kori

she/her, 22

[bee2124]

I’ve genuinely locked in harder reading fanfiction this summer than I did on my uni assignments

[konariu]

my moon, my man | suguru geto x f!reader, college au

summary; Suguru Geto is not a social man, he doesn’t go to parties and he doesn’t stay out late with his roommate Satoru. Instead he finds himself drowned in the world of art and canvas, suddenly utterly stunned and devoted to the sight of you.

contents; smut, use of alcohol and drugs (weed), smoking, swearing, suguru is a bit of a simp, suguru is also an idiot, gojo is a wonderful wingman, daddy kink, breeding kink (NOT proof read)

“take it slow, take it easy on me. and shed some light, shed some light on me please”

Dividers from here

The week had been slow, far too slow for your own liking. The air was too warm, the wind too distanced, and school rolled on with every day being agonisingly slow. It was the first week back after summer break and it was utterly exhausting.

Most of your peers had already begun their parties. You’d been dragged along to two of them with your friends, both leading to a hangover of pure death. It was Friday now but just on Thursday morning you were more or less forced to spend the entire day at your dorms, fighting to stay awake. It was not a pretty sight.

A sigh escaped your lips as you pushed down on the cuticle of your thumb, drowning out the sound of your professor’s lecture. You were already at the top of this class anyways. The phone in your back pocket buzzed with a quiet hum. You already knew what it would be, most likely another text inviting you to go out tonight.

You couldn’t call yourself a party girl, especially not compared to your friends who seemed to live breathe and be booze. But once times had settled and you were left with a drink in your hand there was no telling how much you’d let loose. It was fun, in a way, the ability to just let go of reality and have fun.

Once the bell rang you dragged yourself out of the chair and grabbed your back, letting your phone fall into the leather space. You would reply later, if you remembered.

The hallway was buzzing with students either rushing to their next lessons or scurrying out of the building at the end of their day. You were part of the second group. With mindless strides of your legs and small sigh still resting on the top of your lips you pushed your way out into the courtyard. It was not as fast of a walk to the dorm, but it was much more calm. Or at least it would have been if you didn’t manage to walk into a pillar, leaving you to fall to the ground with a soft thud.

Or, as you unfortunately looked up to learn, a person.

On the ground around you were not only the contents of your own bag, but also various sketch books and pencils. Your eyes wandered up to look at the source of impact, being met by an apologetic look. No, met by someone who looked like they belonged in fucking Olympus as a greek god.

He was extremely tall with broad shoulders and hunky arms that showed through the tight long sleeve he wore, long legs covered in black baggy jeans. Black hair drowned down against his shoulders, lazily half tied up behind his head, and you had to contain yourself from counting each earring and piercing he wore. Wow.

“You okay down there?” His voice was literally perfect, husky and lowk yet gentle, and it took every single ounce of self control in you not to fawn over him.

“yea ‘m fine.. sorry..” You replied as you let him help you up. “Suppose I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

A raspy chuckle left his lips as he watched you kneel down to pick not only your own stuff up, but also gather his. “It’s alright, it happens.”

The two of you quietly gathered and checked your things, but as you were close to done one of the open sketchbooks caught your eye. “Wow, that’s gorgeous.”

It was a sketch of jellyfish, two of them dancing across the page. Behind them was beautiful line work of flowers and bubbles. It oddly reminded you of a tattoo sketch, one of those really high quality ones that you could only dream of affording.

The sudden praise left him with a hand on the back of his neck and a nervous laugh in the air. You looked up at him with a soft smile of your own and asked, “did you make these?”

“Yeah uh.. kind of a hobby of mine.”

He was clearly taken aback by the attention and something in you sparked with wonder as of how that could be true. His entire being was sculpted by the gods himself, he quite literally looked like he could’ve been the dazzling knight in one of your dreams. And looks aside his art was almost the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“You’re extremely talented, y’know.” You told him as you picked up the last little pencil that laid on the ground. “Like seriously.”

“Ah eh.. It’s just a hobby.”

“It could be a career i’m sure.”

The two of you stood there for a second in silence. It was not awkward, not at all, yet not quite comfortable either. There was some sort of tension lingering in the air that you could not quite name.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” you finally spoke, hands clasped behind your back as you looked up at him. “Not much of an outside person are ya?” It was nothing but a slight tease, but you couldn’t help the small bubble of curiously when he replied.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“You live here as well or just studying?”

“Nah not here. I live down the east side of city, share an apartment with my friend.”

Before you knew it the two of you had began walking through the yard and towards campus, him following you as you asked him perhaps far too many questions. You learned that his name was Suguru Geto, that he was a senior psychology major and two years older than you, and that summer was his least favourite season. You learned more of him than you knew of more than your friends, asking random questions that he happily answered. Just for you.

“You know, it’s really nice talking to you” you told him with a smile as the two of you arrived by the dorms. “You know there’s that party tonight by the north frats, i’d love to see you there.”

There was a slight pause in how his lips pushed together for a second, studying you as if he thought out the best reply for the moment.

“Yeah, I’ll see.”

It was short and blunt, but the glee that made your face light up was enough to miss the tone of his voice. You said your goodbyes and parted, but not without eyes lingering on his back as he walked away. You were oh so giddy. Like a schoolgirl with a new crush, unable to do anything but smile.

It wasn’t until you were back in your room that you realised that you had completely forgotten to tell him your own name, or even ask for his number. A groan bounced against your pillow as you buried your face in it.

Embarrassment washed over you when you thought of how you’d only asked him a million questions, never giving him any room to ask you. At the very least you’d see him tonight, you told yourself.

Except, he never came.

You’d spent an extra hour just making sure you looked fine, wearing your cutest skirt and top with your makeup done to perfect. While your friends tried to coax you over to the dance floor you had explained how you were waiting for someone, earning a good few teasing pokes from the girls before they left you to stand there alone. But after waiting for an hour you gave up.

It was okay, he was probably just busy being a senior and all. He’d come to the next one.

But he didn’t, nor the one after that. When four weeks had passed and you hadn’t seen him at any part nor even at school, the ball of self pity nested itself right in your gut. He wasn’t coming at all, was he?

|||||

Geto had never felt this way before. He’d been in love before, desired girls sure, but this.. it was pure infatuation on the verge of obsession.

At first he tried to distract himself. Whether it was relaxing at home, going for a stroll, or inviting friends over to their apartment, it all granted him a temporary relief of his thoughts. But then the quiet came. The days on weekends he spent at home, the nights he couldn’t sleep. You lingered inside his brain like the plague. He didn’t even know your name, yet it was an unspoken sin on his tongue when late at night he’d fist his cock to the thought of you.

After three weeks the distractions stopped helping. You were an itch he couldn’t scratch, a hunger he couldn’t feed. It started like small doodles on the sides of his sketchbooks of the eyes he vividly remember on your face. Then it became full on sketches of you, with details of your hair being perfectly put down. He might not know what to call you, but he remembered you picture perfect.

After seven weeks, he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. Satoru had been sitting on the couch watching some random football replay when Suguru had laid down across the floor with despair written all over his face. The short interaction had quickly turned into a counsellor meeting of sorts.

Words spilled out of his gut and into the air as he spoke of your interaction. Of how spectacular you were, and of how dumb he was to leave without asking for your name or number.

“I don’t know why you didn’t just tell her that you weren’t down for that stuff.” Gojo spoke, his feet now resting on the coffee table. His hands were dramatically clasped together as he truly tried to play the psychologist part.

“I mean I didn’t say yes, I just didn’t say no either.” Suguru huffed, toying with the TV remote. “I didn’t know how to reply.”

“Poor girl probably waited for you there.”

It was a jest, nothing but a teasing joke, but Gojo’s word left a sour realisation in his stomach. Fuck, she probably did wait.

“I’m a moron” he groaned dramatically and slapped his hand across his forehead. Satoru snickered beside him, moving to fix his posture which earned a curious glance.

“You came to the best person for this, ya know.” He looked down at him with a wicked little grin and continued, “Should’ve told me earlier loverboy, you know there’s not a single party I miss out on.”

This was true. Satoru Gojo was a party animal, a frat guy in his truest essence. The two of them were polar opposites, one loving noise and wildness while the other one preferred the calm still, yet they matched so perfectly.

“Tell me more.”

The next thirty minutes were spent making up an elaborate plan for Gojo to find out just who you were. Suguru described you down to the finest detail while Gojo took notes, occasionally asking questions just to tease.

“And her tits, perfect too?”

“You’re a fucking pervert.” Though he’d never say it out loud, he did stare a bit too long at that department and could very much attest to them being perfect.

For the rest of the night Suguru spent his time in bed, mostly staring at the ceiling or obsessively checking his phone for a text that seemed to never come. Gojo had since long gone to the party, leaving him all to his nervous thoughts as time moved torturously slow. But then, it came. His phone lit up on the side of the bed and he shamelessly threw himself to check it.

Satoru: “done easier than said loverboy. asked shoko about it, turns out they’re friends. matter of fact she’s holding a small get together at her flat tomorrow, y/n is gonna be there (that’s her name btw) 😋. oh and by the way, this is her instagram handle”

The message was followed by a link to Instagram and he waisted no time clicking on it. Your feed wasn’t explosive nor was it dry. You didn’t seem to post very often, mostly only from important occasions or travelling. But then his thumb clicked on the first story archive of your profile and Suguru couldn’t contain the small breath that escaped him.

Photos upon photos of you met his eyes. Beautiful photos, mainly silly ones or with a cute little background. He especially liked one where you laid in the grass with flowers behind you, a photo taken by one of your friends. Your hair had spread just perfectly and your eyes glistened in the sun. Without shame or second thought, he screenshotted the photo to keep.

After a while of looking through your archives and posts Suguru felt very satisfied with the found. But then came another text, flashing against his face just as he was about to close his phone.

Satoru: “Hellooo? you here? are you coming or not, shoko needs to know.”

It lingered on his mind too long, pondering over what to reply. On one hand, he absolutely parties. On the other hand this likely wouldn’t be anything major knowing Shoko. But, most importantly, you were gonna be there. The decision wasn’t hard at all.

Suguru: “yea bet.”

|||||

With a soft hum you double checked your lip gloss in the mirror of Shoko’s bathroom. It was perfect, like always, but there was always that worry of not looking good enough.

The clothes you wore were casual and comfy, yet also elegant and pretty. It was a black mini skirt that flowed around your upper thighs combined with a black tight long sleeved shirt. Right above the cleavage that snuck out of your shirt laid two beautiful silver necklaces, one longer than the other, and on your wrists you wore silver bracelets. It was casual, comfy yet oh so cute.

With a last push to fluff up your hair you went back into the living area, helping your friend lay out the snacks and drinks. There was a large selection of both wines and ciders but also beer. Bowls with peanuts, chips, or even fruit decorated the table. It was a small little get together to “celebrate life”, as Shoko had said, and you were grateful that for once it wouldn’t be some flashy party.

When the door opened and steps flooded the apartment you didn’t even turn around, a soft melody hummed on your lips as you made sure the wine glasses were clean. However, as if out of nowhere, a voice sounded behind you.

A deep and raspy, hot, voice you recognised too well.

“Hey.”

You turned around to stare at him, mouth slightly agape as if you were trying to think if he was actually real or if the entire thing had been a hallucination. But oh he was real, too real.

He wore a black tight t-shirt that now allowed you to see the tattoos that decorated his strong arms. His hair was tied back lazily like before; and you could see the piercings on his ear and eyebrow glisten in the light of the lamp. God, he was too gorgeous.

“Hi..” you awkwardly trailed, suddenly finding the bowl of fruit next to you very interesting. A small chuckle left his lips as he took a step closer to you.

“How you been?”

In a way, this was your dream. He, that hot man you had touched yourself to the thought of way too many times, stood before you in flesh and bone. But there was also that slight rage, the irritation that came after the embarrassment of of being stood up.

“Good.” You replied shortly, shifting your body to look at the people coming into the apartment.

There was only about eleven of them, not many but also not few, who now had moved to decorate the space with their presence. Some lounged in the hallway while others took a seat.

“Y’know I’m sorry I didn’t show up.” He caught you by surprise, a sincere look on his face as you turned to him. “I uh.. I’m not much of a party person.”

Oh. So he hadn’t stood you up, technically.

“It’s okay.” You whispered suddenly feeling a bit called out. “Wasn’t much fun anyways.”

A chuckle left him as he watched you lie. Bullshit, you found it fun. You just didn’t want him to feel bad. He found that cute about you, how expressive your face was.

“Oh I forgot the last time..”

You gave him your name, your year and your major. Packed in a pretty little package given to him by words. This time he listened and you spoke, telling him of why you chose just that major and what your name meant in folklore. You spoke a lot, easily going on rambles and nervously switching topics on a whim. He liked that about you.

However, all good things must come to an end. While he had stood watching your lips for the entirety of your little introduction, something you were already too flustered to notice, Gojo called out for him to come sit on his couch and not anyone else’s. Suguru let out a little snort, yelling back a quick “sure” before turning back to you.

Suguru raised his hand to gently stroke a piece of your hair behind your ear. He couldn’t help it, not with the way your eyes glistened while looking at him, and especially not with how your face became even more flushed with the action. Without words he stepped away and joined his friend on one of the sofas.

“You look absolutely smitten.” Shoko giggled behind you, making you jolt a little bit at the sudden sound.

“Shut up..”

As the evening carried on you had found yourself sitting on the edge of one of the large sofas. Next to you sat Shoko, and on the floor to your other side sat a guy you learned was called Yuji. You didn’t know most of the people here other than the girls. And of course, without the need of mention, the owner of the eyes who had barely left you the entire time.

Suguru sat back relaxed and with his legs ever so spread as he drank his glass of whine, two cans of beer already empty next to him. For the past hour you had felt him bore his eyes in you, leaving you feeling ever so self aware. Not in an insecure way, just observed. It left a heat pooling in the pit of your stomach and flowing down between your thighs. The room felt so hot. You could’ve sworn it was much colder earlier.

The building heat was becoming unbearable. Combined with the buzz of alcohol it left you feeling partly suffocated. With a small excuse you got up and pushed past Yuji to move towards the balcony on the other side of the hallway, not noticing who moved after you or the small whistle that left his friend’s mouth.

With a small gasp you grabbed on to the railing and let the cold night air wash over you. It felt nice, oh so nice. With trembling hands you pushed through the items of your bag to grab the familiar little box. You didn’t smoke often, not by habit, but it was a dirty little secret that calmed your nerves every now and then. Except, you were now left cursing yourself as you couldn’t find your lighter.

“Need help?”

You jumped a little in surprise as you heard him from next to you. He stood there, moonlight shining across his features like pure sin. In his hand, stretched out to you, laid a small black lighter. “Mhm..” you replied, taking it from him.

“You a smoker then?” He had asked, pulling out something of his own.

“No not really just, get a bit nervous sometimes.. it helps.”

Suguru had nodded, and before you had time to light your own cigarette he handed you his own lit one. But this wasn’t a cigarette. It was a tightly rolled joint. You looked at him with wide yes, with how expensive it was around these parts you wouldn’t dream of asking anyone for a hit.

“This will calm you better.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to share.” He hummed at your reply, simply pushing it towards you further.

“It helps.”

The next few moments were spent passing the rolled stick between you. You couldn’t help but watch him closely with a clouded mind. You didn’t know if it was what you smoked or the way the moon shone upon him, likely the latter, but you felt as if you were the only two people in the world. Out in the calm, the storm.

“I actually don’t like partying that much, either.” You broke the silence. “I mean it’s fun, don’t get me wrong, but it’s only fun in the moment. Afterwards everything just feels so..” You trailed off, looking down at the cars on the street.

“Exhausting?”

“Depressing” You admitted with a small sigh, playing with the railing of the balcony. The silence came back to wash over you and for a moment you were terrified.

Had you said too much? Was that over sharing? Surely he thought of you as a freak now.

You swallowed down the eerie anxiety in your throat. The street below you was fairly empty compared to the day, but you could still make out the few people walking back from restaurants or simply hanging out.

Suguru spoke beside you, interrupting your train of thought with your name, and before you could reply after turning his lips were on yours.

His lips, were on yours.

The kiss started out soft and testing. He moved gently for a moment before it deepened into something more. Passionate, possessive.

His hand found its way to rest on the side of your back while the other gently held against your cheek, your own moving to hold on to his arms. He pulled you impossibly closer as the two of you joined in pure heat of attraction.

A small moan escaped your lips as his teeth grazed them. What had just been gentle and shy had become deep and rough.

“Suguru..” You whispered, no moaned, his name and he could have sworn he saw stars.

With easy movements he moved to cage you in against the railing of the balcony. He was much bigger than you, barely leaving any room for you to move. You loved it.

His hands moved to roam across your body, sounds of wet lips and heavy breaths filling up the air around you. It was possessive, a dominant dance which left your head spinning when his hand brushed up your shirt to cup your breast.

“Fuck.. you’re perfect.” He groaned as he pulled away. You caught his eyes just for a moment before he moved to kiss your jaw, lips slowly trailing down to nestle on the crook of your neck.

“Suguruuu..” you moaned again, gripping on to the muscle of his arms. He let out a small little curse against your skin before his lips and teeth moved to leave little red and purple marks across your skin.

Hickeys, a claim.

“I live just around the corner.” He breathed against your neck, making you whine without thinking. The sound earned a little bite into your shoulder. “It takes a few minutes to walk, if you want this.. if you want me-“

“Yes.” you cut him off to pull back and look into his face. A hand was raised to hold his cheek and he could’ve melted right there. “I want you, Suguru.”

-

The walk to the apartment had been short, very short as you noted that he didn’t exaggerate. The two of you had slipped out almost unnoticed other than to the pair of blue eyes that watched you with a smirk.

So how, here you sat on his bed, nervously looking up at him as he stroke your cheek.

“I.. I can’t promise to be gentle.” He admitted, blunt and honest. His eyes met yours as he leant down a little above you, standing with his legs caging in yours.

“I don’t want you to be.”

Those words were enough for his lips to come crashing against yours. With ease he pulled off your skirt and pushed you down on the bed with him on top. He had been honest, the gentle tone drowning away as his lips tongue and teeth all roughly grazed the skin between your jaw and neck. He paused to pull away, leaving you to almost question the absence before his lips landed on your inner thighs.

Small yet hard kisses were left on your inner thighs as if he had a point to make. He moved to hook one of your legs under his arm to push it up giving him better sight of you.

“Fuck.. already soaked for me huh..” He surprised you with fingers rubbing against the wet patch of your black lace panties, making you moan out in the air. “Gonna take real good care of you,” he muttered against your thigh before a long and thick finger found its way past your underwear and inside you.

He curled and pumped his finger and when he added another one you almost lost your breath. It felt so good, he felt good.

“Nhghhh.. fuck..” You whimpered and moved to clasp a hand over your mouth. Suguru didn’t like this however, and quickly moved to pin your wrist down beside you. “Ah..a-ah Suguru..”

The moans and whimpers only egged him on as he curled his fingers inside of you. Wet squelches filled the air as you took the entire length of his fingers inside of you. But what really made you unravel was the thumb that snuck under the fabric and massaged against your clit. The sensitive bundle being so delicately cared for made your entire body jolt with pleasure. It didn’t take long until the familiar pressure built inside of you.

“Fuck i’m.. m’ so close.” You whined out as he just for a moment picked up his pace. Then, as if the gods stole the life from you, he suddenly stopped. “Huh?”

“Don’t get to cum yet, wanna feel it around my cock.”

You stared at him as he moved to take off his shirt. Gods.. Not only was he just as ripped as he looked before, but even more tattoos covered his body when bare. You made a mental note to trace them sometime.

“Take the rest of your clothes off.”

You did as he said, quickly hurrying to discard your shirt and bra. The sight of you made him let out a sound that sounded suspiciously similar to a strangled moan. When you moved to remove your lace panties a hand swatted yours away. Confused, you looked up at him.

“Wanna do that myself.”

That’s when you caught it, him. He was bigger than anything you’d seen before, his large cock aching up against his stomach. The tip was pink with a shade of borderline angry red spreading across it, a small amount of precum glistening from it. You moved to grab him, eager to taste him between your lips, but he swatted you away again.

“Another time, sweet girl. I’m feeling impatient.” Suguru spoke to you as if you were the most precious thing, but when his lips crashed against yours again you were nothing but a filthy mess underneath him again. His lips moved harsh and fast, leaving your brain in a dizzy mess as he pushed you back down on the bed.

His fingers hooked under the hem of your panties and he pulled away from your lips to discard them down your legs. He threw them to the side, knowingly on top of a pile of his own laundry. He was keeping those for later.

“You’re so fucking perfect” he groaned against your skin as he moved the two of you to fully lay on the bed. He caged you in perfectly, your hands resting on the back of his shoulders. “Gonna fucking breed you dumb.”

His words slapped against your skin with ecstasy, leaving you moaning just at the sound of them.

“Yeah? You like the sound of that?” His tip found the way to your folds, earning a desperate whimper from you. “Want me to fuck you dumb?”

He dragged his cock up and down your pussy, pointedly putting pressure down when it rested on top of your clit. You could only nod eagerly, a sob threatening to break out from pure neediness.

“Use your words.” His tone was stern. “Wanna hear you say it.”

When you failed to answer his hand came down to smack your ass, forcing a filthy moan out of you.

“Yes.. Fuck y-yes.. need your cock so bad daddy.” You whined it out and before you had time to realise what you’d just called him, Suguru began to push himself into you with a husky moan.

“Fuck that’s so hot..” he groaned as he buried his face in your neck. “Call me that again.”

“ngh aah..” your brain melted as he began to thrust himself inside you. “mhmmfh, daddy”

Your filthy and needy moans were driving him crazy. He thrusted inside of you with precision, hooking thigh under his arm to fuck you deeper while the other one rested beside you to cage you in. His large and fat cock stretched you out in ways you’d never felt before, a dance of pain and pleasure rendering you a whimpering mess.

You felt it again, the coil in your stomach, and he noticed it with how your moans picked up.

“Yeah baby, you close?” he breathed against your skin. “fuck.. wanna cum around daddy’s cock huh?”

An embarrassingly loud whine escaped you at that. Your fingers dug into his skin, legs wrapping around him in a desperate attempt to pull him closer.

“Let go for me. Be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock.”

It didn’t take long, not at all. Your walls clenched around him, heat exploding through your entire body as you came around him. Soon after you felt his cock twitch as warm white ropes spilled inside of you. Suguru groaned into your neck and kept you still, right there, full of him.

“You did so good for me..” he whispered, leaving small kisses on your neck.

The two of you stayed like that for a good few minutes before he pulled away and made sure to clean you up. He came back with a glass of water for you to drink. You propped your naked body up to half sit and watched him put some sweatpants off the floor on.

“Are you not gonna come lay with me?” You whined with a pout, making him shake his head with a chuckle.

“Need to remember this sight forever.”

He turned around with sketchbook in hand, leaning against his wardrobe as he watched you.

“Pose for me will ya?”

YUM

[konariu]

pure. sukuna x f!reader

pre, heian era sukuna (not true form), more or less an au with creative liberties, arranged marriage, sukuna is very rich and powerful, amateur writer. sukuna is a simp and a shameless stalker.

summary; your hand for a name, a status. a deal only your family name could win out on. you know nothing of the world, sheltered and far too naive, and with no experience you are thrown right in the hands of the “king of curses”. right there, in the clutches and claws of pure evil, you are the light that cracks through his dark veil.

content warnings; mild angst, raised voice arguing, sukuna is little mean, smut, fingering, somewhat power imbalance but positive, stalker behaviour, NOT PROOF READ!

dividers from here

“You’ll be alright my dear, it is a life drowned in fortune.”

The soothing voice of your mother lingered around the hand that rested on your cheek, gentle fingers pushing away stray tears that threatened to splash on to your luscious robes. But on her lips was not a warm smile, but a curl of worry.

One far too many mothers would know too well.

“He is not known to take concubines, only the occasional lady of the eve-“ she paused, words lingering in the air with no right to speak them

He’ll be kind to you, or marriage isn’t too bad. But they would all be lies.

Ryomen Sukuna had a cruel reputation to his name. The king of curses, the butcher of men. It was not a life one would wish to send their daughter to, but it was also an undeniable opportunity of status.

Your father’s face had shone with pure glee and ego as he announced the deal. His arms were theatric with gestures as he spoke of marrying off his second born daughter to what some folk called pure evil, making sure to pronounce just the importance of the deal. It would secure matches for your younger sister, your cousins, hell- even your uncle. No matter how ill spoken his name was, Sukuna was still one of the most powerful people in the country.

The carriage came to a halt that made you squeal just so slightly. Your eyes desperately looked for your mother’s face, only to find it turned away. It was easier that way, knowing she wasn’t allowed to come with but without having to see her own child’s tears. But that fact did nothing to ease the sob escaping your lips.

Stepping out, you had expected to see him there- the cursed evil that ran shivers through kids at night, but was met with just waiting staff bowing their head down in polite respect. You turned around, words hitching in the air as the carriage left without a goodbye.

“My lady, let me show you inside.”

My lady. A title you had not heard before, a title that felt sour against your skin as you stood there feeling all alone in the world.

You turned back around to face the woman offering you a soft but almost apologetic smile. Dark and soft hair welled down her back to swallow the frame dressed in a fancy robe, with kind eyes and soft skin. She looked much younger than the rest of the staff, much closer to your own age. As you let her hook her arm in yours, she guided you up towards the estate and spoke to you ever so gently.

It was a beautiful sight, strong wooden frame that looked freshly polished. She showed you the gardens, multiple of them, nestled in between hallways and openings. The sight of luscious trees and large ponds filled with koi was almost enough to distract you from reality. Almost.

She had led you to your room on the second floor, a beautiful and large space decorated lavishly with a window directly facing the garden that had been your favourite. But on the large and soft bed laid a light pink gown with white silk robes, and your breath hitched as she told you it was for the evening when Sukuna would return. That’s when the fantasy broke.

No, you were not here just to be pampered and strut around. You were a woman now, with wifely duties and responsibilities. Duties and responsibilities to that man.

In truth, you had not actually heard far too much about him other than how your brothers had told you of the cursed evil that ran through his family line. They called him wicked, ruthless, a killing machine. A boogeyman more or less. A boogeyman to whom you now belonged, a boogeyman whom which you now owed yourself to.

Your fingers gently traced the silver thread that decorated the robes. It was beautiful, far too beautiful for the reality you were in.

The girl gently led you to sit in front of a stunning vanity, hands combing through your hair while she gushed on about your beauty. Yumehi, you learned her name as she spoke, chuckled as she saw your widened eyes.

“It is okay my dear, you are perfect”.

|||||

The robe stroke against your wrist as you nervously played with your hands in your lap. You were sat down by the tea table in the large entrance of the house, watching as steam escaped from your own cup. Had it been any other time of your live you would’ve been ecstatic, twirling around in the gorgeous fabric that clad your body, or shown of the traditional hairpins that held part of your hair back. You were dressed to perfection in fabrics you rarely ever felt before, but they did nothing to hide the anxiety building up in your gut.

Suddenly the doors opened and the space was filled with sound of feet shuffling around. You stood, turning to face the source when your breath caught in your throat.

He was tall, much larger than you, and wore a white elegant robe. Pink hair spilled out against the back of his neck, black markings covering his skin and crimson eyes that landed on you. You saw his jaw clench as he stopped to study you for a good little while, eyes scanning your body that almost cowered away. But then, as if nothing happened, he simply walked on.

And there you were left, simply alone.

-

It went on like that for the next month you lived there. You rarely saw him, and when you did it was at dinners where he rarely spoke- and never addressed to you. Only stared at you every now and then with a burning and harsh gaze you did not recognise.

Every now and then you caught him walking down hallways when you were reading in the gardens, sometimes in the library where he simply just left whenever you were present. He was avoiding you like the plague.

Yumehi would soothe your rants as they spilled out of your lips. Was there something wrong with you? Were you not pleasant enough, were you simply too plain? The words spilled through your throat with sobs and tears, gentle hands brushing through your hair.

“You are perfect, my lady. He is just busy. It is better this way.”

But then came the nights when you saw women giddily be led towards his chambers. His whores. It was a new one each time, all much different to you. They were taller, or chubbier, or older- the list went on. They were everything you were not, and you were everything they lacked.

It was embarrassing. You were just some house pet, dressed up and led around like a fool. But worst of all you were lonely.

Only one person ever spoke to you, truly spoke to you, and even she withheld words around you. The staff did not speak much outside of formalities, a simple “here, my lady” or washing you in compliments. You were a doll in a dollhouse made of fear for the man who did not even acknowledge you.

And it frustrated you even more how the staff seemed to love it there. As if he was no evil at all, as if you were simply safe. But there was no way for you to know, for Ryomen Sukuna barely ever gave you a glance.

-

It led you here, pushing past waiting staff who called for you back as you invited yourself into his private studies. You were met with a scowl.

“What are you doing here, brat?” the sour word did not help to calm the rage that had built up in your entire being.

“Am I not your wife?” you spat, face flushed with rage as you approached him. “Am I not to be for you, as your wife?” You could hear Yumehi’s voice calling for you, but you were past the point of no return. “What is the point of having me here if you refuse to do as much as speak to me, let alone value me more than one of your whores.”

The rant distracted you from the fact that he now stood in front of you, large frame towering above as he glared down with an unamused expression. He was terrifying like this, and you barely noticed.

“Am I not good en-“ your words were cut off by a dark chuckle, and suddenly the confidence you had a moment ago pooled around your feet.

”Are you done?” his voice boomed against your soul as he towered over you, every step he took making you step back. “Such a foolish and dumb little girl, you really don’t know what you’re doing.” Every sentence was followed up with a step forward. “You will learn your place and stay in it, is that understood? Unless you want me to destroy you like you’re just another little whore.”

His words stung against your skin and before you could control yourself your eyes welled up with tears. The two of you stood there for a moment, the full on crying met with a viscous stare before you hurried out of the room and into the arms of the girl who soothed your sobs. If you had been any more delusional, you could’ve sworn his gaze softened when you turned.

|||||

That’s when it had started.

You’d been curled up in your bed almost the entire day after your encounter, skipping out on meals entirely with the weak excuse of “i’m not hungry.” You had expected that to be it, you were surely going to be thrown out on the street or worse even murdered. But instead you were met the next morning with staff bringing you tea and sweets to your room.

The porcelain was new, gorgeous and likely worth a fortune, and the sweets were your favourite baked just as well if not even better than at home.

Every morning was something new. A luscious new dress, jewelry expensive enough to feed a whole village, or your favourite flowers planted in the garden. Small gifts, everyday consistently. Like a crow bringing you trinkets, just these were thought out perfectly. As if he knew just what you loved. But even then, you hadn’t seen him at all since. Your meals were eaten in the living area outside your bedroom, shared with Yumehi and your favourite maids whom you had more or less forced to against their nervous decline.

You lived in your part of the estate, completely away from him, but for every new gift your heart stung a little more. Why would he pamper you if he seemed to hate your very being?

-

But the truth was far from how you saw it. Sukuna did in fact not hate you. No, quite the opposite.

When his temper had snapped, when he saw the tears well out of your perfect eyes, his hands had begged him to gently brush them away. But he couldn’t. No, because if he did, he would corrupt your pure soul. Sukuna was sure of it.

What you had failed to see was how he, from the other side of the estate, would lurk and watch you out from the window when you were in the gardens. He had seen every book you loved to read, the tea you drank and what time you liked it the best. Sometimes he would make an excuse to walk by the hallways just to hear the beautiful sound of your voice- and feel the sour burn when it stopped because of him.

In that month he had more or less obsessively lurked around the corner to experience you, to learn about you. Because the moment his eyes had gazed upon you for the first sight he was drowned in a feeling he’d never felt before. A need to be, a need to claim. A need to become the cause of your laugh, a need to hear you whimper beneath him.

Sukuna was no stranger to the reputation of his name. He knew how people spoke of him, with none of the fault to them. His past and present was not a kind one, he was a violent man with a short temper and a far too sadistic look on life. But you, you had softened that blood thirst and replaced it with desire. His hand did nothing to soothe that desire let alone the whores he tried to distract himself with. No, you were imprinted on every part of his brain.

But you were too pure, too kind and too innocent. He liked you that way and in no way could he bring himself to take that away from you. So he lingered, made excuses to leave just to control himself, kept contact minimal. Until now. For now, after seeing how he had caused you such pain, he had no other way to drown out his self hatred. He had hurt you, and for that he could not forgive himself.

|||||

“My lady, it is stunning.” Yumehi’s hands carefully brushed your hair back over your shoulder so you could see the robe properly in the mirror.

It was a light pink colour, silky and thin for casual wear, and oh so comfortable. But the best part was around the bottom. Beautiful hand-sewn art of your favourite flowers etched around the fabric, swirling up towards your waist and just around it. It was soft, far more expensive than anything you had ever worn. A subtle warmth spread around your cheeks which you happily bathed in as you smiled of pure glee. You stood, twirling around to watch it flow beneath you.

“Oh Yumi it is beautiful.” You gushed, a small giggle escaping your lips. “I can barely believe it is for me.”

Five weeks had passed since that day. In the beginning you were wary of the gifts, almost refusing them from the hands that insisted you take them. But as time passed it became routine. The fear and discomfort turned to joy and excitement.

“I must repay him, surely I do.”

“Dear I do not think that is necessary..” but Yumehi’s words fell on deaf ears as you hooked your arm in hers and led her out to the gardens.

The rest of the day was spent carefully painting a teacup, your eyes studying the flowers to copy them perfectly. Yumehi had given up on her protests and simply held you company instead, silently watching with a content smile on her lips.

She was grateful for you, truly.

You didn’t know it yourself, but since you arrived everything around the estate had changed. She had worked here more or less her entire life, her family too. It had never been a rough life, quite the opposite in fact as the staff was more or less left alone, but now there was life in the building. Every morning the kitchen staff would bake in the kitchen that almost dusted over before you, every evening the fine china got brought to life for your tea. Their master even insisted on the dining room being used for the two of you.

In fact, you had put life in him too. Even if you did not notice it yourself.

He actually spoke to the staff around the house, asked them about you and instructed them carefully. Yumehi no longer saw him come home with fists drenched in blood and that sinister smile on his face. Instead she noticed him where you didn’t, lingering in windows and around corners. You had brought life to this place, to him.

A squeak of joy interrupted her thoughts as you proudly held the teacup up in the air. “How beautiful, my lady.”

The cup was gently paraded in your hands, and later that evening carefully held by him.

A soft breath left his lips as he studied the thing. He almost couldn’t believe it, questioning it when Yumehi insisted you had made it for him. An unfamiliar warmth spread through his body. In that moment he wished for nothing other than to be able to hold you in his hands like the cup, sheltering you from all the evils in this world.

His night was spent in his bed, hands wrapped around his cock as he shamelessly fantasised about how cute you must’ve looked making it for him.

“Fuck..” the groan that escaped him was pure filth as he spilled himself over his own stomach. Sukuna was becoming insatiable, he needed you. Now.

|||||

It had been just over six weeks since the gifts had begun, and you found yourself staring at your ceiling unable to find some rest. It had been like that for the past few days, your mind too clouded with thoughts to sleep. Thoughts of him.

Over time he had gotten bolder. Whilst you were in the main garden, he would sit and have his tea by the open room right next to it. At first you froze, completely taken aback by the sight of him. But as time went on it became routine.

He would watch you in the gardens, stay in the library when you entered, even go as far as to every now and then linger in the background when you received your gifts. At first it had been new, almost uncomfortable, but with time it just felt safe. Like you were being watched over, protected.

You began to watch him, too. When he trained in the courtyard you’d sit by the library window and secretly watch as he kicked and punched a dummy. It was a sight that made you dizzy. He looked so strong, so bare..

A warmth had began to build inside you every time you saw him. Something you’d never felt before.

It led you here, in front of the doors to his chambers. You had somehow slipped past the staff to the other side of the estate. Now you stood here, completely mindless of the fact you wore nothing but your nightgown, hand raised to knock. A sharp breath sucked into your lungs as you let your fist land on the wood once, then twice. As you were about to knock for the third time the door opened hastily.

“Huh..” He looked down at you, shocked.

Sukuna was shirtless, wearing nothing but some dark pants, and you could for the first time see just how the markings stretched across his body.

“What are you doing here?”

A reply got lost on your tongue as you looked up at him, words completely forgotten. In truth you did not really know why, or you did- but not in a way you understood. You had felt unsafe and alone, unable to sleep, so you went to where it felt safe. To who it felt safe.

“Are you okay?” This time, Sukuna fell victim to the movement of his hand that cupped your cheek. His words were drenched in worry, only calming when you softly nodded.

“I.. I can’t sleep..” you exhale nervously, suddenly too aware of where you were. “m’sorry i’ll leave..”

Your words were cut off by the biggest surprise yet. Sukuna pulled you in flush against his chest, arm wrapped around you as if you would disappear from him if it did not. His hand found itself down to your back, gently stroking circled into your skin as he shushed you.

He was so much bigger than you, so warm and so..

A small and needy whine left your lips, and the self control Sukuna had worked so hard on vanished into thin air. You were here, you. Here.

His fingers tilted your face up to look at him and before you could react your lips met his. They were gentle yet sharp, kind yet dominant. Your hands held on to his muscular arms as he pulled you inside the room, kicking the door closed behind you.

“Sukuna..” you whispered as he pulled away for air and he could’ve sworn he died and went to heaven right there. Your eyes were glossed over, your lips parted as heavy breaths left you. You were gorgeous.

“I’m sorry my dove, I couldn’t help it” he whispered and you almost purred at the pet name. “It is late, you should head back..”

You cut him off by tracing a finger across his shoulder. Following the black markings, you found rough edges of scars and soft pads of flesh across his arm. He was roughed up, yet so so soft. It made a shiver run down his entire body.

No one had ever touched him like this before. So gently, like he was delicate. How was he meant to control the primal urge that boiled up inside him. He devoured a sharp breath before he spoke, voice dark and husky

“If you keep petting me like i’m a cat, I do not know how well I’ll be able to control myself my dove.” He chuckled lightly, hand landing on the back of your neck with a kind yet stern touch. It made you whine. A sound so perfect he almost lost control.

“Kunaaa..” you whispered, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed from feelings all too new for you. That was enough for his lips to meet yours again. His hand shifted so his thumb rested against the front of your throat. Not hard, but there as a hint of control.

His lips moved against yours in a dance, teeth grazing the corner of your mouth which earned him a whimper. He forced himself to pull back, run a thumb against your lower lip and watch how you almost took it in your mouth to suck it on instinct.

“Do you want this, my love?”

You didn’t exactly know what this meant. But there was something in you that did.

“Y-Yes” it came out in a whisper, your needy hands holding on to him.

“Say it.”

The way he commanded you made your head spin into a hot haze, a moan almost escaping your throat. You looked up at him, eyes doe wide and lips apart. When you took too long to answer, his thumb pushed down on your throat. Not enough to be uncomfortable, just a reminder.

“I want..” you exhaled, unsure of how to even speak. “I want you.”

That was enough for him.

He guided you towards the bed as he kissed you again, fingers teasing the fabric of your robe. “You are perfect..” he whispered in moments between those where you met. “My perfect girl..” The words made you whine while the back of your legs hit the bed. Sukuna stopped for a second, pulling away to gently guide you to sit on the bed.

His fingers found the tie of the robe, slowly pulling it apart. You whined and tried to kiss him again but he dodged the little attempt with a chuckle. He needed to see you, the entirety of you.

You felt the robe slip off your shoulders and shuddered as the cold air hit your skin. “Fuck..” a low groan came out of the man before you. His hands met your breasts, fingers rolling over your nipples making a soft moan escape your lips. It only egged him on, nipple rolled between his fingers tighter until he got a small whimper out of you. “Good girl, so fucking good for me.”

Sukuna pushed you back until you laid flat against the sheets, pulling himself on top of you with his arms holding him up on either side of you. His lips met yours before they travelled down to your jaw, making their way down to your neck. You whined and whimpered as he softly bit on your skin. Then you felt his tongue stroke over your nipple, clouding your mind with pleasure.

“Kunaa..” you mewled out, back arched and fingers moving to gently tug on his hair.

His hands moved to hold on to your waist as he kissed his way down to your thighs as if he worshipped you. Leaving little marks, little claims, around your naked flesh. He stopped right above your pussy, breath tickling you as he just stared.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He more or less announced, leaving small kisses on your inner thighs right too close. It was too much, but nowhere near enough, and you desperately buckled your hips towards him which earned you a chuckle. “So eager for me. Good girl.”

The praise made you whine. You needed more.

Slowly his thumb began to brush against your folds, running up and down in a teasing way. It brushed over your clit, rubbing just enough to earn him a couple of your sweet moans. He could see you like this forever, but it would be cruel to leave you in this state for so long.

With one hand gently stroking against your stomach, the other one moved to slowly sink a finger into you.

Fuck, you were so tight. Swallowing his finger like a greedy little girl. Sukuna had to take a deep breath right there and then to compose himself. Had he not, he might have taken you instantly. But you were new, unbroken and untouched.

“Ah- ah..” Your hands grabbed on to the sheets as he began to move his finger, stretching you out while praises left his mouth like prayers.

“So fucking good for me..”

Sukuna moved up to look down at you, watching your face as he added another finger to stretch you out. It burnt at first but then as the pleasure came over you, so did the moans escape you.

“Nghhh.. f-feel so good..” You panted and arched your back so your chest touched his. His free hand moved to stroke your hair gently as the other picked up speed. “Kuna…”

“Shh.. That’s it my dove, just feel it.” He whispered and planted soft kisses against the corner of your mouth.

The stretch of his fingers, the way his thumb intently pressed against your clit, it was so much. Too much. A tension was building up in your stomach, making you shake against his touch. “Sukuna..”

“Fuck you’re so good for me..” he groaned against your ear, shamelessly bucking his hips to grind against your thigh. “Let go for me my love, you’re doing so good.”

A strangled moan escaped your lips as you came, clenching tight around his fingers and shouting out his name. Had you not been so distracted, you would’ve worried about the staff hearing you. As the high went down, your breaths became heavy and your body limp. Suddenly you almost felt ashamed. Had you been too much?

“I’m sorry I..” you were cut off by his thumb brushing against your lip, the taste of yourself edging against your tongue.

“Shh my love, you did wonderful.” He softly kissed your cheek then down to your jaw, small nibbles against your skin leaving you giggling. Sukuna moved to stand up before you, and suddenly it hit you.

Your mother had spoken to you of.. marriage duties before. “It’ll be over before you know it, and you won’t have to see him after.” A sense of dread and disappointment washed over you as you looked up at him. If this was, well, that.. then it was your time to leave.

But when you moved to pick up your robe and stand up, a firm hand pushed you back down. “Where do you think you are going?”

“Well we are done..” you squeaked out, pout forming on your lips. “I thought I..”

“Lay back down.”

It was a command, not a question. One you followed without wait. Was he disappointed in you? Had you done something wrong? You looked down at your hands, picking at the skin around your nails while you waited for some harsh lecture. But it never came.

Instead, Sukuna moved to pull the covers aside and get down in the bed with you. A small sound left you as he pulled you flush against his chest, hand stroking gentle circles into your skin.

“You did so good for me..” he whispered into your hair.

There was something about this moment, about this tenderness, that just made you explode. Tears welled up in your eyes and you couldn’t help but sob. Sukuna pulled away, worry stretched across his face.

“What’s wrong my dove?” he moved to brush the tears away. “Are you hurt, did I hurt you?”

You didn’t reply, instead you crushed your face into his chest and let him hold you closer.

It was soft and tender, a love you couldn’t say you’ve felt before. There you laid, in the arms of the king of curses, and you had never felt more safe before.

This is my first time writing anything JJK, and my first time writing in waaaay too long. I just had an idea and spun on it oops. Think i’m gonna make more drabbles of this in the future, more smut heavy. I love simp Sukuna heheh

[jinjoohaaa]

Room for one more?

pairing : jjk men x reader

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?

content warning : explicit sexual content, multiple partners, oral sex, dirty talk, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sexual frustration, grinding, non-pen sex, teasing, masturbation, jealousy, possessiveness, mature language, Gojo suffering, mdni, 18+.

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 12

Morning started like hell for Satoru.

He was sprawled on his stomach in bed, face buried in a pillow, hips grinding down pathetically as he groaned into the mattress.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—this is torture,” he hissed, cock throbbing uselessly beneath him, and his own hand twitched where it had gone numb from trying to jerk off but failing miserably since midnight. but that wasn’t the worst part. It was remembering he couldn’t even touch you today. or tomorrow. or for six more whole days. he groaned louder. “I’m gonna die.”

By the time he finally got out of bed, he looked exhausted. bags under his eyes, hair a mess, and only wearing a loose tee and boxers. nd then he saw you.

You were in the kitchen, humming, your back to him, wearing that tiny little pair of sleep shorts and that top that has him losing it every time. your ass jiggled when you reached for something on the top shelf, and when you bent over to grab a dropped spoon, Gojo actually whimpered.

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced away like he’d seen a demon. “nope. nope, no. I’m a good boy. I’m a good boy now. not gonna spread her open over the fucking counter like I’m dying. I’m fine.”

But then Toji strolled into the kitchen, yawning, in just gray sweatpants, no shirt in sight, muscles on full display. He smirked when he caught Gojo’s clenched jaw. “morning, lover boy.”

“Fuck off,” Satoru mumbled.

Toji leaned against the counter, way too close to you. “you sleep okay, princess?” he asked, brushing your hair back from your face.

Gojo’s eye twitched.

You smiled shyly. “yeah, you?”

“Better now.” and then Toji reached around you to grab the coffee pot pressing his front flush to your back in the process.

It was slow. deliberate. and from Gojo’s angle, he could see just how low Toji’s hand slid across your hip as he did it.

Gojo took a deep breath and muttered, “I’m not gonna kill him. I’m not gonna kill him.”

Toji turned his head, looked Gojo dead in the eye, and smirked wider. “wish that was you, huh?”

Satoru snapped. “I’m going to my room.”

He slammed the door, plopped down on his bed rethinking his life decisions.

***

Mid-afternoon.

Nanami entered the living room like he always did, composed, elegant, unreadable. He wasn’t flashy like Geto, wasn’t a loudmouth like Gojo. But when it came to you? He had a way of taking his time. Of knowing exactly where to touch to get you to melt without ever raising his voice.

You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you, in your soft tank that was barely keeping your tits in check. You had no bra on. Not with Nanami in the house. You liked how he looked at them. Especially when he didn’t say anything. Just stared quietly, intense, starving.

“Cold?” Nanami asked, holding a soft throw blanket.

You nodded absently. “a little.”

He sat next to you. Laid the blanket over your lap. Passed you a warm mug of tea, his hand lingering a beat longer than necessary as your fingers brushed.

Satoru was at the dining table, screen open but eyes locked. Watching. Grinding his teeth. He already hated the way Nanami’s thigh was brushing yours.

But then Nanami moved his hand under the blanket, fingertips dragging along your bare thigh. Your breath hitched just slightly, the mug wobbling in your hand. You said nothing. Neither did he. Gojo leaned forward, eyes sharp, like a predator spotting another alpha. Then Nanami leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“May I?” he murmured, voice low and smooth like honey.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. Gojo nearly snapped his phone in half. Nanami’s hand slid up smooth and deliberate, trailing along your stomach, fingers spreading, stroking over your ribs. Then under your top.

Satoru’s heart stopped.

Your tank top lifted slightly, exposing the lower curve of your breast. Nanami’s hand closed around it, warm and firm, his palm pressing fully against you. He gave it a deliberate squeeze, thumb brushing softly over your nipple, rolling it, making your breath tremble and your thighs shift.

“ah—Nanamin…”

He hummed at the sound, tilting his head to kiss your shoulder, your collarbone, edge of your jaw. And then he pulled your top down. One of your tits bounced free and Gojo gasped like he’d been stabbed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” he shouted.

Nanami ignored him. His mouth lowered to your exposed breast, tongue dragging a warm circle around your nipple. He sucked softly, gently, with a low growl in his throat, lips gliding across your skin like he was worshiping every inch.

Your hand threaded through his golden hair. “mmm... nanamin....”

Gojo gripped the table edge so hard his knuckles turned white. Nanami kept going, flicking your nipple with his tongue, then sucking harder, rolling the other between his fingers. Your chest rose and fell rapidly under the pleasure.

“How's it, love,” Nanami murmured.

“S'good… love it,” you whispered, eyes half-lidded.

That was it. Gojo stood up so fast his chair toppled over. “I can’t,” he barked. “I need—fuck—I need five minutes. Ten minutes!”

He stormed off toward the bathroom, his boner obvious, muttering curses as he slammed the door behind him. Inside, he jerked off with furious frustration, one hand braced against the mirror, the other pumping desperately.

“fuckin' Nanami and my bunny...her and—fuck—her tits—…”

***

Evening.

You were lounging in the couch lazily, enough to stir chaos in any man watching. Gojo was on the other couch, arms crossed, face sour, trying to “behave,” still under curfew.

Geto walked upto and dropped down near you, casually pulling you into his lap. His thighs parted, yours slotted between them, your back pressed to his bare chest.

“You feel warm, bunny,” Geto murmured into your ear, voice like velvet. “want me to help you cool down or heat you up more?”

You giggled, innocent as ever, but leaned into him. “stop teasing me, Suguru… you're so mean...”

“Mm. been thinking about you....,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

Gojo sat up straight. Geto didn’t even glance at him. His hand slid down your stomach, resting lightly on your lower belly. other wrapped around your waist. He tugged you tighter to him, hips aligning, and that’s when Gojo saw it.

Geto’s cock, already out, bare and hard. Nestled right between your asscheeks, twitching against those thin shorts.

“Suguru, don't do this to me....,” Gojo hissed.

Geto gave him a calm look over your shoulder, smirking. “she said she was cold, Satoru. just warming her up.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you arched slightly into him, feeling every inch of his thickness grinding between your cheeks. You didn't even have panties on. Barely a thin layer of fabric separating skin from skin.

“Suguru—mmph—feels good…” you breathed.

He started to move. slow, deliberate thrusts of his hips, cock rubbing between your cheeks, sliding against your clothed pussy from behind. not inside yet but the friction was obscene. curve of his shaft nudging your folds through the soaked fabric, head catching on your clit every time he rocked forward. His hands were everywhere. One on your chest, palming a tit, fingers teasing your nipple through the top. The other splayed over your inner thigh, keeping your legs open, guiding the pace. Slow and deep. Like he was fucking you in slow motion without even being inside.

Gojo made a strangled sound, his legs bouncing. “don’t—don’t you dare cum on her, you bastard,” he snapped.

Geto chuckled, lips brushing your ear. “she likes it when I make a mess. don’t you, princess?”

You whimpered softly, your hips starting to move with him, grinding back. The heat between you two was stifling. Your shorts were riding up, practically glued to your pussy now, every shift of Geto’s hips making your breath hitch. tip of his cock poked in just enough under the hem, slick and needy. next grind hit your clit so perfectly, you gasped.

“Suguru—ahh—please…”

“say what you want, baby.”

“need more… please move...”

He growled into your neck. “such a filthy girl.”

Gojo was gripping the couch cushion like he might tear it apart. “Suguru, stop. you’re making it worse!”

“worse?” Geto raised an eyebrow, still lazily humping against you. “she’s leaking. wanna see?”

And then with slow, cruel intent, he slipped his hand beneath your shorts. Pulled them aside. Let his cock press bare against your pussy lips, grinding between them with nothing left in the way. Your juices slicked him up instantly. Gojo moaned under his breath, folding forward.

“Want this, huh?” Geto said, thrusting harder now, making wet noises between your thighs. “wish you were the one rubbing your cock all over this sweet little cunt.”

You were gone, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes glassy. “f-fuck, Suguru—ah—!”

“That’s it, princess. use me like you please.”

Gojo stood up and stormed to the bathroom again, yelling something about “not surviving the week” and “the devil in a damn man bun.”

Geto just grinned and kissed your cheek. “he’s gonna go cry and cum again.”

***

Gojo didn’t come out of the bathroom for ten minutes. You were panting, half-melted against Geto’s chest, your soaked shorts clinging to your pussy like a second skin. Geto had one hand lazily stroking your thigh, murmuring little praises in your ear as he kissed the shell of it—“so good for me,” “you take it like a pro now,” “Satoru’s probably fucking his fist crying your name…”

You were too dizzy to argue. Too warm. Too needy still, even after all that. And then you felt it. A shadow overhead. A weight in the room shifted. Toji was leaning against the wall near the armchair, arms folded, looking straight at you with that signature deadpan stare—half-lust, half-challenge. His shirt was off, towel slung over his shoulder, sweat still drying on his chest from a workout. His eyes dropped to your spread legs. Your flushed, trembling thighs. The wet patch at the base of your shorts.

“Geto,” he said, voice low and firm. “move.”

Suguru gave a smirk but didn’t argue. He pressed one last kiss to your temple, murmured “you’ll love this,” and stood up, giving Toji space.

You blinked, dazed, as Toji stepped closer. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he crouched low on his knees between your legs, just like Gojo had knelt the day before, but different. Hungrier. Less apologetic.

He didn’t say a word. Toji just grabbed the hem of your shorts and yanked them down your legs in one smooth, practiced move. Your pussy was bare, glistening, your lips puffy and flushed from the way Geto used it. You were caught off guard and tried to close your legs, but his large hands caught your thighs and held them open, spreading you wide.

“Tch. can’t believe they’re making me wait my turn in this house,” Toji muttered. “Gojo's the one with the damn curfew, and I’m playing nice? bullshit.”

And then he dove in. Tongue flat, firm, and ruthless. He licked you from hole to clit in one long stroke, groaning into your cunt like he’d been starving and just got served his favorite meal.

Your entire body jerked. “T-Toji—!”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t pause. His mouth latched onto your clit, suckling, nibbling, circling that swollen bundle of nerves until your thighs trembled and your hands flew to his hair, clutching it like it was the only thing grounding you.

“Fuck,” Geto chuckled from the couch, watching lazily. “you’re gonna kill her.”

Toji gave a guttural grunt against your pussy, the vibrations making your hips jerk. He shifted lower, tongue thrusting into your entrance now, fucking you slow and deep with just the firm tip. He groaned as he did it, like your taste was something he’d craved for ages.

And then— the bathroom door slammed open. Gojo stormed out, flushed red, shirtless, sweat shining on his chest, his pants hastily zipped and low on his waist. He stopped dead in his tracks. You. Toji.

You laid bare with your legs spread wide, while Toji devoured you like a goddamn beast. His hands still gripping your thighs, fingers digging in. One hand moved to your lower belly, pressing down slightly to arch your hips up into his mouth.

“Oh my fucking god,” Satoru groaned, dragging both hands through his hair. “you’re all going to hell. You—Toji—you’re going to the lowest of the low.”

Toji didn’t even look up. He spread your pussy wider with his thumbs, spit down onto your folds, and licked it back up. slowly and filthy Your hips bucked, your voice a high, breathy whimper of his name.

“Want a taste, huh?” Toji finally growled, looking up at Gojo with a grin, his lips soaked with your slick. “bet you’re gonna think about this when you jerk off tonight. Her thighs around your head. Her cunt twitchin’ on your tongue.”

“Ah—Toji, please—” you gasped, barely able to breathe. You were shaking now, body on edge, orgasm building fast under his brutal tongue and that skilled pressure. Toji’s finger joined in, just one pressing inside you, curling slow, teasing your sweet spot while his mouth ravaged your clit.

“gonna cum, baby?” he murmured, his breath hot against your cunt. “come on. show that pretty boy what he’s missing.”

Gojo stood there, fists clenched at his sides, chest heaving. You came hard. Eyes rolled back, thighs clamping around Toji’s head, sobbing his name. Your whole body convulsed, a wave of hot pleasure crashing through you. Toji’s tongue licked every drop of you like it was sacred. When he finally pulled back, his mouth was soaked, chin glistening. He kissed your inner thigh softly, almost sweetly then stood, towering over you.

Gojo looked like he was about to combust. “I—fucking hate all of you,” he said, before turning around walking off to bathroom again.

The door slammed shut again, hard enough to rattle the frame. You were sprawled on the couch with weak weak, lips parted, panting softly as the aftershocks of Toji’s tongue echoed in your bones. Body buzzed with overstimulation, every nerve singing, and inner thighs glistened with spit and slick. Toji was smirking, wiping his mouth lazily with the back of his hand, still standing tall in front of you like he owned the moment. Nanami returned from his room, sipping calmly from a bottle of water, while Geto started scribbling on his notebook again.

And then, the door banged open again.

Gojo stormed out again, and this time, he looked like a mess. Hair wild, cheeks flushed and damp from sweat. His pants hung loosely at his waist, clearly pulled up in a hurry again, and the frustration in his gait could’ve set the house on fire. He stomped right toward you. Didn’t speak. Didn’t wait. Just dropped to his knees between your legs and cupped your face in both hands like a man starved of touch and sanity.

“I’m kissing her,” he growled under his breath, looking at Toji and the others. “and none of you fuckers are stopping me.”

Toji scoffed, arms crossed. “tch. you’re on a curfew, brat.”

“I’m allowed to kiss,” Gojo snapped, not taking his eyes off your face. “kissing’s free. and if you think I’m just gonna sit here jerking off in a damn bathroom while you all get your mouths, fingers and cocks on my girl, then you’ve lost your goddamn minds.”

You were breathless, barely able to speak. “Satoru—”

He kissed you. Hard. Mouth crashing into yours like a dam breaking, all tongue and teeth and hunger. His lips were hot, demanding, slick from panting, and you whimpered into it as he licked into your mouth, deep and messy and filthy. He moaned your name into the kiss, kissed you again and again, shifting closer on his knees until his chest pressed into your legs and you felt the full outline of his arousal straining against his pants. His hands trembled on your cheeks, twitching with the effort not to move lower. Because he wanted to. So badly. But Gojo was obeying the rules, for now.

You moaned when he nibbled your bottom lip, breathing hard. “you taste so good,” he whispered. “so sweet. fuck—fuck, never been so hard for so long in my life.”

You blinked at him, dazed. “mm... toru…”

Gojo kissed you again, sloppier this time, letting out little noises like he was losing his mind from it. His mouth trailed down your jaw, to your neck, licking the sweat there, sucking a mark just above your collarbone. Then he pulled back, panting. Looked around and snapped.

“Okay, I can’t do this for a week,” he barked, turning to Nanami and Geto. “no. no, fuck this. I’m done. cut my curfew short. please.”

Geto raised an eyebrow. “why should we?”

“Because I’m gonna die!” Gojo threw his head back dramatically. “do you know what it’s like to be this hard for hours? my dick’s gonna fall off. my wrists are sore, I’ve jerked off five fucking times today, and now she’s walking around in those fucking tiny shorts, tits bouncing, ass jiggling, and you expect me to just watch?!”

Toji snorted. “that’s the whole point, dumbass.”

Gojo turned on him, eyes wild. “you literally ate her pussy in front of me! I should throw you off the balcony.”

Toji just grinned. “are you hurt, loverboy?”

“Of course I am,” Gojo groaned, pacing now. “I wanna bury my face in her cunt until she sobs. want her riding my face. want her tits in my mouth. want to fuck—ugh!—swear to God, if I don’t cum inside her by the weekend, I’ll jump off the building myself.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “then learn to control yourself.”

Gojo rounded on him next, whimpering like a brat. “you had your hands on her tits this morning. I saw it. I was right fucking there. she was moaning your fuckin' name and I sat there like a damn virgin with blue balls.”

You gasped, flushing. “Oh my god, toru!”

Gojo looked at you with pleading eyes. “baby, please. tell them I’ve been good.”

You bit your lip, smiling faintly. “well, I'd say, you’ve tried.”

“Seee!!! my hands are sore. been holding back all day. do you know how hard that is for me?”

Toji rolled his eyes. “cry harder.”

Geto smirked. “you’re such a whiny sub when you’re edged.”

“I am not—” Gojo started, then paused. thought about it. “okay, maybe I am. but you all love it, don’t you? watching me break while you get to touch her—get to taste her—”

He looked back at you again. Softer now. Pleading.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispered. “I’ll be gentle. I’ll behave. I’ll be your good boy. just wanna be inside you so bad it hurts, princess…”

You part your lips to speak, but toji cuts you off before a word can come out, already shaking his head. “still no.”

Gojo whimpered. loudly. then collapsed back onto the floor, arms spread and defeated. “ughhhhh—fuck my life.”

He turned his head, looking up at you again, hair messy, pupils blown wide. “but I still get kisses, right?”

You nodded shyly. "I guess so..."

He perked up. “c’mere then.”

And you leaned down into his lap, his lips already parting, eager for another long, messy kiss that he dragged out like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

His lips were swollen from kissing you like a starved man, his pants stretched painfully around the still-throbbing bulge between his legs. Sweat clung to his temples, his shirt stuck to his skin, and the look in his eyes was pure, tortured lust.

But he’d made it. barely. he hadn’t touched you. not once. except to kiss, but that didn’t count cause "kisses were free" or he said. He'd watched you get teased, manhandled, devoured, saw your legs tremble when Geto humped you, saw your tits getting sucked by Nanami, saw you getting eaten alive by Toji and still, somehow, didn’t break the rule. Even if it felt like his dick might.

He rolled onto his side with a loud groan, curling slightly, muttering into the carpet, “one day down… six more to go…”

He sounded like a soldier crawling back from war. Toji laughed from the couch, flicking a stray droplet of your slick off his fingers. “bet it’s gonna feel like sixty.”

Geto snorted. “think he’ll make it?”

Nanami adjusted his shirt. “he better make it.”

But Gojo, panting on the floor with his face smushed into the rug, grinned with stubborn pride. because despite the aching balls, the shattered ego, the near feral urges—he won.

Day one: survived. barely. Hell had six more days. And Satoru Gojo, horny and humiliated, was walking straight back into the fire.

***

Satoru had never appreciated overtime until now.

Normally, he'd be the first to whine, spin in his chair like a bored child, and text you a dozen times complaining about how "work is murdering his soul". but today, being chained to his desk felt like divine intervention.

Curfew was still on. no touching. no teasing. no you. by the time he got home, the sky was dark and the apartment lights were dim. he sighed dramatically as he walked in, kicking his shoes off.

"finally… solitude," he muttered, looking around. no sight of you. no sight of the others either. maybe—just maybe—he could survive another day without losing his mind. until he heard it.

A giggle, followed by a soft moan. unmistakably yours. from your room. Satoru froze, the air leaving his lungs like someone punched it out of him. his bedroom door was open, Geto was laying on his bed reading a book, calm as ever. "Satoru," he greeted with a nod, unfazed.

Geto wasn’t the culprit. Nanami, maybe? Satoru peered into the balcony and saw the man quietly working on his laptop, brow furrowed, sipping his drink. that left only one option.

“Toji, that fuckin' bastard...” he whispered, like uttering a curse. he didn’t check. he didn’t even want to. Instead, he turned on his heels, stormed into his room, grabbed two pillows, covered both ears, and curled up under the blanket like a sulking cat. "day 2 is done," he groaned. "only five more days of this goddamn hell."

***

Saturday.

Usually, weekends were Gojo's playground. lazy mornings spent tangled up with you and wild nights that didn’t end until someone begged for mercy. he would’ve definitely slipped in sometime past midnight, all smug about it, curling himself around you, pressing lazy kisses into your skin until you melted into him, until you were too soft to even protest. and by morning, he’d still be there, wrapped around you like a clingy octopus that refuses to let go, limbs tangled, face buried into your neck. stealing your first kiss of the day without even asking… greedy like that. always greedy when it comes to you. but today? today was war.

Satoru Gojo was not okay.

He woke up hard. again. that invisible morning wood misery where his cock throbbed against his boxers like it had a vendetta. he was so sensitive, even the damn bedsheet brushing against him felt like a crime.

Worse? he had dreamt of you. a damn wet dream.

Bent over the bathroom sink, nipples puffy, thighs shaking, begging him to break the curfew. “touch me, Toru—please—need it—”

He’d woken up whining, breathless, sticky with sweat and pre-cum, fists clenched and trembling under the covers.

Three days. he hadn’t really touched you in three damn days. and he was losing it. he sat up in bed and stared at the ceiling, mentally preparing himself.

"you got this, Satoru. It’s just one more day. you can do it. you’re strong. you’ve got willpower. you—"

Then he heard your laugh. soft, airy giggle that wrapped around his nerves like a noose. "Fuck," he whispered, dragging his hands down his face. still, he emerged from his room with that classic grin plastered across his face. masking his suffering. pretending to be fine.

“I’m sunshine incarnate,” he whispered like a mantra. then he took exactly two steps into the living room and froze.

There you were, sitting on the couch with Toji's head buried in your tits, a nipple in his mouth, arms snug around your waist like he was nursing. and the look on your face, eyes fluttered, lips parted, soft sighs escaping you was murderous.

Satoru didn't speak. he just spun around on his heel and bolted into the kitchen, grabbing the coldest bottle of water from the fridge and pressing it to his forehead. "my lord, please shorten my sentence," Gojo muttered under his breath. "I can't do this. I can’t."

He could hear it, Toji murmuring against your skin, low praises and chuckles. occasional wet sound that made Gojo's spine stiffen like a board. and you, sweet and shy as ever, trying not to moan too loud.

“wish this was you?” Toji called out casually, knowing damn well Gojo could hear every word from the kitchen.

He gritted his teeth. "you know what? I don’t need this," he snapped to himself, grabbing the first thing he got and aggressively slicing fruit like it had personally offended him.

***

After a few minutes, he was still sulking at the kitchen counter, gripping his cold water bottle like it was the only thing keeping him from combusting. his jaw clenched every time he heard so much as the sofa creak or your laugh echo from the living room. that's when Nanami stepped in.

“rough morning?” he asked, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, looking like he’d just stepped off a runway.

Gojo glared. “no, not at all. oh how I love waking up to the sound of Toji suckling on my girl’s tits in 4K surround sound.”

Nanami blinked biting back a grin. “could’ve stayed in your room.”

“I did, nanamin. stayed there, praying, meditating, trying to find peace. but then I opened the door, and BAM—Toji looked like he was trying to breastfeed.”

“mhhm,” Nanami mused, “she did look pretty this morning.... can't blame him...”

“don’t,” Gojo begged, gripping his water bottle tighter. that’s when Geto strolled in, shirt halfway unbuttoned, hair tied loose and lazy. he gave Gojo a bright smile. “oh, still alive?”

“hanging by a thread, yeah” Gojo hissed. “a thin, throbbing, aching thread.”

Geto leaned closer with a grin. “yeah, I’m throbbing too.”

Gojo nearly screamed. before he could curse out both of them, Toji’s voice floated in from the living room: deep, smug, deliberate.

“damn, doll—this top's practically painted on you. tryna kill someone this morning?”

Gojo stiffened, eyes twitching. he crept toward the edge of the kitchen doorway just in time to see you. you were wearing that top again. the one he bought. obviously. pastel pink one that barely held your tits, tight enough to show your hard nipples poking through like sinful little teases. and those tiny shorts—so tiny he could see the curve of your ass cheeks from under them. you were reaching up for the remote, which toji had intentionally placed just a little higher, just so he could watch you try your oh-so-best to grab it, before sliding in behind you, hands on your waist to “help” you take it, when the stretch of your arms lifting your top just enough to flash the soft skin of your tummy.

Gojo let out a strangled sound. Toji saw the way he stared. he smirked. “morning, brat,” Toji drawled. “she looks good, doesn’t she?”

Gojo gritted his teeth, adjusting his pants as subtly as he could. “don’t start, man—”

“just saying,” Toji shrugged. “you agreed to this little hands-off deal. not my fault our girl’s walking around like a snack.”

“she’s MY girl,” Gojo snapped.

“Toji—stop it,” you mumbled, cheeks pink, pushing him away gently as you walked to the couch.

Gojo looked at you immediately. “baby,” he whispered, “wear something else. please. you’re gonna kill me.”

You blinked at him innocently. “but it’s your favorite.”

“fuckin’ tease,” Toji muttered, sliding his hand slowly over your lower back, thumb dipping beneath your shorts.

Gojo slapped a hand over his mouth. “why…why is he allowed to do that?” he gasped.

“we all do that, only you got the ban.” Nanami said dryly.

“It was supposed to be a fun challenge,” Gojo whined. “like a game. not ‘let’s traumatize Satoru with free-use bunny porn’ every morning!”

“hell no— it's a fuckin’ ban,” toji mutters, voice rough, his hand squeezing a generous handful of your ass like it proves his point.

Gojo catches it and immediately looks away, jaw tight, like he can’t stand watching for another second. “you—you shut up.”

As if on cue, Geto passed by him with a soft whistle, sauntering up behind you next. you were standing near the couch when Geto pressed close to your back, his hand sliding up your arm to your throat, just holding, not squeezing, but enough to make Gojo's knees buckle in rage.

“look at you,” Geto purred in your ear. “still wet from last night?” you hummed, tilting your head into his touch. “suguuu… stopp...”

Gojo screamed internally. Geto turned toward him with a wink. “you hear that, Satoru? she’s still wet.”

Gojo dropped to his knees on to the floor. “god, if you’re listening, please smite them. or me. I don’t care who dies first.”

Nanami, the only one who didn’t go for dramatics, walked past the couch, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “are you hungry?” he asked softly. “you didn’t eat much earlier.”

“I’m okay, will eat later” you murmured, smiling up at him.

“let me know,” Nanami replied, his fingers brushing under your jaw, lingering,then sliding down the column of your throat like routine.

Gojo’s hands clenched into fists. “even Nanami’s being slutty. Is this hell?”

Then came the final straw. Toji patted his thigh, grinning at you. “c’mere, sweetheart.” you climbed into his lap like it was muscle memory, your back to his chest, his palm immediately sliding over your bare thigh.

Gojo should've left the scene ages ago, but still he peered around the corner again and immediately regretted it. Toji wasn’t just touching you. he was massaging, thumb rubbing lazy circles under the curve of your ass, fingers sneaking higher, closer, pressing snug between your thighs. you squirmed, and Gojo heard your quiet gasp. that broke him.

Toji glanced toward him, that smug, wicked smirk on full display. “you watching, blue eyes?”

Gojo didn’t answer.

“want this, don’t you?” Toji drawled, leaning down to nip your neck. “bet you’d be a fuckin’ mess with her pussy grinding on you like this.”

“TOJI FUSHIGURO!” Gojo shrieked like a scandalized Victorian widow.

Toji just laughed, rolling his hips under you once, just to be mean. Geto howled with laughter. “Satoru’s gonna combust.”

Nanami sighed. “you’re pushing it.”

“oh, he loves it,” Toji grinned. “you see how red he gets?”

Gojo didn’t say anything. he just grabbed the tissue box, marched to his room, and slammed the door shut. from behind it came the faint, muffled wail:

“I HOPE YOU ALL GET BLUE BALLS FOR A WEEK!”

to be continued in the next chapter

comment down to get tagged in upcoming chapters.

[jinjoohaaa]

Room for one more?

pairing : jjk men x reader

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?

content warning : nsfw, group dynamics, unprotected sex, cum play, possessiveness, jealousy, manipulation, oral , dirty talk, overstim, shower sex, polyamory, dry humping, 18+ only, mdni.

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 7

The shift in the house was undeniable.

Gojo was the worst.

If you bent over the fridge, he pressed behind you, his hips flush against your ass, letting you feel just how hard he got from the smallest things.

“Still wet when you think about it?” he’d purr into your ear, breath warm on your neck. “Wanna know how many times I jerked off thinking about how you sounded, grinding all desperate on me?”

He never missed a moment alone with you.

Geto was quieter—but filthier in his own way.

He didn’t talk much. He showed. He’d corner you in the hallway when no one was around, press you up against the wall and suck bruises into your chest through your shirt, hands shoved beneath your clothes like he owned you. Once, you bent down to grab something in the kitchen, and he dropped to his knees behind you, face between your thighs, eating you out while Gojo and Nanami sat unsuspectingly in the next room. He pulled back only when you were shaking, licking his lips like he was tasting wine.

Toji was possessive. And mean. So fuckin' mean.

He didn’t bother with foreplay anymore. If he wanted you, he took you.

“C’mere,” he ordered one night, pulling you into his lap during a movie. “You’ve been walking around like a cockdrunk little thing all day. Might as well sit where you belong.”

He'd push you against the hallway wall, shove your hand down his sweats, make you stroke him until he came on your fingers, then make you licked them clean with a low growl.

Toji didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. One moment you were walking to your room, the next he had you bent over the arm of the couch, hand wrapped in your hair, his cock rutting lazily between your thighs. He’d slap your ass and shove his fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

And then there was Nanami.

Always gentle. Always private. But that didn’t make him any less filthy. He never touched you around the others. Never spoke out of turn. But at night, when he knocked softly on your door, waited for your whispered “come in” he was all hunger behind closed doors. He’d undress you piece by piece, like a ritual, kissing every inch he exposed. He touched you with reverence, spreading your legs on the bed and laying between them, mouth hot and open on your pussy, groaning with each flick of his tongue. He didn’t join in like the others. But in the quiet of your room, behind a locked door, he was the filthiest of all. He’d lay you out on the bed and fuck your thighs, tits, anything he could get, deep and soft until tears welled in your eyes, his hand gently around your throat as he murmured, “So good. Always so good for me.”

He never raised his voice. He didn’t need to. His control wrecked you.

The house fell into a rhythm. A filthy, possessive, addicting rhythm.

They weren’t hiding anymore. They don't even bother going to bedrooms now. They’d touch you in front of each other now. Hands meeting on your thighs. Mouths brushing your neck within seconds of each other. Words growing filthier. And you always let them.

Because you weren’t naive anymore. And at the end of the day, you knew what you were walking into. You liked the fire. The tension. The attention. You weren’t ready to walk away.

Not when Gojo had your legs over his shoulders while he made you beg into a pillow. Not when Geto stuffed your panties in your mouth while he fingered you slow and deep, watching every twitch. Not when Toji stuffed your mouth full and told you to swallow it like the good girl you were. Not when Nanami knelt between your legs and made you come three times before even unbuckling his belt.

You wanted it. All of it. All of them. Because being wanted, admired, ruined—by all of them was addicting.

************

The house was unusually quiet that evening.

Toji had stepped out for a job or maybe errands, you weren’t sure. Nanami was in his room, door closed, probably reading or finishing work. And in the living room, Gojo and Geto were sprawled across the couch, half-focused on some action movie playing too loud on the screen.

You walked out of the kitchen, your fingers still damp from rinsing a glass, only half-aware of how short your sleep shorts looked when you crossed the room. Gojo noticed immediately.

“Come here,” he called, lazily patting the space beside him but the gleam in his eyes said he had something else in mind. You blinked at him for just a moment before stepping closer, intending to squeeze yourself between the two of them. But as soon as you turned to sit—

His arm shot out, smooth and fast. You yelped softly as Gojo pulled you down—not beside him, but squarely into his lap. His hands were warm and shameless, gripping your waist as he adjusted your position with practiced ease, until you were straddling one of his thighs.

You froze for a second. He was only wearing those thin gray boxers again. The same kind that clung to his skin a little too well. And it was obvious—so obvious—that he had nothing underneath. He tilted his head down to look at you, eyes bright, shameless.

“Comfy?” he asked innocently, though the way he shifted his thigh underneath you made your body jolt in surprise.

“Toruuuu,” you mumbled, trying to push up off his lap, but his hands tightened around your hips.

“Ah-ah,” he clicked his tongue. “I invited you to sit, didn’t I? Didn’t say where.”

Geto chuckled from the other end of the couch, his dark eyes flicking to the two of you just briefly.

“Don’t mind him,” he said smoothly, not even looking away from the screen. “He’s just needy. Always has been.”

Then, after a beat: “But you do look better on him than the couch cushions.”

Your face burned. You sat stiffly, unsure of where to place your hands. Gojo clearly had no such hesitation—his hands stayed firm on your waist, thumbs brushing circles against your skin as though he were trying to memorize every curve. He leaned in close, his breath warm on your neck.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his voice low and amused, hips shifting up just enough for you to notice what he meant. “I’m not even doing anything yet.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding, and tried not to move. But it was impossible not to feel everything. Every inch of him beneath you. Every twitch. Every slow exhale that made your body respond against your will. He was doing it on purpose—making it impossible to sit still.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a neutral position, but Gojo groaned low under his breath and squeezed your hips.

“God, don’t do that unless you mean it,” he muttered.

Your breath caught. You felt yourself growing warm all over, hyper-aware of how little space there was between your skin and his.

Geto, still watching the movie, smirked again. “He’s really gonna lose it one of these days,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You wanted to hide, but you didn’t move. You didn’t try to get up. Because despite the tension, despite the heat, despite the way your thighs clenched involuntarily around Gojo’s… You didn’t want to.

Gojo must have sensed it too. His fingers dipped lower, brushing the hem of your shirt, dangerously close to slipping underneath.

“Should we keep watching the movie,” he murmured, his lips ghosting just behind your ear, “or make our own entertainment?”

Your breath hitched. From across the other couch, Geto raised an eyebrow, finally turning to look at you fully.

“If you’re gonna start something,” he said to Gojo, voice slow and amused, “at least make sure I don’t have to pause the movie halfway.”

Gojo’s grin widened, eyes still locked on you.

“Well then… come help me make it interesting.”

You barely had time to react before Gojo hooked his fingers into your waistband—smooth, practiced—and in one fluid motion, your soaked underwear was gone, tugged down your thighs and tossed somewhere across the couch. He hissed through his teeth when he saw how wet you were, his hands sliding under your skirt to cup your bare ass, dragging you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Then came the sound of his boxers being shoved down, and suddenly there was nothing separating you. Just the hot, heavy press of him against your slick folds, skin to skin.

“Oh fuck…” Gojo groaned, his voice shaking with restraint. He rutted upward, dragging the thick length of his cock against you, gliding through your slickness with ease. He didn’t push in, didn’t even try. But the bare grinding was filthy. Slow, teasing, unbearable.

The head of his cock slid right over your clit, catching every now and then in a way that made your entire body jolt.

Across the room, Geto was panting quietly, his hand moving faster beneath his sweats. The moment he saw Gojo’s flushed length sliding against your soaked heat, his other hand reached for the remote and turned the volume up. The low thrum of background noise filled the air—just enough to muffle the soft, breathy moans spilling from your lips.

“God, look at that…” Geto murmured, eyes dark and hungry as he watched. “She’s wetting you.”

Gojo groaned again, rutting up with a little more urgency now. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to move with him. You were moving—rubbing against his bare cock, slick and flushed, your hips rolling instinctively to chase that friction, to feel that delicious pressure build between your thighs.

"You're making such a mess on me," he said against your neck, voice ragged, almost delirious. "Don’t stop—just like that. Fuck, that’s so good…”

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your forehead pressed to his as your breathing quickened. Your thighs were trembling now.

The heavy slide of his cock against your clit with each pass was devastating—sloppy, needy, perfect. The base of him rubbed against your soaked folds, every vein, every twitch of him obvious.

Geto let out a low curse and pushed his sweatpants halfway down his thighs, his cock springing free—thick and hard, already slick with precum as he gripped it tightly and started stroking with sharp, practiced motions.

“This is too much,” he muttered. “You’re too fucking pretty like that…”

Gojo’s pace grew more frantic. The filthy, wet sound of your bodies grinding echoed beneath the TV’s soft noise. The couch creaked under the weight of your rhythm, the whole room charged with something electric and obscene.

“Gonna come just like this,” Gojo gasped. “Gonna come all over you…”

You felt him twitch, the head of his cock brushing right against your clit again and again until stars bloomed behind your eyes. You were right on the edge—hips grinding back, trying to match his rhythm, lost in the raw, hot slide of skin on skin.

And when you finally broke—when that tight coil of pleasure snapped and your release rushed through you in a wave, you moaned into his shoulder, your entire body trembling in his arms.

Gojo wasn’t far behind. With a harsh groan, he rutted up a few more times, his cock slick against your folds, before he spilled between your thighs—hot, thick, messy, the wet heat of it smearing over your skin and dripping down your thighs.

You were both panting, clinging to each other.

Geto was still stroking himself, breathing heavy, his cock flushed and angry-looking in his grip. “You two are gonna kill me,” he muttered, then shifted forward on the couch.

“Round two?” he asked, eyes locked on you with a lazy, filthy grin.

Gojo let out a breathless laugh, still recovering, and gently shifted you off his lap. “Your turn, huh?” he said, voice lazy and teasing. “Don’t break her.”

Geto didn’t respond with words. He was already moving, eyes fixed on you—dark and hungry. His shirt came off in one swift motion, revealing the toned lines of his body, and he stepped between your thighs, pulling you close by the hips with a sure grip.

You couldn't even get to catch your breath before he was lowering himself onto the couch, dragging you into his lap, settling you right over the thick, flushed length of his cock. He was already hard, had been since the moment he’d watched Gojo grind into you and the hot pressure of him sliding against your still-sensitive folds made you whimper.

Geto exhaled sharply. “Still so wet… fuck, you’re perfect like this.”

He didn’t hesitate. Just started moving. His cock slipped between your soaked folds, dragging against your clit, slick and messy from everything that had happened before. He rutted upward with slow, grinding rolls of his hips, the entire length of him gliding over you again and again. Each thrust up sent shivers through your body, your thighs twitching as the pressure returned fast and heavy.

You clung to his shoulders, your body arching into him as he moved beneath you, guiding your hips with strong hands.

“You like it like this?” he murmured, his voice deep and hoarse against your ear. “No teasing. Just skin. Just mess.”

You nodded fast, biting your lip, unable to form words. He groaned when he felt how easily you moved with him. “Shit, you’re soaking me. Look at you…”

Gojo had leaned back, lazily stroking himself as he watched, his lips parted. “She’s always like that. Just takes one good rub and she’s leaking.”

Geto growled softly at that, pulling you closer, grinding up harder now, the tip of his cock hitting your clit with perfect friction. Your legs trembled on either side of him, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming.

The couch creaked again, louder this time with the force of Geto’s rhythm. He was relentless, each thrust up was deep, deliberate, controlled. The thick weight of his cock rubbed perfectly along your folds, every vein dragging over swollen nerves.

“You’re gonna come again,” he said, voice tight. “You’re close, I can feel it…”

And you were. It hit faster this time, your second orgasm catching you off guard. You came with a cry, shuddering in his lap as your hips bucked uncontrollably, your thighs clamping around his waist.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” Geto grunted. “So fucking pretty when you come.”

He didn’t stop. Rode out your high with a few more grinding thrusts, then held you down hard as his own climax crashed through him. You felt him pulse against you, the hot, sticky release spilling over your folds, dripping down your thighs again. A mess layered over what Gojo had already left behind. He didn’t pull away immediately. Just held you there, chest rising and falling, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Geto stayed seated, your trembling body still straddling his lap as he caught his breath. His hands kept a firm grip on your hips, and he rested his forehead briefly against your shoulder, chest rising and falling in quick bursts.

Then his gaze flicked to your face, flushed, dazed, lips parted and something shifted. The way you looked, the way you clenched around nothing, still needy even after two orgasms… it snapped whatever restraint he had left.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. You barely had time to react before he adjusted his grip on your hips and—

“Suguru—!” you gasped, eyes flying wide.

He didn't stop. Just groaned low in his throat and sank you down, deep, in one unrelenting motion.

From the couch, Gojo sat up, blinking in disbelief. “Whoa—wait, I didn’t know we were doing that.”

“Shut up, Satoru,” Geto growled, breath ragged as he bottomed out. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place, making sure you felt all of him.

The stretch, the sudden fullness, the heat—it left you gasping, gripping his shoulders for balance. Geto didn’t move at first. He just sat there, buried deep inside, eyes locked on yours with something raw and possessive in them.

“You feel that?” he murmured. “So tight. So full. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Your breath hitched. He moved then, slow, grinding rolls of his hips that made you arch into him, moaning with each motion.

“You’re taking me so well,” he said, voice thick, one hand moving to splay over your lower belly. “Bet your body’s already trying to keep me in.”

The implication made your skin burn. He leaned forward, whispering against your throat, “You want it, don’t you? Want me to fill you up? Make sure it stays there?”

You didn’t answer, not with words. Just tightened your grip on him, whimpering as he thrust deeper, harder, the filthy rhythm echoing in the room despite the TV still playing in the background.

Gojo didn’t speak again, but he watched. Watched with wide eyes and parted lips, visibly stroking his hard length watching you.

Geto wasn’t quiet anymore. He groaned your name, praised how you felt, muttered things about how good you were, how soft, how tight , how sloppy, how perfect. And all of it fed into that deep, hot coil inside you.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned, but there was no hesitation. “Not pulling out.”

You moaned at that, and Geto lost it. He thrust in deep, once, twice, then held you down hard, grinding into you as he came with a low groan, trembling through it. The warmth spread inside you, your breath catching at the feeling of it. He didn’t move. Just held you there, chest against yours, lips brushing your cheek.

“Baby,” he whispered hoarsely. “So good, such a tight one...."

Gojo didn’t waste a second. As soon as Geto slumped back on the couch, panting and spent, Gojo scooped you up into his arms with a dramatic pout on his face.

“You did foul, Geto,” he whined, though his voice was already thick with something darker. His eyes gleamed with playful frustration and want as he carried you toward his room, glaring over his shoulder while Geto lay there catching his breath, chest still heaving.

The door to the room slammed shut with his foot. He didn’t even pause to turn on the lights. You were already trembling in his arms when he laid you on his bed—soft sheets against your back, his tall frame hovering over you, already yanking off the last of his clothes in a blur of movement.

“I was supposed to go next,” he murmured, voice almost sing-song as he climbed over you, slotting himself between your legs. “You were supposed to be mine first.”

His pout deepened, but his eyes darkened even more. The moment your legs parted for him, willingly, his cock nudged against your entrance—still so sensitive, still leaking from Geto and Gojo groaned.

“You’re leaking again?” he murmured, almost in awe. “God, you’re really meant for this, huh?”

You whimpered, biting your lip as he rubbed himself along your folds, gathering every bit of mess and heat. And then he pushed in deep, full, fast—stretching you again, filling you completely.

You gasped, head tilting back into the pillow. Gojo moaned into your neck, burying himself to the hilt. “So warm… fuck—tight. Even after him, you're still tight for me.”

His pace started fast, desperate. His body slammed into yours with each thrust, the wet slap of skin filling the room.

"You feel that?" he whispered, pushing deeper, rolling his hips. "I'm not stopping until you're full of me too."

Your breath caught at the way he said it. The possessiveness. The need.

“You want that, don’t you?” he rasped, lips brushing your ear. “You want me to breed you. Just like he did. Stuff you full and make sure it stays.”

His hand moved to your belly, pressing down gently feeling the shape of himself inside you. “Right here. Gonna make sure it takes. Gonna be mine.”

Your nails raked his back, and Gojo moaned loudly, moving faster, harder. Every thrust now felt more demanding, as if his body had one goal—to claim you entirely.

The words tumbled from him like a spell. “Wanna see you walk outta here leaking me. Want them all to see what I did. What I gave you.”

His hand came up to your jaw, tilting your face so he could kiss you—sloppy, breathless, needy. He slammed in once more, burying himself deep, and with a guttural moan, Gojo spilled inside you, his whole body shaking as he released, panting out your name like a prayer.

“You’re gonna be so full,” he whispered, pressing lazy kisses along your collarbone. “Don’t even think about going to the bathroom. I want it to stay.”

He stayed there, still inside, panting against your neck, nuzzling your skin with a grin.

*****

A few hours had passed since the tangled mess of limbs and whispers in Gojo’s room.

You don't even know when Geto came in. You were curled between him and Geto, bodies warm and still buzzing with everything that happened. Gojo hadn’t stopped murmuring filthy little praises against your skin, telling you how hard you made him come, twice, how you moaned like music in his ear, how he could barely keep himself from going a third round. His fingers were still idly tracing shapes on your waist, lazily possessive.

Geto, on your other side, had dozed off soon after joining. One of his arms draped across your middle, his head tucked into the crook of your shoulder, breathing soft and even. Gojo chuckled quietly at Geto’s sleeping face. “He’s like a cat after milk,” he muttered, brushing hair from your face, still smiling.

That peace didn’t last long.

Somewhere down the hallway, Nanami stood sipping tea at the kitchen counter when the front door clicked open and Toji strolled in, fresh from outside. He looked around absently while kicking off his shoes. Nanami offered a simple nod.

Toji sniffed the air faintly, then headed toward his room before pausing. “Where's everyone?” he asked, hand already on the hallway door handle.

Nanami glanced up from his cup, expression unreadable. “Looking for someone?” he asked, dryly.

Toji grunted, “Yeah. And not those brats, in case you're wondering.”

Nanami gestured toward the hallway. “Try those brats' room.”

Toji blinked. “The hell does that mean?” he muttered, already walking. “I wasn’t asking about them—wait. Don’t tell me.” He stopped, turning back slowly.

Nanami just stared at him with that ever-neutral, but unmistakably knowing, look.

Toji raised a brow. “Pervs. Both of them?”

Nanami took a sip. “Heard sounds earlier. I didn’t mind.”

Toji scoffed loudly, throwing his head back as if the ceiling owed him answers. “Unreal. I leave for a couple hours and these two are playing house?”

He yanked the fridge open, grabbed a beer, cracked it open with practiced ease, and took a long sip as he plopped onto the couch. “I swear—this place is a circus.”

Just then, the hallway door creaked open and Gojo stepped out, stretching and yawning, stark naked in full glory.

Toji didn’t even blink. “Yo. Go put some damn pants on before you flash the neighbors.”

Gojo blinked at him, bleary-eyed. “What? Oh. Oops.” He shuffled back into the room like it was no big deal, mumbling something about boxers.

Nanami gave him a withering look. “Where’s Geto? Still asleep?”

Gojo popped his head back out the door, now clothed. “Yeah, passed out like a baby on her tits.” He winked.

Nanami’s stare sharpened. “Be respectful.”

Gojo held up his hands in surrender. “No offense, sir. Sorry. Just facts.”

Toji chuckled darkly. “Oi, Nanami. You can drop the goody two-shoes act. We all know you're going at it with her too.”

Nanami nearly choked on his tea. “Excuse me?”

Gojo grinned. “Yeah, come on. You thought you were being slick?”

Nanami straightened. “Who told you?”

Toji cracked his neck. “Geto.”

Gojo added, “He’s like a housewife with radar. There’s nothing happening in this apartment without his sixth sense catching it.”

Nanami cursed under his breath, clearly regretting every life choice that led him to this exact moment, and walked out the front door muttering something about needing air.

Toji looked over at Gojo, smirking. “Told ya'.”

Gojo plopped down on the couch beside him, stretching. “I mean… good for him, honestly. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Toji took another sip of beer. “I’m just saying… he’s in over her head.”

Gojo gave a half-smirk. “She’s the one keeping up with us.”

Toji chuckled. “Fair.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the TV playing some random late-night show in the background. Then, like clockwork, Geto emerged shirtless, hair a mess, looking mildly annoyed at the world for waking him.

Toji looked at him over the rim of his beer can. “Morning, sunshine.”

Geto groaned. “What time is it?”

Gojo beamed. “Time for your turn on the interrogation couch.”

Geto rolled his eyes and flopped onto the armchair. “You two gossip more than the old ladies downstairs.”

Toji nodded. “Because we’re trying to figure out how the hell all of us ended up in this chaos.”

Gojo looked proud. “She just has that effect.”

Geto didn’t disagree. Toji hummed, looking at the door Nanami had just left through. Gojo and Geto exchanged a glance. No arguments there.

********"***

Later, the moment you stepped into the living room, every pair of eyes turned to you.

Your hair was tangled, cheeks flushed from sleep and something far deeper, lips slightly swollen, shirt hastily thrown on barely hanging off your shoulder. Your legs still wobbled with each step, and your thighs burned with the memory of too much. Too many.

You looked used. Worn. Absolutely devoured.

Toji, lounging on one end of the couch beside Gojo, gave a low whistle. “Well, well. Look who finally rose from the dead.”

Gojo looked over his shoulder and smirked wide, eyes shamelessly dragging over you. “She walks like that and I swear I’m getting hard again.” He grinned like a menace. “Bet she still has me leaking down her thighs.”

You flushed deeper, not answering, but the way you bit your lip only fueled him.

Geto, seated on the floor by the coffee table, scribbling lazily into his notebook, looked up with a little smirk. “She begged for it, too. Don’t let the quiet act fool you.”

You shot him a glare. He just winked.

Nanami sat at the dining table, fingers paused above his laptop keys. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at you the way the others did. Instead, his voice was soft—just a bit tense. “You look exhausted. Do you need anything?”

That earned him a few side glances from the rest, but he ignored it.

Geto suddenly snapped his fingers like he remembered something. He stood, opened the drawer near the TV stand, and returned with a small pill and a glass of water. He offered it to you with an unreadable look.

You blinked. “What’s this?”

“Pill,” he said simply.

The silence after that was thick.

Nanami’s knuckles tightened around his mug. His jaw ticked. “You mean to say none of you used protection?”

Toji scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Are you serious?” His voice turned sharp. “What the hell’s wrong with you idiots? She’s not a damn toy.”

Gojo rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oi, oi, don’t act like you’re better than us. You went raw too, old man.”

“That’s different,” Toji snapped. “I don’t go in thinking with my d—”

“Shut up, Toji,” Gojo said, smirking as he stood, unbothered. “You’re just mad I did it better.”

That set Toji off.

They both started bickering, voices rising, throwing insults laced with dirty innuendos and passive aggressive jabs. Something about “at least I made her come twice,” and “she moaned my name louder, brat.”

The air grew tense, loud, chaotic.

Geto didn’t even flinch. He leaned back against the couch, sipping his own drink, and calmly went back to scribbling in his notebook, amused by all of it. Nanami, however, slammed his laptop shut and stood abruptly.

“Enough,” he snapped. His voice carried over both of them like a whipcrack. “She needs peace. You two shut up for once.”

The room went still for a beat.

You didn’t say anything. You just held the pill, cheeks burning, then downed it with the water Geto gave you. No one said another word as you turned and started walking down the hall to your room, still sore, head buzzing. Before the door could close, Gojo slipped in behind you, grin already forming.

“Toji’s gonna cry if he sees this,” he murmured, flicking the lock on the door before you could stop him. As Gojo shut the door, you barely had time to turn before a loud bang echoed through the apartment.

“Oi! Open the goddamn door!”

Toji’s voice was deep, rough—laced with annoyance and something darker. The doorknob jiggled violently. He must’ve seen Gojo slip in behind you.

“What the hell are you doing in there, Satoru?”

You froze near the bed, heart thudding in your chest. Gojo didn’t. He didn’t even blink. He just grinned. He turned to you slowly, letting Toji shout on the other side of the wood, pounding once more.

“Ignore him,” Gojo said smoothly, walking up to you.

Another bang. “Open the door, you brat!”

Gojo only chuckled, like this was just another day for him. “He can’t stand the thought of someone else making you feel good.”

You swallowed thickly, the noise outside muffling as Gojo tilted your chin up and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was soft—at first. Until his hand slipped down your spine, until his body pushed you backward gently toward the bathroom.

“Come on,” he whispered against your skin, voice almost a purr. “You need a shower. Let me help.”

The water ran hot, steam curling around your bodies as Gojo stepped in behind you, still fully naked. He didn’t waste time. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against him, and you felt it immediately, his boner, pressing insistently against your backside as his mouth found the crook of your neck.

“Even after all that,” he murmured, lips brushing over your damp skin, “I’m still so fucking hard for you.”

His hands slid down, fingers exploring the curve of your hips, the soreness between your thighs, his touch almost reverent but still bold.

"Satoruuu, n—not there." You whined.

"I know, I know, but you make me insane," he groaned, grinding against you under the hot stream of water. “So warm. So soft. Like your body was made for me.”

Your breath hitched when his hand slipped lower, teasing where you were still sensitive. He groaned at the wetness, some of it from the shower, but not all.

“No one’s made me come this hard before,” he said against your ear. “And you did it twice. You like that, huh? Being all full of me?”

"I'm not—answering that." You whined under your breath, leaning into him, water cascading over both your bodies as he moved his hips, rubbing himself slowly between your thighs again.

“Let me do it again,” Gojo whispered, his voice filth-soft and hungry. “Let me fill you up one more time. I know you're sore, but please, just the tip.... I need it.”

"Promise?" you looked up at him suspiciously.

"Pinky promise." He assured you as his hand guided his cock against you, teasing your entrance, just enough pressure to make your legs shake. You reached up, hands bracing against the tile, eyes fluttering shut as his voice poured filth into your ears.

“Wanna keep you like this,” he breathed. “Dripping. Mine. You’d look so pretty full of my cum again. Every fucking day.”

You gasped when he slowly pushed in, inch by inch, giving you no time to recover as he bottomed out.

"But you promised—" The angle, the heat of the shower, the way his fingers dug into your hips—it shut you up. You clutched the tile wall as he started thrusting, hard and deep.

"M'sorry, bunny," His mouth was by your ear again. “But you feel that? So fucking tight. You still want more, don’t you?”

The sounds of the water mixed with wet slaps of skin, his groans echoing in the small space.

“Gonna fuck you stupid,” he panted, hips slamming into you now. “Fill you up so good they’ll smell me on you.”

You whimpered, your voice caught between pleasure and overstimulation as his pace grew erratic. Gojo groaned so loud it echoed off the tile. He spilled into you with a strangled moan, pressing deep, hands tightening around your waist as his hips stilled. The two of you stood there for a moment, tangled under the shower, steam wrapping around you like a second skin. His lips pressed against your shoulder, slower now, gentle.

“…Definitely going for another round tonight,” he mumbled, and you could feel the grin against your back.

*****

After the shower, you emerged from the room on shaky legs, hair damp, wrapped in an oversized shirt. He followed right behind you, looking ridiculously smug, his face flushed, hair messier than usual, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.

If the glow on your skin wasn’t enough of a giveaway, his blissed-out expression made it obvious to everyone that another round had happened in the shower.

The room fell quiet for just a second before the tension snapped. Toji was already rising from the couch, jaw clenched. He stalked forward, grabbing Gojo by the collar with a rough tug.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” he snapped, yanking Gojo closer. “You shut the door in my face and locked it like a coward. And you went at it with her again?” His voice dropped into something sharp. “She’s tired, you idiot.”

Gojo blinked, unbothered, but that grin faltered just a little. “I didn’t hear her complain,” he said casually, brushing Toji’s hands off. “Unlike you, I don’t fuck like I’m trying to break her hips.”

You sat down slowly on the couch, head dropping back against the cushion with a soft sigh, completely drained. Your thighs ached, your body sore and sticky under the shirt, but warm. Full. You didn’t want to move. Toji’s eyes flicked to you at that, watching your exhaustion like it made his blood boil.

“She can barely keep her head up, and you’re still grinning like an idiot.”

Gojo huffed, fixing his shirt. “Maybe if you had a little finesse, she'd want seconds.”

“You little—”

“Enough.” Geto’s voice cut in smoothly before Toji could lunge again. He stepped between them, casting a glance at your curled-up form on the couch. He came over and crouched next to you, brushing a few strands of hair off your flushed face.

“You okay?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You nodded sleepily, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his.

“Want dinner?” Geto asked gently, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Yeahh, M'so hungry…”

From the side, Nanami stood, quietly closing his laptop. “I’ll make something,” he said, already heading to the kitchen without waiting for a response.

You heard Toji scoff behind you, but he didn’t say anything else—just sat back down, arms crossed, legs spread wide as he stared daggers at Gojo.

Gojo didn’t rise to it again. Instead, he plopped down next to you, swinging an arm around the back of the couch, his hand brushing along your shoulder.

“She really does look pretty like this,” he said lowly, nudging your knee with his. “All used up. Soft. Mellow.”

Geto chuckled, standing up to join Nanami. “Don’t push your luck, Satoru.”

The dinner prep didn’t take long, Nanami kept it simple. Stir-fried noodles, some soup, grilled chicken. Comfort food. When he brought out the plates, you were still curled against the couch, eyelids drooping.

“Come,” Nanami said softly, setting a plate down in front of you, cutleries placed perfectly. “You need to eat.”

You nodded, shifting upright with a groan, and Gojo helped you up by the waist, steadying you as you moved to the low dining table. The five of you sat together, the quietest you’d been all day. Toji grumbled about the seasoning. Gojo flicked rice at him. Nanami threatened to revoke their eating privileges. Geto poured you a glass of water and leaned close ruffling your hair.

You gave a tired little smile, thankful for the food and the quiet warmth around you, even if the house was full of chaos, bickering men, and an ever-growing tangle of complicated feelings.

to be continued in the next chapter

comment down to get tagged for upcoming chapters.

[konariu]

127

Ascended Astarion x gn reader.

Just an angst drabble of a scenario i’ve imagined lately. Astarion is described as rather abusive.

TW:Abuse, isolation, depressive thoughts, suicide.

127 years, one week and four days. You had counted every single day since your freedom had been taken from you.

This wasn’t what you expected, and if you had known that this life was ahead of you, you wouldn’t have even considered helping him take the power that now seemed to crush your very being.

But he had been so compelling, so convincing. He had your strings wrapped around his fingers and played you like a puppeteer.

It wasn’t always this bad, though. For the first 30 years he had given you everything that he’d promised. You danced, travelled, stretched your wings and soul in every corner of the world and came back to the home you’d settled in together. He threw you parties, brought you the finest wine, and held you as the heat of the morning sun escaped through your windows and settled upon your cold skin.

Then he became possessive, paranoid. He accused you of things you never did, of trying to leave- so he made sure that you never could again. It was funny how that worked, a vampire spawn tied to its master. Just his words forbidding your leave left a burning power through your veins. If you ever tried to even as much as stretch your arms out through the window, the agony that soared across your bones and limbs would leave you weakened for days.

Sometimes you wondered how your friends were doing, though you weren’t sure if you could really remember just who they were. You knew their names, their voices that echoed through your dreams, and that you longed for the absent reality where they burst through the door to rescue you from your prison. Was Jaheira still as warm and strict, and did Wyll still love to dance?

Were they still alive? Any of them..

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, to think that you were all that alone in the world.

In some ways you almost wished your cell had been in a cold underground prison, not in the mansion that reminded you everyday of what you used to have. Not the bed you used to lay in, not the halls he used to chase you down. Just a stone wall and a cold bed.

Anger, fear, sadness- it all rushed down on you like lightning. It stole the air from your lungs.

The realisation that the realities you imagined weren’t real and never would be crushed your entire soul until only strained breaths were left. You weren’t going to see Karlach break down your door, or Shadowheart embrace you tightly. No, all you had was the stupidly detailed wallpaper and a ceiling which didn’t turn any less white and plain each day that passed.

You swung your body up, grabbing on to the first thing your hand got contact with and threw it across the room. A vase. It landed on the wooden table on the far right of your room, crashing into small pieces on the floor.

It wasn’t enough.

You grabbed a hold of the thin wooden post of your bed, tugging on it until broke off and you could throw it on the floor. There it fell into pieces, sharp and ragged wooden pieces.

Perhaps it was desperation, or pure rage, but for a moment you saw the sharpest wooden piece as something else. A stake.

Your hands fumbled as you fell down on your knees, tears staining the carpet below you. There weren’t many thoughts as you moved, just a scream of despair as you grabbed on to the piece and plunged it into your chest.

It burned and ripped through your body with a pain far worse than anything you’d felt before. It strangled you, engulfed you, and yet there was also a sense of relief.

Arms wrapped around you, trying to tug yours away from your body. Muffled shouting surrounded and echoed against you.

The two of you both got to feel something you hadn’t felt in very long.

Freedom, and pain.