sandwich, immediately whipping around to see the perpetrator.
and standing in the middle of the living room. black soccer shorts hanging low on his hips, a loose black t-shirt stretching across his shoulders. a cap resting in one hand, headphones around his neck. suitcase standing beside him, and a worn-in duffle bag abandoned at his feet….is sukuna.
he looks like he just got off a flight, slightly sweaty, slightly irritated, slightly exhausted, and unbelievably attractive. his scowl is already in place from being startled by the scream, but then he pauses once he sees you.
his eyes drag over your messy sleep-tangled hair, oversized shirt, bare legs tucked awkwardly beneath you on the lounge chair, and the bite of your sandwich still sitting in your mouth as you slowly chew. the edge of his expression shifts, not quite a smile, but something softer than his scowl.
“…the fuck are you screaming for?” he asks.
you stare at him, chewing the rest of your sandwich that flew out when your screamed. he stares back.
“…you look a mess,” you finally say through your bite.
his gaze flickers over you once more. “i think you’re looking in a mirror,” he replies flatly.
and just like that, sitting barefoot beside the pool at six in the morning with food in your mouth and your heart still hammering against your ribs, you can’t explain the way your shoulders ease a bit.
“asshole,” you reply with no bite. sukuna hums, sliding his backpack off and dropping his cap, headphones, and phone on top of his duffle before walking towards you. you swallow the bite you’d been chewing just for sukuna to kneel on the ground beside you, inspecting your sandwich.
“what is that?”
you glance at it, then down at him, your cheeks warming in seconds. he’s so close. “turkey, cheese, olives—“
“olives?” his large hand wraps around your hand, holding the sandwich.
you raise a brow, “yeah, it’s good—wha!” your eyes blow wide when he suddenly takes an obnoxiously large bite out of your sandwich. “what the hell!” you shove his shoulder back, making him loose his balance and catch himself on his annoyingly big arm, but it was too late. he’s chewing your sandwich, as you frown. “you didn’t even ask.”
“y’ didn’t look like you’d give me a bite if I asked,” sukuna speaks with his mouth full.
you scowl, “obviously, it’s mine. you can make your own, tch.”
sukuna continues chewing, still sitting back on his arm, eyes heavy as he stares up at you from your spot on the lounge chair.
you frown right back at him. even half-awake, with travel exhaustion weighing down your limbs, your expression pinches in annoyance. your brows pull together, nose wrinkling slightly, and your grip tightens around your sandwich.
his gaze lingers, “your eyes are bloodshot,” he finally says. you blink at him. “did y’ get any sleep?”
you take another pointed bite before answering, glaring at him over the edge of your sandwich, “yeah, actually. i slept the second i got here and missed dinner,” you narrow your eyes. “which means the first thing i’ve eaten since yesterday is the sandwich you freaking stole.”
sukuna scoffs, “dramatic.”
“you took half of it!” you screech lowly.
“that’s not half.”
“you have no idea what half means.”
his eyes drift downward before returning to your face. you’re sitting cross-legged on the lounge chair, turning slightly away from him now as you continue eating, subtly trying to finish it before he tries to take another bite. which he probably would do, just seeing the way he’s eyeing it.
sukuna feels a quiet tug beneath his ribs. the morning sun finally stretches over the horizon, painting gold across the pool water and catching against your soft skin. you’re still grumbling under your breath as you chew.
“you’re unbelievable,” you mutter.
he pushes himself up a little straighter beside your chair, his calloused palm rests on your bare thigh. “one more bite?” he asks.
you let out a humorless laugh, “yeah, as if.”
he lifts a brow, squeezing your thigh, “c’mon I’m starving. the plane’s breakfast was ass.”
“make your own then,” you say through another mouthful, keeping your free hand against his shoulder to keep him at arm’s length. he glances down at it, then back up at you.
annoyance flickering across his face. “seriously?”
you glance between his eyes, swallowing and taking another bite, “yeah.”
“one more bite.”
“there’s barely any left though,” you whine, keeping his shoulder back as he tries to get closer. but he clicks his tongue before wrapping his hand loosely around your wrist, pulling your palm away from his shoulder with little effort.
“selfish,” he mutters.
you nearly choke. “selfish?” you repeat, staring at him in disbelief. “you’re tryna steal my breakfast.”
“whatever,” he scowls, still holding your wrist. “I’m hungry.”
“ryomen.”
“what?”
“make your own sandwich.”
he stares at you. you stare back. then, without warning, he reaches for your wrist that holds your sandwich, making you gasp loudly, using your legs now to keep your bodies apart. “don’t—“
your free hand wiggles in his grip while he leans over, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as your horrified complaints echo through the otherwise peaceful sunrise. your body struggles as he takes control, easily manuring himself onto the lounge chair, your knee keeping him away, as the other squirms to move between your body, but hanging loosely around his torso.
“ryo pleasee,” your whine rings so clearly, he can’t contain the flip in his stomach. he stops.
your chest is rising and falling from the struggle, anxiously glancing at him, brows pinched expecting him to pull your wrist to his mouth, but he remains still. staring down at you. then at your lips. then back at your eyes.
and suddenly, your legs are loosening, heart beating against your ribs, and letting sukuna fit himself comfortably between your legs. his hand holding your free hand, carefully brushes beneath your jaw before settling against the side of your neck. it’s warm and familiar. the morning breeze lifts strands of your hair across your face, and for a second, neither of you move.
waves crash in the distance. birds calling out in the pale sky. sunlight spilling over the terrace, painting soft lines across the sharp planes of sukuna’s face. his eyes don’t leave yours, and you can feel his breath against your lips, warming a deep spot in your tummy.
“you good?” you whisper eventually, voice smaller than you intend.
his gaze flickers down again. your mouth, then back to your eyes. then groggy, and voice much deeper then before, he mutters… “been a minute.”
your stomach flips. wetting your lips unconsciously, and sukuna’s eyes sharpen at the movement, barely blinking before you feel his firm lips against yours.
the breath leaves his lungs in a quiet rush. there’s a desperation hidden beneath the steadiness he tries so hard to maintain. but his hand tightens ever so slightly where it rests against you.
your lips move in sync like muscle memory. it’s familiar and instinctive. your fingers drift upward, threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck before settling against his scalp. he releases a gentle exhale against your mouth at the contact, making your pulse stumble. sukuna leans closer without realizing it, his broad shoulders block out the morning sun as he deepens the kiss. your lips part on instinct, welcoming his tongue.
you can’t explain the urge that grows inside you the longer you kiss. the make out feels unbelievably calming, his grip tight around the lounge chair above your head, his knees digging into the seat, and his tongue swallowing your moans that have his pulse stuttering. your nails scratch at his scalp, threading through the pink locks digging gently.
“you taste like my sandwich,” you murmur with a clipped tone, tongue kissing his as he hums.
“yeah, fuck if I care,” he so easily brushes off the attitude to kiss you again. there were only two bites of your sandwich left, but you still held on to it, even as sukuna skillfully traced your bottom lip with his tongue. his hips lowering just to press his semi-bulge right against your clothed cunt, and that was enough to note the way your breath catches.
he can’t put into words how much his body needed you. just seeing you when he first walked in after his shit flight had his chest twisting, and now, kissing you…he feels every second relieving the weight on his shoulders.
your nails scratch at his scalp, tugging gently just to have him pull away, his eyes watching the way you catch your breath. lips all pretty and wet from him. eyes slightly dazed as you stare up at him, face lit softly with a healthy glow that has him leaning down again. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your bottom lip, caressing your tongue as it meets again.
“you didn’t send me any more pics,” he mutters.
your cheeks flush, nails caressing his nape. “you didn’t ask for more.”
“it should be unspoken.”
you snort, leaning closer when he pulls away, “it’s not now.”
sukuna grumbles, jaw ticking for a moment until your lips find each other again, your legs wrap around his torso, letting him put his weight on top of you, unbothered by the plane’s air that still clings to him. “give me a bite of the sandwich,” he mutters, trailing his lips down to your neck. and even if it’s been weeks, he still finds your sweet spot in seconds, nipping at it. your breath catches in your pretty throat, whining shyly when he licks the spot again with his warm tongue.
“no,” you say, managing to take another bite, doing your best to chew it as fast as you can, even with the bread being so thick, sukuna catches your wrist again. your eyes widen, watching him move your hand to his open mouth, taking the last bite.
you groan with a mouth full, eyes harsh as they glare up at him. the two of you chewing all the while his hand finds its way to your waist, slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin.
“is it too hard for you to make a sandwich?” you speak with your mouth full, swallowing bites but still chewing.
“yeah, it is,” he replies coolly.
your brow twitches in irritation. but you still can’t help the way your gaze lingers. it’s been almost two months, and somehow he looks exactly the same. however, his salmon hair has grown out just enough to brush against the nape of his neck, it’s slightly damp from the warm weather. his shoulders seem broader than you remember, his t-shirt stretching across his frame. his veins stand out beneath his sun-bronzed forearms, hands rough and familiar where they rest against the lounge chair and your bare waist.
even sitting there, lazy and half-awake from travel, there is something unfairly imposing about him. it’s all familiar, but it could be the distance apart that has you pointing out the sharp tattoos again, the intimidating size difference, and the quiet confidence of him, painfully aware of what his body does to you.
your eyes drift over the dark tattoos peeking beneath his sleeves and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. his beefy thighs crowding the edge of the chair when he shifts, solid beneath his worn soccer shorts. he’s inconveniently attractive, stealing your sandwich like a jerk, familiar arrogance seeping with each glance your way, and his typical scowl…but still, your fingers almost ache with the remembered habit of tracing his inked skin beneath your fingertips, wanting to hear the low huff he’d give you in response.
you don’t miss him…but you do miss this pull of wanting someone who always feels just out of reach, but still appears right in front of you when you need him most.
“good-fuckin’-sandwich,” he finally swallows, licking his lips. he leans down with little effort, and high confidence, pressing his lips to yours again. body moving on top of you, rolling his hips down just to hear your little hiccup, your hand suddenly presses against his shoulder, pushing. he barely moves, but he does pause, pulling away enough to keep his face hovering close. “what? you mad I took the last bite?”
you roll your eyes, ready to respond when your stomach suddenly pierces the air with a loud grumble.
the sound has the frat boy freezing, glancing down. your lips part, cheeks flaring, glancing away as sukuna sits up just a little. “you seriously didn’t eat anything?”
“I told you I haven’t eaten,” you tsk, cheeks inflamed from the sound, desperately trying to ignore the caresses of sukuna’s hand under your shirt, thumb brushing your torso, suddenly pushing the material of t-shirt higher revealing more of your torso.
the air grows awkwardly uncomfortable, neither of you saying a word, and him not responding has you growing slightly more aware of the position he has you in. you don’t want to address it, you seriously, strongly, want to ignore how he’d just made himself comfortable with touching you after being apart for weeks. but that sudden thought as you pushing yourself up.
your hand climbs up his chest, curling your fist around his collar. and with little resistance, you tug him towards you.
“I’ll make another sandwich,” you mutter, your pretty chest rising with each breath. “you can keep kissing me…” his eyes flick between yours, they’re heavy with either exhaustion, lust, or both, but then you whisper the precious words he’s been dreaming of hearing this close, with your warmth wrapping around him, and your scent making his head spin… “please, ryo.”
his lips twitch up, arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close from under your shirt. then your heart skips a beat. his head tucks down to your shoulder, burying his face there, pulling you to his chest.
your lips part, cheeks burning hot as he hugs you closer. his fingers dig possessively around your waist, bicep flexing around.
the summer breeze wraps around you. heart beating aggressively against your chest. fingers twitching trapped between your bodies, his hot breath fans against your neck. seagulls fly above you, the sky clear as day. but none of it can be fully processed, not when sukuna is hugging you like it’s been years since you’ve seen each other.
“r—“ you stop yourself when a warm kiss is pressed against your neck. then another. his hand brushes up and down your warm torso, making you always aware of his presence. slowly trailing kisses up your neck, subtly inhaling more of your flowery scent.
his cheeks sting, and he feels the heat crawl up his neck as his bulge grows harder. but he doesn’t stop peppering your burning skin with wet kisses. he pays a certain spot with more attention, sucking just a bit harder, smiling subtly when he hears your cute hiccup-like-moan.
“y’know,” he mutters against your skin, sucking another light hickey on your pretty neck, barely noticeable. he doesn’t wait for you to respond, your fingers twitching at his waist, holding his shirt. “I’ve been thinking’ bout how you got naked in your car,” your cheeks sting as the memory resurfaces quickly. “and how you fingered this pussy ‘cause I asked ya too,” you don’t have to look at him to hear the devilish smile he’s sporting. “then you fucking knocked over the phone when you came.”
your lips part in a quiet gasp, “it was an accident—“
he tsks, “still.” you blush. “I wanted to see it.” his hand brushes higher, unbothered by how he’s pushing your shirt up, revealing your lower back to the warm air. your skin is just so soft under his rough palm, and you fit perfectly against him. “you’ve been teasing me.”
your eyes go wide, “me?!—haah—“
the moan has your face bursting into flames, his teeth sink into your neck. your hand finding its way to his bicep, nails digging in, as he licks the mark he leaves. his lips skim up your neck, warm breath fanning gently until your lips are parting to inhale the same air.
“yeah, you,” his eyes flick over your lips. “with that call, and the one before that, and your photo.” he wets his bottom lip, a sinister smirk exposing his sharp canines. and in that moment you feel like he’d swallow you whole any second. “and now you’re lounged out here waiting for me.”
that’s when a a loud scoff leaves your lips. cheeks aflame. “as if. I didn’t even know when you were coming. it’s a coincidence.”
a disbelieving hum resounds from his throat. “so you were camped out here in these little shorts,” he tugs the hem of your shorts. “and this shirt wearing nothing underneath, for who then?”
you raise a brow, amused by him, forearm casually resting on his shoulder as you look back at him. “would you believe me if I said it was for me?”
he clicks his tongue.
you hum, glancing away for entertainment, free hand coming up to your chin. sukuna sits still, surprisingly patient, almost like you both have all the time in the world. it was unnervingly attractive. but you still decide to tease him, amused by the thought so you say it.
“then it was for satoru.”
and the moment that name leaves your lips, the reaction is far from what you’ were expecting. sukuna’s once calm features shift into a sudden disgusted scowl. the expression catches you so off guard that you suddenly burst out laughing, right in his face.
“fuck outta my face,” he spits.
you laugh even louder, hand coming up to your mouth trying to control yourself. “what? you don’t believe me?”
your push has sukuna rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. “playin’ in my face.”
“pleaseeee,” you cackle, adjusting yourself higher, waving a hand in front of him. “I was—I meant to say it’s for suguru.”
you visibly see the twitch in his eye, and that has you laughing louder hitting his chest as your head falls back. “I’m DEAD, you’re actually killing me!!” your laughing is so loud it irks him how much you’re getting a kick out of his reaction. he also ignores how cute your stupid laugh is after not hearing for so long. “cmon, it’s no biggy, wearing this skimpy little thing for my suguru.”
“your suguru,” sukuna spits back, disgust laced in every word.
you nod, bitting your top lip as you hold in your laughter, even if your eyes are laughing. “it makes sense, since me and him are sharing a room.”
his body suddenly goes dead still. “you’re fucking with me.”
his tone has you laughing louder, unaware how much that bothered the footballer. “you don’t believe me?”
sukuna rolls his eyes, loosening his jaw as he exhales through his nose. “daamn, relax ryo.” you coo, hand coming up to squish his cheeks. “tough month? you can’t take my little jokes anymore?” your faux pout has him scowling immediately, but his cock jumps at the expression.
“ragebait,” he mutters. you softly snort, smile lighting up your face, then your pretty head tilts for him. so fucking pretty.
“aww, that wasn’t my intention,” you coo.
the lie has sukuna scoffing, eyes flickering between your insincere doe eyes, and it tickles an itch deep in his core. “I was just playing with you,” you playfully squish his cheeks again, watching the way his lips purse together. he’s so cute.
his hands rest on your waist, staring straight into your eyes, and he unknowingly allows you to mess with him. enough that a string tugs at his chest.
“you mad?” your lips part slightly when he doesn’t respond, your eyes still holding a playful spark in them.
“yeah.”
it was a detectable lie that has your pretty lips pulling into a smile you can’t control. “yeah?” you’ve seriously grown confident in your time apart, and it’s unbelievably attractive. “but I thought it was pretty funny. you can’t be mad about that, can you?”
your thumb brushes the morning shadow on his chin, the stubble beyond attractive. but sukuna is too busy clicking his tongue at you to notice the way you’re checking him out whilst pushing his buttons. “I can. do you see me laughing with ya?”
you purse your lips, smile spilling out wide. you shake your head, then you push yourself up. your pretty legs are loose around his hips, your fingers gently curling under his chin, wetting your bottom lip with a soft hum.
“I don’t,” your voice is low, sweet. his jaw tenses slightly, waiting for you to act, and surprisingly you catch it. and you start smiling again. “you’re so patient, ryo.”
his breath catches, covering it with a loud, offended scoff. “maybe finish your sentences,” he snaps. “y’ keep fucking trailing off.”
you smile, leaning close to his face. breath warm against his lips. “I just answered you though,” you trail off again, purposefully. your lips hover over his, slowing your breath, lashes fluttering like a subtle seductress. and it works. he leans closer, wanting your warmth to encompass him even more. his cheeks a stained dark pink as you exhale softly. “you just like listening to me…don’t you?”
your smile is unbelievably beautiful, but his remains still, glaring at you through his dark lashes. his thick brow quirks. “i don’t remember ya being this cocky,” he mutters and there isn’t much heat behind the insult.
your smile only widens, “I didn’t realize how easy you make it,” you coo softly.
his brow twitches, “don’t flatter yourself.”
“mm.” your fingers drift along the collar of his shirt, eyeing the tattoos that peak, then meeting his crimson gaze again. “too late.”
the morning breeze curls around the two of you, the scent of salt and sunscreen drifts through the quiet villa. the pool glitters behind him and still, neither of you moves away.
his eyes drag over your expression, lingering on the curve of your smile and the amusement brightening your face. he’d spent weeks listening to your voice through a phone speaker, catching glimpses of you through photos and stories, and now that you’re here, he finds himself unable to take his hands off you.
you tilt your head. “what?” you ask, trying and failing to sound innocent.
“you’re annoying,” he cuts.
“but…” you lean closer, your lips brushing his, and he barely reacts. “you haven’t asked me to stop.”
something shifts behind his eyes. the confidence in your expression flickers for half a second, replaced by something softer, and something he sure as shit brushes away. but the teasing quiets just enough for his stomach to twist.
“tell me ryo,” you murmur quietly, voice just above a whisper. the sweetness drips into his ear like honey. his cock straining in his shorts, unable to control his body’s reaction to you. “you like being teased…right?”
his mouth twitches. “you fucking with me again?”
you slowly shake your head, staring into his eyes, twirling his hair around your finger. “you can tell me,” you tug at his hair lightly. “I don’t judge.”
he’s leaking for sure. the clear outline of his cock would be embarrassing if he wasn’t packing. and even with how obviously turned on he is, how flushed his ears are, and how blown his pupils have gotten. he still manages to hold his composure, and bite back a shit eating grin.
“cute,” his arm tightens around your waist, the other dragging up your thigh, pushing up your shorts. his bulge is pressing directly onto your shorts, and his sharp canines almost make him look animalistic. “I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.”
you hum, dragging the sound in faux innocence, lashes batting up at him, almost making him release a pathetic noise. “what am doing? I thought I was creating a safe space for you,” you coo.
“don’t play dumb.”
you shrug, face still close, and fingers still playing with the ends of his hair, the other squeezing his bicep. “I’m not.“
and once your eyes glance over the scowl that flickers across his face, your unable to control your reaction. you laugh softly against the small space separating you, and the sound seems to snap whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to.
you make a startled sound against him, one that quickly melts into something softer when he kisses you harder than before. his brows knit together, expression caught between irritation and want.
he completely steals the breath from your lungs. all the teasing from the last several minutes dissolves into something far less careful. the laughter lingering on your lips disappears beneath the press of his mouth, your fingers tangling tighter in the ends of his hair as he forces his tongue to meet yours. and the moment your tongues make contact, a guttural groan comes from the back of his throat. the sound is muffled against your lips, but the way you feel the warmth pool between your legs is immediate.
he doesn’t care anymore. his mind has wrapped itself around you, the familiarity of your lips, the warmth of your body, and the soft edges of your aura, it all has him melting. and it doesn’t take long for him to press his fully erect cock right against your shorts. rutting.
a squeak escapes your pretty lips at the first roll of his hips. jaw falling agape at the stimulation. the sunrise paints everything gold around you, warm light spilling across the pool deck while the rest of the villa remains asleep. and as exhausted as sukuna is from his flight, he physically can’t stop his body from rutting into you like a dog in heat.
his tongue is thick and hot, slowly stroking your lips passionately until you’re meeting the wet muscle with your own. your whine is muffled, arms latched around his shoulders, as he hooks your leg over his arm, humping your clothed pussy.
“we should fuck,” he mutters between kisses, grinding even harder, stimulating his cock. “yeah?” his hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh, kissing your bottom lip with haste. “everyone’s sleeping, I got a condom in my bag—“
a choked groan slips out of his throat when you tug his hair, his pupils twice their normal size. cheeks flushed a dark red, and his body unable to pull away from you. he doesn’t want to address how quickly you turn him on, or how much he craved your touch after being away from you for so long—no, none of it crosses the front of his mind when you’re under him, hands caressing his nape, lips glossy and swollen from kissing, and dark lashes batting up at him like you know everything. “you haven’t showered.”
he kisses down your neck, grinding slower, reminding you what he’s asking for. “I don’t smell that bad.” he unintentionally presses his face against your nape, inhaling. “fuck, but you smell so fucking good.”
your lips part momentarily, cheeks flushed. you feel him kiss the warm skin of your neck. he trails back to your lips, hand wrapping gently around your neck, tilting your chin up with a thumb, kissing you deeper, if possible.
it was a scene. and it was one that gojo was waking up to. his blue eyes are still heavy with sleep, white hair sticking in every direction, as he wanders down the staircase in nothing but a pair of shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. one hand disappears beneath the hem of his shirt as he scratches absentmindedly at his chest, the other reaching automatically for the carton of orange juice waiting in the fridge.
the villa is quiet. the open screens let the morning breeze drift through the house, sunlight spilling across the floors and stretched toward the living room, where a duffle bag and suitcase had been abandoned carelessly near the entrance. gojo blinks, his gaze moves from the luggage to the open patio doors, then stops. “…oh.”
outside, beneath the morning blue sky, was a certain someone hidden behind one of the lounge chairs overlooking the pool, and sukuna was right on top of her. the two of you were obviously making out, his head bent toward yours, your hand buried somewhere near the ends of his pink hair, his broad shoulders blocking part of your frame from view, and his lower body was rocking against yours.
gojo stared, lifting the orange juice to his mouth, then lowering it. “…they’re still not dating,” he murmured to absolutely no one.
“what are you doing?” nanami’s voice breaks through the silence making gojo glance over briefly. fresh out of bed himself, nanami is halfway through pulling a shirt over his head, pajama pants slung low against his waist, catching a brief sight of his dark blonde happy trail, as he walks into the kitchen, following gojo’s line of sight. his steps slowed. “oh.”
gojo points toward the patio, “they’re not dating.”
nanami yawns, moving toward the fridge anyway.“i went to bed early,” he said. “did he get here last night?”
gojo shakes his head immediately, finally twisting the cap off the orange juice. “nope. he literally just got here. i got the notification from the security.” nanami pauses, glancing over his shoulder again, then toward the abandoned bags in the living room, then back outside.
“…they’re that comfortable with each other?” the question slips out before he can stop it.
gojo snorts, “or they’re just ridiculously attracted to each other,” he shrugs. “but they’re definitely not dating.”
nanami raises a brow thoughtfully. “did they not have sex with anyone else if they’re jumping each other like that now?” gojo tilts his head in genuine surprise. nanami’s eyes linger on the scene outside.
maybe it’s instinct or it the unmistakable feeling of being watched, because outside, sukuna’s gaze lifts. his sharp crimson eyes slide toward the villa without warning and land directly on the blue and honey-colored pair staring back at him from the kitchen. the silence stretches, until gojo slowly raises his carton of orange juice in greeting.
your brows quirk seeing sukuna’s suddenly pulling away and scowling over your shoulder. that’s when you decide to stick your head out, brows quirking at gojo and nanami both standing in the kitchen.
“didn’t mean to interrupt the streamy sesh,” gojo calls out casually, nanami glancing at him in annoyance. “you guys can continue.”
you snort, pressing a hand to sukuna’s chest, just for the hot head to sit back on his knees, glaring at his friends. “damn, but you kinda made me loose my appetite though,” you say stepping away from sukuna to stand up. his eyes follow you, jaw tightening as gojo cackles loudly from the house.
“whaaaat—but don’t you guys miss each other? I didn’t wanna ruin the reunion,” gojo lightly teases, unknowingly hitting a nerve as sukuna tsks, and you surprisingly raise a brow.
“you’re not ruining anything,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at sukuna who’s still sat on the lounge chair, hand over his bulge. “we were jus’ talking.”
gojo smirks, nodding sarcastically, “yeah, for sure. must’ve been the wind then.”
you sarcastically cringe, shrugging. “ah, must’ve been.” you don’t break a sweat as you walk further into the house passing by the boys as you make your way up the stairs, leaving them behind. and even with your heart beating erratically, and your face sweltering. you keep your composure until you’re out of sight.
as for sukuna…he remains seated, quiet, and unbelievably pissed off. nanami finds it slightly amusing, while gojo is snorting loudly. “that’s how much you wanna get in her pants—I just got the notification that you walked in and you’re already tryna fuck her—jeez.”
sukuna scowls, standing up. the irritation dripping from his being as he slips a hand into his shorts, tucking his erection up. “since when do you fucking cockblock me?” he snaps, walking into the house.
gojo’s hands fly up in defense, “you’re the ones that stopped. I was just drinkin’ my juice here.”
“he was watching,” nanami casually corrects, earning another shrug from gojo. sukuna clicks his tongue, and it prompts nanami to follow up with the only question swimming in his head. “are you guys dat—“
“no.”
the room falls silent.
sukuna picks up his duffle bag. his sharp eyes find the two men, and he utters his next words, with little thought, only wanting to end any further discussion on a subject he has little care to address with outsiders.
“we fuck. and I’m gonna fuck her again. and that’s my deal with her.”
his harsh tone is followed by a low whistle from the white haired man. and though sukuna walks away from them fully believing he put an end to whatever assumptions they insisted on making. because whatever existed between you and him has always been simple, physical, and convenient. except…
later that week, the simplicity shakes just a bit. when your arms lock around his torso, fingers twisting desperately into the back of his soaked shirt, refusing to let go. face pressed against his chest, eyes rimmed raw, breaths breaking apart into uneven pieces as your entire body trembles against him. the rain coming down harshly, drenching the quiet street and soaking through your skin and fabric.
and sukuna can only stare over your head into the empty street. his arms tighten around you without fully realizing what he’s doing it. his veins straining beneath his skin because you won’t stop shaking. your nails digging into him.
“don’t…” your voice is strained, the softness still shining through even in the state you’re in. “don’t push me away yet.”
his jaw clenches.
“please.”
a/n: watch you guys burn me alive after this. no joke, this shit was gonna be longer but I reached the line count limit on tumblr so I had to cut the scene short and add a sneak peak into next chapter.
chp 9 will have more yummy smut and angst. and I don’t wanna spoil, but *wink *wink, reader has been taking those birth control pills for a little over a month now 😛
shouta has a love and hate relationship with your panties.
you've caught him multiple times in the act - the delicate lace wrapped around his cock, hand pumping furiously at his shaft when you just happened to arrive home earlier than expected. if you were absent, it was regular routine for your horny and desperate boyfriend.
if he couldn't immerse himself in your natural scent immediately, he'd dig out a pair of your used panties. if you've left him alone for too long, there's a high chance of him tarnishing a newer pair with fresh cum - because how dare you.
in times of personal stress, he can't stand the sight of them on you for too long. not when they're the only thing in the way when he's ready to bend you over the kitchen counter and hike up that darling mini dress of yours. but most of the time, he's a gentleman and is perfectly content with pulling the fabric to the side to get a pristine view of your gorgeous pussy.
the more sadistic side of him is absolutely a "eat it with the panties on" type of guy. sit on his face for thirty minutes and let that thin barrier drive him fucking crazy. his mouth and tongue are so familiar with your pussy that he can easily stimulate you just as good.
for every cum stained and ripped pair, just ask him for his credit card. not once will he deny you - especially when those new panties are surely getting destroyed in the future at some point.
katsuki just stepped foot through the door, hero suit still on and you’re already on him, kissing his cheeks, corners of his mouth, his neck, anywhere before you sink down to the ground. he grumbles at you, leaning against the door as you tug his pants down, pumping him to life before you bring his tip to your mouth.
“just got home and you already got my cock down your throat.” he clicks his tongue at you.
you ignore him and keep sucking, loving the heavy feeling of him on your tongue, he’s so warm, tastes so good, everything you were missing all day. you scoot closer and accidentally slide against his boot and moan around him. he taps his boot and your mind short circuits. you start grinding against his boot, gasping around him at the friction.
“should see yourself.” he buries a hand in your hair. “needy little cockslut humping against my boot.” he guides you back to his dick.
you swallow him back down, gagging and looking up at him with hearts in your eye as he starts to fuck your face. you hump against his boot faster, chasing the pleasure building in your tummy and moaning wildly around him as spit bubbles and dribbles out of the corners of your mouth.
he’s fucking your face fast and mean, little stars start to form in your vision and you get lightheaded but you’re just in heaven looking up at him and giving him everything. your hips are desperately rolling against his and all it takes is a couple taps of his boot and mean words and you’re cumming hard and messy all over his hero boots.
“fuck you’re nasty.” he pants, slamming to the back of your throat and coating it with his cum and a low groan. he pulls out and looks down at you gasping for air and holding onto his thighs. “c’mon, not done with you.”
feat quarterback!toji x camgirl chem partner!reader
summary: Toji Fushiguro considers himself a very generous man, especially after using part of his D1 quarterback paycheck towards his favorite camgirl. If anything, he's a patron of the arts: dedicated, curious, and always ready for the next big thing. So when he finds out his quiet little chem partner has the same bedroom as his idol? Well... color him intrigued.
content: MDNI 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, camgirl!reader, chem partner!reader, quarterback!toji, fratboy!toji fanboy!toji, jjk college au, no use of “y/n”, prn with a ridiculous amount of plot, oral (m!receiving, f!receiving), piv, squírtíng, dumbification, toji has a biiiiig d, dáddy k!nk, size k!nk, brééding, etc.
word count: 10.1k (i don't play abt this man)
author's note: all credits of the above pictures go to their creators. The left-most picture is from thatsallitchief on X or tiktok. If anyone knows the artist of the right-most picture let me know so I can tag them!
toji's pre-game playlist: gemstone - don toliver, homecoming - lil uzi vert, don't kill the party - ty dolla $ign, love me - lil wayne, you - don toliver, nightcrawler - travis scott
These were intense times.
The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed.
There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft.
As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses.
It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk.
Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones.
As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf.
Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field.
His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table.
He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer.
Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls.
She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself.
And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts.
His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded.
“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”.
Part one?!
He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one.
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The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20.
And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name.
“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”
He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty.
But in the lecture hall? Well…
His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II.
He was truly a lost cause.
He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never).
So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago.
At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast.
Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you.
And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter.
It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.
In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.
“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”
It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.
You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.
He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.
He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him.
His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter.
Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”
You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen.
For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.
What the fuck?
He took your phone.
“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”
He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones.
“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”
He hated how his dick twitched at your words.
But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.
He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake!
His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”
You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!
And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.
After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.
He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.
You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday.
The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission.
And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill.
He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.
Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days.
And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days.
“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both.
You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe.
He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…
“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare.
“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power.
You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!
You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache.
The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?”
He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly.
You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips.
“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you.
He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag.
“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”
And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest.
A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand.
“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.”
His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away.
“It’s a small place,” you warned.
He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”
He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them.
You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”
For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world.
All he could do was swallow and nod.
He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door.
The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road.
Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row.
The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen.
Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.
And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.
He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–
He coughed lightly.
What was he thinking?
As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine.
Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.
It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.
“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table.
You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down.
He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room.
And, holy shit.
No.
There was genuinely no way in hell.
He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it.
His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body?
Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.
His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it.
Everything looked familiar.
Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–
“Can I help you?”
You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours.
You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.
And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words.
All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.
“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??”
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He scoured through every single video and rewatched every single clip that night.
The furniture, the decor, the walls, the window placement: everything was the same.
And so, the verdict was in: you–his quiet, guarded, asocial, and steely chem partner–were none other than stargiirl herself.
What. The. Fuck.
It was confusing to wrap his head around, this whole stargiirl-chemgirl business. But would he go as far to say that it wasn’t attractive? That he didn’t pop a boner every time he thought about it?
No. He couldn’t. He’d never.
Was this divine intervention or his own personal hell?
He couldn’t tell.
What does this mean? How should he act? What does he fucking do with this information now?
He rubbed his temples before running a tense hand through his hair. At the same time, a notification popped up on his computer.
“Check out a new post from stargiirl_xx !”
He could feel the blood in his veins thumping against his skin.
“Don’t do it. Please don’t fucking do it-” he mumbled.
He tapped into the link despite himself.
“Lessons In Vibration Pt II”
He wordlessly clicked the play button on the video.
For a moment, he thought his screen was buffering. The camera was set up to look out onto your bed, though you were not in frame yet, presumably twiddling with the settings of your camera.
But when you finally did walk into view, his heart nearly imploded.
The frame only showed you from the mouth down, your identity mainly concealed. You were bottomless, bare legs walking across the floor as you situated yourself on your bed. The only piece of clothing you did have on was an overlarge sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, one that he, in his panicked daze to get out of your apartment earlier, forgot he had left behind.
He didn’t dare breathe, nor could he move. His head was craned so close to his computer, as if he wanted to go through the screen itself just to get a better look.
He noted how his hoodie fell past your ass, large and consuming and honestly? So fuckin’ perfect on you.
You were nearing the end of your normal introduction, and he realized you spoke differently on video, low and confident and sensual and hypnotic.
“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about my content throughout the years,” your hands started to draaag the bottom of his hoodie up, letting it bunch just slightly above the dip of your waist, enunciating your curves. “-And I’ve realized I’ve never had a partner during any of them.”
The comments on the side bar started to flood through, hundreds of viewers already volunteering themselves to be your +1.
His jaw ticked, hard.
“I think,” you leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. Toji gripped onto his computer until a faint pop! could be heard of one of the inner screws coming loose. “I think I would like to change that in the future,” and then you smiled, really smiled, a full, playful grin wiping across your features in a way he had never been able to see in person before.
His dick bobbed in his pants.
This could not be happening to him right now.
You continued, “but for now, welcome back to my Lessons in Vibrations series.”
He watched as you started introducing the toys you would be using today, before you slowly began to touch yourself, teasingly showing glimpses of the purple lace panties you had on underneath his hoodie.
And he couldn’t help it, really.
Because when you started rubbing your vibrator against your clit, your deft fingers plunging skillfully into your cunt, soft whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy started squelching out a fucking melody – all while wearing his fuckin’ sweatshirt – what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
His sweats were already halfway down his thighs, and his meaty hand greedily pumping his own cock in sync to you fucking yourself on your fingers.
He watched hungrily as you pushed his sweatshirt up further along your body, exposing your stomach, teasing the view of your bare tits. He bit back a groan at the thought of your scent lingering in the fabric, and prayed to whatever deity above that you wouldn’t wash it out before he got it back.
Below, your fingers languidly teased the head of your vibrator against your entrance. It was the insertable kind, with a slender tip and curved body, the type that had your hole trying to suck up the device with every rub against your dripping slit.
He could feel the veins in his cock pulsing hotly in anticipation, pushing up thick pearls of precum out onto his flared tip.
He wondered what it would be like to slip his shaft against your drenched pussy lips, to massage the underside of his cockhead against the tight ring of your entrance, to feel you squeezing around him, and to hear the sounds you would make just for him.
He gulped, cool sweat starting to form on his brow. You were beginning to fuck the device into you, pumping the vibrator in and out and in and out. He could see your legs trembling, your juices starting to uncontrollably splash outside of you, and your pussylips fluttering with every bzzz bzz bzzzzzt of the vibrator fucking and swirling and massaging into your g-spot.
He was matching your pace, furiously pumping his dick, thinking about how you looked on all fours earlier, thinking about how you smiled when you called him his name, thinking about how you look when you concentrate and the mole above your brow, thinking about the coffee you made for him and the weird shitposts you sent and the way you could look at him like he was nothing, and everything, all at the same time.
And suddenly, he wasn’t climaxing to the stargiirl he had always seen on screen.
It was his tough, quiet, calm chem partner.
And as he shot hot spurts of thick, ropey cum all the way from his dick to his chin (the most he’s ever released before), he realized only one thing.
He just finished to the thought of you.
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Toji Fushiguro had a problem.
No, scratch that.
He had a fucking crisis.
It was drill day, and his head was absolutely nowhere near the turf. He fumbled balls, missed targets, and was a full thirty-seconds under his usual sprint times.
And that was only how one of his practices went this week.
It had been five whole days since he last saw you.
Five days of being dogshit at his sport.
Five days of holing up in his frat, avoiding campus, avoiding class, avoiding your texts, avoiding you.
It’s not like he wanted to do this, but he didn’t know what to do, how to act, or what to even say.
How could he talk to you casually while knowing he’s given probably a third of his checks to you? How could he be normal in your presence knowing that he’s watched every single one of your streams, and in turn has finished an embarrassing amount of times to each of them?
How could he trust himself when the thought of you alone had his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt? Or how his chest squeezed so tight he almost went to urgent care, just because you texted asking where he’s been and if he was okay?
How could he face you, knowing that he somehow developed the largest, fattest, most egregious fuckin’ crush on you?!
And, for the record, Toji Fushiguro did not do crushes. He hadn’t necessarily “ran through” the entire roster of available chicks on campus, but he did have an occasional fling, nothing serious, nothing long, nothing that would distract him from football and his dreams.
He was known as the campus heartthrob and heartbreaker. He was Mr. Non-Chalant, Mr. Everybody-Wants-A-Piece-of-Him, and Mr. I-Don’t-Get-Attached all wrapped up in one 6’4, 230 lbs body.
A crush? That was new, unexplored territory for him.
He stared down at your last texts to him.
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:03pm): i got us a nice spot!! im sitting on 2nd floor @ clark ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Ba-dump!
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:18pm): knock knock, is mr. toji theree
Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
⭐️ (Thursday, 12:56pm): hey, is everythin ok? r we still on for today?
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–
⭐️ (Saturday, 10:01am): r u alive
It physically sickened him that he couldn’t get his cowardly fingers to just fucking write back. But every time he opened up your text chain, all he could do was stare.
Which is exactly why he couldn’t see you yet.
He needed time.
He needed space.
He needed to get this shit under control.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, the Kappa Epsilon fraternity was throwing a rager tonight. With the group of men only one week out from the next bracket of playoffs, this would be the last night the football frat would get to drink together for a while if they were to make it to the finals.
It would be the perfect distraction.
About an hour or so into the party and he was buzzed. He absolutely demolished that shithead Ryomen in beer pong, crushed a pack of PBRs, and now was cooling off in the kitchen, his body feeling swimmy and light.
He reached for his phone. Maybe, just maybe, if he looked at your messages again for the umpteenth time today, maybe he would know what to say, maybe he–
“Ah, so you can come out and party but ignore all of my texts?”
His heart did that stupid thing where it pounded so hard against his chest he wondered if his ribs bruised.
Despite the booming of the bass coming from the room over, and the idle chatter of randoms idling in the kitchen, he could hear the dry, unimpressed, and entirely too familiar voice coming directly from behind him.
He turned, his eyes lowering to find you, as if it was muscle memory, as if it was his second nature.
You never showed up to these parties (and trust, he has invited you to them all). Yet here you were, your body leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest, and your hair falling around your frame.
He grinned, the buzz in his head making it easy for a stupidly cheeky and wide and boyish smile to plaster onto his face. (a/n: toji has a hung smile. Okay? Okay.).
“Hey, party animal,” he said, almost dreamily.
The top you wore clung to you like a second skin, accentuating the swells of your breasts and the dip of your waist: features that you usually hid underneath your normal, bulkier campus-attire.
He was indecisive, his eyes bouncing between the unreadable look on your face to the sliver of exposed skin right above your miniskirt.
You looked good, really fuckin’ good.
Your eyes widened, before your cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of red, your manicured fingers tightening around the plastic solo cup you were holding
Did he say that outloud?!
You straightened, steeling yourself, willing the warmth in your cheeks to go away. “You’ve ignored me for five days, Fushiguro-” your voice was firm and cool, cutting sharply through the noise of the party.
Back to the last name basis.
You looked away, before adding, “-and you ditched me on Thursday.” You spoke that last part softly, deliberately, a look of sadness flashing briefly in your pretty, doe-like eyes.
A dull pang rippled through his chest.
He knew the implications of your words – the two of you never missed a meetup since this whole “deal” started.
And, like those days in the libraries or cafes where he found himself sitting before you, following your every word and direction, he now found himself moving towards you, a small pout forming on his scarred lips, as his strong arms caged you in until you were wedged between himself and the counter.
And, you knew he was huge before.
But now, up close, you realized just how large he was - his broad shoulders obscuring your view, his muscular chest rippling under the tight black shirt he wore, and his huge hands riddled with veins that climbed up, up, up his forearms.
He was overwhelming and all-consuming, surrounding your senses with the kind of intensity only he alone could pull off. You breathed in, your chest rising, fighting against the cotton of your ill-fitting top. He smelled of fresh pine and warm leather, clean and raw and manly.
You came here pissed, but now found your resolve completely fogged and muddled.
He leaned forward, dipping his head low, until his shaggy fringe tickled softly against the shell of your ear.
You knew he had been drinking, but the question was, did he know what he was doing right now? Was this purposeful? Was this real? You couldn’t quite tell, but the way his breath stuttered as his nose traced light patterns into your neck, the way he was breathing you in, and the way his hands periodically clenched onto the countertop as if to restrain himself, told you he was at least semi aware of what he was doing.
Your heart was hammering in your chest. The two of you never stood this close before, let alone touched each other.
You turned your head slightly, trying to put at least some ounce of space between your face and his.
But for him? That just would not do.
He slowly pulled away from your neck, his nose lightly mapping a path from the base of your neck, across the soft expanse of your cheek, to the tip of your own. Noses brushing, breaths mingling, chests heaving, and hearts pounding as his scarred lips hovered your glossed ones.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
The air between you was warm and thick, charged with something tender and so deeply intimate.
“Because you scare me,” he mumbled.
“Oh, really?” Your mouth twitched.
“Mm.” He nodded once, nose rubbing softly against yours in an eskimo kiss. You could see how his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips dangerously close to pressing against yours.
“‘Think ya cursed me.” His neck flushed red, his low voice was barely above a whisper.
“I can go-”
“Don’t.”
And then his large hands were latching onto your waist, the heat of his skin searing through the thin material of your skirt.
“Don’t. Don’tDon’tDon’t.” His brows scrunched together, his face becoming serious. “Don’t go. Don’t leave. Not when you’re here, with me, pretty girl.”
You breathed, taking your time to steady your voice after hearing the pet name roll off his tongue. “Then what should I do?”
“Stay.”
It was as simple as that, really.
And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft and commanding. He kissed you like you were sin, drinking you in, savoring you on his tongue, before inevitably, always inevitably, going back for more. He didn’t let you breathe; he wouldn’t. He was greedy and wrong and possessive, claiming your mouth like it was his alone to conquer. Your knees weakened as his tongue massaged against yours addictively, molding against you like you were made for him; like he was made for you.
Your hands moved before you could think, before you could decide if you were angry with him or if you hungered for him. You found purchase on his broad shoulders, before making your way up, up, up to his neck, one hand running through his dark hair while the other held onto the underside of his strong jaw, thumb gently caressing the scar on the side of his mouth, pulling him in.
He pressed into you further, your ass hitting the lower counter. His body was flush against yours, his chest purposefully rubbing against your tits.
He could feel your nipples hardening through the flimsy cotton of your top, and he couldn’t stop the sleazy grin that was forming on his face.
Below, his grip on you was gentle but firm, bringing your body to press and grind against his in an unhurried, languid way, like he had all the time in the world, like all of this was fated from the start.
And his fingers, oh his fingers, which spanned across your hip, slowly found their way to your ass, gripping and cupping and kneading into the soft, jiggly flesh.
You could feel something move against your thigh, something sturdy and heavy and completely fucking monstruous.
“Haah-” you shakily sighed out, breathy and dazed as you looked down to the outline of his bulge. Your eyes widened.
“I like when you use that smart mouth, y’know,” he was talking against your lips, not able to find it in himself to pull away. His hand slid up the side of your waist, until he stopped right underneath your breast, his thumb rubbing against the underside of where it started to swell.
His voice dropped an octave lower, whispering to you like it was a secret. “Talk to me. Break this curse. Tell me it’s not just me that feels like this.”
Please.
His heart was racing. He was stone cold sober. This was it. This was his admission.
ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–
You breathed.
The party raged on in the background, muddled and distant, like his ears were submerged under water–
“It’s not just you, Toji.”
Your voice was quiet, your cheeks tinted rouge, your pretty eyes looking up at him in earnest.
And that was all he needed.
He picked you up like you were nothing (his bench was 350 lbs, squat 600 lbs, and his hip thrusts? don’t even worry ‘bout it), a smug, victorious grin tugging at his scarred lips.
He carried you out of the kitchen, and a steady stream of wolf whistles and howls erupted from his frat brothers and party goers as the two of you made your way across the foyer, up the stairs, and towards a bedroom. His bedroom.
He carried you inside, keeping the lights off, letting the warm glow of the streetlamp beside his window spill softly across the room. Without a word, he set you down on his large king-sized bed.
The air in his room was tender and still. You could hear the faint bass of the stereo downstairs, vibrating against his wooden floors like a heartbeat. The distant cheers of the crowd down below faded to quiet as he pressed his mouth to your own.
He leisurely climbed over you, never breaking the kiss, his muscular arms holding his body above your own.
It didn’t take long for the makeout to turn heated again, teeth clashing against teeth, bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and teasing in a way that had your head spinning.
You put your hands against his chest.
“Toji-”
“Stay,” he breathed, whispering the words against your lips, like he could read your mind. “-Stay with me tonight,” he pressed his body closer into you, rutting his hips, “and lemme show you the things I’ve been wantin’ to say to you all week.”
You could feel his cock twitch ominously against your bare thigh as you swallowed.
His lips were swollen and glistening from your mixed salivas, his eyes glazed over, jade irises almost completely black. His grip on your lower body was unrelenting, holding you in place.
You lightly pushed your hand against his chest, a hesitant look crossing your features.
A beat passed. For a second, he didn’t even realize he stopped breathing.
“You’ve been drinking,” You paused, your voice coming out small. “What if.. what if you don’t mean this in the morning?”
And for all your expertise and genius, oh, how completely wrong you could be.
He let out a humorless chuckle, his sharp canines peaking through his lips in the process.
“Did it sound like I was jokin’, sweetheart?” He shakily exhaled through his nose as he pressed his erection against your clothed cunt, holding himself there, letting you feel the pressure and full weight of what he was packing. “Does it feel like I’m jokin’ ‘bout this?”
You bit your lip, pussy throbbing, a warm slickness starting to soak through your panties, before messily spreading between your clenched thighs.
You shook your head.
“What’d I say about usin’ your words?”
He pulsed his dick, the sensation making your pussy clench.
Fuckin’ tease.
“Nngh- no. No it doesn’t feel like you’re joking,” you almost gasp out.
A satisfied smirk plastered onto his tanned face.
“Good girl.”
And then he’s moving down the bed, his calloused hands spreading your legs as he pressed wet kisses against the hot skin of your thighs. He was methodical and slow, making his way up your inner thigh, savoring the small sounds that you tried to suppress as he reached the bottom hem of your skirt, his face mere inches away from your sopping pussy, and his breath puffing warm air against your dampened panties .
“Ohhh jus’ look at ya,” you could tell he had the most shit-eating grin on his face right now, pride swelling in his voice as he carefully dipped a large, rough finger between the seam of the thin purple fabric you adorned. “This all f’me?”
And - Holy shit.
The videos of you didn’t even do this justice.
Because low and behold, here you were, under his body, and you were so fuckin’ wet. His finger slid against your folds with little resistance, putting just enough pressure that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he rubbed circles against your clit.
And, Toji Fushiguro never claimed to be a patient man. So, it should’ve came as no surprise when he grabbed your hips and used his hulking strength to push your clothed pussy to his scarred lips, his face nuzzled to your cunt, nose pressed firmly to your clit, and his greedy tongue lapping you up through the soiled fabric.
It was obscene and perverse and dirty and wrong.
But oh, how he loved it. Loved the heady taste you left on your panties, and the sweet scent of your gushing pussy, and the excess slick on your thighs that made its way onto his rough cheeks.
He groaned, a low, guttural sound against your skin that made your tummy squeeze into knots.
“T-Toji, please,” you whined, pressing your greedy cunt into his face, “need your tongue. Need you. Need more.” You could hardly string a true sentence together, and he hadn’t even fucked you proper yet.
His heart was thunderous against his chest.
And his dick?
Hardest it’s ever fuckin’ been in his fuckin’ life.
He was grinding his erection against the mattress as he obliged your wishes.
After all, how could he say no to you?
He pushed your panties to the side.
And oh.
His balls tightened below him, the urge to cum almost threateningly near as he stared at your bare, swollen pussy.
Holy. Shit.
Everything was soaked and glistening.
He rubbed one thumb across your puffy skin, his coarse finger getting soaked in the process.
He leaned in, gingerly licking fat stripes along your folds, lapping you up, drinking you in. He worked thoroughly, gathering you onto his tongue, until the lower part of his face was a mixture of your juices and his drool.
It was only after he was satisfied with his work did he make his way to your clit, humming and sucking, the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your cunt filling the air of his room.
The warm pleasure of it all was beginning to pool in your belly, your toes beginning to curl, legs beginning to shake – but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
“Toji, I might-”
He plunged a rough, thick finger inside you, spearing your tight velvet walls apart, all the way up to his knuckle.
You saw fuckin’ stars.
The sound you made was so erotic, so loud and depraved and raw, that his dick lurched in his pants, warm gooey pre-cum beginning to leak out from his throbbing tip and into his briefs.
He wanted to hear you again, and again and again and again.
He wanted videos, home movies, and spotify playlists of the way your pussy was talking to him.
Emboldened, his tongue was unrelenting on your clit, as one finger became two, and then two became three.
You mewled as he crooked them up, massaging against that soft, spongey bundle of nerves that had you panting his name out like it was prayer.
Your ears were ringing, your eyes beginning to get wet with tears.
Soon, he was fucking you on his fingers proper, setting a debilitating pace as he plunged his digits in and out and in and out. Filling you up, stretching you out, hitting your most sensitive areas. Again, and again, and again.
The pressure in your core was reaching its limits now, and the pleasure from the sheer fullness of your pussy and the sinful patterns of his tongue were beginning to send violent tremors down your legs.
You were orgasming before you even realized it.
And yet, he was didn’t stop – didn’t even give you time to breathe as he’s diving into your pussy, slurping you up, his large nose rubbing against your over-sensitive clit as he’s fucking his thick tongue and his fingers past the tight ring of your entrance, fucking you, warm and wet, through each of your peaks.
Your hands held onto his hair like a lifeline, your fleshy thighs locked around his head as if to keep him in place.
“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes glazed over, completely and utterly pussy drunk, as you looked down at him, his mouth still latched onto your cunt.
You could see your slick dripping down his face, mixing with the light trails of perspiration that sprouted from his temples.
Your heart squeezed in your chest.
It was only after the last few waves of your orgasm subsided when you could finally respond.
“I think,” you gently reached down to run your shaky hand through his scalp, tenderly pushing away the sweaty fringe by his eyes. “I think I can think of something that might taste better.”
And then you’re pushing him until he’s moving to the top of the bed, his back resting against the headboard as he pulls his black shirt up and over his head, triceps flexing, exposing his muscular pecs, washboard abs, and the light tufts of hair that sprouted on his chest, and got increasingly darker the further down his abs it went.
You could feel your pussy walls clamp down, warmth pooling in your core again as you reached out instinctively to run your hands along the length of his torso.
You never thought, in all of your wildest dreams, that this would be happening. Nor could your dreams do justice to the perfect build of the man before you.
“Well look at you, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your soft hands slowly sliding up, up, up against his skin, all the way from where the dark tufts of thick hair started to disappear under his pants, and towards his pecs, feeling the way his traitorous heart stuttered as you called his name. “Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”
You held his gaze, the air around you charged with anticipation.
Who would move first?
His breathing was shallow as he stared at you, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Your top was rumpled to hell, exposing the line of your cleavage in a way that had his pants tenting painfully, and your mini skirt was so far scrunched that it looked like a belt around your waist.
“For others, sure…” He grabbed your hands, pressing them deeper into his skin as he slid them up to cup his face. “But for you?” he was whispering now, his ears growing steadily pinker by the second, “I’m afraid you have me beat.”
Oh.
And then you’re leaning in, tenderly pressing your lips to his own, mumbling his name over and over again to stop you from saying those other three little words, before sealing it with your tongue.
And then he’s pulling you into his lap.
You could taste yourself in his mouth and on his lips, your nipples tightening as his large hands grabbed handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before making them clap together again.
A muffled groan escaped from the depths of his chest, vibrating against your mouth, as he felt new gushes of your slick begin to dampen the front of his pants.
“Mmmnh- get comfortable, pretty girl.” He slurred out as he pulled at the waistband of your skirt, before letting go, allowing the material to slap against your skin with a light sting.
“Hmm… only if daddy gets comfortable too.” your eyes were big as you stared at him through your lashes.
And oh fuck.
Toji had to lean his head back, his skull hitting against the wall with a dull thud!
The way the words left your mouth had him breathless, brain short-circuiting, and dick throbbing. He needed to recuperate. Calm down.
Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat.
You smiled slyly, completely aware of how your words affected him, as you pulled your flimsy top off, followed by your bottomwear. Your tits were heavy and full as they were released from the cotton, nipples peaked and stiff.
You were bare before him, your arms on either side of his hips, squeezing your tits together lightly as you bent low to whisper against his ear.
“You like when I call you that?” Your voice was sweet as honey as your hands traced the large outline of his dick through his pants, gripping his shaft through the tight material, and feeling the monstrous size of his girth.
“Careful, sweetheart,” his voice was a mixture of restraint and warning, “don’t start callin’ me that unless y’er tryna see it through.” His neck was visibly tense, and his hands clutched on to the meat of your hips as he stared at you.
Pretty girl.
He squeezed tighter.
His pretty girl.
A moment of silence passed as you considered his words. “And what if I do wanna see it through…?” Your head tilted cutely while your mean hands found their way to his happy trail, running your nails down through the thick tufts of dark hair, dipping juuust below the waistband of his pants, before retreating back up again in slow, agonizing loops. “Show me your worst, daddy.”
And who was he to deny you?
Before you knew it, he had his pants and briefs shoved down his legs, his massive cock heavily thudding against his washboard abs
Your mouth gaped open.
And ohhh how he relished the dumb look on your lil’ cute face.
You didn’t even think anyone could be this large.
Yet here he was, with a dick that looked like it belonged in a porno, pulsing fat and heavy and huge as he leaked pre-cum all over the angry mushroomed head.
He smirked, cocky as ever, as you subconsciously licked your lips, eyes glazed over, cock drunk just off the look alone.
Your pussy gushed warm, new slick between your legs as you carefully leant down, your hands grabbing around his base, slowly bringing his dick closer to your face.
He could feel the warm puffs of air coming from ur plush lips, his dick twitching like crazy at how close you were to finally, finally getting your mouth on him.
You pressed a gentle kiss to his leaking slit, before running your lips over the excess pre-cum, painting your lips with the milky substance.
He swallowed hard. His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged.
He groped your tits, rolling your stiff nipples in his calloused fingers, eliciting the sweetest moan from you that reverberated around his dick.
You gave him small kitten licks at first, teasing the idea, before gradually licking thick fat stripes up and down the length of his huge dick. You traced the pulsing veins that climbed up his hot shaft and licked around the sensitive underside of his throbbing cockhead.
And it was only when his chest was heaving, his impatient hands gripping onto your skull, did you finally, finally begin to throat fuck the shit outta him.
None of the videos he had watched of you before even came close to the sensation of seeing the bulge forming in your throat from where his cock was buried inside of you, or the way your nose tickled against the tufts of dark hair at the base of his cock.
You moaned dreamily around him at the feeling of his heavy dick pounding against the back of your throat, filling your mouth and overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you bobbed him in your mouth, hands jerking off what you couldn’t reach, and your thighs rubbing together greedily, craving any ounce of friction against your throbbing pussy.
But before you knew it, he was lifting you off, a light string of saliva following en suit, connecting the two of you together.
“What’s wrong?” You had a devilish grin on your pretty face. “Scared you're gonna cum too quick?”
A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through his body as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, while the other smacked your ass.
“Nah,” his canines glinted in the lowlight, a predatorial grin etching into his features. “Just tryna make sure nothin’ gets wasted.” And then he's shifting you up, rubbing his thick cock against your gooey cunt, mixing his thick pre with your juices.
Your heart fluttered.
His dick was so warm against your skin – so, so much better (and bigger) than the toys you regularly used to get yourself off.
You’ve had enough. You’ve done your waiting. You needed him inside you.
You lifted yourself up, your hands bracing themselves on either side of Toji’s broad shoulders. Your pussy was dripping down onto his angry dick as you slowly lowered yourself, hips circling, letting his throbbing head trace your sopping lips.
He could have almost passed out from the sight alone.
Instead, he panted out a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to restrain himself from bucking up into your cunt.
You paused your hips, lowering yourself again ever so slightly so that his leaking head was now smooching against your gummy entrance, the heat of his cock stirring something warm and familiar in your belly.
Please, please, please, ple–
And then your pussy is swallowing his head whole.
“Oh, fuuuck you’re tight mama,” his eyes squeezed shut, fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead as Toji gasped out at the sensation of his thiiick cockhead squeezing past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance.
Your gummy walls sucked against him from all angles, squishing into his hardness and rubbing deliciously against the sensitive underside of his mushroomed tip.
And this was just the tip.
He didn’t know if he would make it out of here alive. At least, without getting you pregnant.
You whimpered, actually fuckin’ whimpered his name as you reached down, touching where he was spearing you apart, your lips drawn thin and tight to accommodate for the sheer size of him.
“You’re so big Toji,” a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. “Look at how much more I gotta take.” And he did, he really did look. Because you began to let your finger slowly slide from where the two of you were connected, down, down, down to the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.
“Haah- Ya’ think it’ll fit, sweetheart?” He grunted, his lips involuntarily bucking as you pouted cutely at him.
Something impassable flashed across your feature. “I’ll make it fuckin’ fit.”
And then you’re slamming down onto his dick, and it feels like the literal wind gets knocked out of both of your chests.
He has never felt something so deliciously tight before.
You have never felt so goddamn filled up before.
You’re clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering and smooching around his raw cock as it pulses heavy and thick with animalistic need.
It took you several moments to orient yourself, to gather your scrambled senses back together to remember what you were doing, what your goal was, why you were here.
“I have a secret to tell you.” You stared down at him, an unreadable look passing over your features.
“O-oh really?” you squeezed your walls around him, catching him off guard.
“I know you watch me touch myself,” you whispered it like it was a secret, sly and just a touch proud.
And of all the things you could’ve said, nothing would have prepared him for that.
His dick bobbed from inside of you.
“Fushi-daddy420 isn’t the most subtlest of names, no?” you grinned meanly as you watched his jade eyes turn impossibly black as you began to slowly, teasingly, mercifully bounce on his cock. Up and down and up and down.
“But-?”
He thought you would hate him if you knew.
He agonized for days for this reaction?!!
“And after you ran out on me after seeing my place?” you were panting, riding him as you talked. “Yea, that kinda solidified it.”
And just when he thinks you’ve found your rhythm and set your pace, you slowly begin to circle your hips, hitting new angles deep inside your guts that have his throbbing tip pressing into the spongy part of your pussy.
“You don’t -fuhh- don’t hate me?” his mind was swirling, how could he focus when you felt this good?
“Never.” Your hips rolled, and you pressed your tits together, giving him a show.
And you were doing so well, and felt so good. He pressed a fat thumb against your clit, spelling out his name, as if to claim you, mark you, over and over and over again.
T-O-J-I !
He throws his head back as he feels you creaming around his cock, while your eyes are rolling into the backs of your head as you feel his thick goopy pre frothing at your entrance, dripping down onto his balls. The pace is getting faster, the air getting hot, and thick beads of sweat are rolling down your back. The obscene sounds of sweaty skin slapping against skin filled the hot, sex-scented air.
You lean down to kiss him, tongues messily entangling, drool spilling from the sides of your lips as you ride his cock like a fuckin’ animal, ass jiggling from the force of his hips rocking up to meet you, his heavy balls smacking against your pussy like a promise.
In one swift motion, he’s flipping the two of you over, your back to the bed, his dick never leaving your pussy, as he continues to fuck into you. He has your legs spread wide, your knees to his sides as he buries himself deep within your warmth, the new angle allowing you to feel his fat tip smooching against your cervix.
He’s panting, breath shaky as he slows down, rutting shallowly, not allowing himself to be too far from your gummy insides. “T-tell me where you want it,” his voice came out strained, and you could see where his veins were protruding on his neck.
Oh. His cum.
His balls were pressed against you, tightening with every passing second. You could feel his dick bobbing against your walls as he was direly trying to stop himself from cumming.
You smiled, soft and sweet, as you pressed a hand against your lower tummy, feeling the bulge of where he was nestled inside you.
“Oh, you already know,” and you were batting your pretty lashes up at him, making his heart stutter. “Isn’t that right, daddy?”
And oh, how his broken mind snapped.
The next thing you knew, he’s pressing your knees so far up they’re knocking against your tits, his hulking body leaning over and pressing down into you, chest against chest, until you could feel his warm lips sucking bruises by your ear.
And then he’s draaagging his thick cock through your pussy until only the tip is inside you, before snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock the deepest it could go back inside you, spearing you apart, and setting an absolutely cruel, delicious, depraved pace that has his balls bruising your ass and his cock breeching your womb.
It goes for what feels like seconds, minutes, hours.
Your legs began to shake at all the sensations, your pussy walls convulsing around him and your ears ringing as you started to see white.
And he truly couldn’t keep it in any longer.
Not when you sounded so hot, with your face scrunched up in the prettiest ‘o’ and your nails digging crescents into his back as you called his name, begging for his seed.
And so he bucked up, his hips flush against yours, locking you into the meanest of mating presses, as his dick lurched, balls scrunching, as he pumped copious amounts of his thick, sticky cum straight into your womb.
And he’s still bucking his hips, through each of your peaks, fucking his cum deep inside you, until your belly was bloated and full of him.
“Thattaa girl,” he pressed a warm kiss to your mouth as he fucked you through the last few peaks of your orgasms, gingerly swiping his thumb across your cheek as if you were something precious. “My girl.”
And later on, as you softly drifted to sleep, with a belly full of his cum and his softening dick still inside you, you could feel his scarred lips pressing light kisses across your face, and the mumblings of something that sounded vaguely too close to “iloveyou” whispered into your warm skin.
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Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.
After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.
There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side.
Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).
He still kept his same protein shake recipe.
He still kept his same choice of attire.
But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb.
And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38.
And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend.
olderbf!toji makes you squirt for the first time ♡
toji has you right where he wants you — pinned beneath him, cunt fluttering around his thick cock as he snaps his hips against yours, one of his large hands firm on your hip to keep you from squirming.
because with what he’s about to do, he knows you’ll try to run.
your older boyfriend has had you on the edge of squirting countless times — not that you knew that. every time you get close, you run from the feeling, squirming away from him nervously. the feeling was so familiar, yet so foreign. you just couldn’t allow yourself to let go.
toji won’t allow that tonight. if there’s one thing he desperately wants, it’s to see his pretty girlfriend squirting all over his dick, to watch you make a mess.
“aahhhnnn! — toji! — feels s’good,” you babble, both of your legs draped over his broad shoulders, cock buried deep inside of you as he hits every sensitive spot. spots only he could reach.
toji leans in, almost pressing his chest to yours, folding you into a filthy mating press — cock angled upwards to hit your g-spot with devastating skill. “that’s my girl, doin’ so good." he knew he had to praise you, relax you, convince you not to run.
then, the familiar pressure builds, legs beginning to shake as you draw closer to the edge. "baby, wait — mnghh — feels weird," you whine, pushing his chest with your palm, yet he doesn’t budge. not even an inch.
"don’t run from it, just trust me, atta girl,” he rasps, balls slapping against your skin, fucking you with fast, shallow thrusts. "y’can do it, doll."
you furrow your brows, desperately trying to fight the feeling. "toji, i’m serious! mnnn — feels like i’m gonna pee, please j-just — ahhh!" you whimper.
he takes both of your wrists in one of his large hands, pinning them above your head. “you ain’t gonna piss, — hah — just let it happen, baby,” he encourages, a knowing grin on his face.
his other hand snakes between your bodies, down to your clit, rubbing it side to side. your eyes widen as you feel it, that final push, that weird sensation that you desperately want to run from. but you don’t. it happens too fast, too soon.
a gush of clear fluid spurts out of you, spraying toji’s abs, his dick, and especially the sheets below you. your cheeks burn as you moan his name shamelessly, legs shaking on his shoulders. "that’s it, baby — shit — make a mess."
toji was almost possessed by the sight, pounding you faster, harder, determined to draw out every drop, to fuck you through every pulse. "o-oh my god, toji!" you pant, pressing your forehead to his, trembling from overstimulation.
he slows his pace just a little, leaning back to admire the mess you’d made, abs glistening with fluid and sweat. it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
"got no idea how fuckin’ hot that is," he pants lightly, removing his hand from between your legs, using it to rub your thigh soothingly instead.
"gonna do it again f’me, yeah?" he rasps, beginning to thrust into you again — mean, deep, hard.
you knew the entire bed would be drenched before he’s finished with you.
a/n; thank you for 4.2k MWAH 🖤 (sorry this one’s a little short i wrote it on my break)
⌗ TOJI FUSHIGURO / 伏黒 甚爾
mdni. ◞♡ toji sends you nudes the whole day
your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. it was barely past nine in the morning and you were already regretting not silencing it before your shift. the office did not offer much privacy so every vibration against your thigh made your stomach flip.
morning gorgeous. slept like shit without you.
he attached a mirror selfie. his broad chest filled the frame. you can see his dark happy trail disappeared into low black boxers, and that cocky smirk was aimed straight at the camera.
you typed under the desk: toji. i’m at work.
so? i’m bored and got aaaaalllll day to think about how good you looked riding me last night.
he sent a new photo. his boxers were shoved down. his thick cock rested heavy on his stomach. one big hand wrapped around the base. the veins were prominent. the tip was already shiny with precum.
heat flooded your face. you locked the screen and tried to focus on the spreadsheet. it didn’t work. by ten-thirty he was sending short videos—lazy strokes, low voice murmuring your name, “miss that pretty mouth, baby.”
you lasted until lunch before slipping into the single bathroom. the stall door clicked shut. another photo had arrived while you were walking: toji on his knees on the mattress, ass up, looking back over his shoulder with a wicked grin, scar on his lip pulled tight.
“fuck,” you whispered. your fingers were already under your panties when the next message popped up.
ignoring me? bad girl. gonna punish you when you get home.
with it he sent a close-up of his cock. precum dripped onto the sheets while his fist squeezed the flushed head.
you came fast and quiet, biting your wrist, then cleaned up and went back to your desk on shaky legs. the rest of the afternoon was pure torture. he kept spamming—texts about how bored he was, how he was just chilling, maybe playing games or napping. in your mind he was living that unemployed life he always joked about: cereal for lunch, no schedule, nothing but time to get himself off and send you the evidence.
the photos kept coming. him in the shower, water streaming down his muscular body. a fresh cumshot across his abs, voice note of him groaning your name. by four-thirty your panties were soaked through and your focus was gone.
shift over yet? been thinking about bending you over the second you walk in. got something nice and hard waiting.
he sent a last photo. he was sprawled on the couch, legs spread wide. his cock flushed and heavy in his hand.
hurry up, princess. daddy’s lonely.
you grabbed your bag the second the clock hit five. on the train you finally replied, you’re the worst. what did you even do all day??
nothing much. same old. miss you.
what you didn’t know—what he could never tell you—was that “nothing much” had been a silenced pistol in a warehouse across town, a clean headshot, and a thick envelope of cash now hidden under the floorboard at home.
toji wasn’t unemployed. he just played the part so you would stay soft and safe and none the wiser. he sent nudes instead of explanations, kept you wet and distracted at work, and waited for you to come home smiling, exactly like this.
you smiled at the screen, already wet again at the thought of walking through the door. if only you knew.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — your boyfriend & you wanted to try something new! Why not film you getting fucked by his favorite co-star
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 — pornstar! satoru & sukuna p in v creamepies cucking sex tapes threesome (?) & not proofread
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 —accidentally deleted this gem; take this repost & please show her just as much love.
"C'mon, pretty girl. Smile for the camera," Sukuna growled, gripping your chin as he pistoned in and out of you, forcing your face towards your boyfriend as the white-haired man filmed the scene before him.
Satoru was clutching his phone in one hand and slowly stroking his cock with the other as he watched his co-star fuck you into a babbling mess.
Throbbing into his palm as he watched your blissed-out expression, trying to bite down each whimper and groan that threatened to leave your throat,
"I said to fucking smile." Sukuna hissed, slamming a brutal thrust into him as you clenched around him, forcing a glossy-eyed smile at your boyfriend as your walls fluttered back to normal. Sukuna groaned out, kissing your cervix with each mean thrust.
Satoru thought it was so hot.
Watching as the man he'd always filmed with was finally getting a taste of what it was like to be with you. Feeling how sweet you always were for him.
Slowly, Satoru dropped himself. Moving his palm to rub your cheek as you kissed into his skin, letting him muffle your moans for you, eyes glued to him. Watching him adjust his hold on the camera to catch Sukuna bullying himself so deeply into you.
"You okay, baby?" Satoru whispered, thumb brushing your cheek gently as Sukuna sneered. reaching over you to swat him away.
"She's fine." Sukuna snuffed, pushing your face into the pillows in front of you as he quickened his pace. "You promised you wouldn't touch her while we fucked Gojo."
"She's my girlfriend, Ryomen. I'm going to check on her if she seems out of it." Satoru stated, carefully guiding the camera back to your half-hidden face. "Even if you look so pretty out of it, Baby."
While Satoru couldn't see it, Sukuna could feel it as you clenched around him at the sound of Satoru's voice.
"Oh... look at you." Sukuna rasped, spreading your thighs as he pumped deeper into you. "You just love it when he talks to you like that, huh?"
No response was formed, just choked mewls shoved into your silk pillows as Satoru pressed his palm to your shoulder. "Oh... Naughty girl. Getting turned on while getting fucked by another man."
"You take it so well." Sukuna grunted, pulling your hips closer, bottoming out in you momentarily as a scream escaped your throat, instinctively reaching for Satoru, who nearly dropped his phone in shock.
Never, ever, had he heard such a noise leave you before.
"Are you ok?" He whispered, moving to the edge of the bed as you reached out for him.
"Just come here, Toru." You mumbled, grabbing at his hips as you dragged him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Is this a better angle for your film, baby?"
"Mm. Yeah." He assured, catching the fucked-out expression on your lips as your brows furrowed, bringing the back of your hand to your mouth, Sukuna's muscles tensing as he shoved himself deep, a low groan escaping him as white-hot pleasure swept through you both.
Slowly pulling out as the creamy mess dripped down to your sheets, Sukuna patted your shoulder gently. "You took it so well, good girl. No wonder Satoru's always bragging about you."
content: MDNI, cockwarming, exhibitionism, chat is bullying Choso so hard, established relationship, use of pet names (baby, princess), modern AU, unprotected piv sex, Choso being a tease(but he talks you through it)
a/n: based on this ask!!
art by @aransmind and divider by @anitalenia!
"Worst stream of the year. Okay, dunno why I read that one," Choso murmured, scratching the back of his hair and squinting at the incoming chat messages.
thesixeyes:there's NO way he's actually this bad lololol
k1ng0fcurs3s: have you considered killing yourself?
Maybe he wasn't the best at this game (or any), but still, ouch. Most of the other streamers he'd become friends with over the past year probably would just time the guy out, get their mods to ban the worst offenders, but his mod team only consisted of one person - his younger brother.
And he hated asking Yuji to do anything - even if it was something he volunteered for.
Sometimes he was tempted to quit. But then again, if he'd never started streaming, he never would've met you.
"Do any of you guys know where I'm supposed to go next?" He brushed it off, returning his attention to the map on the screen, his mouth automatically curled up just at the idea of you probably watching from the bedroom, curled up in his blankets with your phone propped up on the pillow.
chosospr1ncess: end stream pls
And now the image of you had new details, your hand between your thighs, your canines tugging at your lower lip. Impatient and needy, soft whispers of his name falling from your mouth.
"Hold on a sec, chat," He muttered, picking up his phone from his desk, opening up his messages to send you a short one: Come here.
Your laugh was loud enough to hear through the not-entirely-effective soundproofing padding the wall separating his office from the bedroom. Choso wasn't the only one who heard.
The chat was going faster than he could read, half of them calling just calling bullshit.
"You guys wanna meet my girlfriend?" He paused the game now, readjusting the camera higher, cutting off everything below his chest. The new chorus of she's not real and he's actually lost it was interrupted by two short knocks on the door. "Come in, baby."
It took a single look at the blush staining your cheeks to know his fantasy wasn't just fiction, the slight tremble in your legs as you walked over to his gaming chair.
He tugged you into his lap once you were within reach, brushing the hair off your neck and wrapping his arms tight around your waist. God, he didn't think he'd ever smelled anything so delicious.
"Isn't she pretty?"
Perched on his thighs, your lips fixed in an adorable pout at being interrupted, glancing between him and the webcam then over to the chat, currently flooded with accusations and theories that he must've paid you.
"You gonna say hi to them, baby?" He muttered in your ear, humming softly against your skin, a thin sheen of sweat making a few stray hairs stick to your neck from your attempt at keeping preoccupied without him.
"Hi," You repeated, already squirming in his lap before he'd even done anything.
k1ng0fcurs3s: are you as bad in bed as you are playing this?
k1ng0fcurs3s: id fuck your girl better
"Yuji, ban that guy," You moved the mouse, frowning as you talked, copying the username of and sending it to the private chat already open offscreen.
While he'd rather be the one taking care of you, it was sweet to see you get worked up on his behalf, readjusting on his lap like he'd somehow miss the damp spot on your panties soaking through his sweatpants, the slick still coating your thighs.
You were reading whatever message caught your attention next, too distracted to notice his hands tugging down his sweatpants, freeing his cock so he could shove your underwear and tiny shorts aside. It wasn't until he already aligned himself, started inching his way that you realized what he really called you in here for.
"I, um, oh-" Your stutter was adorable, your spine going stiff as you clamped down around him. But there was almost no resistance, not after you had prepped yourself so nicely for him.
"She can be a little camera shy," Choso informed the chat, scooting the chair closer, watching your face in frame in the bottom corner, all glossy-eyed and flustered.
"Y-yeah," You stammered, really squirming now as he suddenly brought you down all the way on him under the guise of readjusting, barely managing to control your facial expressions in front of the thousand or so people currently tuned in live absolutely oblivious to the fact you were being crammed full of your boyfriend's cock.
"Since I apparently suck at this, why don't you try?" He casually offered, his voice gravelly, struggling not to get caught up in the sinful way you seemed to suck him in. How tightly your thighs were pressed together, the throb of your walls around him while your chin barely bobbed in reply. "What do you guys think?"
Embarrassingly enough for him, even with his tip grinding against your cervix, forced to swallow your moans at every throb and twitch of his cock filling you up, you were still doing better than he was ten minutes ago.
Dodging attacks and actually striking down the creepy-looking monsters, your brows knitted together so tightly while you tried desperately to concentrate on the screen, clicking frantically with the mouse and hitting the keys. Each time you jolted at a new jumpscare was some new form of torture, his attempts at teasing twisted back on him when he couldn't do anything except twitch, barely restraining the temptation to turn the camera off and fuck you right there on the desk.
"Shit," Your curse came out more like a whine when you died, chipping away at his cool facade, his forearm pressing you tighter against his chest, hips rolling ever-so-slightly up to drive himself deeper.
"Just load the last save," He quietly instructed, resting his chin on your collarbone and wondering if the camera was sharp enough to pick up how you shuddered at the hoarse sound of his voice, lips pressing together tightly to conceal the noise you were so desperate to make.
thesixeyes: he'd know lol he's already died like fifty times
"You havin' fun?" Choso ignored the chat, ignored the game, his attention entirely devoted by how much you were tensing up listening to him talk. Using his muscled forearm to add more pressure, not particularly caring how clingy of a boyfriend he probably looked on screen.
Who could blame him when his girlfriend was you?
If you were in the room, he had to be touching you, whether it was a hand on your waist or his mouth on your neck. He tried - really - to give you space, but it was like you had hollowed every inch of his heart out, everything empty without your touch, your scent, your warmth to fill the ache.
"Mhm," You made a tiny noise, blinking too fast, lashes fluttering too hard. Trying to discreetly grind down against him, search for any sort of friction to soothe the burn from being stuck and stretched in place. You started the save back up, eyes narrowing like you needed to focus just to die again at the first enemy that popped up. "Fuck."
"Sorry, sweetheart," He hummed, his hand drifting down and out of sight of the camera to rub against your poor, neglected clit. Massaging rough circles over the swollen bud, your entire body freezing at his heavy touch. "Keep trying."
Craning your head back to look at him, to shield your silent plea pout from your audience, his own muscles tensing at how cute you looked like that, your bottom lip pushed out and chewed up from how much you'd been biting it since you sat down. He wanted to kiss it, to tug it between his own teeth, to taste you on his tongue and trace every last inch of you.
"It's hard," Your complaint was strained, your thighs rustling together as you shifted your weight, like you couldn't decide if you should get up or stay there. He rolled your clit between two sturdy fingers though, your jaw going slack at the sudden sensation, your eyes practically glazed over and mouth in a pretty little 'o' as you kept your focus on him.
"You can handle it," Choso reassured, like sweat wasn't pricking at his own brows, a few loose strands of his bangs starting to stick to his forehead. Still, he nodded back towards the screen, your attention reluctantly returning to the game. "Keep going."
Watching you through the camera while all the assholes in chat watched him fuck you, the comments that had been cruel before now filled with cheesy compliments (and a few crude ones too that he'd be sure to take care of himself later.)
Your movements were jittery, fingers hitting the keys at the wrong time, missing hits even he thought were easy, somehow managing to get turned around and lost. Your face all scrunched together when you skimmed over the chat for tips as if Choso's wasn't currently smashed against your cervix. You were close, your breathing uneven, everything squeezing so hard like the pressure was too much, the tension ready to snap at any second.
"Do, I, um-" You paused, your pitchy voice struggling to finish like you were too fucked out to remember what you were trying to ask in the first place.
All it took was one more rough drag of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and it was over, a moan you couldn't contain spilling out that, your hand flying over your mouth, attempting to disguise the sound as a cough while you scrunched your eyes closed.
"Feeling okay, princess?" He teased, muttering softly into your skin while your thighs trembled on top of his. The hazy look in your eyes, like you had half as many brain cells than what you came in there with.
"Just, uh, had something in my throat," You excused, sucking in a sharp breath while you squirmed from the constant stimulation. If you wanted something in your throat, he would be more than happy to oblige.
