sukuna knows women. he knows how to please them. how to make them moan, whine, cry. but knowing how to please a woman doesn’t mean he knows women. aka a woman’s cycle. in simple terms, sukuna has mainly grown up with men, his gramps, his brothers, toji — all he knows is a girl has a period, but he has never bothered to stay with a girl long enough to actually address her period.
well until his fuck buddy, you, open your door for him.
his arm wraps around your waist, tugging you towards his chest, lips locking with yours in moments. “Mmm,” he groans, tongue pushing past your lips, just to feel you press a hand to his chest. your lips break, air filling his lungs in disdain, eyes narrowing at you for pushing him away.
“you didn’t text me, dude,” you say, letting him pull away to drop his backbag on the floor, plastic bag in hand as he kicks his shoes off.
“got outta the gym late. lost track of time,” he walks two steps to the kitchen pulling out two energy drinks, a protein drink, and a couple protein bars. “fuck,” he cups his crotch, palming himself through his low hanging sweats. he opens his shake. “accidentally swiped on that video ya’ sent me from the summer. I watched the whole thing between my sets.” his hand tips back, throat bopping as he chugs the shake, eyes closing as he sees the video play back in his mind, hand still on his bulge.
you’re leaning against the column between your smaller than small living room and kitchen, eyeing the way he’s shamelessly groping himself in front of you, men. you sigh, internally.
“hey,” he suddenly appears in front of you, towering. his musky scent fills your nose as he cups your neck, the other resting on your hip. he slowly lowers himself, tilting your chin up with a thumb as his lips connect with yours again. “haah,” he sighs, kissing your lips like it’s his saving grace, his sweats hang low on his hips as he presses himself against you. “remember that video?” he husks, “the one with ya’ spreading your legs out for the camera—“
you gently press a hand to his chest again, cheeks flushed, but stomach churning uncomfortably. “ryo—“
“wanna see this pussy,” he doesn’t even hesitate, he drops his head to your neck, kissing the exposed skin before dropping to a knee, hands on your hips. “wanna smell how good she is—“
“ryo,” you press a hand to his forehead, face aflame, as you push him back. your heart hammers as he frowns up at you, jaw tight and hands tightening around your waist. “I got my period yesterday.”
….
a silent beat passes.
then.
FUCK!
sukuna is horrible at controlling his face.
you immediately notice his dilated pupils dissipate, and the excitement die behind his eyes. your lips purse, making a my bad king type of face. but sukuna looks absolutely destroyed, his head drops forward, desperately trying to control his eye roll, but you catch it , along with the way he presses his face into your stomach, and groans. loud. uncontrolled.
“sorry…I forgot to text you, and you came all the way here,” you pat his shoulder apologetically, though you’re not super sympathetic since it’s not your fault.
“ya’ have cramps or some shit?” he grumbles against your sleep shirt.
“had crazy cramps this morning, but just like…not in the mood right now,” you cringe while saying it, but sukuna just sighs.
you bite your cheek as you watch him sit back on his heels. his black sweats straining against his thighs, his bulge shameless as it presses up against the material. your eyes flick over him again, wetting your lip as you reach for his hair. hesitant. but eventually…your manicured nails run through the slightly damp, salmon colored hair. you watch in silent awe as his lashes weigh down, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back. your nails scratch his scalp, lightly, but enough to elect a raw groan from the back of his throat.
you bite your lip, eyeing the dark flush crawling up his neck, and dusting his cheeks a light pink. his large palm rests on your outer thigh and the other flexing as it grips his erection. how far will he—
“not cumming in my fucking sweats,” he suddenly barks, getting to his feet. your hand drops as he walks towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head, he kicks the door shut behind him.
your lips purse again, biting your cheek as you hear the shower turn on. men.
that was how sukuna dealt with his fuck buddy being on her period. somehow always finding out last minute that you’re bleeding, and in no mood for action — except for those very rare occasions, well he can’t divulge too much now since you never want him to mention it again — and he’s forced to take care of his problem in your shower. his rough calloused palm — a contrast from your soft smaller ones — jerks his painfully hard throbbing cock to the images of you floating in his mind until he’s finally shooting his thick white load all over your shower wall. haze clearing up as he watches the cum slide down. and then he’ll step out of the bathroom, usually wearing a pair of sweats he’d forgotten here, along with a plain black tee, and crash on the couch as you do your homework. he’ll eye you a bit, but eventually shift his attention to the tv and knockout.
it would be difficult for those five to seven days, especially when you would be slightly more clipped with him, or just plain bitchy and short tempered (like him). but it’d get him all hot and bothered, especially since he can’t act on it.
that was sukuna’s perception of a woman’s cycle. before he never cared, now he cares just a little more because he can’t have sex with you when you’re on your period.
but as smart as sukuna is, it takes a little more brain power for him to realize what this is.
this being, how he’s wound up because he’s trying to get through this studying for an upcoming exam. he’s far from prepared for and the best way for him to study is to be around someone who takes it seriously— you. and yet…
and yet, you won’t stop moving!
at first you were sitting across from him in the library. then you shift to the seat at corner of the table, and then you move to sit directly beside him.
“you need help?” he suddenly cuts. you’re shifting beside him stops, brows pulled in confusion.
“was just uncomfortable, am i disturbing you?”
his brow twitches, but you were completely innocent. your brow pulled up, like he’s the crazy one, and not you, who’s moved around like ten times in the last hour!!
“just a little,” he mutters, putting his headphones back on and turning back to his work. luckily, you seem to have settled down, attention back on your own studies. engrossed in your review sheets and notes, as sukuna reviews for his own exam.
however, what the fratboy did notice was even when shoko stopped bye to chat, and utahime came to whisper some gossip to you between her class, you didn’t move once. his brow quirked briefly when utahime chatted across the table, and instead of getting up and going to the hallway to talk freely, you remain seated, right beside him, and right against him.
what’s going on?
“I swear I told the girl I didn’t even know who she was talking about it—but she didn’t even care. girl! I wasn’t talking to your ex,” utahime rambles in hushed whispers, similar to the whispered conversations at other tables.
your brows furrow in shock, “what the hell?? why the heck is she even confronting you in the middle of class though? that’s so weird.”
“that’s what I’m sayinggg!!!”
sukuna has every reason to snap at you both right now. to tell you two to shut the fuck up or go outside. seriously, it was distracting as fuck. but his mind was short circuiting and stumbling around all because of how fucking close you are to him.
his arms are leaning over the table, biceps bulging from his tshirt, scribbling practice equations and notes. and you’re leaning over in an identical position, but your side is fully pressed against his arm. your zip up hoodie resting around your hips after you’d shrugged it off, and your usual cold skin was searing hot against his. skin to skin. and it’s been like that for the past twenty minutes.
usually when your friends stop by to ramble you have the curiosity to step away so he can study. but not this time— well you did a similar thing a month ago too. sticking to him like glue. brushing your fingers over the veins of his forearm—
“okay, I’ll update you later, but thanks for letting me borrow your airpods!” utahime concludes her rant with finally returning your airpods and running off to her next class. sukuna lets out an air of relief, relaxing beside you.
finally, some peace and quiet in the library.
…shift…
well, it could only last so long.
his brows furrow as he glances over at you, your cheek is now resting on his arm, mindlessly reading your notes like this is normal. is it because he’s finally anxious about an exam after so long, that he’s noticing how touchy you’re being? or maybe you’re not in the mood to do your work and in the mood for something else—
tch, he doesn’t have time to find some room to fuck you in though. it’s the middle of the day and the library is packed. the last thing you’d want is for someone to see you both. however, he can’t even tell if you want any action right now. it just looks like you’re tired…and clingy…?
sukuna exhales, thumb pressing against his jaw in thought, while you shift again, oblivious to his internal turmoil, cheek smushed against his arm…
“you hungry?” he interrupts, desperate for his mind to quiet down.
“not really,” you mutter, focused on your homework.
his lips downturn, pen tapping the desk, “I’m gonna grab another celsius.” he suddenly stands, startling you for a moment, noticing the way your pretty lashes blink in surprise. you’re definitely just focused on school…but last month you were acting the same-ish…if he’s right, then when he comes back…you’ll…
he places a celsius in front of you, eyes flicking over you as he sips his drink. you hum in distracted appreciation, like you can’t even see him sliding back into his seat, legs spread, and arms coming up back to the table to grab his pen. but like glue, you’re sliding yourself right beside him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, and taking a subtle inhale.
what the hell?!? it’s like he can predict you’re every move now?!
it didn’t stop there. the puzzle pieces are starting to come together slowly. especially when you subtly kept a grip on his arm muttering how he can finish studying at your place, without the distraction of the frat—which you rarely pressure him to do a night before an exam. except instead of going straight to the bathroom to shower, you followed him to your couch and sat beside him.
“do you mind if I turn on the tv?” you ask with such an unnerving amount of gentleness, glancing at him with your full undivided attention.
his brow quirks, why’re you looking at him like that? “it’s your place, woman.”
you hum, relaxing back, albeit pressed to his side and your knees tucked up, as he leans over on the coffee table (aka your only desk in your small ass apartment) reviewing more work. but just moments later he’s sliding to the floor for more comfortability—
“why’d you move?” your voice cuts through the quiet apartment.
“huh?”
sukuna glances back, brow quirked with confusion at the frown you’re wearing. “leaning over is fucking with my back,” he tsks, earning him an uncharacteristically quick attitude switch from you — your eyes roll, your entire body slumps further back on the couch that you’re basically laying across it, and your cute bottom lip juts out in an irritated, subtle pout. seriously? sukuna scoffs internally. you’re acting like such a brat??? for real this time.
your cheeks press against the cushion. your hypnotizing eyes flick between his, then eventually settle on his lips. they’re slightly chapped, pink…pretty…kissable…
“ya need something?” he snaps without any bite. you’re zoning out again. your eyes drift off, and your lips part lost in thought. “zoning out—“ are the words that you here before you feel an aggressive (light in his mind) flick to your forehead. “again!”
“ow!” you groan loud, face quickly turning and pressing into the cushion in annoyance. “what the hell!” your muffled yell barely comes out.
“what the hell me?” he tsks, rough hand landing on your head, and turning your face back for air. “I was talking and you did that shit again—“
“what thing?!” you scoff, brows pinched in anger as you stare into his eyes….his deep…dark…lidded…crimson eyes…..haah—
“that,” he exhales, hand softening on your temple, and irritation slipping away with your usual antics. “how do you even zone out that fast?”
your glossy lips part, manicured nail brushing your bottom lip, heat pooling between your legs, and eyes half lidded… “was thinking about your eyes.”
the softness of your tone was more shocking than the actual words that came out of your mouth. or it was the combination of both. or the bluntness of your gentle honey sweet voice that took sukuna by surprise…
but he blinked. once. twice—
“first it was your lips,” you whisper with a breathless sigh. your finger carefully reaching out and touching his lips. you mimic the way he parts his lips with your own. his thick brows creating a shadow over his lidded eyes. “then your eyes.” you explain with such clarity, it had sukuna short circuiting as he tries to rationalize why you’re acting this way—
“that’s why i zoned out,” you conclude, shifting closer to the edge of the couch, closer to him. your eyes dot up at him, brushing his bottom lip, pulling it down with a thumb. “you distract me sometimes.” you’re tired…it was a long day of classes and it was the middle of the week. that has to be the reason, sukuna thinks.
by now, he knows that look.
you wanna fuck.
“Mmm,” you whine the moment he presses his lips to yours. your tongue immediately finding his as your nails course through his hair. tugging. “make me cum, ryo.”
he snorts in your mouth, rough hand pushing your shirt up, thumbing your bra before hooking his thumb under and lifting up. “should’ve just told me ya want your pussy wet—“
“it’s already wet,” you cut, “been wet all day.”
shiit, he groans into your lips, pushing his hand down, past your waistband. “fucking slut.” a breathy gasp slips out as he cups your wet sticky pussy. “fucking drenched, dirty brat.” his teeth sink into your bottom lip as you whine louder, unaware how sukuna’s neck is unbelievably red. why do you taste sweeter?
“Mmm lift your hips up,” he husks. you don’t get the chance to react when he’s suddenly yanking your pants and drenched panties off. “spread ‘em.”
your tongue pokes your bottom lip, opening your legs for your fuck buddy. his huge palms press against your thighs, grabbing fistfuls and licking his bottom lip as your sticky pussy comes into view. his pupils dilate as he watches your hole twitch. and your scent immediately hits his nose. “you’re gonna taste so good today.” he mutters to himself, but your brow lifts.
“what’s different about today?”
he leans forward, eyes flicking up as he exhales. is he drunk? his eyes roll back, cock throbbing in his pants and he inhales again—fuuck, you smell so much sweeter, “nothin.” his tongue shuts you right up as he licks a long wet lewd strip up your folds. your back immediately arches off the couch, nails digging into his scalp as his beefy arms lock around your thighs, moaning. your sweet honey floods his taste buds…this pussy has always hypnotized him, aroma consuming him and taste intoxicating him…but now that he thinks about…this small little difference in taste and scent, a bit sweeter, happened last month—
“ryo—haah ah mmh ya like my pussy?” your eyes flutter as you keep them on sukuna’s flushed face.
his eyes roll back, completely falling apart between your thighs as he groans a deep husky, “fuck yeah.”
your stomach burns hot at his voice, and voice pitching higher as his tongue delves inside your hole. “haaaah—your mouth is so good, baby—ngh been wet all day,” you confess in your pleasure. “was staring at your hands all day, ryo—they’re so big…l-like your di—ahh—“ fuck you’re talking a lot, sukuna groans, annoyed how worked up your voice is getting him.
his tongue laps and sucks, his salvia creating an even bigger mess. he pulls away, cheeks dusted a deep red as he spits directly onto your puffy clit, pupils dilating as he spreads the mess all over your swollen clit. “these hands,” he runs his calloused palm over your lower stomach. your pupils grow black with lust. pupils blown as you stare at the way his hand encompasses the entire surface. his crimson irises dilate once he sees the lust all over your face. “want them inside ya?”
you nod, immediately.
he doesn’t wait.
two long, thick fingers push past the initial tightness, feeling the gummy walls of your pussy hug his digits with delight. your jaw falls slack, drool slipping as he leans down to plant wet kisses along your lower stomach, forearms and biceps flexing as he pistons his fingers in n out. the squelching fills his ears as you moan above him.
“ngh! fuh ryo, feels good, kiss—kiss me down there—“ you push his head down until his lips connect with your clit again, sucking. rough. mean. teeth sinking just hard enough to make your eyes water and a choked cry slip your lips. “ryo,” you mewl with such lewd sweetness that this huge 6’5 hunk is practically moaning in response. “ry—my pussy—ahh gun —mmm c-close—gun cum—“
but sukuna has already lost all sanity with how good your slick tastes. his eyes roll back pushing you over the edge. “mmm fuck!” you cry, lashes wet as they flutter from the pleasure coursing out of you. his throat bops swallowing and lapping your sweet slick like it’s a drug — which it might as well be with the way his cock is throbbing in his boxers just from eating his fuck buddy’s sweet pussy. “taste like fucking honey,” he groans, cleaning you up like a dog. he pants, catching his breath as he climbs up to your lips like a starved animal. he smashes his lips against you, kissing your spit slicked lips with a loud groan. how do your lips taste sweet too?
“gonna be a good brat and let me fuck this tight pussy?” He grunts, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down along with his boxers, freeing his painfully erect cock.
your tongues collide, dumb whine coming from the back of your throat, and hands running up and locking around his neck. “f’course.”
fucking you rough and fast on the couch as you babbled like a dumb slut, drunk on his cock, had him seeing stars. he was desperately trying to figure out how you're handling him with how uncharacteristically rough he’s being, but you haven’t told him to stop.
"ry—aa-haah!"
shit. he'd flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips , ass in the air as he slams his thick throbbing cock in from behind. his rough palm is pressed into your lower back keeping you in that deep arch he loves, and hand cracking the nth spank to your sore ass. "feel good?"
"so good ryo—wanna cum again -cum-ngh haah please please-"
unbelievable.
and it’s not until he’s panting on the couch, your limp body resting across it, completely and utterly spent, does he realize just how rough he was being. his jaw tenses, as the fog clears up.
“hey…” his voice treads lightly, cautious as he turns on the couch, glancing at your resting form. your shirt covers your breasts after he finally came and let you lay back on the couch. but his spend leaks out of your abused hole, and your ass is still burning from his mean spanks. “hey…” he leans over you, hand brushing your waist. grounding. “you okay?”
he watches carefully as you turn on your side, eyes heavy as you blink up at him. “yeah…you okay?”
“you okay with how we fucked?”
you don’t blink, “yeah.”
yeah, somethings up. he was rough, even he knows that much. and you took it well. more than well, you were begging for me.
all of those should’ve been signs. the closeness, the slight sweetness spike in your slick and saliva. how unbelievably heavenly you smell, all the time. how you didn’t mind how rough he was. but the cherry on top was the party friday.
the frat is lit up like a damn fever dream. neon strips line the railings, glow paint smeared across walls and skin, bass from the dj bleeding through the floors as the pool outside shimmers under colored lights. it’s packed, but not suffocating. invite-only for once. people actually have room to breathe, but it was mainly because they didn’t want any complaints so early in the semester.
sukuna is sat back on the patio couch, shirtless, skin still damp from the heat, a thin sheen of sweat catching the lights every time he moves, tattoos flexing over his well defined muscles. gojo was loud beside him, geto half-listening while scrolling on his phone, a couple other guys scattered around with some girls mingling between them. but sukuna isn’t paying attention to any of it.
he has a drink in his hand, untouched. his eyes keep drifting. back to you. somewhere near the edge of the pool, laughing at something utahime is saying, glowing under the neon like it was made for you. your bikini hugged your tits so well he’d pop a boner if he stares too hard. the droplets run down your soft skin, as he sees you fix your necklace as you say something to your friend.
he clicks his tongue, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “you ever notice they act different sometimes?” he mutters, low enough that it doesn’t carry past the music.
nanami, sitting beside him in swim shorts, thick legs spread open for all to eye and an open button up putting his defined abs on full display, along with the sneaky patch of blonde hair peaking out of his waistband, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “that’s a very broad statement.”
sukuna exhales through his nose. “nah, like—” he pauses, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to piece a puzzle together when he doesn’t have all the pieces yet. “it’s not random.”
nanami studies him for a second, then follows his line of sight, and finds you immediately. is he starting to realize his feelings for you?— “not random how?”
sukuna tilts his head, “just… different. clingier. or—” he gestures vaguely with his drink. “more into it.”
nanami raises a brow. “into what.”
sukuna gives him a look like don’t be fucking stupid.
nanami hums, finally catching on, taking a slow sip. “you’re asking if there’s a pattern to women’s behavior.”
“i’m saying there is one,” sukuna mutters aggressively. “i just don’t know what the hell it is.”
“you know,” nanami says calmly, “they have cycles.”
there’s a beat. then sukuna leans back, jaw ticking slightly, still watching you. “yeah I fucking know that,” he mutters. “It’s annoying.”
nanami glances at him again, lost. “what is.”
sukuna doesn’t answer right away. just takes another sip, eyes narrowing faintly. “the way it’s not consistent.”
nanami huffs quietly, amused now . “if you’re starting to notice now then it is consistent.”
sukuna side-eyes him. nanami is no better than gojo or geto, he’s just more subtle about his innuendos. “I’m not noticing shit—“
nanami shrugs, setting his glass down. unaware that gojo and geto have agreed on teams.
“okay! water volleyball!” gojo’s voice cuts clean through the bass, already halfway to the pool as he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night. a cheer ripples through the patio. of course it does. a house full of athletes, half-naked, girls in bikinis, a competition handed to them on a silver platter? yeah, they’re moving before the rules are even explained.
geto stretches his arms above his head as he stands, “hey! the love of god,” he mutters, loud enough for the frat president t to hear him, “try not to break anyone’s teeth this time.”
gojo laughs, already hopping to his side of the pool because obviously he’s one of the captains. “no promises.”
sukuna’s already up, taking the second captain title and just like that — whatever train of thought he was stuck on snaps clean in half. gone. replaced with something sharper, more familiar. his shoulders roll once, loose, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the space, the people already splitting into sides. his team or gojo’s team. they’re always on opposite teams. it makes it more fun.
“don’t get in my way,” he tosses to gojo as he steps around to his end of the pool, his hand brushing his stomach as he crack his neck.
“you wish,” gojo shoots back.
people start gathering, some hanging back to watch, others eager, slipping into the water, calling out sides, laughing as they pick teams. a younger pledge scrambles to the middle, already trying to take control after geto shoves him in to the play referee, whistle in hand like this is some official match.
and of course, even as chaos takes over the yard. your eyes find him. instinctive, like something in you locks in and refuses to look anywhere else.
sukuna stands at the edge, skin still glistening under the neon, muscles flexing lazily as he stretches his arm over his head. his back, his shoulders, the deep v- line that has your eyes following down to the tuft of light hair peaking out the same one you always find yourself caressing during foreplay— it’s too much. it’s always too much, but tonight it sits heavier in your chest, lower in your stomach, something warm and insistent that doesn’t let up between your legs.
your clit throbs.
“wait—” utahime grabs your wrist, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. “you hate this stuff.”
you don’t even look at her. “it’ll be fun,” you murmur, already pulling away. and then you’re moving. slipping from your seat on the edge of the pool and jumping in.
the water hits cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s been building under it. you swim to sukuna’s side, breath catching slightly as you orient yourself to the chaos around you, because normally, usually, a crowded sweaty pool was something you’d avoid, but—he’s already looking at you. your thighs press together.
his eyes are not casual, not passing, he’s looking. his gaze drops first. slow and deliberate, catching the faint mark on your neck, the one he left last night, barely visible under the colored lights. his jaw ticks. then lower, just for a second, the way your body shifts in the water, the ripple of movement as you steady yourself, the rise and fall of your breasts threatening to spill out. the water calmly rocks underneath them. then his gaze shifts back to your face, and you’re still staring at him. you’re not even trying to hide it.
something about that makes his brow twitch.
because you’re not looking away. not when he meets your eyes. not when the noise around you spikes, not when someone splashes too close. your focus stays locked, heavy, almost… expectant.
it lingers a second too long. then—
“teams set!” the pledge yells, blowing the whistle way too aggressively. “first to ten— no cheap shots—“ he glances around before catching geto lounged on the other side of the pool, some girl already pressed against his arm. “OH! no punches or choking!”
“shut up and start it,” gojo calls from the other side, already grinning, bouncing lightly in the water.
sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you for another beat. then he exhales through his nose, turning slightly, shoulders squaring as the ball is tossed into play and he’s in the pool.
the game starts rough. the second the ball is tossed, two guys are already lunging for it. water splashing high, bodies colliding mid-air before someone spikes it hard across the pool. girls moved out of the way, squealing as huge men fight. a chorus of shouts erupts from the sidelines, music still blasting behind it, neon lights flickers over wet skin and moving bodies.
gojo, the ever responsible fraternity president, grins like a man possessed on the other side. sukuna, the very responsible vice president, is barking like a mad man.
and of course, the competitive idiots fall into rhythm with each other. fast, aggressive, locked in, and every hit gets harder, a slightly more violent. every return is sharper and people start gathering closer to the edge, phones out, recording, yelling their names like it’s a real match instead of a drunk frat game.
“c’mon, kuna!” someone shouts.
“gojo! spike that shit!”
water slaps against tile. everything is moving fast, bodies move out of the way so they’re not hit by the aggressive spikes from the frat hosts. but they still refuse to leave the pool because it’s fun, messy, loud, and heated.
and then the ball comes your way. your eyes widen, barely able to think, so you just react. your hands come up, fingers pushing against it just right, and somehow, you’re sending it up in a clean arc, right to him.
sukuna moves instantly….he jumps, sculpted body cutting through the air, arm pulling back before he slams the ball down with violent force, sending it crashing into gojo’s side of the pool.
a winning point. a cheer explodes. and when he lands, water dripping down his shoulders, he glances at you, canines on display, as his deep voice cuts through the chaos to say, “good girl.” it’s low, automatic, and it slips out without thought, just like how he’d praise you when you’re alone, and his voice is raspy as he whispers it in your ear, cock usually deep in your guts as he gives you another mean thrust that you take with pride, pussy clamping when he bottoms.
something fast, hot, and dizzying rushes through you. your chest tightens, skin buzzing as your breath stutters for a second. your thighs press together instinctively under the water, pulse kicking up in a way that feels almost overwhelming. and from that moment on, you stick to him. you try to chase the ball for him, pushing it back into his reach every chance you get, doing your best to avoid the large men playing the game. but your focus narrows, locked in on your hot fuck buddy like nothing else exists. every movement feels sharper, more urgent, your body reacting before your brain can catch up.
on the sidelines, people notice. how can they not? most of the girls “playing” cling to the perimeter. and then there’s you, being an idiot, but a very hot one, throwing yourself in the middle. your bikini clings tight from the water, fabric hugging every curve, shifting every time you jump or twist. a few guys on the edge of the pool don’t even bother pretending they’re watching the game anymore. their eyes track you instead, murmurs passing between them. someone whistles when you jump to set the ball, breasts bouncing freely in the flimsy bikini top, your nipples hard underneath as water cascades like some playboy ad.
but sukuna, is too locked into the game to notice.
the first round ends with his team winning, and the second starts almost immediately, louder than before. people are picking sides now, chanting, recording, some still dancing on the grass behind them, focused on the dj, drinks sloshing as the party refuses to slow down around the chaos of the pool’s game.
you’re still right there again when it starts. you doubt you’re even playing anymore, but you wanted to see him, watch him jump high and spike the ball. watch the ink on his back ripple with his muscles. the same defined lines that you caress at night, and hug—
your attention is so narrowed, that you don’t even notice the guy at first. bodies are moving like a blur that you don’t focus on another moving behind you. until it’s too near, too familiar for someone you don’t know. then, a hand brushes your bare side under the water, lingering just a second too long making your blood run cold.
your eyes snap wide. “what the fuck!” you twist instantly, shoving him off hard, water splashing between you as your stomach turns. only a few people notice, the rest too consumed by the game until you’re moving straight towards a certain captain.
“THAT’S A FUCKING FOUL GOJO—what the—“
your arms wrap around him from behind without hesitation, pressing into him, chest flush against his back as you cling to one familiar form. tight, and instinctive.
it catches him off guard, just for a second. his body tenses slightly under your grip. his muscular arms lift, head turning halfway to see, “who the fuck—“ grabbed him in the middle of game! but then he sees you. and his eyes glance down at your familiar hands holding his chest. your name slips out of his lips, confused what you’re doing, but then the ball’s already back in play. and somehow he keeps going.
even with you wrapped around him, weight clinging to his back, he still moves, still blocks, still lands a hit that sends the ball flying back over the net. it’s messy now, uneven, but he’s too competitive to stop, jaw tight, focus split but still sharp. water splashes everywhere. people are yelling. gojo laughs from the other side. “what the hell is that— you got a handicap now?”
sukuna clicks his tongue, annoyed, shifting slightly to keep his balance with you still latched onto him. you don’t let go. not once. “you drunk?” he tries to talk to you mid-game.
“yeah,” you mutter over the music. but as more people fill the pool, and the third round feels much more chaotic, sukuna begins to notice. your grip tightens every time someone gets too close, every time someone accidentally touches you, every time your head spins just a little from the alcohol and the heat and everything. your cheek presses against his back, breath uneven, body still buzzing in a way you don’t fully understand, other than the fact that you can feel how hot it is between your legs. he smells so good…
the game drags on— until finally— gojo’s team takes the last point. a loud cheer erupts from his side, people splashing into the pool, celebrating, phones still up capturing everything.“told you,” gojo grins, pushing his wet snowy hair back, muscles flexing for the cameras as he sticks his tongue out.
sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, annoyed, shoulders tense— he doesn’t shake you off. but unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance.
you’re suddenly ripped away.
“wha—! what the fuck!” you yelp as a pair of hands grab you from underneath, a drunk junior dunking under the water before popping up with you lifted high onto his shoulders. just for the crowd to erupt.
“OH SHIT— chicken fight!”
“LET’S GO!”
“get her, get her!” other guys in the pool dunk under and lift a few laughing girls up. but you’re not one of them. your thighs clamp instinctively around the stranger’s head just to keep from slipping, heart racing, balance completely shot as water drips down your legs and chest. your hands fly to his hair, trying to steady yourself, panic flashing across your face. you didn’t agree to this. your eyes lock with sukuna immediately. wide. confused. he’s not your boyfriend— but he’s still…
something in him snaps. he straightens, fast. too fast. the playful edge from seconds ago gone completely, replaced with something sharp and violent, jaw tightening as his eyes drag over the way the guy’s hands are gripping your thighs— and the whistles from the crowd don’t help, especially when your hand reaches to adjust the way your bikini top had shifted.
“damn!”
sukuna’s fist curls. “get your fucking hands off her,” he bites out, already moving forward through the water, splashing hard as he closes the distance.
the guy just laughs, drunk, clueless and not listening. “relax, man, it’s just a chicken fight. ever heard of those?”
he doesn’t get to finish. sukuna’s already pulling his arm back, when you squeak.
“wait—!” you gasp, trying to shift your weight, panic spiking as the situation spirals way too fast—but before anything can land another pair of bodies crash into you. a second drunk chicken fight slams into your side, bodies colliding, completely losing balance. and then everything goes under. water rushes over your head in a blur of limbs and noise, the guy beneath you losing his footing as you both go down. you barely have time to register it before a hand grabs you. hard.
sukuna’s arm wraps tight around your waist, yanking you up and out of the water in one sharp motion. you cough, sputtering slightly, fingers clutching onto him as he steadies you against his side. he doesn’t even look at you at first. he’s glaring past you.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he snaps, voice low and dangerous, water dripping from his hair as he stares down the guy who just broke the surface, coughing. “you fucking grab girls without permission and I’m fucking snapping your arm in half!”
the junior lifts his hands, half-laughing, half-defensive. “yo, chill— it’s just a game—”
“i said don’t touch her,” sukuna cuts in, sharper this time, stepping forward like he’s ready to swing anyway.
the energy shifts instantly. people nearby start stepping in, hands coming up.
“aye, chill, chill—” one tries to come between them. sukuna doesn’t even notice that you’d managed to slip from his grip, still coughing as you swim to the steps of the pool, heart pounding as utahime, having seen the entire interaction helps you out.
“you okay?” she sits in front of you on the edge handing you water.
you nod, chugging half the bottle, before breathing again, “swallowed like…” you gag, “a disgusting amount of that pool water.” utahime cringes as she glances at the pool. the interaction growing even more heated, as a crowd watches sukuna curse out the junior.
“anyone else fucking grab a girl without her permission is getting fucking banned from this frat permanently!” sukuna shouts. murmurs break out across the crowd, a few glance towards you, as utahime notices, but you’re too busy washing your mouth out to care.
gojo’s aloof attitude steps in after coming back with a sweet juice in hand. “okay, okay, we’re clear on consent aren’t we guys?”
people hum, cheering for the games to continue. but then…
“didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”
it lands this time, cutting through the noise and sticking just long enough for a few whistles and low laughs to ripple through the crowd. the kind of comment meant to poke, to stir, to see what the hot headed vp will do with it. but what’s worse is that a majority of the crowd has no clue what your relationship is with sukuna. aside from the frat members.
sukuna doesn’t even look at him, and he doesn’t correct it. it’s not because he wants to claim you. not because it’s true. but because it’s annoying—because explaining it, denying it, entertaining it at all feels like more effort than it’s worth. he’s your fuck buddy, he knows that, you know that, and thats all. his jaw tightens once, eyes already elsewhere, done with the conversation before it can grow legs because then he’ll really break his fucking arm.
the party moves on like it always does. music swells back up, as gojo and geto thank the heavens that sukuna was in a good mood before the argument that he wasn’t tempered to continue the fight. luckily the drinks are raised again. gojo’s already laughing, pulling attention away, and just like that the moment dissolves into noise.
sukuna’s focus shifts and lands on you.
you’re still on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, skin slick and glowing under the neon lights. your bikini clings tighter now, nipples pebbled under your soaked top, every curve on display, highlighted by the shadows of the lights above. it makes it impossible not to look. droplets trail down your thighs, catching the light as you tilt your head back slightly, still rinsing your mouth out, brows furrowed in clear disgust.
utahime sits in front of you, just as eye-catching to the hungry men around, her own bikini hugging her frame, water beading along her collarbones as she watches you with a mix of concern and amusement.
and people are staring. not subtle glances—staring like you’re something to watch. something to linger on. like the game earlier just shifted into something else entirely and now you’re part of it without agreeing. no wonder you hate these parties.
it irritates him, fast.
sukuna clicks his tongue under his breath and pushes forward through the water, tall enough that even standing in the pool, he closes the height between you easily. the neon catches on his skin too. his broad shoulders still damp, muscles flexing as he moves, water sliding down his torso in slow lines. he’s not unaware of the way people look at him either—girls nearby pausing mid-conversation, eyes dragging over him openly—but he doesn’t care. not right now. not when he reaches you.
his hand comes up without hesitation, settling on your exposed thigh where it hangs over the edge of the pool. his palm is warm even against your wet skin, fingers spreading slightly, firm enough to ground, possessive. the contact is immediate. deliberate.
the shift is noticeable. a couple of those lingering stares drop off instantly. only then does he look at you. his gaze flicks over your face, still a little flushed, still catching your breath, before settling. his gaze is steady, assessing the way your glossy lips part with an exhale after chugging an entire bottle of watet.
“you good?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher around the edges from the leftover tension. his thumb moves slightly against your skin without thinking, a small, absent motion that doesn’t match the sharpness in his expression.
utahime has to hold back an eye roll, especially when his gaze flicks over your face, then your lips. unbelievable. what’s with him? what’s stopping him from asking you out if he gets so hot headed and possessive—ughhh…utahime holds back her anger, because she was pissed when someone suddenly grabbed you and then had you dunked in the water. why does sukuna have to be so fucking weird though?! she internally curses out sukuan for being the person that always protects her best friend, but acts like a complete jerk another second.
“how much sweat did you drink?” sukuna asks, tone laced with amusement .
your eyes snap, face grimacing, “shut the fuck—up,” you gag again, hand coming up to your mouth just for utahime to snort and sukuna to bark with laughter.
“did i tell ya why we had to drain the pool last year—“ sukuna starts, utahime’s eyes widen.
“oh my god I remember!”
your face pales, nails digging into sukuna’s shoulder while the other still covers your mouth. “don’t you dare tell me.”
sukuna grimaces with an amused expression remembering what happened at last years pool party. but distracting you has somehow managed to isolate everything else around him and have his sole focus on the way you wipe your mouth with a napkin utahime — and now nanami and geto at her side — comes back with, and the way your fingers shift from his shoulder to his forearm resting across your damp lap. and the conversation flows afterwards.
gojo was still on the dance floor, completely in his own world, some girl is pressed to his side as neon lights strobe over him laughing, loud, untouchable in the way he always is. meanwhile, the edge of the pool has settled into something more intimate and funny. the conversations around overlap as you all joke loudly and throwing around slight bickering, cooling off from the chaos, but still very much alive.
and with all that, you hadn’t left. even after everything, you’re still sitting where you are, leg still dipped in the water, skin dewy under the lights, bikini keeping your pretty tits in view for a certain salmon haired man. your hair is slightly damp, pushed back from your face, exposing the curve of your neck—the faint mark sukuna left the night before still visible if someone looks close enough. and you smell heavenly. fuck if you’re alone, he’d bury his nose closer to your breasts to smell the sweat clinging.
but people are looking. they always are now.
they just don’t linger as long anymore. not with him there. sukuna leans into the edge of the pool, upper body braced beside you, his arm draped behind your back like it naturally falls there. his other hand rests lazily against your thigh, fingers tapping absently against your skin as he takes a sip from his beer. his shoulders are broad, still slick with water, veins visible along his arms as they flex with every small movement.
he looks just as much of a problem as ever. and the attention doesn’t stop, girls nearby still steal glances, whispers, watching the way he’s positioned so close to you, the way his hand hasn’t moved from your leg once. but what’s more interesting, is that you don’t move either.
you don’t push him off, don’t shift away. if anything, you lean just slightly into his space, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his forearm where it rests across your lap, like it’s second nature. you like it there.
and sukuna notices. of course he does, with how touchy and clingy you’ve been these past few days. yes, he’s shocked you haven’t left, or haven’t asked him to go upstairs with you. instead you’re being so uncharacteristically attached.
his gaze flicks down for a second, watching the way your fingers move against his skin, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, taking another sip like it didn’t just register. his stomach churns when you lean forward slapping nanami’s stretched out hand after he said something funny.
“why the fuck are you guys sitting here?” gojo’s voice cuts in suddenly, dripping with disbelief as he approaches, hair damp, grin lazy. he looks down at your little group, then at the pool like it personally offended him. “this is embarrassing.”
utahime snorts. “she almost drowned, idiot.”
“she’s alive,” gojo shrugs immediately, already grabbing a drink from someone nearby. “get in the hot tub. it’s waaaay better!”
a couple girls attached to him nod eagerly, already following his lead as he starts heading that way without waiting for an answer. utahime glances at you. “you wanna stay out or…?”
you don’t even hesitate as you hum, soft. “yeah, why not.”
sukuna catches it.
the group starts moving, the energy shifting with them as they make their way toward the hot tub. somewhere along the path, nanami and utahime get pulled into another conversation, stopping off to the side, leaving you and sukuna to keep going without them. your skin burns as sukuna keeps a subtle hand in your lower back, biting his lip when you reach the hot tub and you step in front of him. his gaze drops to the movement of your ass, your bikini was so skimpy it’s definitely clinging on to your pussy lips too. fuck,
by the time you step into the hot tub, the heat hits instantly. you sigh without meaning to, tension melting from your shoulders as the warmth wraps around you, soaking into your skin. your body relaxes almost immediately, the contrast from the cooler pool making everything feel heavier, slower.
sukuna steps in right after you. and immediately shoves two guys aside with a sharp nudge of his shoulder. “move.”
they do quickly without argument, clearly frat members. he settles in beside you, close again, like earlier, like he didn’t just create that space for you.
gojo drops in for half a second, splashing water everywhere before grimacing. “it’s too hot,” he complains, already climbing back out. “i need another drink.”
and just like that, he’s gone again. leaving you, sukuna, and the rest of the group laughing, talking. the conversation easy as the night keeps rolling around you. especially when geto comes back with some girls and red solo cups for beer pong.
“don’t spill any in the hot tub!” sukuna barks as the girls organize the cups in place on the edge. geto slides into the pool with the ping pong balls.
“shh shh i know,” he zips his friend up as he takes aim. and as the party is brought back to the hot tub, you’re all swept up again. and your eyes are following every movement of your friend beside you. the way he’s shouting and laughing with his frat brothers, the conversations turning to fog when sukuna flexes his large bicep, the ink that wraps around it highlights how big they are. you can’t even recall the context of this sudden flex off, but you’re not complaining.
you watch his throat bop as he throws back another cup of beer, standing beside geto. your eyes trail over his sculpted chest. you suck in your bottom lip as sukuna falls back beside you. his arm draped behind you along the edge of the hot tub, barking another laugh at some crap geto is spewing, completely distracted.
“I swear TO GOD, you told me to go for that dive!” geto throws his hands up, flabbergasted.
“nah nah nah—“ sukuna shouts over, shaking his head with an amused expression, “I told you—“
“nah—satoru!!” geto looks over his shoulder, waving down the president. “SATORU!”
gojo’s head whips around. however, the debate is the furthest thing from your mind, honestly you can’t even understand what these idiots are talking about. but— there’s one idiot that smells heavenly.
sukuna distracted, doesn’t notice how much closer you’re pressed to him, how your lashes flutter at the mix of cologne and chlorine flooding your nose, and dizzying your mind. he’s so—uh..when men— your brain is short circuiting. literally. mind so consumed by how big and strong this man beside is, that all you can think about is how he protected you. he pulled you out of the water. snapped at that guy…for you.
you’re not normally this moved. but it was the series of events that unfolded, all in the last few hours, that has you doing what you do next.
“please! you know i did not agree to that!” geto tsks, pointing his finger at gojo who’s laughing, sitting at the edge of the hot tub, legs in. and the two — along with the rest of the group involved in the debate — are distracted, and unaware of the fact that the pretty girl that sukuna almost started a fight over, is slipping her pretty hand inside his swim shorts.
sukuna tenses. breath hitching.
his eyes snap to you, stomach clenching. “what’re you—“ he chokes when you squeeze his thick base without warning. your cheek casually presses against his shoulder, wetting your bottom lip. your leg is tucked against his side, as the other swings over his knee, pretty tits squished against his arm. your wrist rolls, stroking his flaccid cock alive.
“ryo…” you speak low enough so that only sukuna can hear. “was jus’ thinking about you.” his jaw tenses, hand clenching at the edge of the tub, leaning his head down.
“you’re the one that doesn’t like this shit,” he husks, throat bopping as you bat your lashes up at him, bitting your lip as you give his cock another squeeze, pushing your wet tits against his arm. “there’s people—“
“then be normal, ryo,” you say, all while nuzzling him like a clingy g— “just wanted to feel how big you are.”
his heads tips back, what’re you even saying?
you keep your cheek pressed against his shoulder, lip tucked between your teeth as you stroke the vp’s fat throbbing cock in the middle of a party and in a hot tub full of his close frat friends.
it wasn’t difficult for his dick to fully harden within seconds of your hand making contact. you let out a soft exhale, pressing your practically naked body against him like you could get any closer than you already are. but to make matters worse, he was so unbelievably turned on that you were touching him in public! fuuck, his stomach flexes, biting back a groan when your thumb swipes his bulbous tip, the water made it difficult for you to keep a fast pace stroke, but his skin was still prickling with heat.
“ryo, is this okay?” you softly pant in his ear, a hum like moan escapes your lips just by the way he exhales through his nose, turning his head to you, aroma engulfing you.
to anyone else it just looked like you were having a private conversation with each other. the hot tub and pool, a few feet away, booming with chaos, no one was paying attention to you guys. but even with all that information, sukuna — who spreads his legs further apart in the water, biting his lip when you kiss his neck now, sucking a light bruise on his flushed skin — knows that you’d never do this. you get touchy when you’re drunk, whispering dirty shit in his ear. but you’ve only had a couple drinks to make you tipsy enough to enjoy the party and remember, not black out drunk to jerk him off in public.
“yeah—it’s okay,” his head drops forward, hot red flush crawling up his neck and stinging his cheeks as he nudges your head with his.
“yeah?” you repeat with a coo.
he bites back a pathetic groan, arm sliding to your waist under the water, gripping your flesh like his life depends on it. you’re intoxicating.
“yeah baby.”
a flush of heat runs between your legs at his deep bedroom voice. sukuna is so hot, he’s so hot, so pretty, so sexy! you squeal internally, leaning closer to press your lips against his sharp jaw, whining just low enough for him to hear. your wrist twists down his cock. you hadn’t even full realized that you’d taken him out of his swim trucks, to possessed to care as his fingers dig into your waist, while the other balls into a fist against the tube’s edge.
“are you close, ryo? is your big cock gonna cum?”
unbelievable.
sukuna’s jaw tenses, abs tightening just by your voice. you’ve been hanging up on how big he is. how big his hands are. how big his dick is — scratch that, you’re using the word cock now. yeah he’s gonna fuckin’ cum soon if you keep talkin’ like that.
“there’s so many people around ry,” you shy quietly, “you don’t think they know I’m playing with you?” your slightly tipsy eyes bat up at him, pupils completely dilated. his eyes briefly sweep around him, the alarms flashing in his mind don’t seem to phase him as he drops his lips down to brush yours.
“what if they are aware?” he husks, lidded eyes boring into yours. “does that make y’r pussy wet?” he wets his lip, thighs flexing when you give his cock a squeeze as he speaks. “ya like knowing that there’s eyes everywhere…watching your slutty self jerk me off.”
your brain short circuits. face burning hot.
“I’m not a slut,” you whisper, just as you’re practically straddling his thigh now, with the way you’re inching closer to him every second. his hand slides from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh as he pulls it apart letting you feel the warm tube water touch your heated pussy.
“you’re gettin on top of me—“
“to protect your dignity,” you attempt a frown, but your eyes keep flicking to his lips, brushing your lips against them again, just for him to pull back, again.
“didn’t take you as someone so generous,” he quips, hips angling up, subtly telling you to keep stroking him, even if it’s starting to feel like edging. “but,” he bites back another groan, “but to me, ya just look like another slut that wants to get her little pussy stuffed.”
you blink. once.
sukuna can see the lust burst behind your eyes. your thighs clamp around his beefy thigh, your hand squeezing his tip, and your lips parting. “is that so bad?”
ah fuck.
“you can’t say those words to a man,” sukuna’s rasps.
you pout, pressing your wet breasts against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies. your hot breath fans against his face, scent invading his mind, and your lips brush against his, this time licking his bottom lip. once. twice. your tongue strokes his bottom lip, waiting for him to invite you in, whining a little louder when he refuses. “ryo.”
his large palms grip your ass. your flimsy bikini could easily be pulled to the side, exposing you just like him. your cheeks flush, arching even more, your arms are tossed around his broad shoulder, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, desperate. needy. “I’ve been holding myself back ryo,” you quietly speak, unaware how much like déjà vu this feels. memories of last month flashing in his mind about those exact words coming from your lips as you climbed into his lap in the middle of a party. “you have to take care of it.”
“i have too?” he quips with a sharp edge in his tone.
your flush with embarrassment, lips parting as your lashes flutter shut, “please…please can you take care of it.”
unbelievable.
his cock twitches violently against your stomach. his muscular thigh flexes under your pussy making your lips part.
as you and sukuna speak in hushed whispers. a good group of people have take notice of the awkward shifting in the hot tub and the unrecognizable look on sukuna’s face. but specifically the girl that the sukuna let attach herself to him during a violently competitive water volleyball match and almost pick a fight with. he’s smirking as she whispers in his ear, her lips even pressing his lobe, making the intimidating vice president blush?!
“her tits are all over him,” one whispers, taking a sip as they watch from a distance, both sitting at the pools edge watching the events unfold a few feet’s away in the hot tub. it’s not obvious unless you’re staring as hard as these guys, or if you’re a certain man laughing as you stand up at the edge of the tub, face dropping for a millisecond when you catch your vice president getting off by a hot girl.
fucking animals, geto shakes his head, eyes flicking to gojo, easily communicating with him about you know.
gojo’s brows pinch glancing over from his seat at the edge of the tub, to— “oh shit!”
geto elbows him. “idiot!”
gojo’s hands fly to his mouth, laughing hysterically as he stares at the way his short tempered friend is blushing like crazy, and making it obvious to anyone that he’s getting his dick touched right now. “do they know what they’re doing?” gojo speaks in hushed whispers.
“obviously,” geto sits beside gojo, the tub water doesn’t seem to be appealing anymore. and yet there’s still a few people on the sides laughing, too drunk to notice.
“fucking pervs,” gojo snickers.
a beat passes.
then gojo turns, eyes wide when he sees geto staring blankly at him. “what?”
“you’re worse!” geto slaps him upside the head. gojo gasps in shock. “I can’t even remember how many times you fucked someone in here and in the pool—“
“hey,” gojo frowns, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “that was…b-because they were hot.”
geto scoffs, “you weren’t even subtle about them, everybody knew you were fucking them. YOU’RE the biggest perv.”
gojo nods, “yeah…”
your whine flows directly into sukuna’s ear, lips coming back to his. “why won’t you kiss me?” you quietly demand.
his dimples press into his cheeks as he bites back a smirk. “we’re jus’ talking,” he says your name, but in that deep way he does when he’s stuffing you with his cock…which he’s not.
you sit up closer, sliding higher up his thigh, knee rubbing harshly against his cock — “ah!” you squeal suddenly straddling his lap instead of his thigh. his red irises sink into yours, watching the way your glossy lips part glancing at the surface of the hot tub trying to make out how close his cock is to where you need him. “you’re hard ryo.”
“and?”
your eyes flick up to him, pretty brows pressing together, “and we’re not jus’ talking—“
“y’know—“ he suddenly chokes.
you’ve moved your bikini to the side, and pushed his cock down, fully sitting on his cock and sliding across it, hips shaking, stimulating your needy clit.
your name cuts through the air, his grip moves to grab your hips, trying to keep you still, but his body betrays him as he bucks against you. “fuck, woman.”
your lips press against sukuna, whining like a desperate slut when he finally kisses you back. and this was why he didn’t want to entertain you this quickly. the sweet taste of your lips immediately sends a rush of heat down to his cock, his arm wraps around your back, holding the back of your head as the other grips your ass, groaning as your lips smack in wet hungry kisses. your tongues collide, spit collecting in your mouth as he groans in response.
sukuna has to be responsible. he has too. but you’re such a fucking slut— touching his cock, stroking him in public, rubbing your body (his biggest weakness) against him like you’re alone together. and now you’re humping his cock like you can feel something with the water’s friction.
all of it was a factor, and for some unexplainable reason, all the dots seemed to have connected at this exact moment—like a huge light bulb going off in his head.
“shit.”
you hum at the way his deep voice sends a warm heat blooming in your stomach. “are you turned on, ryo?” your lips purse, kissing his, unaware of the sudden realization he’s come too. “keep kissing me.”
your fingers thread through his short locks, gripping him as you keep his lips moving yours.
but sukuna’s palm splays across your spine, groaning at the way you don’t stop to catch your breath. then his grip tightens. his mouth drags slower this time, more deliberate. he’s testing something, and the way you react—how quick you melt back into him, how your nails press into his shoulders like you’re holding on and the pitched whine that leaves your lips when he tries to pull away.
“how bad d’you need me?” he murmurs, voice low, rough, right against your pretty lips.
you don’t hesitate. “so bad,” you breathe, almost frustrated, because it’s obvious.
his eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating—then narrowing slightly. “yeah?” he hums, thumb pressing into your waist, grounding you as you shift again, his cock snug between your folds. “why,” he asks, tone not soft or gentle, but testing.
you shake your head slightly, breath catching, fingers tightening on him. “because— i just—” you exhale sharply, frustrated, needy, “i just want you to touch me.”
that’s all he needs. a quiet, almost amused exhale leaves him, something darker settling behind his eyes now. nanami’s little comment about “noticing now” makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. it doesn’t mean anything that you’ve had this friend with benefits deal long enough for him to start noticing a pattern every month. especially when this part of the cycle comes around and you’re practically begging him to just touch you. he highly doubts that you even notice it.
“been like this all night,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it gets firmer. “can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”
you don’t even deny it. you just pull him back in. and this time he lets you. let’s you kiss him like it’s your last time, let’s you tug his hair like he belongs to you. let’s you pull away… you’re panting at him through glossy, lidded eyes.
and then sukuna notices.
the shift.
your breathing breaks. shallow and uneven. you can’t quite catch it as your lips part, soft, glossy, letting out these higher, breathier sounds that you’re not even trying to hold back anymore. it’s quieter than the music, but he hears it. feels it.
his grip tightens instinctively.
your hips are moving without any rhythm now. they’re slow, needy, desperate. your body chasing something it can’t reach fast enough. your fingers press into his lower stomach, clutching there like you need something solid to hold onto, your head tipping forward, lashes fluttering like a fucking angel. and your mouth falls open. a soft, pitched sound slips out of you—one you don’t even seem aware of—and it’s enough to make something dark flicker across his expression.
“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, eyes locked on your face now, watching every little change his cock twitching uncontrollably.
your brows pinch, then your body tenses, then softens, like a wave hitting and pulling back all at once. your grip on him tightens, thighs pressing in, grounding yourself on his cock without even thinking about it.
and he doesn’t move. doesn’t interrupt it. he just watches. because now he knows. and all he can think is how unbelievably hot you look in his eyes—like something wired wrong in his brain just flipped on. women that are ovulating mean they’re more likely to get pregnant. fuck. why is his brain latching onto that part? you’re his fuck buddy. this is simple. it is simple. it’s perfectly reasonable—completely normal, even—for him to get turned on thinking about how much you cling to him, how much you crave him, how much you need him, how your body reacts to him like this. that doesn’t mean he wants to get you—
absolutely the fuck not.
but still…fucking women. you’re insane. his brain is short circuiting while you’re coming undone on his lap, in a hot tub, in the middle of a packed party.
and the way you’re panting, your breasts pushed together as you keep a hand on his lower abs, pussy spasming as your orgasm rocks through you, has something low and satisfied settling in your fuck buddy’s chest. his hand slides up your back again, slower this time, more deliberate.
“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself, thumb pressing lightly into your side as your breathing tries to steady. “that’s what i thought.”
his lips ghost over you.
then he feels it…the eyes.
his dark gaze flicks up. meeting the dilated blue and black ones, along with the others in the crowd. they all saw, didn’t they. witnessed something that had his jaw tightening and his pupils returning to their size.
“fuck me,” you pant quietly, arms lazily coming back to his shoulders coming down from your climax. you kiss him deeply, unaware of the mess you’re causing inside his brain. “I’ve heard people say hot tub’s make you orgasm better,” you lick his tongue, “because of the hot water.”
his grip tightens around you, eyes open and staring past you at the people eyeing the arch in your back as you make out with him like you didn’t just hump yourself to an orgasm in public.
“do you wanna cum too ryo?” your mischievous smile would’ve made any man buckle, but sukuna wasn’t any man. and he sure as shit isn’t a fucking cuck.
“no.”
his sudden tone shift had you pulling back, wet hand touching his damp cheek. sukuna’s thick brows were pulled tightly, clearly angry, at what? you’re not sure. but you’re too lax to think much of it as you squish his cheeks between your fingers. his tatted arm possessively hugged you, eyes briefly leaving the not so subtle audience behind you, to meet your glass eyes.
“you mad I came before you?” you tease, head tilting in mockery. cute. “it’s okay, I’ll make ya cum,” you whisper, smile gracing those sinful lips of yours. “I’ll let you choose too…”
you shrug biting your lip, batting your pretty lashes at him. “you always call it that. I’m just using your vocabulary, mister suh…ku…nuh.”
that was his final straw, because in a blink of an eye, sukuna’s tucking himself and pushing off the tub’s seat, standing up. water cascades down the sharp planes of his abs, his swim trunks clinging low on his hips—leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
and people notice.
of course they do.
your jaw drops for half a second, eyes going wide before heat floods your face so fast it burns. you shoot up right after him, fist clenching at your side, brows pinching tight. “what’re you doing?”
“we’re going upstairs,” he says simply, like there aren’t a million eyes on him, more specifically on his thick bulge. girls are openly staring now, not even trying to hide it as their gazes drag over him, over the obvious outline pressing against his trunks.
your stomach twists. uncomfortable. sharp. ugly. you don’t name it. you won’t name it because it’s stupid. you have no claim, no say, no right to feel any type of way about who looks at him or how they look at it. but still, your jaw tightens because the way they’re staring is making your blood boil and it’s like they’re in on something they’re not supposed to be. they’re looking at something that has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. just you.
your eyes flick back to him, to the way the water trails down his body, down the dark wet hairs of his happy trail. the way he stands there like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the attention. and it only makes it worse. he looks like he’s been carved out of stone. something untouchable. and everyone’s fucking touching him with their eyes.
your lips press into a thin line, pulse uneven, heat sitting low in your stomach now for an entirely different reason as you step closer to him without even realizing it, hand settling on his stomach blocking the view from the onlookers. your fingers twitch. and you hate…hate how much it bothers you.
“you’re hard,” you huff, pushing him to step out of the tub, heart beating uncontrollably.
sukuna snorts, leaning down, “yeah no shit.”
“people are staring,” you grit.
your pulse stops. the air shifting around you, then you feel it. sukuna’s eyes bore into you, as his palm cups the side of your neck. your lips part in confusion when his gruff voice cuts.
“they’ve been staring.” the muscles on his jaw flex, pupils moving over your face as his gaze drops to your body. “they all…” his words trail off. he can’t say it…he can’t tell you they all fucking saw you cum, or the way your entire form looked like something straight out of every guys wet fantasy. all because of that unspoken tug that twists in his chest as you look up at him.
his head tips back in defeat.
unaware of the turmoil, you continue pushing him back, glancing briefly over your shoulder to see a few eyes not on the party but staring at sukuna.
“can you walk faster,” you mutter.
sukuna suddenly grabs your wrist after another push backwards, almost making him trip. his grip is firm and fast, yanking you back toward him before you can take another step, your body colliding lightly into his chest. water still drips from both of you, heat clashing with the cool night air as he steadies himself, jaw tightening for a second.
“watch it,” he mutters, low, though there’s no real bite to it. if anything, there’s something else there. his hand doesn’t leave your wrist. instead, it slides up, fingers curling tighter as he pulls you closer. closer. until there’s barely any space left between you. you barely get a word out before he leans down and kisses you.
hard.
it’s sudden. messy. all teeth and heat, like he’s cutting off whatever rush of thoughts were building in your head. your hands come up instinctively, gripping into his shoulders as he angles you just right, one hand now firm at your waist to keep you there. your lips part, immediately tasting his skilled tongue.
and around you, the party doesn’t stop. it never does when it’s grown this chaotic. but there are pockets, small ones, where people notice. gojo, still leaning back against the hot tub’s edge, lets out a low laugh. “zero awareness,” he mutters, clearly entertained. geto just shakes his head, amused, watching the scene unfold like it’s expected. neither of them have the energy tonight to call their friend out, but they’ll be sure to give him shit tomorrow.
but off to the side, a couple girls lean into each other, whispering behind their solo cups, eyes flicking between sukuna and the very obvious situation he’s not bothering to hide. further back, a few of the same guys from earlier in the pool linger, their stares a little too heavy, a little too interested, but sukuna doesn’t register it.
he’s too focused on you. too focused on the way you kiss him back just as hard. how you’re still letting out those fucking whines and moans into his hot mouth. too focused on how quickly you fold into him like he’s the oxygen keeping you alive. to him, this urgency and impatience, just reads as one thing. you want him so bad.
he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, his gaze dropping to your face, slightly dazed, flushed, and lips parted from the kiss.
“…yeah,” he exhales, almost amused, thumb pressing into your waist like he’s grounding himself. “you taste so good.”
your fingers tighten around his bicep, the other around his shoulder, breath uneven as you blink up at him, still catching up.
“can we—” you swallow, then try again, quieter but more urgent, “can we go upstairs now?”
there’s a beat. then his hand slides down to yours again, grip tightening as he turns, already moving toward the house without another word—pulling you with him. he pushes straight through the noise that follows inside, the lights, the bodies still dancing in the kitchen like nothing. all the way up to his room, and immediately kicking the door shut.
and within a blink of an eye, your tongue is lolling out as sukuna sits behind you, fingers digging into your ass and face buried from behind.
“fuh—fuck yeah,” you drawl, lips wet at the feel of sukuna’s tongue dragging inside your pussy, lapping up and toying with your rim before going back to suck your slick juices. “c’mon ry, haah…” you’re pushing his head back, so you can sit up. you move to tug his wet trunks off, crawling onto his lap once he discards them. unbothered by the tick in his jaw at your stubbornness, because in seconds, your head is tossed back, and your back is arching as you sink down on the nine thick fat inches. “a….ah—“
your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back at the unbelievable stretch. your pussy swallowing every inch like the slut he loves.
“there ya go,” he praises, fingers digging into your ass as you stare at his lips. his sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip as your slick lubricates his cock. your pussy a generous fountain as you roll your hips, letting his cock stuff deep inside you. “take this fuckin’ cock like a good bitch.”
“ry…haah…” you’re moaning in choked gasps, drool peaking at the corner of your lips as you finally sit back on his thighs.
the man’s pupils dilate as you stroke your lower stomach, feeling the bulge as you bat your lashes up at him. “you’re inside me now, ryo.”
fuck you. seriously.
his brain short circuits in seconds. and now all he sees is you.
his body reacts like a dog with his master. obeying your needs like he’s wired to do that. and he’s not complaining. his hand falls on your ass, beefy thighs spreading, as he meets your bounces with rough snaps of his hips. your ass claps against his thighs with each bounce, gasps piercing the air as he fucks up into you with full force. and you let him.
“look like a fuckin’ porn star on top of me,” he grunts, swallowing a moan when you clamp around him, finger tugging on the knot around your neck letting your bikini finally fall off, freeing your gorgeous tits. “fucking brat—“
his tongue falls out, licking your tit that bounces in his face, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking desperately. and he’s not nice about it. because now he knows. he knows you’ll let him. knows when you’re ovulating you’ll let him be a little harder, meaner, because it feels good. it feels good to feel his teeth bite down on your nipple possessively. it feels good when he spanks your ass for the nth time until your eyes are rimmed red and flooding with tears.
it feels good to have him obsessed with you, because all you’re begging for is…
“cu—uh—cum.”
an electric current runs down his spine, jaw clenching and head tipping back, flooding your tight pussy with his thick load.
“shit—nghhh fuuuck—fuck baby,” he’s gripping your hips as you press against his stomach, rocking on his cock. he doesn’t fully realize his back is laying against the bed. not when you’re milking his cock like he’s some fucking cow…and yet… “shit keep goin, baby—yeah ya want m-Mmm shit.”
“feel so good ryo.” you shake your ass, feeling his cock twitch inside you when his arm wraps around you, tugging you down to his chest.
“you can keep going?”
you smile, hand touching his cheek, as your tongue strokes his bottom lip. “yeah.” you sigh, whining so softly he would’ve missed it. and you continue like that, kissing him over and over, sighing and calling his name as he pulls out, his fingers push inside your pussy from behind.
“y’r killing me with this tight pretty pussy,” he coos, sending a wave of heat through your veins.
you mewl against his lips, earning a mean spank to your ass, just for his middle and ring finger to slip back inside you. and he does that for god knows how long, until you finally spasm around his digits. he’s then flipping you over, easily getting on top.
“keep em open cmon.” his low voice has your pussy pulsing, pushing his previous load out right in front of his eyes. he must know his voice’s affects on you.
you hold your legs open, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch sukuna stroke his member over you. the room smells of chlorine, you, and him. “theere we go,” he groans, palm pressing against your knee as he kneels closer to your open legs, dilated pupils staring at the mess between your legs as he slaps his hard cock on your puffy pussy. “what a dirty fuckin’ girl,” he drags his cock between your slippery folds, exhaling through his nose when his engorged tip catches your sore clit.
“ryoomen,” you call softly, like you haven’t been all over him these last two days.
he snorts, “what happened to mister sukuna? don’t tell me you’ forgot how you humped yourself to an orgasm in the pool—“
“hot tub.”
“my bad,” he remarks sarcastically, tip pushing inside then pulling out again, teasing. “still rubbed this pussy raw, look,” he slaps his cock again, thumb rubbing your little bundle of nerves making you let go of your legs— “ah—keep em open.” he spanks the inside of your thigh. “dirty girls need to be taught a lesson.”
“please,” you scoff, sitting up on your elbows, “you were literally slapping everyone around with your hard dick.”
sukuna barks out a laugh. “my dick’s that big?”
you glance down at him, then back up. “I wasn’t being dirty. you were dirty too.”
“me?” he’s baffled, you’ve been throwing yourself at him all night!
you raise a brow at him, relaxing back on the pillows pressed against the headboard, eyeing him. “you never took your hands off me.”
sukuna scoffs, “as if, you latched onto me on the pool.”
“then i went to hime to wash my mouth out, and you—“ you point at him with emphasis, “came swimming to me, touching me, stroking my thigh, my back.” your brow quirks again, and sukuna goes mute. his jaw ticks, glancing over your face as your calf subtly hooks over his thigh, stroking up as your hands lay on your stomach, waiting.
“you…” he licks the back of his teeth, sharp eyes threatening, but… “so what if I had my hands on you?” oh, he admits it. your cheeks sting, wetting your lip as you shrug.
“well,” you tilt your head again, slightly embarrassed now, glancing down at his inked chest. “like…you can’t blame me for getting turned on then.”
“because I’m touching you?”
you nod.
“like this,” his palm trails from your knee, slowly up your thigh. the warmth of his skin feels burns a trail up your body.
you nod.
his hand reaches your waist, eyes boring into yours. his cock throbbing at this point, he can feel the slick of your arousal costing his cock as it rests against your pussy.
turning to some light foreplay after just fucking you was messing with his head…because….it feels so good.
“what about when I’m touching your waist,” his thumb strokes the soft skin. “it’s not your ass.”
your breath is uneven. your heart beats against your rib cage. “still,” you exhale.
“still turns you on?” he clarifies, catching the way your lips part, breathless just by the way he’s flirting with you. his cock twitches…you’re gorgeous.
you nod.
his free hand caresses your hips, moving it up your body in feather-like-caresses. his other arm is pressed beside you, keeping himself up as he watches your arms lay bent on the bed. his hand lightly brushes the side of your breast before trailing over your collarbone. “still?”
you nod, wetting your bottom lip, blown pupils maintaining eye contact.
his thumb caresses your collarbone, eyes flicking between your eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling in uneven breaths. “how about now?” his palm glides over your bicep, then down your arm, before threading his fingers with yours.
you squeeze his hand, eyes unable to tear away from his, cheeks hot. his face inches closer to yours, exhaling against your lips. “I think you’ve jus’ proved how horny you’ve been these past few days.”
your breath stutters, angling your chin up, “obviously,” you mutter against his lips. “I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating.”
something dark and electric flashes through his eyes. a low exhale leaves him, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it, just heat, thick and immediate. his grip on your hand tightens to the point it almost borders on rough.
“yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping, rougher now, like it’s scraping out of his throat. his forehead nudges against yours for a second, grounding himself, but it doesn’t work. if anything, it makes it worse. “tell me you want me to stuff you then.”
“I want you to stuff me, ryo,” you repeat, breathless as his jaw slacks finally rocking his hips into yours, slick cock massaging your folds. “with your cock…your cum….”
“keep going,” he husks.
your free hand trails up his bicep, the other still holding his hand like an anchor. “I want you to fuck me. hard. use me. cum in me.”
“ah fuck—“ he slips his hand between your bodies, pushing his cock down and snapping his hips into yours, sheathing his entire length inside. your jaw drops, broken cry slipping out. “y’ really know how to make a man fucking hard.”
your lips are glossed with spit as he presses his lips against yours. he swallows your moans, snapping his hips with a mean hard thrust, picking up a brutal pace without warning.
and you love it.
the base downstairs shakes the bedroom walls, the laughing and chatter outside is nothing compared to the way you’re panting and crying in his ear. the lights flickering from the pools strobe lights, only serve to illuminate your flushed face as you cum.
“fuck, you still want more,” he’s already kissing you again, and again. spit mixing together against your tongues as he pulls away. he pants over your face, his cheeks flushed pink and his cock rubbed raw. “fuck gunna cum…ngh yeah fuck fuck—“ he pistons his cock inside your poor cunt, dilated pupils zeroing on the mess that’s gushing from you. his chuckle is broken with his groan as he fucks you through it all. “keep squirting baby, it won’t make me stop.”
and he doesn’t. his thrusts are rough. engorged tip bruising your cervix with every snap of his sharp fit hips. he’s harder than usual, and even as you’re gasping, back of your hand raised to your mouth, pussy spasming as sukuna slams his body weight into each thrust — you don’t push him away.
“gunna cum…shiit, shit it’s coming—“ his voice breaks, and it feels like a damn crashing. his cock pulses inside you, squirting buckets inside your poor cunt. “haah fuh—“ his abs flex, body weight dropping on top of you, hugging you tight as he rocks his hips into lazy harsh humps, burying himself deep inside you, you’re sliding against the mattress. the rasp in his throat has you holding onto him tight, unbothered by how unbelievably heavy he is on top of your smaller body.
and sukuna stays like that. face buried in your neck, arms clutching onto you, and brain fried.
“you also smell sweeter,” he mutters. “when you’re ovulating.”
“I don’t. you’re just a freak.”
he buries his nose deeper in your neck, inhaling sharply. “haah fuck, nah you definitely smell good.”
your brain short circuits, cheeks flooding hot as you wiggle underneath him. “you can’t—“
“you humped me in the hot tub.”
your brows scrunch together. “so?”
he licks your neck, “then you can’t blame me for still being turned on by you.” he licks a strip up to your ear, a tingle runs down to your pussy, squeezing around him.
he smirks.
of course he does. and why wouldn’t he? you’re already nudging him to your lips, kissing him again, like you aren’t stuffed with loads of his cum.
“you’re cute,” he mutters between kisses, and even if that makes your stomach flip, your face burn, and your heart skip a beat…you don’t comment on it. you don’t address it. and you sure as shit don’t think about it.
and the simple answer is, he’s kissing you right now and that’s all you want to think about it.
more frat!kuna here
a/n: I’m blaming the grammar errors on you guys for the rush (I also hate proof reading). but I hope u guys enjoyed it. believe me when I say, I was not expecting it to be that freaking long, I just really wanted to write sukuna and reader kinda skinny dipping, without losing their dynamic or doing something super uncharacteristic, so I dragged out the plot. but still I hope u guys liked it!
and thank you for the wait. I really put most of my free time into this so I can’t tell u when I’ll finish the next chapter of the series, so bare with me for another possible week of agony :’(
to the one who dares deny me her presence, you left without permission. return at once.
your lord, ryomen sukuna.
the third letter, arrives in a much longer scroll.
how troublesome. you forget yourself, woman. there is no place you may go that is beyond my reach. had i wished it, you would have been returned to my side before nightfall. consider it generosity that you were not. do not ignore my scrolls.
your lord, ryomen.
the fourth letter,
since i cannot imagine there is much in those lands to interest you, i can only suppose your continued absence is due to your ever prolonging distaste with me.
i urge you: come be angry at a nearer distance.
your husband, R.S.
the fifth letter,
you are in no mood for games. very well. i am in no mood for them, either.
let me say it outright: there are moments brief, and increasingly frequent in which i reach for you without thought. this displeases me, i am not accustomed to such absence from you, nor restraint.
you have forced both upon me.
come home and shout at me. come home and fight with me. come home and break my heart, if you must. it has become yours only to break. just come home.
your husband, sukuna.
the next letter,
not even responding to my missives is ridiculous and beneath you and i hate it.
atleast inform me of your health.
ryomen sukuna
and then finally, your reply,
stop writing to me, at once. my wedded lord you have trespassed much and caused me such nuisance, it is quite enough now.
i am well. but do not pretend as if you may not already know that. you think i am not aware of my new lady’s maid keeping an eye on me, certainly appointed to report back to you?
consider it my generosity that i let her stay, and consider it my ignorance towards your repetitive letters for my lack of response.
if i receive any such scroll from you, i shall burn it.
signed, yours.
and his response,
surely if your lovely eyes may not grace my lowly epistles, then i shall speak freely.
to my most willful wife, you command me to cease, and yet you write at length. i had not realized i occupied you so thoroughly. as for your lady’s maid, you give me too much credit. if she watches you, it is because you are worth watching. i would hardly entrust such a task to another. although i cannot speak for what ways uraume employs to inform me on your health..
i have been told it is unbecoming to repeat oneself so, i will not ask you to return again. you may remain where you are, in whatever peace you have convinced yourself you prefer. i will not contest it.
and yet, i find myself wondering: why you will not come back of your own accord. have you no consideration, for your neglected husband?
the hand you force, your husband.
to my most theatric husband, you mistake response for preoccupation. do not flatter yourself, i write only to correct what you insist on misunderstanding.
as for being “worth watching,” you dress surveillance in pretty language, you always had a knack for that. for such sweet talk will not work on me, do not expect gratitude for it.
if your husband is neglected, perhaps he should consider why.
signed, your wife, unfortunately.
to my most contrary wife, “unfortunately,” and yet you take such care to sign it. i wonder if your hand hesitated at all.
as for your refusal of gratitude, keep it, i did not ask for it. you suggest your husband reflect on his neglect. i have. thoroughly. i apologize for everything end this torment for me wife, for i can bear it no longer.
you insist my words hold no effect on you now. how curious, has distance made you bold, or merely forgetful? i recall a time not long past, when your resolve was far less reliable. how easily it would slip from you, how quickly your protests would soften when i would indulge you, a little more closely. 𓀐𓂸
have you truly forgotten? or are you simply daring me to remind you?
very well. do not worry, i will remind you, not behind these papers this time. consider that a courtesy, one last chance to brace yourself or do you prefer to test me?
i would find it entertaining, either way.
your lord and husband, R.S.
my lord, you are most unfair!
do not be naughty, ryomen. i warn you, what you speak of this “reminder” it is highly improper. and what if someone else were to see it? consider your poor wife’s reputation!
your teasing is relentless, and i am most vexed. you threaten of your arrival, yet remain absent, perhaps one day, your threats will find action..though i dare not hope it too loudly.
if you intend to test my resolve, i suggest you waste no more time. come, then, and take me with you, lest i change my mind.
apology accepted, your wife.
a shorter note, in refined handwriting,
lord ryomen sukuna will be arriving soon.
his subject, uraume.
firefly; this is probably my first fic where i have worked SO hard on formatting it, i hope you guys enjoy ❀ུ͏
inspo: by cardan’s letters to jude from the folk of the air series.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, superhero!JJK men, Venom, slight tentacIes, sIight bréeding, aphrodísiacs, rough s, spítting, chokíng, p sIapping, p talking, manhandIing, HEADLOCKS, matíng presses, enemies-to-Iovers (Geto), handcuffs, pIot, REACTIONS, paparazzi, x-ray vision, super strength, heightened senses, true form!Sukuna, four arms, POWERS, ínappropriate use of powers, making superheroes BREAK, creampíes, cúmpIay, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Mwahahaha…
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Venom.
“So…let me get this straight-” Temples throbbing—you’re unsure whether that was from just how many times your boyfriend’s had to explain his particular…conundrum to you, or from the conundrum itself.
And Toji sits in front of you with his hands clutched on top of the table- almost in a pleading motion. He looks around warily at the other people in this bustling café - why on Earth he decided to choose such a public place for such a confession was inconceivable to you.
It was a wonder in and of itself when you don’t burst into hysterics, “You were in your lab working on some experiments you should definitely not have been working on-” Shooting him a look that receives you a sheepish grin. “-and ended up getting infected by some…parasite?”
“Symbiote.”
“Right. Symbiote.” You correct tightly, “And this symbiote can talk, think, and even make itself known through you?”
“Ah- pretty much.” Toji shrugs.
“And this symbiote wants to see me why-”
“You’re ovulating.”
The café seems to come to a standstill around you.
Servers, customers, even the new intern that’d been blatantly dozing off at the counter jerks his head up and throws a glance at your table—or more accurately to figure out the utterly inhuman voice that’d erupted from your table.
It was deep. It was gravelly.
It sounded like - in its alien desperation to assimilate to this society - it’d meshed together as many human voices as it could possibly make, and in the end had come up with something that sounded like everything but.
And, of course, that voice had come from your boyfriend of three years.
Toji Fushiguro.
Though he was either ignorant or uncaring - knowing Toji, it was likely both - to the stares that were being thrown his way. He was far too busy fussing around this…symbiote and its separate thoughts and voices, batting around his head as though shooing away a particularly annoying fly. But you’d seen it—fuck, for the briefest second, you’d seen it…the way that this black, murky substance not quite of Earth-like matter had flickered over Toji’s handsome face for a second.
Slime-like skin.
Haunting white eyes.
A long, loooooooong tongue.
You shudder just imagining it.
“Sorry ‘bout that, doll.” Toji grits out- “His name’s Venom and he’s a real pain in the ass.”
You’re barely thinking twice before you utter, “And…how can we fix this?”
Voice nothing more than a whisper. Though perhaps owing to those suddenly-honed senses of his, Toji can hear you perfectly. “According to my hypothesis, there should be one way in which once the symbiote is completely satiated of its more…base needs, then it parts peacefully with the host. But this is still unfounded- besides, I’d never fuckin’ ask you to-”
“I’ll do it.”
Toji pauses.
“Eh?”
And you’re meeting his shocked expression with one of pure steel, “I’ll do it.”
.
.
.
In almost no time, you’re back in Toji’s laboratory and bent over his desk—what had meant to be a trail run- what had meant to be a simple discussion with the symbiote to test Toji’s hypothesis had ended up with the most looooong, lecherous thrusts being pumped into the back of your cunt.
Your thighs clench together, moans echoing out and hitting the four corners of the walls.
Just the simplest plaps! of Toji’s ravenous hips comin’ down onto yours was enough to send your heels skittering- forced to stand up a little straighter. He’s cleanly lifting you off a few inches just with the probin’ thrusts of his cock—and as Toji bottoms out once more, he’s rushing you straight into your nth high of the night.
Peak after peak.
Thrust after thrust.
The seventh round that you were feeling his thick, throbbing cock piston you through—though according to Toji, they were called trials.
Trials during which those waves of bliss shred through your core n’ straight up to your muddled head- one that’s immediately getting bombarded by that same gravely tone from before.
“Mmm, you smell sweeter when you cum.”
You startle, “Wh-what was that?”
“Fucked so stupid you can’t hear? Humans are so interesting…” As you’re tentatively turning your head over your shoulder, you’re seeing that Toji’s figure was suddenly taller…towering…covered in that black, goo-like substance from earlier—his face splits from cheek to cheek with a sharp-toothed smile, and suddenly he’s letting escape the most bone-chilling laugh. “I wonder how much sweeter you shall smell when I plant you with my seed-”
“Okay, that’s enough-” Toji’s struggling to gain dominance of the symbiote- though you still weren’t sure how exactly the system worked. You’d determined that it was a dual rule, of sorts, in which one could ‘fight’ the other for control of the body.
And right now, your boyfriend was the clear winner.
Groaning as he’s winning back control—and with the regaining of his body, he’s bombarded with the sudden sensations of your hot cunt enclosing around his shaft. Sucking. Slurping. Just so thick and throbbing to be even deeper inside you- you’re unsure whether this was just your overstimulated brain talking, but you could’ve sworn that Toji felt even bigger than usual-
“You’re welcome for that, heh.”
You jump, “Wh-what was that?”
“You’re fuckin’ welcome.” The symbiote in Toji’s body utters, and you’re shivering at the sensation of Venom’s looooong lavish tongue dripping down the side of your throat. Licking. “Venom can change shape however we like, we can make ourselves bigger…”
And you can’t fucking give a response to that—you can’t. Because just then that mazin’ tip of Toji’s cock is expanding far beyond what you’re used to.
He’s shovelling in even more inches than you knew he possibly had- he’s thrashing against your cervix and digging in as though he’d probe even deeper if he could- he’s swelling up so much inside your tight walls that it honestly feels as though you’re about to be split down the middle—
“Mmmm, became even sweeter. Heh, you liked that.” Those honed teeth of his graze over your neck, easy enough for him to tear through. “How about curved?”
Immediately bendin’ in such a delicious curve- one that strikes the end of his shaft directly against your g-spot. He doesn’t even have to try.
Your thighs quake as you feel his flared mushroom tip swabbing n’ stirring and messing up your insides with such an extreme shape. Plunging. Prodding around. The degrees of his curvature bent juuuuuust the right amount that it’d hit most of your tender spots-
“Or what about tentacles-”
“Wait-”
“That fuckin’ jerk.” Soon enough, Toji’s interrupting whatever lecherous plan the alien had for you, and instead using his original cock to pinpoint your insides.
Though Venom might have had the ability to change his shape- absolutely nothing could match Toji. Nothing could match the way he’d already memorized the locations of your sweetest bundles of nerves n’ how exactly you liked them stimulated—whether it was the quick, rapid strokes of just his very flared tip, or the achingly long strokes that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
Your back arches, and your moans crescendo louder than ever as your boyfriend reaches down to twiddle with your sensitive nub. “Right?”
Attempting to look back at him through your sobs, “Wh-what was that, baby?”
“I said—” Toji seethes out between haaaard strokes of his rugged cock- absolutely vicious. He wasn’t taking his time with you today, he was poundin’ your poor cervix raw with his tunneling tip. “Wasn’t he a fuckin’ jerk? Thinking that he’d be able to fuck my girl…”
“Y-yeah…” You’re acutely aware of the fact that Venom was hearing every single word being said. Likely simmering beneath. Likely attempting to regain control and make you spill the truth-
“Uh-huh?” But Toji was on a roll now. As the words spat between his scarred mouth grow faster, so do the ministrations on your pulsing clit. “Wasn’t he just delusional? Thinking that you’d like that alien cock- heh.”
Pathetically nodding along—unsure whether that was for the question or for just how good it felt. “Yeah, mmmm- fuck.”
“Right? And wasn’t he wrong?”
“Yeah-”
“Wasn’t he useless?”
“Y-yeah…”
“Wasn’t this pussy missin’ me?”
“Fuck, yes.”
And what you’re faced with next wasn’t a question, an insult to Venom, or anything else that you might have expected- it was a sudden spank!
Right on top of your clit.
Right before Toji’s already-elongated cock swivels a few inches deeper than you remember him being able to before. Thicker. Meaner. The top of his shaft was swelling into a fatter circumference, and you swear you can hear the squelches of orifices you’ve never known being opened up—
His sharp canines gnaw down on the shell of your ear, and shivers run down your spine at the guttural tone of his voice. “Then why are you so fuckin’ wet, my little liar?”
“O-oh.”
Shit, he’d known.
He’d been able to hear you, too.
And now you were paying the price: you were feeling Toji’s relentless cadence but with Venom’s ability to bend and prolong his shaft as much as he wanted to. His tendrils of symbiote substance glissade down his cock and stretch out your walls just a bit more—wrapped just around where Toji’s already-massive length was.
And if you thought that that wasn’t enough- you’re damn near losing your mind at the feeling of those fingers twiddlin’ at your clit starting to tingle. Starting to transform.
Before you know it, they feel strangely…tentacle-like. They reminded you of Venom’s own tendrils, though with a sultry suctioning sensation to it that made your body wrack with pleasure- “Oh my god—fuck, Toji, how are you even-”
“You forget that Venom is a part of me now.” He murmurs through a grin, hips only accelerating. Cock only lengthening- fingers only suckling. “And you’re not getting out of this any time soon, doll. At least, not until we have our hypothesis.”
“Shit…”
“Hypothesis schmipothesis. I get to breed her after.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Superman.
“My love…” Just the way that Nanami uttered your sweet, sweet pet name…it was anything but. As though he was a man that’d worshipped every name, statue, and deity in the world—and the only one to answer his wretched prayers was you.
He whispers your name.
Lightning strikes.
Nanami was silhouetted against the tall floor-to-ceiling window of your apartment; his red-clad feet hovering just a few inches off the ground, chest emblazoning the famous ‘S’ of which you could only see the ghost-like outline. Like a faint memory. That long cape of his drapes behind his broad shoulders, flowing in a breezeless wind. His head was bowed. His face utterly expressionless.
Moonlight falls upon him like a knighthood, but something more untoward.
The night was dark and so had been the day of fighting crime—or so you’d assumed. Usually, when your boyfriend arrived home it was with kisses to your cheek and bouquets of flowers.
You had no idea what happened today, but…he doesn’t respond to a single one of your calls. Not a single one of your pleas.
The only thing you can do is take a step forward-
And he jerks as though he’d just been shot by several of the lightning flares outside. A thousand bolts of electricity and even more, more, and more. Even though he had his gaze turned downwards, Nanami doesn’t need to see to sense you-
He already knew.
“My love.” He repeats, as though a broken CD. There was a wisp of something so carnal in his tone, something dark and drenched in…a desire that you couldn’t put your finger on. It was something that made shivers cascade across your body, however. “My love, don’t-”
“Don’t what, Kento?” You’re insisting, even though you fight yourself not to take another step forward as per his wishes. “I need to know what happened, baby.”
“You need to know.” He repeats once more—was he even capable of anything else? You’re starting to grow even more concerned and reconsider your internal pledge when- “I was injured.”
Concern pours over you like a bucket of cold water, “Injured? Where-”
“Not physically.” Nanami spits out through clenched teeth, every syllable difficult for him to enunciate as though coated in glue n’ sticking to the roof of his tongue. In the pale moonlight you could see that his skin was covered in a sort of perspiration - something almost feverish and flushed. “It’s- fuck, I need you to know-”
“Kento, I’m scared for-”
“I need to fuck you.”
And as he finally rushes out the confession, large exhales seep out of him like every bit of his remaining sanity—a weight had been lifted off. But little did he seem to realize that that weight was a keystone for a dam.
And now he felt like he was about to fucking burst-
“Lex Luthor- latest invention—fuck.” Interrupting his own explanation with a rugged groan - not one that was quite pained, but not…not either. “None taken, no casualties.” Something crossed between rage and ecstasy. How very like Nanami to utter of other before himself- “But I was injected with- fuck—”
You take a step forward, “Kento-”
“-aphrodisiac.”
“Oh.” Heart stopping. Without even thinking, you’re taking a quick scan of his figure to make sure that he wasn’t bluffing about no physical wounds, and when all seems clear on his upper half, your eyes can’t help but drop to the area between Nanami’s chiselled legs - and your sweet boyfriend’s Superman outfit had always been particularly flattering on his body, but this—he looked about nine inches straight through his tight latex and throbbing. Aching.
You can speak no longer, and him barely enough- “Stay away.”
Another step. “Kento.”
“Darling, I’m going to ruin you.”
And another. “I don’t mind.”
There isn’t the burst and then the frenzy of lips on lips, skin on skin, as you might’ve expected at first. No, not at all. Your words linger in the bedroom for a few more seconds - tight and tempting, just when you think that the tension in the air is going to stretch so taut that it might never snap—Nanami moves.
Just the slightest action: he stops hovering. Setting his feet down on the windowsill for the first time - and it hits you just then why he hadn’t been touching any bit of your apartment for so long.
Because the moment that Nanami came in contact with any - any - part of you, he was going to go fucking insane. That is, if he didn’t have your pretty pussy to take it out on—in almost no time, you’re finding yourself pressed flat against your king-sized mattress and having your boyfriend’s thickened tip swirlin’ your insides.
He was just so hot and needy.
Perhaps even greater in girth than you remember him - there was a vein down the middle of his length that stood out n’ massaged every inch of your insides. Throb-throb-throbbing away inside of you as the crowned edge of his shaft bottomed out- fuck, he doesn’t even spend the long, sensual hours of foreplay as he usually would.
Nanami merely throws your legs over his half-uniformed shoulder, merely clasps onto one side of your hips, merely tunnels his angry cock in and out—
In and out. In and out. You’re feeling him glide his handsome nosebridge down the column of your throat- stopping just where you were most sensitive, he’s twitchin’ in-between your puffy folds as he takes in your pheromones. Groaning, you swear you feel him grow even bigger inside of you—“My love—”
It’s that absolutely broken tone of his that makes you jerk your head in response. Blinking up tearily at the blond man, “K-Kento?”
His shaggy, golden bangs were curtained over his eyes n’ covering most of his gaze now - and you’re unsure whether you should be thankful or concerned that you couldn’t measure the sheer primal desire in them anymore. It was obscured from you—and all you’re getting revealed of him are the constant grunts whenever his ruddied cockhead hits the back of your pussy, his shivering hips, his mantra of your name. “I need to know…my love, I need to- fuck, are you okay?”
“I am—” Strangely enough, it made your cunt grow even wetter to know that he’s caring so much about you even when he was in the depths of the effects of the aphrodisiac-
His mind was wiped clean of anything but his base needs- and yet, there was always a part of him that knew you were what’s most important. And the superhero reaches one roughened hand down to sweetly cup your face, dragging the tip of his thumb down to wipe away any beads of sweat- “Are you s-sure? I need you to be sure-”
“I am sure, Kento.” Insisting. And though you feel just a little awful for interrupting his well-meaning pleas—you also needed to feel his thick, textured cock hitting eeeeevery single inch of you. And though you’re at his complete and utter mercy, you can’t help but squirm your hips around to swivel more of his solid inches inside. “Please- fuck, I need more of you. Don’t hold back-”
“Fuh-fuuuuuuck—” A zig-zagging vein pops out on his forehead, freckled with sweat. “Don’t say that-”
“But I am saying that.” Wrangling your legs off of his sculptured shoulders- or at least, you’re attempting to. But Nanami only needs to drift a single hand up to keep you pliably in place—he’s locking both ankles behind his neck with one hand, long fingers holding them gently yet sternly. It’s all he needs to halt your restless hips as he hits a sensitive spot and ploughs iiiiiiin.
Thrust after thrust.
Again and again.
Every single one of them locates that cute target of your nerves- instantly, it was almost like magic. That deliciously curved end of his shaft manages to maze his way inside, spreadin’ apart your gluey walls and heading straight for that area—all he has to do is follow the channel of your cunt until he’s led straight to that spot he bashes nicely.
Sloppily.
“Darling, you’re close.”
“I-I am?” Eyes shooting wide open- fuck, he’s right. It takes only one more thrust of his vein-covered cock for you to register the thrills of adrenaline shooting up your spine. You’re arching straight into his chiselled chest, “Oh, shit…I am.”
“My love didn’t know?” Nanami nearly titters. “S’okay…your Kento’s going to fuh-fuck you through it. Your Kento’s going to make you feel so good—ngh.”
And as he utters this, his cadence only grows sloppier.
“May I…” Just so cautious of the way you’re being jostled to n’ fro - of the way you’re nearly hitting the headboard, and the roundness of his balls smack! against your cunt. Nanami has enough clarity to feel almost…sheepish about the way that you’re clearly dumbed down on his cock. His greedy, greedy cock. “May I make you cum- oh, may I go…just a little harder?”
“Kento—” You’re pouting, “I want you to go harder-”
“I-”
“I want you to go the hardest.” And as he’s still half-uniformed, you’re able to reach up and twist your fist in the smooth fabric. Tugging him down, you snarl- “If you want me to cum, Kento, then you better not hold back.”
And Nanami doesn’t answer. He doesn’t utter a single syllable.
He’s merely slowing his hips down and reeling his hips back, back, backwards—he lets the rounded tip of his cock circle your hole for a few seconds. Just the slightest few seconds, before that pulsing length of his shoves deep inside- not even stopping at your g-spot, he’s heading straight for your womb.
That soft, sopping womb of yours- “My love…” Just the last thing you’re hearing before you’re cumming, “My love, it’s going to take now.”
Blabbering, “Wh-what—”
“It’s going to take.”
And a thick, ropey warmth floods you deeeep from your core- spreadin’ into every nook, cranny, and crevice until you’re feeling a little lightheaded. “Did you really mean…” As your voice murmurs out in pure disbelief, those clingy wads of his cum get pinpointed into even the tiniest sweet spots inside of you—places that you weren’t even sure you had. He’s pressing his thickened tip against the sides of your walls and watching as your sweet, sweet juices get sprayed out. “You- you really didn’t mean…”
Nanami utters nothing but a few raspy groans, eyes locked on the forefront of your core as he shovels inside. Inside and inside. “I did.”
There was an intensity in his eyes that you swear you’re feeling against your skin- and you did. It burned. “Did it seriously—”
“It did.” And his round, reddened tip ends up sticking straight against your womb - fucking you through your own high, fucking you through his drivelling wads of seed. A final swat. “It did, my loves.”
And you’re noting the change of your pet name.
Because you already knew what he meant- it had taken. Nanami Kento was using his superhuman sight to peer through you, watching as his cum trickles into the deepest depths of your womb—and his mouth quirks up into a handsome grin as he notes that it’ll be…
A daughter.
.
.
.
“Congratulations”
You gape at the screen.
And a quick glance at Nanami reveals that he was doing the very same- though perhaps in not such an outward manner. As soon as possible, you’re staring right back at the screen that showed a little bean of something your doctor was pointing towards and explaining—something that flows in one ear and out the other.
You were still registering that there was a little bean of something.
You don’t know when - it might be second, it might be minutes, it might be days later - but Nanami speaks. Something silent and barely-there, a breathless whisper as though he was afraid that it’d shatter the mirage shown on screen, “A-and…the…?”
He can’t complete his sentence. Though Dr. Shoko Ieri is a professional, and she picks up on what your husband means quite quickly.
He clasps your hand - newly-minuted gold wedding ring cold against your skin - and waits as she peers at the screen once more. Because he knows this—he knows this. He’s seen this with his superhuman vision.
He’d told you a few months ago just then…
And yet, Nanami’s heart flips.
She smiles warmly at the two of you, “It’s a girl.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Batman.
“It’s you.” Geto chuckles, “Why did I know that it would be you?”
The sound of his low, throaty laugh is enough to send shivers down your spine—-and…perhaps even lower. Though that’s not something you wanted to unpack right about now.
You had to remember where you were: the mansion of Geto Suguru, billionaire, playboy, mysterious down to the core. The mansion had been as expectedly gaudy and gilded as most rich people loved their homes, but what had drawn you to it the most had been the safe room, of course.
And so here you were standing with a couple gold bricks in your bag and a few more to be packed up- that shouldn’t take long, you assume. And with a careless sigh, you’re ignoring the man himself and getting back to loading them back in—“So? Happy to see me?”
“Oh, less than.” Geto replies.
“Don’t lie~” Purring, the skin-tight latex of your suit twinkles underneath the rich yellow lighting as you’re turning back to him. You shoot a flirtatious wink his way, “I know this is going to be the source of your wet dreams for years after.”
“Nightmares, more like.” He hobbles a step closer. It puts you on edge.
“Then how about we keep some distance from our nightmares, hm?” You’re gathering up your large loot—much heavier than an average person would be able to carry, though you’re holding it daintily between your fingers with ease. “I come to rob you, you catch me robbing you, you let me go—it’s a win-win for everybody. I really wouldn’t want to use force…”
“And I wouldn’t want to use force either.” Geto smiles so pleasantly, “I don’t really care about the gold- but there’s a pearl necklace in there that used to belong to my mother. How about you leave that and be on your merry way, hm?”
You pout, “But I liked the pearl necklace.”
And his gaze grows just a little sharper, “I’m afraid that can’t happen, kitty.”
“Oh, I loooove it when you call me that~” Fluttering your lashes at him.
He takes a step closer, “I know your games, Catwoman.”
“And yet you fall for them every time, Batman.”
Did you forget to mention that Geto Suguru - billionaire, playboy, mysterious and also perhaps the most attractive man you’ve ever set your eyes on - was also Batman? Despite that, you still had the most infamous crime-fighting vigilante wrapped around your finger as though he was nothing but a low-grade thief.
And he was trapped in your web now (what was the cat version of that, anyway?)
Leagues below you. He’s biting down on his plush, pretty lip to hold back a whimper as you’re reeling your hips aaaaaall the way back to squeeze his blushin’ tip—holding it there for a few seconds before you give the superhero a good bounce.
Making him throw his head back with a groan- Geto lets out a slew of swears once you’re starting up the sloppiest cadence. Back and forth. “D-don’t get ahead of yourself, kitty…”
“What was that—?” Pretending to gasp, you’re teasingly leaning your body forwards in a mocking attempt to hear him better. “What was that, Bat? I didn’t hear you- was that a stutter I heard?”
“Fuck off-” Spitting between clenched teeth. Geto’s clasping onto either side of your naked hips, using that strength of his you loooooved being manhandled by to roll your hips in figure-eight motions - just drag-drag-dragging the outline of his cock along your sweet insides. You could feel every ridge n’ crevice of his veins decorating your walls, massaging them into something even softer he loved to fuck up into.
The two of you were sitting - barely - on the luxurious armchair he had in his safe room. Creaking and ricketing with age every time that Geto arched his hips backwards and gave you a thorough probe—inside. And though you couldn’t say that you planned to end up here, you didn’t quite deny that you had plans to end up in his master bedroom - why else would you have gotten caught?
The both of you knew that if you’d actually wanted to steal something, then you would’ve been out of this damn mansion hours ago.
Gritting his pearly white canines, Geto crushes your hips further down into his and ruts up into you—“Sh-shit….”
“What was that about stuttering, gorgeous?”
“Fuck off—”
“I’m fucking you, actually.” He spits between clenched teeth, gyrating your hips around so that the cute nub of your clit rubs up against his fuzzy base. It’s such a carnal feeling to have those curls of jet-black massaging where you were most sensitive, getting more n’ more drenched by the second. By the motions of your dripping wet pussy. He’s snarling, “That’s fuckin’ right- wipe that smug look off of your face. I already know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh?” And you’re just barely managing to scrounge up whatever’s left of your sanity together to respond. “And what is that, Monsieur Bat?”
“C’est l’homme chauve-souris.” Geto rolls his amethyst eyes, “And it’s that you think you have me- fuck, underneath your kitty toes.”
“Kinky~”
However, he’s learned not to entertain you with yet another outburst—instead, Geto’s pulling all his energy into inching his hips backwards and planting another thorough thrust deep into the depths of your cunt. So hard that you think he might just have left a mark.
So accomplished in his grin that you think he might’ve been aiming for it
You wouldn’t have been surprised to know that billionaire playboy Geto Suguru liked to let everyone know that he was fucking you- especially you. The hottest cat burglar in all of Gotham.
The same one he’s been infatuated with since the first time he saw you.
But he was fucking you like he hated you.
The sweetest thing he’s doing yet is cascading a hand down your front- left fingertip teasingly pressing your pussylips apart. It doesn’t take him long - not long at all - to find your pretty clit and draw a few circular motions on top of it—watching as you buck and whine straight into his hands.
And the meanest thing he’s done yet is reach his other hand behind you.
Because suddenly you’re feeling something cold and metallic click! into place.
You gasp.
You should’ve known that crime-fighting vigilantes often worked from the shadows; from a darkness of which even your feline eyes cannot piece through. You didn’t have eyes in the back of your head, did you? Although perhaps Batman had a gadget for that, too…
And although you already know that you’re fucked- it’s not until the jingle of handcuffs emanates from behind you that you’re really letting the situation sink in. It’s not that you’re afraid of Geto or anything he could do to you, but…it’s just that you’re afraid of what you might do given this forced proximity.
Something stupid like- like admit your feelings to the ever-elusive hero or something. Disgusting.
On top of that, you’re unable to motion your hips as you were doing so previously. Stuck pathetically grinding back into thrusts that he was already planting onto your cunt, the fatness of his girth sending you to the edge-
You’re whimpering are you can’t do anything you’d usually do like clasp onto his pretty throat or shove your fingers down his mouth. “Sugu…aw, c’mon—”
“Now I’m Sugu?” Geto snickers, “What happened to Bat? Or loser? Or fuck off? Or I never-want-to-see-you-again?”
Fluttering your lashes innocently, “You know I jest.” To no avail, you’re attempting to slip out of those handcuffs as you’d have done with any other normal ones - but you knew better than to underestimate Batman. As you expected, no matter how much you’re squeezing and molding your hands against that metal, it keeps on adjusting to your shape and restraining you. Keeping you hostage. Only one look at him and you already know that Geto’d spent a fortune creating these…perhaps just for you. “C’mon, baby, let me out of these~”
“No can do, kitty.” He chuckles. And the audacity of this man- he’s straying his right hand down your spine and groping your ass—“Next time we’re keeping the suit on because I wanna pull your tail.”
You scoff.
And he raises one dark brow. Thumb pressing down even harder on your clit, “What was that?”
“N-nothing…” You whimper, entire body wracking with shivers. It’s a few more sloppy thrusts before you can thrust yourself to speak without your voice cracking again—you didn’t want to give more ammunition for his entertainment. “Oh, Geto Suguru, when I get out of these handcuffs I’m going to fucking-”
“Kill me?” He smirks, “We can see you try.”
“You think I can’t?”
Geto shakes his head. “No, I expect it. Just make sure you kiss me first.”
And you can’t deny - neither to yourself or him - that that’s leaving you even wetter than you’d anticipated. The sheen of your arousal dripping through his dark happy trail, leading down to that perfectly chiselled six-pack of his.
He merely cracks a grin and plants his right hand on one side of your waist—drilling into you even harder than before.
“You know I love you, Bat.” You’re grumbling out almost reluctantly past the clogged mess of whines and moans and tears in your throat.
“Mmm, love you, too, kitty.”
.
.
.
“Mister Geto, I have collected those crime reports that you requested me to-” Miguel’s deep tone halts immediately at the sight before him. He’s standing by the edge of Geto Suguru’s sprawling master bedroom - the subject of countless features in architectural magazines, and the dreams of high-society alike - eyes widening at the dual figures of you and his employer, bundled up and clearly unclothed beneath the covers.
Clinging onto one another.
The crime-fighting vigilante and his criminal lover.
Though it wasn’t necessarily a secret around these parts that no matter how many women and men Geto Suguru meets, there will always be a certain cat-eared crime-lover he goes back to…Geto himself wouldn’t appreciate it if such word spread now, would he? This wasn’t the first time he’d crawled right back to you and this won’t be the last- hold on.
Were his sunglasses deceiving him or was his cold, uptight employer actually smiling in his sleep? Heavens above, this might just be the last time.
This might just.
Miguel settles for the thought that he’d tease the billionaire about it over dinner—very, very late dinner by the looks of it.
He leaves the report on the nearest desk - of which there were many, because this is Geto Suguru that we’re speaking about - and heads towards the door.
Taking one last peak.
Yeah, this might just be the last time. He trusts his intuition, that he’ll be walking into this scene more often than not in the coming years.
Yeah, this might just be for good.
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Nightwing.
“Who knew that the Nightwing…” You’re purring—smiling like the cat that’s got the cream - or more like the hero that’s just caught her rival. “-sex symbol of Gotham, hottest man of the year, wanted by men and women and everyone in-between…”
And Choso merely bucks weakly beneath you - his hips stutterin’ with every single fucking milimeter that he’s shovelling inside of you.
Choso was red and furiously hot between your legs—thick. Throbbing even harder as he feels his ruddied, red tip scrape the bottom of your pussy; his fat cock twitches there a few times as he registers the soft, spongy platform he was feeling—this was…Those beautiful, brown eyes of his widen as it sinks in. Gasping. Shaking.
And it takes merely two - two - seconds of being stuffed inside you for the famed hero to throw his head back and cum.
And you’re finally finishing your sentence, “-a virgin.”
How had this all happened? How did you end up here?
You could blame it all on the spiked punch, you could blame it all on the lavish ceremony - the highs and lows of the red carpet, ah, they always did tend to make you feel a little more reckless than usual—what’s that saying about all publicity is good publicity? Or perhaps it was the fault of the Hero Awards altogether.
Gathered here with the most elite of the elite, the best heroes from around the world; where they patted one another on their backs and paraded in designer. Reporters starved for the attention of the saviours as much as any competent villain.
Though you couldn’t say too much about them - you yourself were here, too.
But you told yourself that you were here solely for one award—and one award only. All those about best costume, best comeback during a fight, best fancam, best fistfight didn’t matter (though that wasn’t to say that you weren’t grateful, it’d been sweeping wins for all of which you’d teared up).
You were here for Best Hero of the Year.
The best.
The strongest.
The most battle-savvy.
The most competent.
The best of the best.
Once that nomination letter had arrived, you’d held it to your chest - in pure disbelief - for a long hour afterwards. It was an honor to be nominated—the greatest honor.
To win this award a panel of seasoned heroes would tally up all of your fights for this year, then grade them based on a variety of aspects such as difficulty, saves, assists, honor; the total would contribute towards a count that determined the winner. And though you’d been cautious about not winning - there were many other wonderful, more experienced heroes nominated - you just didn’t expect for the announcer to open up the golden cue card and read…
Fucking Nightwing.
Which is why you’d cornered him at the after-party - for a congratulations between you two that’d turned into passive aggressiveness, and passive-aggressiveness that’d turned into a proper argument you’re sure the reporters caught wind of, and an argument that ended up with you and Choso tangled up in your hotel room.
Pressing him down with your hips- you’re trembling at the feeling of his warm sap gushing out of you. It’s creating an ivory sheen down the inner sides of your thighs, smearin’ down Choso’s chiselled hips in a way that was just so lewd—and you’re more than happy to make an even bigger mess.
To throw your head back and grind your hips down onto his.
Choso hiccups, his upper half attempting to surge upwards- only for you to press one pretty finger down on his shoulder. And just the softest push has him tumbling back into the plush pillows, “Shit- y-you can’t just…do that to me.”
“Do what, baby?” You smirk down at him.
And right as he opens those cute, trembling lips of his to answer—you’re tightenin’ your thighs around his waist and jerking your hips even harder against his. His prominent v-lines massage where you were situated, and Choso groans as his blushin’ cocktip manages to push and pinpoint even the tiniest orifices inside you.
He’s still drooling out beads of cum, pooling at the base of his cock. So much of it- shit, was he still cumming?
Or was he cumming…again?
Unsure of what you were feeling, you’re veering your gaze down and attempting to get a better look. And sure as day- not only was it your translucent slick n’ his precum that was flooding you from the inside, but Choso’s ivory cum sprays out and and mixes into something so lewd-
“Fuck- fuck…” Your mouth waters at the feeling of being stuffed to the brim - so much of it that you’re wondering just how overworked his hefty balls must be. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, “You’re cumming again, Cho—”
“Th-this is exactly what I mean.” Choso sobs out, eyes glittering with tears, “You can’t just do that to me- you can’t make me feel so…stupid when you fuck me.”
Amused, “Stupid, huh? I don’t know if I have to try-”
“See, m’so gone that I’d agree—” That soft whine of his makes you so much wetter. Peering up at you with his half-lidded gaze - boring his dilated pupils into yours, hanging his jaw maddeningly. He presses a simple jerk of his ruddied cockhead into the deepest depths of your cunt - dead fucking serious. “I’d agree that m’stupid. I’d agree that m’pathetic.”
“Awwww…” Arching your back, he’s attempting this cute attempt at ruttin’ into you that you’re indulging in. You let him thrash his needy cockhead again and again and again-
“I-I’m nothing but a fuckin’ ngh, virgin that doesn’t deserve to fuck a pussy like this.” His lips wobble out- and you might have said something about him being too hard on himself…you might.
But the dirtier that Choso was speaking - the harder he was on himself - the harder he was getting.
Longer. Girthier—and his thorough thrusts were spearheading even faster by his tip. Taking out the tension in everything he was saying by ramming straight into your cervix - hard and fast. It twitches right at the very back of your spongy womb…and you’re swearing that a grin grows across Choso’s face as he registers that displeased expression on your face- who did he think he was to try and gain control over you?
“Now now—” You’re pressing both palms on top of his sweaty chest, and you can’t deny that they felt so toned and muscular underneath your touch. “Trying to be a big boy, Nightwing?”
“Only for you.” He croons.
“Cute.” You wrinkle your nose, “But that’d be a lot more smooth if you weren’t cumming- again.”
“Fuh-fuck.”
When was this? The third time? The fourth? Either way, all Choso knows is that he can’t stop those furious zaps of pleasure from coursing through his entire body—every inch and vessel and atom. It’s collecting at the mushroomy tip of his cock, red and swollen, then dribbling out as cum.
Not even.
Choso barely manages a few pearly white droplets before he’s shooting fucking blanks-
Head throwing back. Gasps echoing out of him. Chest heaving and heaving as you’re riding his overstimulated cock craaaaaazy-
“What was that about Year’s Best Hero?” You’re tittering out, staring into Choso’s utterly pretty face as he’s cumming through tears. Spark upon spark. Strong enough to make his toes curl, and you’re ruthless in the way you’re wrapping your warm pussy around him and milking him dry-
His pinkish lips wobble, “Wh-what was that…”
“How’re you gonna fight crime if you can’t even- ngh, handle a pussy?”
“W-well, I didn’t expect to be facing such a…formidable foe.” Blabbing out - utter nonsense at this point. He was pussydrunk—if only those at the Hero Award could see him like this. “You could take on a second job as a villain…j-just with that pussy…and also just f’me…”
“I take that as a…compliment?”
“You’re welcome—ngh.” Choso whimpers out- before there’s a sudden twitch at the crown of his swollen shaft. And those brown brows of his furrow, “B-but don’t be nice to me, however, it’s gonna make me cum- again. Mmm.”
“Oh, Choso…”
.
.
.
The glitz. The glamour. The fans begging you to sign their tits.
At the very next Hero Awards, there’s a buzz like never before.
For several reasons, of course: first of all, the matching outfits between you and the famously handsome Nightwing (though you’d argue that yours is the one that looked better, secondly because some drama-lovers anticipated a rerun of the infamous fight between you and aforementioned handsome hero, and last but not least—because of the new category of awards you’d been nominated for.
Most Inspirational Hero Couple.
And it was no surprise that Choso had won this one, but at least this time—you’d won it, too.
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Hulk.
It happened not when he was angry, or excited, or panicked.
The results of a top-secret experiment funded by The University of Tokyo, intended to create human super-soldiers: it had been a failure. And Dr. Ryomen Sukuna had known better than to get his hopes up for such a volatile test subject—he was an expert in the field, 7 PhDs in a variety of sciences from biochemistry to radiophysics, he knew that it could take months, years, even decades before they observed even a mere anomaly similar to what they’d been hoping for.
But fuck- Sukuna had really thought he’d done it. He’d made humans immune to gamma radiation.
At least, he’d thought he did.
Ryomen Sukuna blinked his eyes open after the sudden explosion of radiation, and at most he’d expected to see his laboratory wrecked, his data completely wiped. At most.
He didn’t expect to be seeing it from eight feet high.
He didn’t expect to be seeing it with four eyes.
He didn’t expect to wield four massive arms in an attempt to find any shattered piece of glass from which he may see himself from-
Two mouths let out simultaneous gasps.
One of them slashed across his muscular stomach.
He was a monster.
It didn’t take a single one of his PhDs for Sukuna to know to flee the scene- not just the building, but Tokyo itself. Sirens loomed in the distance, and the acrid smell of radiation left him in waves- bystanders running to the rubble without realizing the danger. He knew you’d be alerted soon—you.
How could he ever face you like this?
Lo and behold he’d ended up at a squat village in Aogashima island; 358km away from Tokyo with only 160 residents. It was here, tucked behind sprawling mountainsides, that Sukuna had come to discover the little intricacies of his…condition. Through trial and error, through testing upon himself and attempting to control that four-armed version of him. Attempting.
And so the question: what made him transform?
He discovered that this monstrous state - which he dubbed to be a Curse state - was triggered by sudden increases of his heartbeat. Rarely anger, or excitement, or panic. What else might possibly raise the disgraced scientist’s heartrate well over 200 bpm?
Arousal.
Which is exactly what he’d been learning to control through his breathing techniques, his meditation, and his celibacy- not that he’d want anyone but you. But fuck…the dreams he’d have of you.
Nightmares, when he wakes up as the monstrous King of Curses.
Heaven, when the exact source of his nightmares - and wettest dreams - comes knocking at his shunted door one sunny summer day. A furrow between your brows. A furious word or two slipping out at the first sight of him.
Fuck.
.
.
.
One year, two months, and a few days since…the incident and you’d finally located where your ex-boyfriend (and former colleague) had disappeared.
And you’d expected him to have sunken into his work in one way or another.
You’d expected him to have holed himself away in some rural town—as he’d confessed to wanting to do on some nights, just with you. You’d even have expected him to have been working on some strange new project after the failure of his last one- he was the type to take it to heart. A little dramatic, but you expected this.
You just didn’t expect…his transformation.
Right before your very eyes.
Four arms. Four eyes. Two cocks that’d stayed twitchin’ in his baggy pants for a mere few minutes of your conversation- before you had your face pushed into pillows that smelled like him, legs struggling to keep you up, begging for more as Sukuna digs those two ruddied cockheads between your pussylips and sliiiiides in-
Just a few inches.
Just a few.
Before the resistance of your tight entrance gets too much- and Sukuna’s leaning back a bit to allow his cursed second mouth to spit down on your pussy. Hard.
The impact makes you shiver, sticky substance gluing your pussylips together. You swear you hear his second mouth snicker as he swabs that cloying texture with his cockheads, and uses his hands to manhandle you into pliable position - one hand cupping your abdomen and pulling you up- the other digging into the left side of your hips- the other reachin’ down to thumb apart your swollen folds and help him fuck his lengths inside. Thick and throbbing.
In short, slow semi-thrusts. He was just trying to fit inside. “Kuna—” Breathing out open-mouthed against the pillows. Needy.
“Needy brat.”
“Kuna.”
“Sh-shit.” And he wasn’t doing a single bit better than you. Sukuna was letting his head drop into the clammy crook of your neck, gnarled canines grazing on top of your skin- you feel the scowl across his face stretch even more as he pull-pull-puuuuuulls those hot erections backwards.
And then probes aaaaaaall the way back in - languidly.
“Fuck-” You’re gasping out—seeing pure white behind your eyelids. You almost couldn’t believe it. Sukuna was already sizable- but in this form?
He had his round, reddened tips just barely lodging between your swollen folds. Just so big. Pulsing. Pushing apart your slick walls with his circumferences, throbbing away inside you. Rubbing back and forth a few times to savor the squeeze of your hole - like heaven - before he’s stuffin’ every single nook, cranny, and crevice like never before.
And the carnal burn between your legs was only made sweeter by the way that Sukuna himself trembled on top of you. He’s letting out a coarse grunt-
Gasping.
“Fuck—fuck, is this okay?”
And a part of you melts at the utter tenderness in his tone - mixing with a hint of fear. Of disbelief. Ryomen Sukuna was never the type to be vulnerable, not even when the two of you had been dating—but as you look over your shoulder right now, you see that those devilish red eyes of his were observing every minute expression as though searching for a hint of rejection. Of disgust.
A hint that he’d been right about his changed form.
He was inhuman in his physique now, and…and he understands if you’d been scared away at any point-
But you’re only arching your spine and veering your hips back into him- cutting off whatever whirlwind of thoughts was bound to consume him. You’re picking up the pace that he’d been unsurely slowly down, bouncin’ down onto those slick-glossed shafts. They filled you up deliciously. “You don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily again, are you?”
“I-”
“I’m more than okay, Kuna.”
“And yet-”
“And yet, why won’t you fuck me even harder—” Huffing, you’re managing to get up onto your elbows and gain a bit more leverage. “Spent so long looking for you, y’know…”
“Tch.” The scientist grumbles, but you could feel the way those rotund tips of his twitch just a lil’ inside of you. “Should’ve known-” He’s matching your pace with his own, slamming the lines of his toned abs against the globes of your ass cheeks. “-that you’d be an utter slut for monster cock.”
“Cocks.” You correct.
Just then, the wetness of his second tongue trickles down your pussylips. Gathering up every wad of honeyed slick you were leaking out- he was glissading his tastebuds along every inch of you he could reach: your inner thighs, your cute ass, nearly reaching around to fuck your pretty pussy. “Don’t forget the tongue, too, girlie.”
“I c-could never…” You’re keening out.
“Oh?”
And with a grin, Sukuna second-guesses no longer—before he’s leaning his chiselled front over yours. The hard ridges and lines of his muscles massaging your back, he hooks his fourth muscular arm around your neck and pulls you into a damn headlock-
“Fuh-fuck-” Sukuna hisses through his canines - honed and longer and ready to bite. He ruts into you like a damn animal—“Shit, how I missed this…”
“Shouldn’t have run away then-”
“From the fuckin’ freak?”
Just the slightest press against your throbbing g-spot - it’s like a trigger for the sweet, sweet squeeze of your walls- so warm n’ hungry for his cocks. And Sukuna jerks into urgent attention,
And now he wasn’t fucking you slow- he wasn’t taking his time.
Ryomen Sukuna had his muscular hips arched n’ reluctant to part from yours. Probin’ those girthy inches of his inside—
You’re attempting to claw at the headboard for dear life- but his keen eyes immediately catch the sliver of action, and Sukuna wastes no time before tightening his headlock ‘round you until his biceps bulge against your throat, hauling you back into his vicious ploughs. “What?” He breathes, scalding hot against the side of your cheek. “Where are we going, girlie?”
“We?”
“We. I could never forget her.” He’s rasping out against your skin, sending vibrations across every axiom of you. “Always thought of her—”
“A-and what did you think about?” You’re whimpering.
He doesn’t answer for a few seconds. And you’re disappointed as you feel Sukuna take as much time as his heart desires, pulling out of your pussy with a cute pop! Before he swirls his ruddied tips to soften up your entrance once more, and gives you a thorough thrash- going even deeper than prior. He’s making the eyes roll to the back of your head- he’s finally bottoming out. “I thought about how she might take every inch of me…”
“Oh.”
The tip of his second tongue dips out as though to fuck your cunt simultaneously.
.
.
.
When you’re accompanying Sukuna back to Tokyo, it’s hand-in-hand.
Large and warm against yours. There were more callouses on his fingers than you remember there being - not those of laboratory test tubes, and flasks, and flipping on centrifuges; but the hardship from the year you didn’t have him—and he didn’t have himself, either.
But you’re tugging him into the airport, now.
Two tickets booked and a meeting at The University of Tokyo already planned - the two of you didn’t plan to let anyone know of his transformative abilities for now. Perhaps never.
There were things that the two of you hadn’t sorted out yet: like how would Sukuna explain away his disappearance to the science board? How would you both stay in your cramped Tokyo apartment when he turned into his Curse mode? How would you manage to work on controlling it when…
But you knew the two of you would find a way - you always do.
As you’re standing at the terminal to your flight, the ones at the farthest end of the line, you’re turning around to a lilting voice calling out both your names. Your full names. Who knew such a thing…Faced with a grinning woman in a jet-black suit, tinted sunglasses, and the most accomplished grin across her face. She introduces herself as Tony- or as you may know her: Iron Woman.
And would you and your hulking boyfriend perhaps be interested in a little something called—
Sukuna’s breath hitches.
—The Avengers?
♡ INO TAKUMA - Flash.
“Mr. Flash- Mr. Flash! Just one more question, please…”
“Mr. Flash?” Ino gets a sheepish expression across his face at the esteemed title- one that makes the rest of his team roll their eyes. And he’s turning to the reporter that wastes no time shoving his mic in his face; camera already rolling, news headlines running.
All part of the job—it’s already been an hour since they’ve saved the city (yet again) and they’re still being interviewed, with no sign of it stopping anytime soon.
And so Ino plasters his camera-ready smile on - the rest of the team might not be as savvy as he was with the media, but he was one of the most popular up-and-coming heroes for a reason. Hah. The people loved him, and he loved the people. He takes the mic from the reporter faster than he can blink, and the man startles out a laugh.
“Woah, did you get that?” He turns uncertainly to the cameraman, who nods though he himself wasn’t too sure. Turning back to the red-clad hero- “You sure are fast. Tell us, Mr. Flash, does this speed affect you in your normal life, too?”
Ino answers, “Well-”
“And what about in the more…intimate aspects?”
He’s somewhat taken aback, “What do you-”
“What about in bed?”
Ino’s jaw has never dropped faster—ironic, isn’t it?
And that reporter leans in with a smile that’s turned wicked - one that said he’s going to get paid a lot of money for this particular clip. “Tell us, Mr. Flash, do you last nothing but a flash in bed?” Those beady eyes then turn to you—not too far away and interviewing another one of his team - ever since the two of you started dating, you’d been careful to not let anything slip about it, going so far as to avoid interviewing him as you once did as a hero reporter.
Though you suppose that some whispers did let slip.
For the man was staring at you, though he asked the question from Ino. “Or perhaps there’s a certain…someone that might know the answer to this question?”
That clip of him open-mouthed and gaping takes over social media within a few minutes - it garnered some strange frenzy of amusement and morbid curiosity. Some defended him fervently against the intrusive reporter, some argued that if one was a hero then they should expect strange questions, others condemned such questions all together- where were the boundaries?
Everyone else argued back.
But most…oh, you could’ve already guessed that most couldn’t help but speculate the real answers for both questions: the bed situation and the ‘certain someone’.
Ino, of course, was bemoaning his haste.
Or at least he would-
But right now he had you splayed-out underneath him and letting him fuck you maddened—the slender length of his cock pistoning in and out of you at a frenzied pace.
“Fuh-fuck-” That pretty, pinkened mouth of his droops open with a wet gasp—and Ino shudders as the ruddied tip of his cock swerves around your insides. Stars burst behind his teary eyelids as he’s sprinklin’ out yet another few droplets of him, trickling it deeeep into the back of your womb as he’s fucking your wet channel through it.
He’s shuddering his hips forwards and locking his knots of seed against the softness of your womb- “Fuck, you’re making me c-cum again, pretty…” And it’s about the fifth time in the past hour that he’s repeating this, “B-but I’m really not a flash in bed, right…?”
Such doe-like eyes stare at you, those long lashes of his glittered in tears. And you can’t help but say, “Mhmmmm—you’re really not, Taku.”
“But then why do you sound like you’re making fun of me?” Those trembling fingertips of his take purchase upon either side of your hips, and Ino’s mahogany brows furrows as he concentrates. “This round- this round, m’gonna prove it to you.”
“Taku, baby, you’re pussydrunk-”
“Even better.”
It’s been hours.
Fucking hours.
And Ino hasn’t stopped ruttin’ himself into the warm wetness of your pussy- he can’t stop himself.
It’s been too long - at this point he wouldn’t even be able to give you a number - since you’d successfully steered him away from that reporter and accompanied him to his penthouse. Since you’d reassured him that he totally wasn’t too fast in bed and that you definitely did think the sex lasted long enough.
But still.
He didn’t last a flash in bed.
He really, really didn’t—which is why a young dawn was filtering through the curtains- but Ino Takuma still had his cock lodged thoroughly inside you and was showing no signs of stopping any time soon. He’s reaching down to wrap both your legs around his toned waist, folding you in half n’ kissing your sweaty forehead with his.
But his point was getting harder and harder to prove with every round that he’s fuckin’ you through - bottoming out deeply at the back of your womb, and letting out the prettiest shivers as he feels you clench. “Fuh…oh, fuck.” Uttering mere minutes after he’s started this round, “I-I think m’gonna…”
“What’s that, baby?” You’re reaching up to loop your arms around his neck, tugging the beautiful boy towards you.
“Nothing.”
Batting your lashes up at him, “Awwww, c’mon- you know you can tell me anything, Taku.”
“I-it’s really nothing.” He insists.
“Hmmm, alright then…” But you knew- oh, you already knew. The more rounds that Ino was plunging you through, the more n’ more pussydrunk that he was growing—the shorter he lasted. Which wasn’t entirely anything bad- you honestly found it cute how it’d only take a few sweet slides down your tight pussy’s channel for Ino to utterly fall apart.
But he’s soon feeling that prickly sensation of his high, and he only starts tunneling between your sopping pussylips even harder. Brows knitting. Fingers digging into your flesh. “M’not gonna cum, sweetness-” He hiccups, “I-I’m not gonna cum, promise-”
“Mhm, I trust you.” You’re coaxing him, “I know you’re gonna last, baby.”
There’s a breathless note in his voice. He looks up at you in surprise, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I know you can handle it- hah.”
Fervently nodding, “Yeah- yeah, and m’gonna make you cum—”
“Mhm—” Lewdly smiling up at him. He’s just so entranced by that sinful expression upon your face that he doesn’t notice the way you’ve planted your feet firmly on the damp mattress- suddenly rolling your hips up into his own. “So why don’t I…help you, my hero?”
“H-help—oh.” Stunned. Cutting himself off with a groan.
Ino’s eyes squeeze firmly shut, and he’s shaking viscerally at the sudden plap! of your skin hitting against his own. It’s a different kind of burn when it’s you who’s taking control - and even though he’s on top of you, it feels like he’s the one that should be squirmin’ and gasping.
It feels like he should be the one who’s cumming first-
“No—” Ino’s gritting out through clenched canines - there’s a low trundle of something in his tone that sounds like desperation. Before you know it, he’s increasing the speed of his hips—plap! plap! Plap!
That rounded, red tip of his finds the spot of your nerves just perfectly- and Ino doesn’t waste a single second before he’s starting to bludgeon it with his thrusts. So many times that it starts to feel a bit raw.
Pinning you down using the weight of his lower half, Ino digs his right hand instantly between your two trembly thighs. Brushin’ apart your pussylips with a singular swipe of his thumb- your head explodes in so many bursts of pleasure as he starts twiddlin’ with your pretty, plump clit. “No, no, no- don’t think that I don’t know what you’re hck! doing, sweetness.”
Fluttering your lashes innocently, “And what’s that, Taku?”
“D-don’t think that I don’t know you’re trying to make me—” Pausing to let his crowned shaft push into your womb with a resounding squelch! “-cum first.”
“So what if I am, hm?” You counter, “I just really, really love the way it feels when you’re filling me up-”
“I know what you’re doing there, too—” He’s snarling down at you- just so gone on your pussy by now that he likely doesn’t even realize he’s drooling. Those dilated pupils of his bore straight into your own as he angles his hips to constantly bash your poor g-spot, circlin’ every sensitive orifice. “I know what you’re doing- fuck, I know what you’re doing…”
And you can only squeal as the sheer pressure of his cadence increases-
“And I know what I’m doing, too.”
Because if you thought that was fast- then you weren’t ready for just how rapidly Ino’s fingers could make you fall apart. They were just so loooong and pretty, flexible enough to twist your nub in constant circular motions, flexible enough to make you sob.
It doesn’t matter how badly you’re attempting to buck away - Ino keeps his fingers firmly into the wettened crevice between your legs. Twisting his wrist into aaaall sorts of degrees just to see which one made you scream the most-
“Please—” You’re bawling out after only a few minutes of this, legs shaking. “P-please, that’s unfair-”
“How so?” One amused brow raises. Perspired.
“B-because you’re gonna make me cum-” And to anyone else that would’ve sounded like a petulant complaint, it would’ve even sounded like a sore loser that couldn’t take on the challenge—but Ino knew. And you knew, too. “-using your powers—”
And the superhero can only grin, “So?”
Thrust after thrust.
Roll after sloppy roll of his glued fingertips - they were running your body taut. Without much effort, Ino’s able to make his blushin’ divot massage against your pussy at a rate where his hips almost looked like a blur—not even half of the Flash’s top speed.
And the fact that he was going easy on you made you huff in complaint.
Without thinking much of it, you’re back to ruttin’ up into him - definitely unable to meet his cadence, but you knew you didn’t have to.
You already had him wrapped around your little finger.
It takes only a few needy slams of your treacly pussy against his cock - all the way down to his thickened bottom - for Ino to throw his head back and groan. “You’re gonna…fuck, you’re gonna kill me, girl.‘
“Huh? But I didn’t do anything?” In a mock-innocent tone, “I certainly don’t have any powers to use.”
“Did you forget p-pussy power?”
You smirk.
And as he’s increasing his pace, you only have to whimper out his name for Ino to falter- for him to shake his head and continue. And as you’re attempting to gain the upper hand, he only has to buzz your throbbing nub with his electric speed for you to lose your mind.
Eventually—you think you’re about to cum.
And before you can accept the thought of losing, you’re grabbin’ Ino by his pretty throat and dragging him down to kiss his lips. “C-cum inside me, Taku.”
It’s a tie.
You’re crashing into your high, and Ino’s crashing into his.
Both the steaming hot pleasure of your orgasm flooding your core- and the few droplets that his overworked cock manages out. Creamy white sap. Thinner than usual—he was fighting not to merely cum blanks. Whimpering. Bucking. Fucking you like a damn animal…You’ve both experienced so many throughout the night that your current waves of bliss rip through you hard and fast.
Though Ino himself wastes no time bumpin’ his crowned cock into every tiny ridge of your wet channel. Scrape-scrape-scraping down the spots where you were most sensitive, and dragging it out for as long as he can.
You’re gasping as it leaves you numb from your toes, pulling his sweat chest against yours. “F-fuck, that feels so good…”
“Yes—fuck, yes.” And as the shudders of your high pass, you feel Ino’s cock grow just a little more limp inside of you- well…for a mere few seconds, that is.
“T-tie-breaker?” He whines.
.
.
.
The next time the two of you are spotted out together, it’s for an interview. Of course.
In which you’d ‘cornered’ global superhero Flash after yet another one of his successful missions - before any of the other reporters could manage to get their claws on him - with the question they’ve all been asking—“Do you really last as quick as a flash in bed?”
You’re hearing the shocked gasps around you from the other reporters and bystanders. None had dared ask this question so directly since that clip had gone viral - and in the peripheries of your vision you could see that interviewer from before gnawing his teeth at the fact that you’d stolen his limelight. Surely thinking you’d have about as much luck as him, however…
But of course, Ino already knew you were about to ask this.
His grin stretches underneath his mask as he turns to you, cameras rolling. “I should be asking you that, pretty. Dinner at 7?”
“There you have it, folks.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Spider-Man.
“S-so I guess what I’m trying to say is…” The masked intruder starts, his voice stuttering adorably through his lines. Though adorable as he may be, that doesn’t make you forget the fact that he was a man…tall…well-built…and clearly a crazed fanatic of the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man who’d broken into your dorm—“Uh…I come in peace?”
You’re raising the frying pan in your hands even higher, “I know how to hide a body-”
“O—okay, woah-” He’s immediately taking a few steps back, which you suppose you wouldn’t expect from a dangerous intruder. But then again, maybe he was just new to the job?
If so, he should probably have his pay docked - he was utterly failing at being intimidating. For he’s flattening himself against the window from which he’d entered just a few minutes ago, hands raised in surrender and the whites of his masked eyes widening. Damn, that costume was pretty good…
“I come in peace. I swear I come in peace- I’d just been running from a bad guy, and your dorm just happened to be…the first one I saw? Either way, I promise I’m no danger and I’ll just be on my way now so-” He immediately hastens, “Put…the frying pan…down.”
“Make me.” Raising it even higher, he flinches.
“Okay- oh my god, okay—” It really didn’t take much to make the man surrender at all, immediately giving up on any peace-keeping. He scrambles around the room and you’re worrying that he’s looking for something to challenge your frying pan with- but it seems that he’d just been brainstorming how best to go about with…whatever this is. Because in no time, you’re practically seeing a light bulb go off beside his head, and the man raises his palms as though to brace you.
And you can’t deny it, you found yourself a bit interested. “Um, yes?”
“Get ready- look—” He utters through the web-patterned mask covering his face. “Don’t faint but…”
“But?”
“I’m…Spider-Man.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
You’re assessing the man from head-to-toe—or at least what you could make out of him from the most elaborate cosplay of Spider-Man you’ve ever seen. It could honestly have been impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that he was in your fucking dorm.
But you digress.
“Okay, so do you want the frying pan- or I’ve also got a rolling pin-”
“What? No—no, listen.” The man insists, “I really am Spider-Man- it’s true! You’ve gotta believe me-” Though your deadpan expression gave away just about how much you believed the words that were falling from his masked mouth. And so he’s groaning in frustration, “Look- look, if I just showed you a few tricks would that work? Would that finally prove to you that I’m Spider-Man?”
Unimpressed, you cross your arms. “Go on, then.”
And then the first thing he does is shoot a clingy web from one hand, it launches at an incredible speed and sticks to your ceiling. That’s going to be hell to get out…
“Hm…” You narrow your eyes at him, “Impressive. But I’ve seen better at Party City.”
“That’s not fucking Party Cit- anyways.” He runs a hand down his weary face—or at least what you expect his face to look like beneath that mask. And as soon as you blink, you’re finding this…intruder(?) climbing up your walls. Literally.
All hands on there, glued to it with an invisible adhesive.
You gape, “That’s not…”
“And how about this? This is even better—” Before you can refute that previous trick, too, this man jerks his head up (or was it considered down? You weren’t quite sure given the way he’d crawled all the way to your ceiling by this point) and basks in the silence for a split-second.
You wondered whether he was actually sensing something or just pulling your leg-
“My spider senses say that your vibrator’s plugged in but it isn’t charging.”
You almost want to throw the frying pan at him. However, you’re managing to tamper down the urge long enough to walk silently to your room and back—fuck it, he’d been completely right. You still sort of want to throw the frying pan at him.
But as though he’d sensed that, too, Spider-Man raises his hands up to cover his head.
So you’re setting it down on your table with a defeated sigh, “Alright, I believe you…Spider-Man. What’re you doing here?”
“Like I said-” He finally lets go of the ceiling and stands in front of you normally now, “-bad guy had been chasing me. That one was just a little…above my paygrade so I had to stall until Iron Woman could get here- which was about five minutes ago. The fight’s still going on, however, and I should probably lay low for now.”
Awkwardly shuffling, “So then…”
“So then if I could just stay here until then, um…”
“Um, sure.”
“Sure.” He twiddles his thumbs, “So- is there anything you’ve wanted to know in particular about Spider-Man?”
You smirk.
.
.
.
“Always wanted to know how—hah, big it is.” Biting down on your lower lip, you’re managing to hold back a pitchy whine as his solid tip enters your hole.
Puckered and plump.
Just the cutest pink- he was the perfect girth and size.
Big enough to make your entrance quiver just feeling him kiss up against you, slender n’ smooth enough that he’s already starting to eagerly ease inside of you. And as you’re lowering yourself down on him, the superhero grabs onto either side of your ravenous hips like a lifeline—letting out a few ragged swears as he jerks his hips up and thrusts-
“Y-you should know…” He’s wincing at the feeling of your cunt - so hot and wet. Wasn’t this just heaven?
Turning around to look at him- he’s rather glad you’d chosen a reverse cowgirl position. Because at least then you wouldn’t have seen the way he wiped away fucking tears—sobbing at just the feeling of being inside your wet pussy. “Mhm, spidey?”
“You should know that this is my first time.”
“Oh.”
And with that being said, he’s thumpin’ out the most thorough hit at the very bottom of your pussy. He doesn’t have the experience of just eeeeasing in his incredible length- he’s chasing the back of your cunt like a man starved.
Like a man in unbearable pain every second he isn’t feeling the hotness of your cervix, the globes of your ass, the sensation of your walls squeezing around him like an embrace. So hot and wet. So sweet. So addictive-
“Addictive?” You’re giggling back at him, “Pussy talking already, huh?”
“I-I don’t even know what that is…” He’s babbling out, voice thicker than before.
And you can’t help but glide your palms down the smoothness of his exposed thighs, feeling every curve and divot of the corded muscle beneath. His body was just to die for - toned but not overly muscular. More like a sleeper build.
And you’re having soooo much fun moving your hips ‘round in all sorts of ways that made his muscles bulge—
“Fuck- fuck.” He’s stupid after just a few strokes. Bucking. Moaning. Hands tugging on the edge of the mask that found itself firmly upon his face, he’s attempting to loosen it and gasping for air-
“You should take that off, too.” You’re turning around and huffing at the sole scrap of fabric that kept you from seeing - what you assumed to be - Spider-Man’s pretty face. The only thing you could see of him were those stray curls of…white? Perhaps they were a super platinum blond? They wrapped around the nape of his neck and slightly leaned towards his jawline, drenched in sweat and flushed right down to his tone pecs.
The way that he’s squirmin’ and letting out the most unfairly erotic grunts every time you’re swallowing him up only left you so much more impatient. So much more impatient. “I s-swear I won’t tell anyone about who you are…fuck, and isn’t it getting super hot in there?”
“It is…” He murmurs, more to himself than anything. “But, what if—”
Peering back at him as he trails off, “What?”
“What if I don’t look how you expect?”
“It’s the personality that matters.” Nodding in conviction, and then a sly smile stretches across your face at the way that makes his cockhead throb-throb-throb harder inside you. You’re wasting no time before increasing the speed of your hips until your hamstrings scream—“And the cock…heh.”
“S-so filthy.” The hero mutters, “But what if I’m…not your type?”
“Ugh—” Almost rolling your eyes- it was cute just how shy he was, really. But the first thing you’d wanted to do upon finding out that he was the real Spider-Man was to fuck him - so how much of a hint could you really give? “Baby, my type is loser heroes, and I think you fit the bill.”
“Thank y- hey.”
Just a few more sloppy thrusts - just a few more - and the man beneath you finds himself completely n’ utterly gone from the force of your hips. The sweetness of your cunt.
The way you’d tighten your legs around him any time he swabbed near your sweetest spots. And he was chasing that particular bundle of nerves with such fervour- he was gasping as he feels himself veering even soooo much closer to the throbbing of your deepest walls- he was reddening the skin ‘round his pelvis through sheer impact.
And just as he thinks that he couldn’t get even more drunk on the texture of your pussy…
You’re whimpering out a sweet lil’ echo of his hero name—
And the superhero beneath you lets his head loll behind into the pillows with a groooooan- mouth falling open at the feeling of your cunt surrounding him. Clenching.
Clamping down, you’re holding him hostage better than any villain ever could.
His heavy balls were nearly full enough to burst- and he’s thinking that he’s gonna cum just as soon as he rams his blushin’ tip almost straight into the target of—
And then his spider senses tell him that your fingers are thinking of reaching for his mask.
But before you can even let the thought come into proper fruition in your mind, he’s taking nothing but a single split second to web your pretty wrists together and flip the two of you over. Just because he’s pussydrunk doesn’t mean he isn’t one of the world’s best superheroes, hm?
Now fucking you with your face smushed into the pillows, your knees bracing on the mattress. His cock pounding out a single thrust between those sweet, sap-covered pussylips of yours- the hero hits your g-spot instantly.
And that’s all it takes for you to topple right into your high.
Pleasure rushing through your body in waves. Fingertips clenching at the sheer force of it. You’re seeing stars behind your eyes at the sensation- “Sh-shiiiiit—” Perhaps one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life- and not only was it wound up by a virgin, but the virgin was none other than Spider-Man?!
Jaw dropping open—though it was in slight shock, he’s taking the opportunity to lean and spit.
Making you moan as the gluey wad skids down your tastebuds, “Ohhh, you’re a secret freak, huh?” And though you’d meant it as a half-joke, the hero is leaning his chiselled body dooooown to whisper into the side of your ear.
“Maybe.”
Then there’s the rustling of fabric.
Of masks being removed, perhaps? It takes your mind a few more moments of him slammin’ his rugged cock inside you to realize…
And then the white-hot feeling of your orgasm coursing through your veins is suddenly overtaken by the realization that Spider-Man - maskless and exposed - was right behind you. Looming. Looking for your reaction, you suppose…you feel a jolt go through your body as you realize that he was waiting for you to turn—bearing all of this for you.
And you wondered what he would look like.
Pretty, sure.
Slightly nerdy—perhaps, he never struck you as the jock type.
Someone sweet. Someone kind.
Maybe that was just your wishful thinking.
You turn around and there he is - Gojo Satoru. You fucking knew him—he went to your university. The white-haired ace of the Physics Department; always roaming around campus with his textbooks or camera, always with his head buried and rarely meeting anyone’s eyes, always in the library to the extent that he might as well have been part of the furniture.
Always with his camera lens pointed at you, though he doesn’t think you saw him enough to notice.
But of course, you saw him.
Of course, you saw him.
He’s the boy you’ve had a crush on since freshman year.
Gojo doesn’t meet your eyes now, either. He’s without his thick-rimmed glasses and has to squint just a little bit, looking self-consciously down at himself and fuck- you have to resist the urge to beg for missionary then and there just so that you can stare into his deep, azure eyes as he fucks you.
Instead, you just say- “Did you know that nerds are also my type?”
He beams brighter than the sun.
.
.
.
The next time you’re beside Gojo Satoru, it’s hand-in-hand and entering your next lecture.
You could feel the stares, the gasps, the whispers.
The nerd of the physics department, and one of the most popular girls on campus- or at least, that’s what Gojo claimed. Professor Yaga himself lets his bushy brows raise just the slightest inch once he spots the two of you—and it makes your nerdy boyfriend blush right now to his ivory roots.
“Sweetheart—” He’s whispering to you, “How about we swing around the city today? Promise I’d never let you drop.”
You smile, “I’d love to, Toru.”
Oh, you can imagine that the Daily Bugle is going to go into haywire.
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Daredevil.
“Do you trust me, angel?”
You can’t keep the smile off of your face, “Who would I trust if not the best lawyer in Tokyo? Maybe even the world?”
“Why only maybe?” Higuruma smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges—just barely visible past the frames of his sunglasses. Your boyfriend was just so handsome when he was in his work clothes: one amongst the many crisp suits he often wore to court, hair slicked back n’ not a single strand out of place, his cane by his side. But he continues, “You know how I’m a…lawyer of sorts?”
“Oh really? I had no idea.” You jest.
“How about we try something tonight, my angel…” And as you’re peering down at him in curiosity, Higuruma starts to loosen his tie just the slightest bit—and you’re suddenly understanding what he means. “How about a simulation of this aspect, though in a far lighter tone?”
Your jaw drops, “R-roleplay?”
.
.
.
“Denied.”
“Hiromi, baby—”
“The court finds you guilty on all counts of seduction.” Higuruma’s deep baritone rasps down at you, punctured only by the slamming of his gavel on his desk. Bang! Bang! Bang! Those pressurized vibrations send shockwaves down your own body, and the lawyer’s grin stretches as he watches you affected by such a thing.
How cute…he couldn’t stop but let your orgasm edge for the nth time tonight.
Edging you.
It’s later into the night, you’re spread out across Higuruma’s neat work desk- your back against the frigid texture of the mahogany, your front arching into his own. He presses his suit-clad front against your naked tits—the harsh texture of his heroic suit - as per your request - rubbin’ against your nipples n’ sending you into an absolute frenzy.
He was such a tease.
Grinning as though he knew exactly what he was doing- even though the tone of his voice speaks of nothing but faux innocent. The lawyer speaks, “You’re moving around so much- something wrong, sugar?”
“A-absolutely nothing.” You’re managing to echo out.
“Good.” Higuruma utters, pure devilish desire in his tone. And he doesn’t need to say his next words for you to already know where this was heading- after all, one of his hands reaches for where his gavel was upon the table - using his radar sense - and the other presses down on your hips.
Right above where his thickened length was pressed between your pussylips—Higuruma feels his hand down upon your stomach as he sinks himself inside. The throbbing, cylindrical intrusion of his cock glissading inside- “Because we’re having a retrail.”
And then the gavel comes down right on top of the wooden desk.
It creaks and nearly splinters—but all you can think of is the way that Higuruma was fuckin’ his rotund tip into you as though there was no tomorrow. He wasn’t wasting a single second.
Court time was precious, y’know?
So you best believe that Higuruma had your hips pinned down with his own powerful ones, the scritch-scratching of his tufted happy trail rendering you stupid. Fucking you in hard, purposeful thrusts - each one aimed precisely for where you were most sensitive.
His swabbin’ thrusts didn’t just hit deeeeep into the back of your pussy, but your boyfriend was ending up pressing against your sweetest orifices, your soft roof, the door to your womb—dragging his thumb down the knob of your clit.
With those honed senses of his, you’re lasting barely two pumps of his accurate cock before he’s locating your g-spot—fuck.
And giving it the most merciless strike ever.
He knew where it was from the slurping sounds of your cunt - the way they’d grow just a little damper as he headed for that one spot, he knew where it was from the counts of your breathing - how you’d let them grow a bit more ragged as he veered his cocktip even closer, he knew where it was from the smell of your cloying slick—growing even wetter n’ more drenched in honey as you’d find yourself spearheaded by him.
Rough.
“State your name.”
And so the trail commences.
You’re doing so as he says- a monumental task given the way that Higuruma’s greedy hips don’t stop taking you for a single second. In fact, he’s kissin’ your g-spot at a constant pace and seeming to only ask you questions when he knows you’ll be affected by the sudden bursts of pleasure.
“State your age.”
Your mouth opens. But instead of your age, comes out a jumbled mess of pleads and his name—because just then, Higuruma had reached his dominant hand down and pinched your pretty, puffy clit. So needy that you’re trickling out wads of slick from between your pussylips.
Your hole’s clenching so thoroughly around him that he almost has to falter, too. “Now, now…” Tutting - and you knew that that was never a good sign when it comes to lawyers, but especially Higuruma. “Is that a refusal to testify? I’m afraid this won’t help your case, my angel.”
“I-it’s not…” Hot tears run down your cheeks - and in response, he’s only squeezing your poor clit even harder. “Promise I’ll tell you.”
And it’s only after you’re finishing your response - syllable after syllable - that Higuruma finally lets go of your sensitive nub. That too with such a level of reluctance—if you hadn’t known any better, then you’d have said that that was a sullen pout slashed across his lips as Higuruma lets go of that sultry appendage.
His fingers instead slide uuuuuup and down your wettened crevice- the perfect feeling of where his throbbing cock kept on pumping in n’ out. Higuruma’s lips slightly part as he touches upon the sheer difference in girth, in the way that your cunt was struggling to keep all of him bulging inside of you and yet you were still yearning for more. “Hmmm, state your crimes now.”
“I-”
“Not you.” Higuruma interrupts, “I’m calling up another witness.”
And yet, there was no other witness - at least not that you could see. And surely you weren’t that dumbified yet that you couldn’t conjure up the vision of someone else here when—there was clearly no one else here.
None but you, your boyfriend, and…your pussy.
Higuruma Hiromi - the best lawyer in Tokyo - had his head leaned lovingly down and his brows furrowed as he listened to the precious sounds of your pussy. As if he was deeeeep in the middle of the conversation, understanding every single slurp, squelch, and the most sultry gulps as yet another inch of him is being swallowed.
All of it reaches his ears like music. And he hums as he feels the sound of it send shivers through his very being- “Ahhh, I see…” Straightening up, he leers down at you. “My witness states that your crime is seduction.”
“G-guilty…or wait- no.”
“Guilty?” Higuruma questions in faint amusement, “Do you admit to the charged and- hah, forfeit your right to an orgasm?”
“No—” Whining out needily, “No, please- I need to cu-”
“Objection, hearsay.” He cuts through you coolly - through his cock was rutting into you in a way that was anything but. “You do not need an orgasm, angel. But does the defendant believe that she deserves one?”
“Y-yes.” You shamefully admit.
“Does the defendant believe that she is guilty of the crimes of seduction?”
“Yes-”
“Does the defendant believe that she is worthy of a second chance, however?”
Arching your back into his. “Of course.”
“Hm…we might have to settle this with a jury.“ Those dark brows of his furrow, between them a perspired bead of sweat tracks down his forehead. And it doesn’t take long for your smart boyfriend to know just whom to ask—before you know it, he’s veering his head down and using his super-heightened senses to listen to every single sound of your pussy.
To listen to your arousal.
To smell it- just so sweet.
To let his brain come to a conclusion—“The jury has come to a unanimous decision.”
Your heart jumps to your throat.
“All counts- not guilty.” And then with a few more fervent rolls on top of your throbbing clit, Higuruma drags you all the way to the precipice of your high and—and this time - just this time - he actually lets you topple over the edge.
Straight over it.
White-hot flashes. Warmth filling you up like a flood.
It starts from the tips of your toes and then shoots all the way up to your poor, sparking brain. The superhero grins as tears track down your cheeks at the final release that you’re been waiting so long for, and he grins as you’re shaking through wave after wave of your high. “Good-” You’re gurgling out cutely, “S-so good-”
Head dropping back against the pillows.
The rounded edge of his cock shovels in as he’s bursting your high through you wildly—
“What can I say?” He hums, “I’m a really good lawyer.”
A/N. Confession time: Higu and Kuna’s ones were the hardest to do because I’ve never watched Hulk or Daredevil WHOOPS-
HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS - PIN IT 𑣲 gojo x reader
synopsis ⟢ you've ran out of things to publish for the school's magazines, that is until your friend brought up an amazing suggestion after seeing another friend get absolutely heartbroken, you all figured it would only be appropriate to have an article for what not to do for dating. so you take up the role of the annoying clingy girlfriend with none other than Satoru Gojo. but things go south when he's not taking the bait and actually falls for you instead.
pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖ uni au soccer player! gojo x journalist! reader
warning / tags : 18+, fem reader, angst, fluff, second hand embarrassment, jealousy, he falls first she fell harder, cursing, gojo is a total sweetheart, eventual smut, tba ... art @/naomiiocha series masterlist here
TAGLIST IS CLOSED TAGLIST IS CLOSED
Chic of the week.
It’s everything put onto a magazine. Fashion, culture, love, diets, anything you can think of that will help out the girls of New York University. You blink repeatedly at your dry eyes that have been staring at your computer screen.
“I’ve got nothing.” You placed your hands to the back of your head, slugging back at your desk chair with a groan. Even after hours of thinking about your next issue, nothing came to mind. Utahime leaned over, peeking at the blank screen, watching as the cursor blinked. “Oh sweetheart, you’ve got writer's block?” You nodded, poking your tongue against your cheek.
“I just wish I could write about something other than how to properly wax your armpits, or how to lose weight in 5 days. There’s real world problems out there that I would love to bring awareness to.”
“Yeah well, this is a chic magazine, not a political magazine. Once you have your career and you’re out of this hell hole, write all about what you want.” Utahime reasoned. She was right, this wasn’t a job, it’s just a club that writes for the school.
“Where’s Miwa when you need her?” Your voice came out in a whine, slamming your fingers at your keyboard. Utahime glanced around the room, looking for the familiar blue hair. “She’s late. The meeting began over half an hour ago.”
She sighed, stepping back when you pushed off your desk. “Look what came into my mail this morning.” You grumbled. Utahume’s ears perked up, reaching for the envelope. Inside were two tickets to the world cup. USA versus Paraguay, middle seats, perfect view. “Woah ho-ho, what are these?”
“Remember that editor from the sports magazine I had a drink or two with last week? Guess he mistook my kindness for flirting or maybe he really appreciated me being the sweet girl I am.”
“Must be nice.”
You both turned to the voice behind you, making you and Utahime jump in fear.
“Miwa! Jesus.” Your hand grabbed onto your chest, feeling your heartbeat accelerate. There were dark circles underneath her eyes and the ruined mascara evidence of tears. “What happened to you?”
“What didn’t happen?” She sniffled, dragging his hand over her stuffy nose. “He dumped me. Oh my god, he dumped me.”
“Get her a cigarette.” Utahime whispered. You hurriedly digged into your purse, taking out the box of cigs, handing them over to Miwa. “You guys didn’t make it past two weeks.” You hit Utahime’s stomach with your elbow, making her wince.
“I know. And it was the best goddamn week and a half of my life.”
“What even happened girl?” You opened up your arms to comfort her in a hug that she happily accepted. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”
You nodded, rubbing her back.
Then, she broke down again. “He said I was ‘too much’ and I didn’t understand because I thought everything was going great! It was great and I blew it all up because I moved too quickly.”
“What do you mean?” Utahime rested against the desk after trying her long hair into a ponytail in hopes of escaping the hot weather. “Don’t tell me you said ‘I love you’, that’s common sense.” She snickered.
“Well..”
“Miwa.” You and Utahime scolded.
“The sex was really beautiful!” Miwa added, as if that made matters better. “And I cried and I said it, it just slipped out!”
“That’s why he ended it?”
“I think. Or maybe it was because of the amount of times I called him while he was “busy” or y’know, it’s probably because I’m fat.”
“You’re not fat.” Your voices came out in unison once again. As you continued scolding Miwa for her poor choices in the ephemeral relationship, a lightbulb turned on inside Utahime's head. She clapped her hands in order to get your attention. “There it is. There’s your page.”
“My page?”
“Uh huh. Think about all those girls on this campus who are struggling just like Miwa. Ones that have problems hanging on to relationships. You can write about these classic mistakes most women do that drive men away.”
You stood up straighter, all kinds of ideas popping into your head. “That’s not bad at all. I can ‘date’ a guy and see how long it takes until he snaps.”
Your friend nodded, squealing. “Yes!” She clasped her hands with yours, jumping up and down. “It’ll be titled ‘How to lose a guy in 10 ways..” Utahime looked over to her fourth wall, moving her hand to the side to picture the title.
Miwa blew her nose loudly, reminding you that she was still here.
“How about ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days?’ That’s the total you guys were together right?” You cringed when Miwa threw her used tissue on your desk. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Perfect. Now all that’s left is to find the guy.”
The windows in the classroom were open, letting the slight breeze pass in. Outside, a whistle blew along with some yelling. “I can’t focus with all the chatter, what’s even going on?” You all made your way towards the window, peeking out. The soccer team was lined up, some doing reps while others stood by, discussing some very serious matter.
“They’re getting ready for an upcoming game.” You leaned forward, hair blowing all over the place. The field was buzzing with energy, cleats full of the freshly cut grass. Miwa walked away, crying once again. “I saw him just now.”
“Oh my god Miwa.” Utahime followed after her.
You stayed put, skimming through the small crowd until someone stood out. His white hair almost blinded you from the sun’s reflection. The guy was tall and well built, you could tell even from a distance. “What about him?”
“Who?”
“Number 10.”
Utahime immediately groaned. “Oh absolutely not. He’d drive you insane before you even got to try your little experiment first.”
“Do you know him personally?” Your eyes never left him.
“Satoru Gojo. Went to high school with him, worst guy ever. He never knows when to shut up.” You finally left the window, deep in thought. “Then I guess I’ll be the one to change him up.”
⋆˚꩜｡
The team was still outside having practice games, taking turns shooting at the net. A boy with hair thrown up into a bun kicked harshly only to miss, earning a groan from others. “Yo man, it’s like you've got two left legs!”
“I’ll shove them both up your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
Yikes. You lingered a moment before going over to the bleachers. There he was, standing with both hands on his hips, getting ready to catch the ball.
“How do you plan on talking to him?” Miwa leaned over to whisper into your ear. You hushed her, about to scold her for her attempt at whispering when suddenly, the ball came flying directly at you, hitting you straight in the face.
A sharp pain struck across your nose, making you bring your hands up to cover it.
“Oh my god!” Miwa’s voice jumped an octave, grabbing your arm to gently tug it off your face. “Hold on, let me see!”
Another voice appeared, one that was breathless and panicked. “Shit, I’m so so sorry! Are you okay? I have a super bad aim today for some reason.” Your eyes widened when they met him, it was Satoru, looking down at you with a worried look on his face.
He was even more oddly beautiful up close.
“Uh.. it’s fine.” You managed out.
“Are you sure? You don’t look fine.” He chuckled, wiping the small drop of blood that dripped out your nostril. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.” If it wasn’t for your article, you would've punched him repeatedly to break his nose. “I’m sorry again.. Uh I can go get you ice-”
“No, no it's fine, seriously.”
Miwa gave you a look, one that was urging you to ask him for his number or anything. “You can make it up to me some other way..” Your words slipped out suddenly. Satoru’s brows lifted. “Yeah? What way are we talking here?”
summary! ࿐ྂ you don't swing that way. well, that's what you're always telling yourself. but, your entire brain gets re-wired when you catch sight of her, of shoko. the chick who's always these frat parties normally as high as a kite. she starts talking to you and you feel feelings you've never felt for a woman in your entire life... you want to indulge, but the life you live wouldn't allow it. right? (a lil angst to comfort, f/f sex, queer confusion.)
the leather couch you find yourself lounging on is sticky and hard, but you ignore it. you're too focused on choso who's sitting right next to you with his body angled towards yours.
“i’m actually fucked for stats,” he says, knee brushing yours on purpose. “if i bomb it, nanami’s gonna kill me.”
you laugh and tip your head toward him. “you say that every semester and somehow, you still pass.”
“yeah, guess it's because i’m charming,” he smiles with his red eyes dropping to your lips. “and i know how to negotiate, y'know?”
this is very familiar territory for you, flirting with guys like choso always came so naturally. you touch his arm when you make a point and let your hand fall into his lap when he laughs. you’ve always been so annoyingly good at this.
men seem to gravitate towards you and your magnetic energy. you flirt, hang out, you hook up, sometimes it turns into a few weeks, sometimes it’s a bathroom at a party or a spare room upstairs.
choso keeps talking about finals, he’s clocked the low neckline of your top and the enticing glitter on your eyelids. he loved your look.
you yap on about some dumb all nighter you'd pulled with maki last finals when movement to your left steals all of your attention away.
someone falls onto the couch beside you.
you glance over without thinking and then your brain just… stops.
she’s closer than you’ve ever seen her. she's not across a packed room on some far away couch you can't really see. she's not out the back smoking a cigarette by herself.
she's here, right here, next to you.
shoko.
she’s wearing black, of course, but it’s not gross and try hard. she's got on a wellspring fitting cami with some jeans and nice shoes.
god, pretty isn’t even the right word to describe this woman. up close she's ethereal.
you realise you’ve never actually looked at her so near. she's normally laughing low with yuki or utahime in a different world than you in the background. now she’s close enough you can see her long lashes, her clear skin, that pretty beauty mark below her eye.
jeez, was she a model?
choso follows your line of sight and lifts his hand. “yo, shoko.”
she gives him a small wave without perking up. “hey.”
that’s it. no effort or over the top conversation starters. she was nonchalant from what you could tell.
choso turns back to you like the interaction never happened.
“anyway,” he says, leaning in again. “if i survive finals, you should come over. i’ll cook. i’m actually so goated at cooking.”
right. you nod automatically, but you’re not hearing him. your focus keeps faling sideways. you’re hyper aware of shoko. you were like a puppy in that sense, whenever you saw a pretty girl you had a sort of urge to be her friend.
only this time, the feeling felt.. off? was that the right word? like you wanted so badly to talk to her like you did with everyone else, but the thought of actually doing it was making you queazy.
why is this making you weird?
you try to ground yourself. this is nothing. she’s just a girl. a pretty girl, sure, but that shouldn’t matter. you’ve been around pretty girls your whole life!
choso’s ringed hand finds your plush thigh and squeezes it tightly. it makes you shiver and suddenly? not in a good way.
“hey,” you say desperately trying to deflect, forcing a grin. “you see gojo?”
he squints past you. gojo is strewn out on the frats expensive rug, laughing and gagging while geto tries his best to keep him upright.
“oh shit,” choso sighs. “he’s gonna puke.”
“yeah,” you say. “might wanna save the carpet.”
choso stop, then sighs. “damn it. i’ll be back.”
he’s up and gone in seconds calling gojo’s name.
you sit there with your cup in your hands, and you're suddenly very, very aware of yourself. your posture, your smile, the fact that you don’t know what to do with your face. when did this ever happen?
shoko moves to pull a cigarette from her pocket. she taps it against the pack, then lights it. the flame lights up her cheekbone for a second and your eyes snag on it.
you let out a laugh that comes out a little off. “uh. wow.”
she looks at you with the smokiest, seductive eyes, raising her eyebrow.
“sorry,” you say quickly. “girls don’t usually smoke. well. around me, i mean.” oh no. was that rude?..
you suppose not since she's now giving you a soft, delicate smile.
“yeah,” she says. “i get that.”
okay. she has a nice voice too. great.
you turn toward her fully, pulling out your biggest smile, the one that always charms people. “hey. my name’s [name]. it’s nice to meet you. i’ve seen you around here before, right?” god, i sound like a high schooler!
she looks you very slowly, playing with the cigarette in her hand. your stomach flips and you don’t know why.
“yeah,” she says. “i know who you are.”
... was that a good thing?
“oh!” you laugh. “all good things, i hope.”
“mostly,” she says, lips pulling up.
yikes, so no..
she leans back again with the cigarette balanced between her fingers, and something about all of this feels so unfair. like she’s not trying, like at all, and still winning.
you clear your throat and try to talk to her the way you do with every other girl, ask her some questions!
“so,” you say, tilting your head. “you looking to hookup with any cute guys tonight?”
she actually laughs. right in your face.
“hm,” she says. “definitely not my thing.”
your smile drops for half a second before you recover. “yeah? that's fair. not everyone’s into that.”
“no,” she says, eyes steady on yours. “not everyone.”
you nod like that makes sense. maybe she’s just above it? maybe she’s one of those girls who hates hookup culture, that was fine! you'll talk about something else. you’re already lining up your next question to ask this beautiful women when hands grab your arms from behind.
“there you are.”
before you can react, you’re being lifted up, laughing as well as awkwardly protesting as a group of your friends haul you off the couch.
“wait, what-”
“come on, come on,” one of them says. “we gotta go.”
you twist around with your heels barely touching the floor. “hey, i’ll catch you next time,” you call out to shoko.
she lifts her hand again, cigarette still between her fingers. “sure,” she says.
and you're pulled off for good.
they reel you out to the back porch as you free your arms and whip your head around to scowl at your overly confident friends.
“what the hell was that?”
one of the girls scoffs. “we were saving you.”
“from what,” you say. “a new friend?”
they exchange looks and then burst out laughing.
“from looking like a fucking lesbian,” one of them says.
the word spikes you through your already pumping heart.
“w-what do you mean,” you ask, becoming more and more oblivious.
they roll their eyes. “that’s shoko. she’s like, the token lesbian. always high off her face talking to her other lesbo friends. you really wanna be seen all over her?”
“yeah,” another adds. “people will talk. you’ve got a rep.”
your face feels hot, not with embarrassment but with a rising feeling of anger. “so what? i was just being nice.”
“sure,” she says. “but people don’t read it that way. we didn’t want you embarrassing yourself over some gay loser.”
your mind jumps back to shoko’s smile. 'not my thing.'
oh.
“that’s what she meant,” you mumble.
“what.”
“nothing.”
you open your mouth to spit something back, to say something equally as rude to these insensitive jerks, but the porch door swings open and they’ve already gone back inside, mean laughter following behind them.
you’ve been left standing there with a pounding heart and an extremely confused brain.
not her thing, huh?
~
gojo’s room stunk of dior sauvage and pineapple vape vapour. why anyone would choose pineapple over something like grape or watermelon still baffles you, but whatever. still, it wasn't necessarily a horrible smell, he had the window cracked open, so there's that.
the white haired man pulls out of you with a long groan, then pushes himself up on one elbow and grins down at your naked body, his hairs a mess, his eyes are happy as if he didn’t just wreck the bed. “wow,” he coos. “you're always such a good lay, babe.”
you snort, reaching for your discarded bra. “you’re so welcome.”
he laughs and rolls onto his back, stretching out like a cat. you’ve known him too long for this to be awkward, sleeping with gojo has always been easy. you’re both hot, popular, both bored enough to circle back to each other whenever the timing lines up.
friends first and benefits second. it works out.
he pulls himself up to sit on his elbows again. “seriously though. ten out of ten, would recommend.”
“what a charmer,” you say, smiling.
“what can i say.”
you swing your legs over the side of the bed, and grab your underwear.
would now be a good time to pick this guys brain about the girl who's been haunting your dreams ? probly not, but fuck it we ball.
you move around like you need to say something or it'll make your head explode into a bajillion tiny pieces.
gojo notices. “you good?”
you sigh, then pull up your underwear.
“hey,” you say. “can i ask you something?”
he blinks. “uh. sure? kind of late to get shy now.”
you roll your eyes. “not that.”
he waits, still naked, completely oblivious of the brain spiral you’re about to drag him into.
“what do you know about shoko?” you ask.
okay, it's out in the open. nothing you can do now.
gojo’s smile flickers, confusion flashing across his face. “uhm, shoko?”
“yeah,” you nod. "like. what’s she like? and uh. if she has a… partner.”
you almost say girlfriend but that word feels so weird in your gob.
gojo lets out an awkward laugh. “damn, talk about whiplash. you ask that now?”
your cheeks warm up. “urgh, just answer.”
“okay, okay,” he says, hands up. “relax.”
he scratches the back of his neck, thinking. “she’s been friends with me and suguru since highschool. she’s cool. kind of quiet but she’s funny if you like katie b kinda humour. smokes a lot, drinks a lot. yeah, that's pretty much it."
hm, that lines up well with the vision in your mind.
“and,” he adds, “no. she doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
you exhale with your shoulders dropping. relief?
no. not relieved. that’s not the word, you don’t care, obviously. it’s just curiosity.
gojo squints at you. “why do you look like that?”
“like what,” you throw back.
“like you just found out finals got cancelled.”
you scoff. “shut up.”
he studies you for a sec, then shrugs. “whatever. you’re weird.”
he doesn’t pry because why why would he?
the thought of you being anything but the girl you are doesn’t even cross his mind.
you force a smile and stand up. “hmm. this has been fun, but i gotta run.”
“already,” he says, pouting like a baby. “come on. stay! we can talk, or cuddle, or something!"
you grab your jeans, shaking your head. “maybe next time.”
he reaches for you, fingers brushing your wrist. “please?”
you laugh and gently pull away. “you’re so needy.”
“you love it.”
"mm, debatable."
you grab the rest of your shit and head for the door. you did feel bad, but let's be honest, if you stayed and 'talked' you'd just circle the conversation back to shoko, and you didn't particularly want to face the strange feeling in your stomach when it came to her name.
gojo sits up, catching you before you leave. "hey! there’s a party tomorrow night. you should be my plus one.”
you pause at the door. “sorry, satoru. i’m already invited.”
“yeah, but.. still. you should find me.”
you grit your teeth into something that looks like a smile. “if i see you.”
he opens his mouth to say more, but you’re already pulling the door open.
“later, gojo.”
“later,” he calls, mock offended. “text me.”
you don’t answer. you shut the door before he can keep whining.
you step out and oh. you forgot where you were, their frat.
perfect.
you slip your shoes on trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping not to run into anyone else. half the guys here have seen you naked. the other half have tried. the last thing you need right now is a comment or a look.
you turn a corner and nearly crash into toji who's shirtless, a towel resting over his shoulder.
he raises a brow. “leaving so soon?”
“god." you say. “don’t start.”
he smirks. “didn’t plan on it.”
you pass choso in the stairwell, who gives you a small nod like he wasn't tryna get it on last week. you return it.
thank the lord, you're finally out of that maze.
a week. it’s been a whole week and she’s still there poking around in your head. you just had like... a friend crush on her, right? you just wanted to be her friend. that's it. just really, really badly..
after all, finals are coming, functions are becoming few and far between. your brain just needs something else to latch onto.
that’s it.
you head down the porch steps with your bag in your hand, trying not to think about tomorrow night, where you know she'll be.
~
the frat looks... unrecognisably good (?) for once.
tinsel is wrapped from top to bottom around every single railing, pretty fake snow is sprayed all over the windows, inflatable candy canes are shoved into corners to hide the cracking dry wall.
definitely nanamis handy work.
mariah carey is bumping over the jbl's as people sing their hearts out to her music.
is christmas technically over ? maybe. but college kids don't give a fuck, its festive!
you’re sat up on one of those really high tables that overlook the lounge room and makeshift dance floor, with your stocking covers legs crossed over one another, and the heel of your shoe caught on the steel rung.
the fluffy santa dress you're rocking is very fitting, very much mean girls jingle bell rock coded. its short enough to be sexy yet fluffy enough to stay in the... post, christmas spirit. (if you don't celebrate christmas plz scrap all of this and say it's a regular party.)
now, you usually liked this table because it gave you such a good view of everything, but right now both your left, and right peripheral was obstructed by two hunks of meat. toji and sukuna, squished in on either side of you, talking obnoxiously loud about baseball. urgh. when did you ever give a fuck about baseball? go play a real sport.
“i’m telling you,” sukuna says, knocking his knee into the table leg, “my home runs were perfect last semester.”
toji snorts. “nah, you got lucky.”
“jealous ass. skill isn't luck.”
you hum noncommittally, they were talking at you, not with you, after all. occasionally you'd nod at the right moments, with your pretty eyes wondering and unfocused. you don’t care. not even a little.
how could you care about these idiots when your mind was focused on such a perfect thing.
shoko.
she was sitting on a far away couch on the other other side of the room, right infront of you.
you sat there staring straight at her with wide, intuitive eyes. head propped up on your palm like you were being caught day dreaming in class.
shes wearing that same black cami with jean shorts this time, and a very large santa hat sitting atop her beautiful head of hair. a cigarette licks smoke into the air from between her fingers. she'd been smoking every time you'd seen her, that had to be bad for her lungs...
you feel it again, that magnetic pull. that annoying, persistent urge to go talk to her, to finish that dumb conversation you'd wanted to have so bad.
it’s been a week and it hasn’t gone away.
“you listening?” toji asks, elbowing your side.
“yeah,” you lie. “totally.”
sukuna squints at you. “you’re staring.”
“am i not allowed?” you say, not breaking eye contact with the couch.
they follow your gaze.
oh.
toji snorts. “seriously?”
“what?” you ask, innocent.
“you’re looking at shoko,” sukuna says flatly.
“what do you guys know about her?.”
fuck it, if you could pick gojos brain about her then these two were next up.
he rolls his eyes. “dunno. i don’t fuck with those lesbian chicks.”
you blink. “good thing no one asked that.”
toji shrugs. “she’s cool. kind of a shame though.”
“a shame?" you echo.
“yeah,” he says. “she’s pretty. too bad she likes girls.”
your heart blips and you don’t know why. god. did everyone know this girl but you?
“does she have many friends?" you ask next.
sukuna thinks for a second. “not really. yuki and utahime hang around her sometimes."
toji nods. “she keeps to herself.”
“how does she even get invited?" you ask.
“her and shiu go way back, so.” sukuna explains.
you peer back at her as she silently smokes to herself.
“well,” you say, hopping down from the stool. “i’m gonna change that.”
both of them look kinda annoyed you're leaving so soon.
“where are you going?" toji asks.
“to talk,” you say, stepping away.
sukuna scoffs. “have fun.”
you weave through the dance floor, some more drunken people smash into you, hands brush your waist, someone yells your name. buy you ignore it all you're too focused on one thing.
you stop in front of the couch and take a deep breath, you can do this. then slide into the open space beside her.
shoko startles for a second, with her eyes fanning over to you. you want to cry at the was her brows furrow together.
“…oh,” she says. “you.”
“hi,” you say, a little breathless.
she looks you over, then smirks. “i thought your friends would’ve scared you off with all the dike allegations.”
the word hits so, so wrong..
your shoulders go all stiff and tense. “hey, don’t say that.”
she tilts her head. “hm?"
“that word,” you say quickly. "you're not... that. don't say such horrible words about yourself.”
her pretty face somehow get prettier with the way her eyes go all soft on you “yeah. fair.”
you swallow. “they didn’t scare me off. i just wanted to talk to you.”
“why,” she asks bluntly.
you panic. “because i think you’re cool. and i wanted to be… friendly.”
you almost say friends, but that feels like a little too much right now. i mean, you've only talked to her twice now, and the first one was nothing to write home about.
she looks over your fave for a minute then smiles and holds out her hand. “yeah? well, i’m shoko. nice to meet you. for the second time.”
your face ignores as you take her hand, her soft, delicate hand. wow, she felt like fluffy slime.
“i’m [name]. yeah. nice to meet you." you stop. "for the second time.” she laughs and lets go of your hand.
you desperately search for the next conversation starter and gesture at her head. “good effort.” you pause. “oh shit. that sounded rude.”
you slap a hand over your mouth. “i meant it’s cute. it looks cute!" good save.
she laughs again. “relax. its fine. not really a good effort anyways since it’s shiu's. i didn’t even wanna dress up.” yeah, that tracks. she glances down at you, eyes lingering. “your outfit’s cute tho, what is it... like, sexy mrs. claus?” you stutter. “th-thank you! and yeah, i guess that's what i was aiming for.”
she gives you that beautifully bored smirk and you suddenly forget ever social skill you'd ever learnt from being pretty and popular.
she seems to clock that and decides to save you. “so,” she starts soft. “are you here to hook up with any cute guys tonight?” she even tilts her head a little when she says it, clearly quoting you, asshole. affectionate though.
your brain immediately blue screens.
oh god. this is bad. this is really bad. normally, this question would be nothing. you’d laugh, or maybe deflect, or say something flirty and vague, maybe even name drop someone if you were feeling extra spicy. you’re good at this, hell, you’re built for this.
except right now you’re painfully aware of how you’re sitting. how your legs are crossed. how your hands are folded in your lap like you’re waiting for a fucking job interview. what if you say yes and she thinks you’re a slut?. what if you say no and she thinks you’re a boring loser. what if she thinks you’re lying! what if she thinks literally anything at all?!
your silence reeeeally stretches. shoko’s smile turns into empathetic confusion. "…hey,” she says. “are you okay? are you high or something?” oh my god. you choke on a laugh. “what? no. god. do i look high?”
“a little,” she says honestly.
your face feels hotter and hotter. “oh, wow. that’s not good.” she laughs, then reaches out. her fingers wrap around your hand. the contact sends your thoughts scattering even worse.
“seriously,” she says. “you’re acting like you’re about to bolt.” you swallow and then, for some reason, the truth just spills on out. “i’m usually really good at talking to people,” you blurt. “like, really good. and i’ve wanted to talk to you properly since the last time we spoke, but i just can’t seem to say the right thing around you and now i feel insane and weird and probably unlikable and i’m so sorry if this is uncomfortable for you i just-”
“hey,” she cuts in gently. your rambling grinds to a stop. she’s smiling, again. that damn smirk. “everything’s fine,” she says. “you’re not weird. and you’re definitely not unlikable.”
you blink at her. “really?”
“realy,” she echos. “i actually like that you came over.” something starts pumping harder in your chest so fast it almost makes you dizzy.
“i’d love to be friends,” she adds. “and we should totally talk more.”
oh! that heavy, awful pressure you didn’t even realise you were harbouring just disappears. poof. you let out a laugh that sounds like relief than anything. “thank gosh.”
she chuckles. “that bad, huh?”
“you have no idea,” you say, squeezing her hand once before realising you’re doing it and quickly letting go. “nthank you. seriously.” you start to open your mouth again, ready to actually talk this time, when a dumb mop of white hair in your peripheral vision catches your eye.
he's drunkly slurring your name as he stumbles towards you. gojo. he’s clearly off his face. like, aggressively so. sunglasses indoors drunk.
“y/n,” he calls, voice carrying way too far. “there you are!”
shit. you remember telling him you’d talk to him if you saw him. you also remember how badly you don’t want to leave this couch.
so, what more logically sound thing could you possibly do in a situation like this?
you grab shoko’s wrist and stand up. “come on.”
she laughs, surprised. “what? hey-"
you tug her after you, squeezing through the crowd again, your hearts racing but this time it feels exciting. behind you, gojo shouts something that sounds like “rude!” but he’s laughing too hard to understand.
by the time you push through the back door and onto the porch, you’re both giggling.
you collapse onto the outdoor couch, shoulders brushing one anotherw.
“wow,” shoko says, still smiling. “kidnapped.”
“he would not of left me alone,” you say. “i’m so sorry.”
“don’t be,” she says. “that was kind of fun.”
"right?" you smile.
she reaches into her pocket, then sighs. “shit. i lost my cigarette.”
you make a noise of sympathy. “tragic.”
she snorts and pulls out another, lighting it with her long, slender fingers. the flame pirouettes over her face for a second and you find yourself staring once again. big surprise. she catches you this time.
“so, do you smoke?” she asks.
“no,” you say quickly. “never.”
“yeah,” she says, amused. “i figured from last time. looked at me like i'd committed a crime.”
“oh shoosh.”
“hey, i'm just observant.” she takes a puff, then glances at you sideways. “you wanna try?” your heart jumps. “me?”
“yeah.” smirks. you shudder, but nod nonetheless. “o-okay. sure.” she laughs softly, then brings the cigarette to your lips instead of handing it over. her eyes stay on yours as you lean in, lips closing around the filter.
it feels so intimate. way more than it should.
you inhale. and you immediately regret it. you cough, bending forward, wheezing like your lungs are on fire. “oh my god! why- how do people do this-” shoko bursts out laughing and wraps an arm around your shoulders steadying you. “easy, easy.”
you finally catch your breath, face burning, and then you start laughing too. uncontrollable. embarrassed. alive.
“hmm,” she hums. “probably not for beginners.”
"oh wow, that was bad,” you wheeze.
“you're okay. i promise." you lean back against the couch with your shoulders still touching. shoko glances at you in the dark. her face adorns a soft and contemplative look. “you know,” she says, “i think you’re really cool.” you turn toward her, very surprised.
“mhm,” she continues. “i’m glad you still wanted to talk to me. even after whatever your friends probably said.”
your throat constricts a little. “they just don’t get you.” she smiles at that. “you’re probably the coolest person i’ve ever met, by the way. like ever,” you say, very open and earnest. “and i’ve met a lot of people.”
she laughs although it's adorably shy this time. “i’m glad.”
the half assed christmas lights pulse softly around you as the party hums on inside.
right now the moment feels so perfect. you don't think you've ever had this much fun at a party before, just sitting out the back with this mysterious girl you'd only really properly met tonight. it was likely boring to others, but you'd never felt so content than with her, talking all night about absolutely nothing yet everything, all at once.
~
11am, monday.
phone number? secured.
snapchat? pinned.
her instagram? holy shit. she was the nichest most amazing girl probably ever. you wanted to cry.
all her posts had that grainy digi cam look to them, taken in graffitied spots in the city or long abandoned stair ways. she was cool, but like, on an intergalactic level. you were scrolling her page for what felt like the millionth time in your social studies lecture when choso slides into the seat next to you.
"whatcha doing?"
you jump in surprise and slam your phone face down onto the table, causing the rest of the room to stare as you slap a hand over your mouth. "my bad guys..." a few people laugh before turning their attention back to the front.
"what, you got some guys dick pics on there? promise i'm not jealous." he smiles, snaking a hand around your shoulder.
you shiver at the contact. it's so much different to shokos, her arm was delicate and soft. it was warm and comforting in a way no meaty muscular bicep could ever be. you stand up in your seat and grab your lap top.
"sorry, cho. gotta go to the... to the bathroom! yeah, gotta pee. see yah." you wave at him and rush out of the hall down to the bathrooms. when the hell did you think about someone as much as you were shoko... not even your ex could occupy this much space in your running-a-mile-a-minute brain.
you don’t even realise you’ve slowed down until you hit the end of the hallway and nearly walk straight into them.
your friends. a whole cluster of them blocking the path like a poorly coordinated intervention.
“oh my god,” one of them says as soon as she sees you. “there you are.”
another chimes in. “okay but hello? you look hot today.” you laugh the fakest thing you can muster. "you too!" you'd hoped that'd be it. you could go freak out in the bathroom now. but, ofcourse not. "we missed you at the party,” someone else adds. “you disappeared. like, vanished.”
“yeah,” another chimes in. “we didn’t see you all night.” your stomach drops just a little. you already know where this is going.
you try to keep it light. “i was.. around.”
they exchange looks and their smiles turn slightly sour. a quieter girl at the back, someone you barely talk to, clears her throat. “i mean… i saw you.”
your eyes move to her. “yeah?”
she murmurs. “with shoko. out on the back patio.” there it is. the somewhat tame energy flips instantly.
one of them, a blonde girl, scoffs. “are you serious?”
“we literally warned you,” another says. “told you that was bad for you.”
“yeah,” someone laughs. “lowering yourself for some fucking dyke is crazy.”
that word.
“don’t say that,” you snap, way harsher than you mean to. they stare at you surprised. “what,” one says. “it’s true.”
“you’re better than that,” another adds. “we’re just looking out for you, fuck.”
“yeah,” someone else says. “don’t get dragged into that shit.” it’s one of you against ten of them. all you want to do it scream at them for being so insensitive and rude, but you can feel it. the way they close ranks without moving, the way their voices scoff from teasing to patronising.
your hands shake around your laptop strap.
“i’ve gotta go,” you say, forcing your voice. “i’m gonna be late.”
“don’t forget what we said,” someone calls after you. you give them a half hearted nod, wave once like you didn’t just get sucker punched emotionally, then turn and walk fast toward the bathrooms. once you’re inside, you push through the door and lean against the sink, staring at your reflection like it might explain something to you.
what the hell was that? you tell yourself you’re upset because they were rude. because anyone would be, right? because no one likes hearing someone they care about get talked about like that.
that’s it.
this weird tight feeling has nothing to do with shoko herself. obviously.
then, as you're half way through your crisis, the stall door creaks open behind you.
“rough day?”
you look behind you through the mirror.
and who other than yuki tsukumo steps out, washing her hands without a care in the world.
you plaster on your best smile and shake your head, the one that usually worked on anyone. you'd known yuki in passing but never personally, she was sort of just part of another group.
she laughs immediately. “nope. not that one.”
you drop it. “what?”
“you’re like, hardcore crashing out,” she says, drying her hands. “it’s very obvious.”
“yeah? well it’s none of your business.”
she grins. “what? guy trouble?”
you scoff. “no.”
“always no,” she says. “always lying.”
you roll your eyes and turn back to the mirror. “can you not.”
she leans against the counter beside you. “relax. i just said that because shoko said you were a little boy crazy.” you spin around, and like world vomit pouring out of your mouth really loudly, you boarder line scream. “shoko said that!?” you slap a hand over your mouth immediately.
yuki stares at you. “wow.”
“forget i said that,” you rush. “please.” she tilts her head. “why are you so jumpy.”
“i’m not.”
“oh you absolutely are.” you exhale, defeated. “just forget it.” she shrugs. “okay. but you brought her up.” you hesitate. “no, you did." you glare, then sigh like being mad wasn't worth it. "what else did she say about me?.." you ask quietly.
yuki’s brows lift. “oh?”
“just tell me,” you say quickly.
she hums, thinking. “she said you’re her new friend.”
“and that you’re a little ditzy,” yuki adds, quickly. your expression falls to that of a kicked puppy, one so sad even yuki feel a little bad, so she quickly recovers with, "she didn't mean it in a bad way! just that you were charming." you stare at the sink. “oh.”
yuki watches you with a smile. a big, teasing, horrid smile. then, she drops the million dollar question. "what? do you like her or something?”
your mouth counters before you can stop it.
“no,” you bark, stepping closer, getting up in her face. “and if you go around telling anyone that, i’ll fucking ruin you.”
yuki freezes and her eyes go wide. you instantly regret it.
“okay,” she says slowly. “wow.”
you grab your bag, heart racing, and bolt for the door. “forget this conversation.”
you don’t slow down until you’re back in the hallway with your head spinning.
what the hell was that?
you don’t yell at people, especially not people you barely know. you don’t threaten girls in bathrooms over hypothetical questions. this is not you.
all of this over one night. one conversation that turned into a few hours. one girl who sits quietly on couches and smokes too much. you grip the strap of your bag tighter.
friendship is not supposed to feel like this.
~
tuesday, 2pm.
shoko sits on the floor with her back against her couch, knees pulled in, and an ashtray balanced between her feet. her entire apartment smells like old incense and fresh smoke, which is a surprisingly pleasant smell. her windows cracked menough to let the fresh air leak in.
yuki is sunken into the couch behind her with one leg hanging over the arm and a cigarette between her fingers. she’s been quiet for a few minutes, which usually means she’s lining something up. shoko takes a drag and waits.
“so,” yuki says eventually. “you know that chick you were telling me about?”
shoko makes a vague noise, eyes on the smoke drifting toward the ceiling.
“the flashy one,” yuki adds. “your new little friend.” shoko doesn’t turn around but answers. “what about her?"
yuki laughs under her breath. “she went full berserk at me in the bathrooms yesterday.”
that gets shoko to look back. one eyebrow lifts. “berserk how?"
“like,” the blonde says, sitting up a little, “i make one joke and suddenly she’s in my face threatening my life.”
shoko sighs once. “you’re exaggerating.”
“i swear i’m not,” yuki says. “it was very intense.” shoko leans her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “what did you say to her.”
yuki scoffs. “nothing crazy. i asked if she was having guy trouble. she said no. i joked that you said she was boy crazy.”
shoko groans quietly. “yuki?.”
“what,” yuki says. “that’s what you said.”
shoko pinches the bridge of her nose. “i didn’t mean it like that.”
“i know,” yuki says. “i thought it was harmless. but the second i mentioned your name she got all weird.”
shoko goes quiet, rolling that over. yuki watches her. “then, i made an off hand joke. asked her if she liked you or something, and she got really defensive. like, scary defensive.” shoko stubs out her cigarette and lights another. “she probably felt threatened .”
“threatened by what?"
“everything,” shoko says. “her whole life is different to ours.”
yuki tilts her head. “explain.”
shoko shrugs. “she lives in a loud world. everything’s about perception. who she’s seen with. what it looks like.”
“and you’re a some big gay display?,” yuki asks.
shoko snorts. “something like that.” yuki studies her more carefully. “so you think she freaked out because she thought i thought she liked you?" shoko nods. “yeah.”
“not because she actually does?”
shoko doesn’t answer immediately. she takes a drag then lets it out slowly. “she’s under a lot of pressure just being around me at all. i get that.”
yuki raises a brow with a smile. “you’re being very generous.”
“i’m being realistic,” shoko says. “still,” yuki says. “people don’t usually threaten me over misunderstandings.”
the brunette smiles faintly. “she’s just dramatic.”
“true,” yuki admits. “but dramatic doesn’t usually come with that much panic.”
shoko shrugs again. “she was probably stressed.”
yuki goes quiet, then asks, softer, “so you don’t think she liked you. not even a little?"
the quieter woman shakes her head. “no.”
“really?"
“really.”
yuki squints. “even if she was gay?"
“she’s not,” shoko says easily. “and even if she was, i’m not her type.”
yuki laughs. “what’s that supposed to mean.”
“look at her,” shoko says. “then look at me.”
“i am looking at you.”
“exactly.”
yuki shakes her head, she's obviously unconvinced. “i don’t know. she was pretty goo goo eyes at that christmas party."
shoko stiffens slightly. “fuck, you saw that?." she sighs. "she doesn’t look at me any way.”
“she does,” yuki says. “like she’s trying to solve a math problem she really hates.” shoko huffs. “that means nothing.”
“sure.” silence settles between them, broken by a car horn outside. shoko flicks ash into the tray, movements slow. yuki shifts on the couch. “can i ask you something.”
shoko already knows. “you’re going to anyway.” yuki smiles. “do you like her?"
hm.
the question sits there as shokos lips stay sealed. she's not silently confessing but it doesn't seem like she's outright ruling it out either. yuki waits. “shoko.”
she stares at the wall. a crack runs from the corner down toward the baseboard, something she’s been meaning to fix.
“that wasn’t the question,” yuki says gently.
shoko closes her eyes for a second, then opens them. “i don’t know.”
yuki lets out a breath. “that’s not a no.”
shoko doesn’t argue. “you said she wasn’t your type,” yuki presses.
shoko shrugs. “no. i said she wouldn’t like someone like me. that’s different.” yuki glances back at her. “is it? you’re in trouble,”
shoko scoffs. “don’t start.”
“i’m serious,” yuki says. “this is how it starts.”
“nothing is starting.”
“sure.” shoko disregards the conversation and pulls her attention back to the window. behind her, yuki lights another cigarette and lets the conversation drop.
for now.
~
from then on, a day or two pass by of you avoiding your friends in the hallways, and dogging them at functions.
you were now snuggled up in your apartment, you’re curled on your side in bed, wrapped in stupidly pretty pajamas that cost too much for something you only wear to sleep. hair fanned out on the pillow. lashes resting against your cheeks.
you look peaceful, you are not.
your subconscious brain fills your mind with a dream that feels like it'll be nice, calm, but that escalates very quickly.
you're sitting on a couch, is it yours? you can't tell. what you can tell is, shoko's sitting right next to you, with one of her legs thrown across your lap and her hand's digging into your hair. her voice is seductive and so, so close to your ear.
"i know you want me, y/n."
her hand slides up your thigh.
"just let me take control."
jesus this feels wrong and right all at the same time. she smiles, then kisses you. so deep it alludes every sense you have.
the dreams blurs and morphs together, one second she's between your thighs making work of your clit with her tongue, flicking back and forth over the bud as she stares you dead in the eye.
next she's got ghat same tongue down your throat as her fingers work you from the inside, pulling the sweetest noises from your mouth.
you're gasping, moaning, whining under her expert touch, everything feels like pure bliss, pure uninterrupted bliss.
she's pinching at your breasts, running her lips over the nipples kissing them softly.
your own hands start to wonder, hesitantly cupping her own, playing with the plush flesh that seemed to up your horny stat by a million. just as you're about to be bold, to finally let yourself go and touch her where you know she wants it, you wake up all at once.
you gasp and sit up straight like you'd been possessed, huffing and puffing as your sweat slick body heaves.
oh my god.
your body is still reacting and you hate that. hate how real it felt. you hate how easily your brain went there.
with her.
“fuck,” you whisper.
you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, pacing once, twice, maybe movement will make it all better. you grab your phone off the nightstand with shaky fingers and don’t even think before you hit maki’s name.
she answers on the third ring, her harsh voice coiled with sleep. “you better be fucking dying.”
“i need you,” you say. there’s a pause. then fabric rustling. “okay. that’s not normal. what happened.” you fall down onto the edge of your bed, elbows on your knees. “i just woke up from the worst dream of my life.”
“worst like scary or worst like you’re being dramatic.”
maki has always been the one girl you feel like you can turn to. she's your friend who's not like those other girls, she's funny as hell, knows how to read a room, and most importantly, not judgey.
your real best friend.
“start talking,” she says. “slowly, though.”
so you do. you tell her about that first night you met shoko and how badly you wanted to be her friend after that, how much worse it got when you saw her for the second time.
you spew on and on about the hours long conversation you had with her about school, life, friends, all on the patio of that dumb frat.
you tell her about yuki and about the bathroom, about how she mentioned you liking shoko and you losing your temper so bad it made your hair stand on end just thinking about it.
still have to apologise for that...
“that tracks,” maki mutters. “you hate not being in control.” you wince. “okay, just clock me i guess.”
you tell her that you thought you just wanted to be her... best friend? well, you were friends now and you still yearned for more, so that had to be it. right?
“and now,” you say quietly, “i just had a wet dream about this girl. what the fuck?.”
maki laughs then asks, “are we talking full on?” you groan and flop back onto the bed. “sopping wet. i hate myself.”
she laughs again, not mean. “wow. okay.”
“don’t laugh.”
“i’m laughing because this is huge for you,” she says. “and also because you sound like you’re about to combust.”
you stare up at the ceiling. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i don’t even think i like girls.”
“mm,” maki hums. “yet you just had your subconscious write a fanfiction on some yuri shit.”
“can you die?.”
she ignores that. “listen. you don’t have to slap a label on this. you don’t have to announce anything. you met one girl who made your brain go a little crazy, that's it."
“that’s not normal.”
“it is if you’re discovering yourself,” she says. “late bloomer kinda thing. very chic.”
you rub your face with both hands. “but i’m not gay.” maki doesn’t miss a beat. “everyone’s a little gay.”
you snort despite yourself. “that’s not helpful.”
“it is actually,” she says. “because it means you’re not some weirdo. you’re just human.”
you roll onto your side, clutching a pillow to your chest. “i’m scared i’m gonna mess this up. i don’t want to make her uncomfortable. or make myself look like a poser trying to covertly bully her, she's told me she gets picked on a lot.”
“you already look like a poser,” maki says. “affectionately. just means you're a pretty fem.” you smile. “what, so girly girls can't be gay?.”
“i thought you weren't gay?,” you're real quiet at that. she continues. “look, from what you’ve told me, she likes you. at least as a person. you’re not imagining that.”
“but what if i am.”
“then nothing happens,” maki says. “and you survive. but if you freak out and overthink and self sabotage, you’re gonna regret that way more.”
you sigh. “so what do i do?"
“don’t be weird,” she says simply.
“…that’s it?"
“be yourself,” maki adds. “the version of you she already likes. let it play out. if it stays friends, cool. if it turns into something else, also cool.”
you stare at your ceiling again, at least your chest felt a lil lighter than it did five minutes ago.
“you’re so annoyingly right,” you say.
“i know,” she replies. “it’s my thing.”
you glance at the clock. too early and too late. “thank you for answering.”
“always,” maki says. “text me if you crash out again.”
“i will.”
you hang up and set your phone back on the nightstand. the room is quiet again. your body is finally calming down. the dream keeps poking through at the edges of your brain, but you sweep them off.
you curl back under the covers, staring at the dark.
don’t be weird.
easy for maki to say.
you close your eyes anyway, shoko’s smile flashing behind them, and let the night settle around you.
~
having that conversation about your feelings had really put things into a somewhat comfortable perspective. you were confused, that's all. very confused.
pretending you didn't have a sex dream about your new friend was surprisingly easy. it was around a week or two later and you'd successfully made sneaking off with shoko upstairs under the excuse of, 'accompanying her while she destroys her lungs.' a very regular thing.
you'd been to around three functions from that very messy crash in the bathrooms and the dream. and to be honest, you'd never been happier just existing with one person at a place meant for mingling with tens or hundreds others.
you'd both sit on either shiu's or geto's bed with the window open as she smoked two or three cigarettes. you'd talk, and she'd listen to everything you had to say, and visa versa. you'd learnt that she's a med student, she loves the smiths and mazzy star, and that her favourite time of day was dusk.
she was hands down the nicest girl you'd ever met, just so calm and down to earth.
although, the topic of sexuality was something the two of you really never touched on. it was like an electric topic you were staying away from. you didn't know if she was doing that so you felt comfortable and shoko didn't know if you were doing that because you felt uncomfortable, either way, the both of you looked silly dancing around it. tonight was no different, you'd both scurried upstairs away from the horny men and judgey women, crashing getos room and slipping onto his bed.
"god, didn't think we'd make it out of there. ino and gojo were really talking your ear off, huh?" shoko teases, leaning back onto the wall with her legs splayed out on the mattress. you laugh, sipping at the vodka cruiser in your hand as you fall back on geto's pillow.
"yeah well, gojos always talky. even in bed."
you watch as her eye brow twitches.
it's almost nothing, but you catch it.
shit.
eyes that were usually fluttering around carelessly were now pin pointed on you. scary.
“always?” she asks, voice even. you swallow around your sip. “i mean. i guess.”
she nods.
“so,” she says, casual again. “do you sleep with him regularly, or was that like.. a one night thing?"
oh.
now you were nervously peeling at the sticker on your bottle like a kid and biting the inside of your cheek. you don’t want her to think badly of you. you’ve never cared what people thought about this before. never once felt the need to explain yourself.
lying feels worse though, lying to her feels so wrong.
“yeah,” you say slowly. “i mean. yeah. sometimes. we hook up from time to time.” you risk a glance at her face. and its it’s subtle. so subtle you almost miss it. it's the way her mouth drops for half a second and her eyes dip down, then away.
something in your chest drops.
fuck.
you rush to fill the silence. “it’s not like. serious or anything. just fun. you know how it is.” you laugh nervous and she nods once. “yeah.”
you hate how flat it sounds. your brain scrambles, desperate to smooth it over, to level the ground between you again. “what about you?” you blurt. “so.. are you involved with anyone ? with any… girls?”
holy fuck. god, strike me down.
you clap a hand over your mouth. “oh my god. i’m so sorry. that came out so wrong. i didn’t mean it like that at all. i just meant like. romantically. or casually. or whatever. i swear i’m not trying to be weird or ignorant or gross. i just don’t always know how to ask things and i panic and then my mouth just keeps going and that sounds so ignorant i-”
“hey.” shoko’s delicate finger presses its pad gently against your lips, hushing you.
“don’t worry,” she says softly. “i know you didn’t mean it like that.”
your shoulders drop. as she lowers her hand and you definitely internally mourn the loss.
she smiles. “last girl i hooked up with was a couple months ago.”
“oh.”
“i’ve been taking a break.”
you nod. “that’s. cool.”
she studies you. “you don’t have to sound relieved."
you laugh nervously. “i’m not. i’m just. glad you told me.”
her pretty eyes soften as she looks you up and down, ever so slowly, and blurts out, "i’d tell you anything.”
the way she said that...
“hmm?,” you mumble. “i might take you up on that.” she sighs a laugh. “i’m serious.” you turn back. “yeah?”
“yeah.” everything's radiating that nice feeling
you get when you're with someone you really admire, every way you look the room seems to fit this vibe perfectly.
just you, and her.
you and this beautiful woman you'd been dreaming of, talking to guys about post hookup, calling maki over for the past week freaking out if you're secretly in some queer coming of age movie reincarnate.
just you, and her.
shoko shifts closer and her thigh brushes yours. not accidental. definitely not accidental.
“can i ask you something?,” she says. you nod way too fast. “yes.”
she tilts her head. “do you like... only swing one way?" your brain shuts off. your mouth opens. closes. opens again.
“i,” you start, then laugh nervously. “i think so. i mean. i’ve always thought so. i’ve only ever been with guys. and i’ve never really questioned it until recently. which is probably normal. or not? i don’t know. college makes everyone question everything. and i still like men. obviously. i’m not saying i don’t. but lately, ever since ive met you, i’ve been feeling weird. not bad weird. just different weird. and i don’t know if that means anything or if i’m just overthinking because i can't figure this out or-"
shoko’s hand cups your cheek and your voice cuts out.
her thumb moves slowly, smoothing down along your jaw like she’s pulling you back down to earth again. her deep brown eyes don’t leave yours for a second.
“you don’t have to explain,” she says. “i get it.”
you swallow. “you do?." she nods. “yeah.” your heart feels like it’s trying to climb out of your chest. you don’t pull away. you don’t lean in either. you’re suspended in this strange, terrifying middle space.
“want me to help you figure it out?" she asks. your breath leaves you in one long huff. “yes... please.”
when did your dreams become reality? (literally)
shoko doesn’t hesitate. she leans in and presses her soft lips to yours.
it’s so delicate you almost assume she's not even kissing you. it's so astronomically different to the rough, deep kisses you're used to from the men you see. she feels so much warmer. your eyes stay open for a moment, stunned. her face is so close. those cute freckles, her long lashes, the smell of smoke and mint.
then you close them, deciding to not look like a freak virgin and actually contribute.
your hand slips gently around her waist, she responds by pulling you closer, her other hand settling at your hip. the kiss deepens, and your head spins. this feels so different! you've thought it a thousand times in a second but it's just so otherworldly. it's not hurried and pushy, no. it's sweet and simple.
your thoughts race. you think about guys like gojo’s hands. the way he grabs. the way everything with men feels like a performance you know by heart, god, this is nothing like that.
this is quiet. this is terrifyingly peaceful.
shoko leans in more, her forehead brushing yours, lips still moving against yours in a lovely serenade. your grip tightens on her shirt, you want more and less at the same time.
you start to overthink.
your mind floods with questions, with fear, with guilt, with excitement.
with panic.
it’s too much.
this is too much.
or is it? you can't think straight! (haha, get it.)
you pull back suddenly, hands pushing against her shoulders.
“stop."
shoko stops instantly. no frustration and no confusion. just concern.
“hey,” she says. “what’s wrong?"
you shake your head, “i can’t. i mean, i want to. i just- i don’t know what this means.”
she nods slowly. “okay.”
you sit there, chest tight, heart racing, staring at her like she might disappear if you look away.
“i’m sorry,” you whisper. shoko doesn’t look hurt, just thoughtful. “it’s okay,” she says. “we can stop.” you nod, still spinning. “yeah.”
the space that was non existent just a few seconds ago now felt like hundred miles long.
.
before the moment can marinate any longer, geto, like some drunk super hero, comes bashing into the room with a pretty girl you swore gojo was dating just a few months ago when he ghosted you for a while. did he cheat on her? was that the story? wow, geto was a show off.
"get out."
wow, real classy.
you see the girl knock him in the side as to say 'cut it out,' and you and shoko share a fleeting glance before scurrying off.
when you hear the door shut down the hallway, you slow down. shokos infront and she turns to you, the lighting dark and you can barely see her eyes, but you can tell she's got that questioning look.
it was making your stomach flutter and churn with nervous nausea at the same time.
"look, y/n, i just want to let you know that this is normal for a girl like you, okay? you just-"
"i'm not gay." you spit. it's so much colder than you mean, but your brain is in fight mode. you're a little drunk, confused. not a good mix.
"hm?"
"i'm not gay. and you helped me figure that out." you tell her, even though you know that's a lie. you just don’t know how to put your feelings into perspective.
"i see."
"look i just-"
"no, i get it. don't worry, kay?" she cuts you off, with that calm smile. "we can talk more outside, yeah?"
"yes... please."
.
it’s awkward. not necessarily bad awkward. just new. the kind that makes you hyperaware of where your hands are. how loud your breathing sounds. the fact that you said something you can’t take back.
shoko breaks it first.
“hey,” she says gently. “i’m not offended.”
you peer at her with guilt stricken eyes, “you’re not?” you ask.
she shakes her head. “no. not at all.”
you let out a small laugh that doesn’t quite land. “i'm still so sorry... i kind of snapped.”
“you were overwhelmed,” she says. “that happens.”
you rub your thumb along the hem of your top. “the truth is, i don't know what i am. it just felt like everything was happening at once and i didn’t know what to do with it.”
she nods. “that’s normal. especially for girls who haven’t had that kind of intimacy with another girl before.”
you glance at her. “you really think so?"
“yeah,” she says easily. “i’ve seen it before. i’ve felt it before.” that makes you pause, perhaps with either sorrow or jealousy, your brain is too scattered to hone in on which one.
“i’m not trying to freak out,” you say. “my head just feels like a mess right now. i want to talk about it. i just don’t know how.”
shoko turns her body toward you a little.
“you can tell me anything,” she says.
there it is again. that sincerity that makes you feel like you've known her for years.
breathing in deeply, you muster up a response.
“okay,” you say. “so. at first. when i met you. i just really wanted to be your friend.”
she smiles faintly. “that tracks.”
you huff. “yeah. it was like this overwhelming urge to be near you. to talk to you. to understand you. i’ve never had that with someone i hadn't even spoken to yet.”
she listens and doesn’t interrupt.
“and i kept telling myself that was it,” you continue. “that i just admired you. thought you were cool. wanted you in my life. i didn’t question it.” you swallow. “but then,” you say quietly, “that feeling sort of changed. or maybe it didn’t change?. maybe it was always more than i thought and i just didn’t have the language for it.” you sigh “i don’t know when wanting to be your friend turned into wanting to understand you on a deeper level,” you say. “or if it was ever just friendship at all.”
you laugh under your breath. “i’ve never experienced this before. not like this. with guys it’s so easy. this feels like i'm tryna read a book in a language i don’t know.” she nods slowly. “that makes sense.”
“my 'friends' don’t help,” you add. “they made jokes, they'd call you horrible names. they turned me wanting to hang out with you into some ugly thing.”
her mouth tightens for a second. not angry, but protective. "i don't want to be their friend anymore. i don't care about close minded losers like that."
she smiles before replying. “you’re completely valid in thinking all of that,” shoko says. “none of it makes you stupid or naive or wrong.”
your shoulders ease up without you even realising they were tense.
“thank you,” you murmur.
“... i want you to know something too.”
you look at her. your stomach flips but you ignore it.
“i value you,” she says. “as a friend. genuinely. and i’m going to try my best to support you through this. thick and thin. no matter what you decide.” your throat tightens. “even if i decide i can’t handle this?"
“especially then,” she says. “but i also want to be honest with you.” you brace yourself.“i’ve had a abit of a thing for you.. ever since the night we locked eyes at that party,” she admits. “i tried to keep it light. give you space. follow your lead.”
you blink. “you have.”
she smiles softly. “yeah.”
“i’m not asking you for anything,” shoko continues. “if you want to stay friends, we stay friends. if you want space, i get it. if you want to stop talking to me, i’ll respect that too.” your chest hurts.
“and if,” she adds carefully, “you want to try and see where things go, i’d be more than happy to take it slow. guide you through it. at your pace.” you stare at her. this woman who somehow makes room for every version of you without asking you to be anything smaller.
“i don’t deserve how kind you’re being,” you say. she laughs quietly. “i’d do anything to make you feel as comfortable as you’ve made me feel.” the concept of you making her feel comfortable really improved your mood.
you feel like you have to show her how grateful you are for her maturity in all of this, and your appreciation for her ability to take this so well. you move closer and gently wrap your arms around her shoulders, giving her room to pull off if she wanted to.
she gets choked up for a second, but then relaxes into it with her arms coming around you with the same care. her chin rests lightly near your shoulder.
its soft and feminine in the sweetest way.
you pull back after a moment, smiling despite yourself. “thank you.”
she squeezes your hand once before letting go. you feel so much better after this.
“so,” you say, clearing your throat. “um. would you maybe want to come over to my place this weekend? maybe watch a movie.”
her answer is so quick. “yes,” shoko says, smiling wide and egar.
you grin back. “cool.”
really cool.
~
your apartment looks stupidly nice and you hate that you care this much about this dat- hang out...
the lights are warm but not too warm. the couch cushions are lined up again after you sat on them twice and fluffed them for no reason. the coffee table is clear except for the bowl of chips you definitely did not need to put in an actual bowl. you glance at the clock for the fifth time.
still ten minutes.
your phone is pressed between your shoulder and ear while you tug at a throw blanket until it looks straight, and maki’s voice crackles through the speaker.
“okay so what’s the plan?” she asks. “walk me through it.”
“there is no plan,” you say. “that’s the point. i’m just going to be normal.”
maki snorts. “you? normal?”
“rude,” you mutter. “i mean it. we’re watching a movie, maybe talking, maybe drinking a bit. nothing crazy, just chilling out like friends do.”
“friends who want to kiss,” maki adds.
you roll your eyes. “stop.”
“i’m serious,” she says. “are you gonna ask if she’s std free if you guys fuck?”
you choke. “i’m not doing that!"
“why notttt?” maki says. “it’s good to be safe.”
“we are not fucking,” you hiss, glancing toward the door like it might hear you. “this is just a hangout.”
“everyone says that before they fuck,” maki says. “i’m just saying.”
“please don’t say fuck again,” you say. “i’m already on edge. i don't know how to do it with a chick anyway...”
"i'm sure she could teach you."
"shut up!"
maki's laugh cackles in your ear for a while before she sighs and calms. “you like her.”
you sigh, you know she's right but,
“i’m just going to see how things go,” you say. “i’m not making it weird.”
“you already made it weird,” maki replies gently. “but that’s okay. that’s how figuring things out works.” you smile despite yourself. “you’re annoying.”
“i know,” she says. “text me if she kisses youuu!.”
“i’m hanging up.”
“ask if she's clean!,” maki sings.
you end the call mid word and toss your phone onto the couch, cheeks pink.
you take a breath. steady. you glance at the door again.
a knock sounds.
you jump.
“shit,” you mutter. “she’s early.”
you smooth your top over, pulling at the fabric so your cleavage looks good, then cross the room. your hand is already on the knob when you pull the door open with a pretty smile ready for her.
but it drops immediately.
because it’s not shoko.
gojo stands there instead, leaning in like it's his own place. his hair is messy in that on purposeful way. his eyes are drowsy. his cheeks are pink like he’s been drinking or thinking about you, or both.
definitely both.
“hey,” he says softly. “there you are.”
“gojo,” you say, flat. “what are you doing here?"
he steps inside without waiting, his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “I needed you,” he says, voice low. “i’ve been thinking about you all day.” he leans in and kisses you before you can stop him. it’s familiar, sure, it's nice and his mouth knows where to go, but you're all but over this.
you pull away.
“stop,” you say. “now is a really, really bad time.”
he stares at you, bewildered from the alcohol. “what?"
“shoko is coming over,” you say. “you can’t be here.” his brows knit together. “then cancel?”
“no,” you say. “gojo. you need to leave.” he laughs like you’re joking. “why would you cancel me for her?.."
“because i made plans,” you say. “with her.”
“yeah,” he says. “and i need you.” you shake your head. “that’s not how this works.”
he steps closer again, confused. “we’ve been doing this for three years. we're friends, good friends."
“I know,” you say. “that doesn’t mean you get to show up whenever you want.”
he looks genuinely lost now. “are you mad at me?."
“oh my god, no,” you say. “i just- i need you to go.”
“why are you picking some girl you just met over me?,” he asks. “over us.”
“there is no us,” you say, sharper than you mean. his mouth gets pouty. “wow.” you exhale. “gojo. please.” he scoffs. “she doesn’t need you like i do.”
“you don’t get to decide that,” you say.
he reaches for you again and you step back.
you're about to drop the bomb, about to tell him that 'i think i have a crush on her and this hangout is going to determine my mood for the rest of the week, so can you fuck off?'
but you're cut of by the door that opens behind him.
shoko, in all her beauty, stands there with a puzzled look on her face.
“oh,” she says. “sorry. i uhm.. i didn’t realise you had another guest.” your heart drops.
“no,” you say quickly. “it’s not like that. he was just leaving.”
in shokos head, she's distraught. why would you have some guy you were sleeping with over at your place when you and her were supposed to be hanging out? especially after she was so excited for it... she felt a little sad.
she tries to push it down and announces, "that’s fine. i can come back another time.”
“no,” you say. “shoko please stay.” but gojo talks over you. “thanks sho, catch up later yeah?.”
shoko hesitates, then gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her deep brown eyes. “text me.”
then she leaves.
the door closes, and the silence is loud. you turn on gojo slowly, heat and anger flooding your face.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you snap.
he frowns. “what did i do?"
“you just ruined everything!" you worry. “get out.”
“you’re overreacting,” he says. “she’s just some girl.”
“she’s not just some girl! she's all i can think about lately and i was so excited to see her today!” you say. “and you don’t get to decide who matters to me, i think i really like her!" the second the words leave your mouth, the room goes still.
gojo just stares at you, blinking like his brain short circuits halfway through processing it.
“you like,” he repeats, slower. “… her.”
you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. “i don’t know if it’s love-like. but it feels big. bigger than anything i’ve felt before. and tonight was supposed to be a break from the fuck ups in our track history. we were supposed to just watch a movie and talk and not freak out and now it’s all fucked because you walked in like this was still some open door situation.”
gojo stays quiet because yikes, he messed up.
you keep going because stopping feels so impossible right now.
“everything with you has always been easy,” you say. “easy and fun and predictable. and with her.. i don’t know anything, and that’s scary and exciting and i hate that i care this much but i do.” gojo rubs the back of his neck. “i didn’t know.”
“I know,” you sigh, then soften immediately. “i know you didn’t. but you don’t get to act like she’s nothing just because she’s new.”
he winces. “yeah. that was shitty.”
you drag a hand down your face. “i just wanted tonight to go right."
he rubs his neck bashfully and steps towards you slowly, he pulls you into a hug before you can talk yourself out of it.
“I’m sorry,” he says into your hair. “i really am. i don’t know much about… any of this. but i didn’t mean to mess things up for you.”
your throat tightens. “i know.. i know.”
"i'm sorry,” he says quietly. “i won’t again.”
you look up at him and he looks genuinely gutted on your behalf.
“i’ll stop,” he says. “no more showing up. no more trying to get with you, hell, i'll even tell the other guys to lay off if you want. if you think you found something good, i’m not gonna touch it.” your whole face is wiped of the stern expression you wore, replaced with one of appreciation. “thank you.”
he nods, then forces a small smile. “you should go after her.”
you nod, then grab your jacket, shove past him, and bolt out the door.
then, like some really bad angsty romace movie, it starts pouring down with soaking rain.
your hair sticks to your face. your shoes soak through, and your heart feels like it’s trying to outrun you. you scan the street, breath coming fast, panic creeping in.
then you see her down the block with her hood up, standing near the bus stop about to hop on the cory express. she’s halfway up the step when you shout her name.
“shoko!”
she turns just as you reach her, your hand catching her arm before she can get on.
“wait,” you gasp. “please.”
she lets you pull her back down onto the sidewalk. the rain darkens her shirt, and her expression's conflicted, her hurt shining through no matter how hard she tries to hide it.
“you didn’t have to do this,” she says.
“no... i did,” you huff. “i really did.” she looks away. “but it’s fine. i get it.”
“no,” you say, shaking your head. “you don’t. and i don’t want you filling in blanks that aren’t real.”
she watches you carefully now. “okay?.."
“gojo didn’t know,” you say. “about us. about tonight meaning something to me. he thought he could just show up like always, and that’s on me for not shutting it down sooner.”
she sighs. “you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“i owe you honesty,” you say. “especially after the other night.”
her shoulders drop a little. “... i was excited to see you.” she admits, hugging her body.
oh wow.. your heart drops. “me too.”
rain dripples down your nose and forehead, you're awe struck at the way droplets fall into her lashes and catch on the ends.
“I didn’t want you thinking i chose him,” you say. “because i didn’t. i would have chosen you. every time.” her eyes soften. “i believe you.” you laugh weakly. “thank god.” she steps closer and wraps her arms around you. you hug her back without thinking, rain soaking both of you.
“shit, it’s freezing,” she laughs with melancholy. you huff a laugh. “come back to my place. please.” she nods. “duh. i just missed my bus cuz of you.”
you laugh, embarrassed, and pull her up the pathway, and by the time you get back, you’re both dripping wet. gojo’s mercedes is gone, and relief floods over you. thank fuck.
you step inside and the chill from the air con made both of you shiver. you smile guide her gently toward the bathroom. “you should have a shower. now. before you freeze and die.” she laughs at you as you wish off to grab her a towel and some clothes.
as you shut the door you try your best to not think about her being naked in your bathroom, occupying yourself with whatever you can. you change into comfy, drier clothes, dry your hair, hands still a little shaky.
just as you finish up she comes out dressed in your clothes, with her hair damn and her cheeks flushed pink.
you both pause, then laugh at the same time.
“you look good,” you say, smiling.
“you too,” she replies.
you point to the couch. “c'mon, pick a movie. i’ll order food.”
she settles in, scrolling, glancing at you from under her lashes. you catch her looking at your short pyjama shorts but you pretend not to notice how her cheeks flush a darker colour, and she pretends you didn’t catch her.
“i can’t choose,” she says eventually.
“that’s fine,” you say, sitting down. “we can just talk.” she smiles and scoots closer, turning to face you fully, you set your phone down.
“hi,” she says.
“hi,” you echo, laughing softly.
you’re both so goo goo eyed it’s embarrassing.
rain taps faintly against the window, but you barely register it. all you can really focus on is how close she is, how her knee keeps brushing your thigh every time she moves around, like she’s checking if you’ll pull away.. you, ofcourse, don’t.
shoko glances down, then back up at you. “i was a little sad earlier,” she admits.
your stomach tightens. “about gojo?”
she nods. “yeah. not because of him, really. just because i didn’t know where i stood.”
you swallow. “i hated that you saw that.”
“i know,” she says. “but i’m glad you ran after me.”
“i needed you to know i wasn’t choosing him.” she takes a once over of your face. “and?”
“and i’m not involved with anyone anymore,” you say. “not him. not anyone. except…” you trail off, then look at her. “except you. if you want.” her lips curve into a slow smile. “i do.”
it’s such a simple answer it almost knocks you flat. “i’m only interested in you too,” she adds, like she’s letting you in on a secret.
something loosens in your chest. you laugh, a quiet little sound. “that makes me feel insane amounts of better.”
“good,” she says. “that was the goal.”
you both smile, and then there’s this weird feeling of change, the way you're looking at her and visa versa is like neither of you is pretending this is just friendly anymore.
your eyes fall, against your will, down to the shirt you gave her, it's low cut and shows off her cleavage on the most beautiful way. you definitely chose that shirt on purpose, consciously or subconsciously was the real question.
your eyes flick down one more and you immediately regret it, already bracing for embarrassment because she notices.
and instead of calling you out, she adjusts the shirt, pulling it down, leaning back just enough to make it worse.
there goes the innocent act you were tryna uphold. she catches your reaction and smiles, amused. “you okay?”
“yeah,” you say quickly. “totally. fine.”
she hums. “you’re staring.”
you clear your throat because you were really hoping she wouldn't say anything, then, bashfully you counter with, “you are too.”
she doesn’t deny it. her eyes drop down to your shorts, the way your legs fold under you. “they’re very short.”
“i know,” you say, then wince. “i mean- i didn’t think about it like that, that wasn't like the plan or anything i-”
“mm,” she says. “sure.” she shifts closer. now your knees are touching fully, not just brushing. you take a breath. “can i ask you something?” she nods. “anything.”
oh god what were you doing?
your courage spikes and you spew what had been on your mind for the past twenty minutes. “do you wanna... try that kiss again?” wow, so much for being normal tonight.
her smile turns softer, warmer. “i thought you’d never ask.” she leans in this time without hesitating. your lips meet hers gently, and you’re more present now, less caught in your head. you kiss her slowly, deliberately, like you’re learning her technique. she responds quickly with her hand sliding to your waist, only, as she pulls herself closer to you you can't help the whine that falls from your lips as her tits press firmly against yours, moulding together so she can slip her tongue inside.
they feel so plush, so warm against your chest. like some psychic, she grabs one of your hands and places it against her right boob, letting you explore.
you're breathing heavy at the overwhelming appeal dripping from this exchange, squeezing gently making her gasp into your mouth.
she pulls back for just a second, looking you with lust in her caramel eyes. “can i go a little further?” you nod so fast it’s pathetic. “please.” she smiles and kisses you again, this time with more passion. she's not shy with where she's grabbing, her hands finding your butt and squeezing with a satisfied hum.
hm, so she was an ass girl. good to know.
she then lifts herself up and slips easily into your lap, sitting down on your bare thighs.
"is this okay, baby?" wow you almost moan at the name. from a man's mouth that pet name felt cringe, from hers? you think you cold listen to her say it a million times over.
"this is more than okay." you smile, and she gives you an open mouth kiss in appreciation. she takes your hand and presses it gently against her chest again, your breath stutters and you squeeze lightly. she makes this quiet whine that goes straight to your clit.
you moan softly into the kiss, startled by yourself. her hand mirrors yours, resting over your chest, squeezing just enough to make you melt into her. she’s in control, but she’s watching you closely, checking in without words. it makes you feel safe and secure in a way no man has ever done.
when the kiss finally breaks, you’re both lost for breath and touching foreheads, “wow.”
she smiles against your skin. “yeah.”
just as you're about to go at it after catching your breath, the door bell rings.
"fuck, that's the food..." you mumble. and she laughs as you push off the couch and towards the door. while you're gone, she's trying desperately to fix herself up and hide the mess between her legs, sitting on her knees so you couldn't see the dampness she's sure is there.
she's praying to god she didn't leave anything on your clothes as well..
.
the rest of the night eases into something soft without trying to be. food shows up, it's warm and fragrant, and you eat cross legged on the couch with mean girls playing in the background.
shoko cheekily smiles while stealing your fries and you laugh and take sips of her drink in return. the normalcy of it all feels unreal after how intense everything was an hour ago. you both have a few drinks you'd kept in your fridge, nothing hangover worthy but just enough to slow your brain down.
by now she seems more comfortable as she leans her head against your shoulder and leans into you when she laughs, you grin like a school girl and go with the flow.
halfway through the movie you realise you’re not paying any attention. you’re more focused on the way her fingers are scratching lightly up and down on your thigh, every now and then she glances up at you to gauge your reaction.
you smile and kiss your teeth in reply.
when the credits finally roll, it’s really late. the rain has softened to a quiet patter outside, the city sounding distant and tired.
you clear your throat. “hey.” she hums, looking at you. “yeah?”
“do you wanna… stay the night?” it comes out cautious, like you’re bracing for rejection even though everything in her body language says otherwise. she smiles quickly. “i was hoping you’d ask.”
relief hits you so hard you almost laugh. “okay sweet!” you hop up too fast, nerves kicking back in. “you can take my bed. i’ll grab blankets for the couch.”
she blinks at you. “why?”
“because i invited you over,” you say. “and because i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” she watches you for a second, then shakes her head. “that won’t be necessary.” you pause. “hmm?”
“just sleep in the bed with me,” she says simply. “if that’s okay.”
your face heats instantly. “oh. i mean. yeah. i just thought-” she steps closer and takes your hand before you can wack out. “we don’t have to do anything. i promise.”
you nod, embarrassed. “i wasn’t assuming.”
she smiles, gentle. “i know. i just want you to feel safe.” that word again. safe, she felt like it's definition at this point.
you take her to your room, showing her around the place abit before sitting on the edge, you watch as she settles beneath your covers and you take it as your sign to copy. your body's stiff and awkward until you lock eyes with her, she for your hand.
“you don’t have to be scared,” she laughs gently. you let your fingers lace with hers. “i’m not.” it’s not entirely true, and you think she could tell by the way she squeezes your hand.
“i don’t want sex tonight,” she adds softly. “i just want to be here with you.”
you didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “thank you.”
she shifts closer, just enough that your arms brush. it feels so intimate without being too overwhelming. you fall asleep like that, hand in hand, breathing in sync.
~
two weeks of that.
two weeks of hanging around eachothers places, making out on occasion, and watching shitty movies while cuddled up on the couch. la pretty sweet deal, if you did say so yourself.
you didn't have to be some performative pos infront of shoko because she was someone you felt comfortable with, you got to spend optimal time with one of the coolest people you knew, and said person had the same feelings for you as you did for her.
perfect.
well, almost.
the only thing wrong with this infatuating arrangement of swapping spit and touching up on each other, was the fact you hadn't put a label on any of this yet. usually, it would go something like this: you'd meet a guy, maybe screw around a bit, have him begging for your time for a date, go on said date, then you'd be asked out. (not that you'd ever said yes.)
obviously, with two chicks it was a different story. you knew you liked her. god, you liked shoko more than you'd ever liked anyone. with each passing day of just living in her presence, you've learnt that maybe you've been missing out your whole life on this whole gay thing. only thing is, how do you take this relationship to the next level?
do you have sex? is that the next thing? she'd been hinting at it lately but you weren't sure. do you ask her out first? maybe both? sex then a date? date then sex? this was all so confusing. your panicked thoughts came to fruition one night at a white lies party gojo's frat was hosting.
a theme that's been over-done to the max but was always a good laugh.
you'd texted shoko earlier that day to ask what she was up to and if she was coming, and she of course had already been invited by shiu. (who you've since found out is her plug, hence why she's always at the functions, she's lining his pockets as well as being his friend.)
smiling to yourself at the thought of retreating upstairs away from everyone else with shoko, you step into the house and smell that disgusting reek of spoiled alcohol.
a few weeks ago you'd be fluttering around greeting people, but as of late all you could muster is a quick wave as your beelined it to your pretty friend.
so, that's what you were doing. in your white shirt that spelt out "i'm coming" in messy handwriting, you're throwing small greetings to the people you recognise while making your way over the the couch shoko's always at.
you’re halfway across the living room when sukuna, this dumb meat head, spots you.
his eyes drag over you, then snag on your shirt. “no way,” he says, grinning. “is that true for me?” you stop because he steps directly into your path. for gods sake, you wished men you'd fucked months ago would stop thinking they were the centre of your universe. you force a very obviously fake smile and grit out, “it’s just a theme, sukuna.” he laughs, loud and annoyingly self assured. “so you’re saying there’s a chance?"
your gaze flicks past him, already searching for the couch. for her. you spot dark hair, her posture, long slender legs tucked up the way she always sits. relief and the sight of her unfathomable beauty almost makes your knees give out. you try to step around him but he moves again, blocking you off from your precious view. “come on. you telling me i can’t make that shirt honest tonight?”
oh you were so sick of this.
you don't know if it's the weeks of finally feeling content with your life without men like him running things or what, but you bark out a harsh, “move,” he raises a brow. “what?”
“i said move.” there’s no flirt in your voice like you'd usually put on, no. you're kind of over putting on such a facade for people you didn't really care about. the only person you wanted to impress with your charm and social skills right now was sitting on a couch you wished you were sitting at as well.
his grin falls. “damn, relax. i’m just talking.”
“god,” you say flatly. “can you just fuck off.”
a few heads turn. that alone is enough to shock him. you step forward and shove past his shoulder. he stares at your gobsmacked at your attitude. well, you're glad that was over. you were expecting some more yelling from him, so that was a plus.
you finish your journey and there she sits, wearing a white shirt with neat lettering that reads i’m not addicted to nic. you laugh under your breath as you drop down beside her. “liar,” you say.
she glances over, eyes lighting up. “takes one to know one.” you almost kiss her cheek infront of all of these people without thinking. the urge hits so fast it makes your head spin but you stop yourself at the last second, settling for leaning in close.
“hi,” you say instead.
“hi,” she replies softer.
wow, she looks good, it’s distracting.
her boobs looked really good in that shirt, you could faintly see the outline of her bra. you have to curl your fingers into your own thigh to keep from doing something reckless. she notices. her eyes dip then come back to your face, amused. “you okay?”
you swallow. “define okay.” her lips twitch into a smile. “you look… restless.” that’s one way to put it. she leans in close to whisper in your ear “we could go upstairs.” your breath leaves you in a slow exhale. “i’ve been waiting for you to say that.” you get the okay from geto beforehand, and he waves you two off. you'd bother assumed he was still under the impression you were strictly using his room for smoking, he said the smell went with his aura and that shoko could hot box it as much as she wanted. such a poser.
but, in reality, he had an ongoing bet with yuki about how long it would take for the two of you to go public. he knew.
the wooden door closes behind you, and it feels like a switch flips. like the noise and the eyes and the expectations all fall away.
shoko turns to you.
“can i kiss you?” she asks. you nod eagerly. “yes.” she doesn’t rush it. she steps into your space, gives you time to pull back if you want to, and you don’t.
your mouths meet, soft at first, then deeper as you relax into it. it’s so familiar now, but the way she's pushing up against you suggests she's feeling a little frisky.
you break the kiss just long enough to laugh. “why are you being so confident tonight?”
she smiles, forehead resting against yours. “i’ve just been thinking about you all day. can't get you out of my head.”
her voice.. holy shit, her voice. you kiss her again, your hands falling around her waist as hers grip your ass.
she really was being bold. and you loved it.
she now presses you back until your thighs hit the edge of suguru's bed. you sit without breaking the kiss, and she follows, sitting down in your lap.
"for the record, i never stop thinking about you, sho." you huff when the kiss breaks.
she smiles, small and mischievous. “i noticed.” her hands slide under your shirt, palms warm against your skin. your shoulders tense up but then relax when you realise you’re not nervous, you’re just keyed in.
she kisses down your neck, like she'd done a few times before, but now she was doing iit not only with passion, but with lust. she pulls at your shirt collar as she kisses down your collar. “shoko,” you whine, gosh, you never whined like that with men.
she hums against your skin, sultry and hungry. “mm?”
“don’t stop.” that’s all it takes. she nudges you further back onto the bed, guiding you until you’re lying down. she takes her time pushing your shirt up slowly, fingers dragging lightly over your stomach, watching your face the whole time. checking. always checking.
“tell me if you want me to stop,” she says.
you shake your head. “i will.”
“perfect.” she leans down again, looking you dead in your eyes as she drags her tounge from your belly button up to your bra, unhooking it at the back then pulling it off with her teeth.
wow, magic mike much? she's still giving you the fuck me eyes as she takes one of your hard nipples into her mouth, sucking gently pulling more pretty sounds from your throat.
you'd always thought this moment would feel wrong when you finally engaged. that maybe you'd freak out and stop her, but with the way she's murmuring praise and compliments into your skin while she sucks at your body paints a completely different picture.
"you're so beautiful, baby. prettiest tits i've ever seen." she smiles.
before you can thank her with an embarrassed flush, she bites down softly on your nipple and you moan ever so prettily, hooking your fingers into getos sheets.
was it bad you were doing this in your friends bed? probably.
didn't stop either if you though. as she continues kissing down your body, her hands slip into your shorts, thumbs hooking on the waistband. you lift your hips in instinct, helping her. the look she gives you at that is sexy and so approving.
“you're so eager,” she murmurs.
“shut up,” you say, embarrassed, but grinning. she slides your shorts down your legs, followed by your underwear, her movements are so fluid and feminine.
when she looks at you fully like this, open and bare under her gaze, your face heats. you almost cover yourself.
she catches your wrist gently before you can. “hey.” you meet her eyes. “you’re ethereal,” she says, like some simple fact.
and yeah, you knew you were pretty, a multitude of guys would line up to spout that in your ear. but having a beautiful girl like shoko say that meant so much more than all the men in the world combined.
she leans down, kisses your inner thigh, then the other. her mouth is warm, never quite where you want it yet. you squirm, letting out a soft sound you don’t recognise as yours. she smiles against your skin. “relax. i’ve got you.”
and she does.
her fingers part you slowly, like she’s learning how you'll react. she doesn’t rush, doesn’t push. just explores, touches, listens to the way your body responds. when she finally slips a finger inside you, it’s so gentle. you gasp, hands flying to her hair, gripping without meaning to.
she doesn’t tell you to let go.
she adds another finger once you relax around her, curling them just enough to make your thoughts scatter. your hips move on their own, chasing the high you so desperately wanted.
“shoko,” you breathe, a little wrecked already. she looks up at you, eyes focused. “yeah?”
“that feels… really good.” she chuckles softly. “i know.” she leans down again, mouth replacing her fingers for a moment, tongue slow and thorough. you go still, then melt, one hand covering your mouth to keep quiet. she pulls back just long enough to say, “you don’t have to be.
that’s permission you didn’t know you needed. her flat tongue spreads against your clit and you feel like fainting. she watches the way your face contorts in pleasure, and slowly licks through your folds with a hum of pleasure that vibrates through you. you've been eaten out before, but not like this.
not by another woman who knows exactly what to do to make you feel good.
she's lapping you up like a dog, her tongue flicking back and forth over your bud with her own pretty moans. the noises that rip from your throat are otherworldly, sounds you've never made.
"fuck, you taste so sweet, love." she smiles, her lips glistening with your own liquid.
you bite your lip at the sight and grind into the air, asking for more. "aww, so cute". and she dives back in. she alternates between her mouth and her fingers, never letting the building coil in your stomach drop, tightening it carefully. every time you get close, she eases off just enough to keep you right there.
“you’re doing so good,” she hums. "so good for me, baby." it’s almost too much. your body tightens, muscles drawing in, breath uneven. “i’m close,” you whine in between gasps.
she smiles and goes all in, her fingers plunge deep inside you as her mouth works and sucks at your clit, drawing more quips from your throat. shoko was intoxicated with you. your taste had her dripping and the way you were grinding into her mouth so desperately was driving her mad.
she could see why you had so much sex appeal, if this was a performance you were a damn good actor. she speeds up, solely focused on you finishing, hooking her fingers inside of you to reach that sponge spot she knew was making you dizzy. "c'mon, my sweet girl, give it to me."
that gets you, because in a mix of whining and gripping the fabric of the sheets, you come undone all over her fingers.
"atta girl."
after, she kisses your stomach, then curls up beside you, pulling you into her chest. your head fits there like it belongs.
you’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling, trying to come back into yourself.
“hey,” she murmurs. you hum in response, too relaxed to form words yet. “you okay?” she asks. you nod. “yeah. more than okay.”
“good,” she says, relief threading through her voice. “stay with me for a sec.”
she pushes off the bed to rummage through geto’s drawer, mumbling something under her breath about him being gross but prepared. when she comes back, she’s holding a packet of wipes she absolutely did not bring herself.
“god,” you laugh. “of course he has those.”
“right?” she says. she sits beside you again and gently helps clean you up, her delicate movements are careful and so, so respectful. she keeps checking your face, your reactions, making sure you’re still comfortable.
“tell me if anything feels weird,” she says quietly. “It doesn’t,” you reply. “it feels… nice.”
she sighs with a smirk that screams 'i'm infatuated with you,' then tosses the wipes aside and pulls you into her arms.
her fingers slide into your hair, combing through it slowly, you didn’t understand just how badly you needed this care until she so graciously gave it to you.
“there you go,” she murmurs. “just breathe.”
she gives your forehead a sweet kiss, then your nose, her hands are still moving against your scalp and you melt into her soft touch. “you did so good,” she says.
your face goes red. “i didn’t really do anything.”
“hmm, you trusted me,” she replies. “that counts.” you move up closer, curling into her.
“i kinda wish,” she adds after a moment, voice thoughtful, “that our first time doing… that… wasn’t in a frat house.”
you laugh softly. “yeah?"
“yeah,” she says. “like. your place. or mine. somewhere quieter. with real blankets. and a locked door.” you tilt your head back to look at her. “are you saying geto’s room isn’t romantic?”
she snorts. “i’m saying his vibes are deeply cursed.”
you laugh and squeeze her arm, "i guess it's kinda romantic since this is where we met,"
she nods and looks down at you with such love in her irises.
“i guess you're right. next time,” she says lightly.
next time. heck yeah, there was a next time.
“hey,” you say. “that was really amazing.” her expression softens. “yeah?”
“yeah,” you nod. “and for the record? you proved my shirt right.” she breaks, laughing, shoulders shaking as she hides her face in your neck. “oh my god.”
“i’m just saying,” you add. “very on theme.”
she lifts her head with her eyes bright. “good to know my reputation remains intact.” you grin, then grow quieter. “thank you. for taking care of me.”
she doesn’t joke this time. she cups your face gently, “always.” the way she looks at you makes your heart feel all gooey and soft, sure, you'd just had your first.. you don’t even know what to call it, with a girl, in a frat house, but it was the most intimacy you'd ever experienced.
she kisses you softly once more then tucks you back against her plush chest. her hand returns to your hair, slow and so soothingly repetitive, like she’s memorising the feel of you. you could fall asleep like this, you think. easily.
alas, “we should probably go back down eventually,” you mumble.
“eventually,” she agrees. “not yet.”
you smile, eyes closing. “okay.”
~
the plan was to go downstairs and go home, but apparently the universe had other plans for you and shoko. you're walking back down the stairs with shoko trailing behind you, when you look over the lounge room and dining area to see gojo.
he’s across the room, leaning against a pillar, his blue eyes already on you. the moment your eyes meet, his face falls. he looks so, so guilty. before you can tilt your head and scrunch your face up at him, he mouths a drunken, 'i'm sorry.' the fuck? sorry for what?
you barely have time to process it before you hear your name.
“oh my god, there she is.”
oh.
you turn, and there they are. the self centred butches you've grown to hate, but ones you’ve also known forever, or at least long enough to know exactly how shallow their look is right now. one of them laughs. “so that’s where you’ve been hiding.”
another tilts her head. “gojo spilled his guts, by the way. about you and this... girl.”
your stomach drops, but your spine stays straight.
“told you what?” you ask. they exchange looks, delighted. “that you’ve been blowing off parties because you’re obsessed with her,” she says, nodding at shoko. “kinda explains a lot.” behind you, you can feel shoko step back slightly, you can see in your peripheral how her shoulders curl into her body as she shys away from these girls nasty glares.
if you weren't pissed the fuck off before, you sure were now. shoko was confident in bed, but not when it came to judgey whores like this. “wow,” you say flatly. “you guys really rushed to conclusions fast.”
“don’t act like it’s not obvious,” one of them says. “you disappear for weeks and suddenly you’re glued to… this fag.”
the word hangs there, ugly even without being said properly. you watch shoko’s jaw tighten. you feel her hand twitch, like she’s deciding whether to leave or stay or disappear entirely.
and that’s it. you're not proud if the way you instantly get up in these girls faces like you were about to knock them in their teeth. “say that again.” you spit. they blink, completely thrown off.
you push the girl who said it back, and she stumbles like a pathetic feather. "don’t call her that." you bark. "insecure hoe's like you really piss me off." by now she's looking at you, then around the room like someone would give her a helping hand. "your life of sucking dick and getting trains ran through you really dumbs down your personality? huh? have to make others feel bad because you're just some pocket pussy?"
the onlookers are pissing themselves laughing and a handful of them are egging you on with the odd cheer. she literally starts crying. you half scoff and half laugh at how pathetic she was being.
maybe that wasn't exactly crystal for your shiny record, but the only thing you can think to care about right now was shoko, and they were making her feel shitty.
one of them scoffs. “you're fucking insane! we're just concerned.”
“no,” you say. “you’re bored.” you step back, placing yourself slightly in front of shoko without even thinking about it. not hiding her. just making it clear where you stand.
geto and yuki, who happened to be nearby, were taking this all in and nodding to themselves, clinking glasses. those two were never a good mix when it came to conspiracy, because their predictions always came to fruition.
“you’re all so wrapped up in your own little worlds that the second someone stops orbiting you, you get nasty,” you say. “and honestly? it’s embarrassing.” more people start looking. “you think you’re better than us now?” one of them snaps.
you shrug. “no. i just think i’m done pretending i like you.” that one stings. you see it hit.
“so what, you’re dating her now?” another says, sneering. “is that it?” you glance at shoko. she’s watching you closely, eyes searching your face, like she’s bracing for impact. you grab her hand.
“yeah,” you say. “maybe i am.”
their faces twist with both disgust and dissatisfaction, the girl you'd clocked was long gone, probably off crying somewhere.
you reach back and take shoko’s hand.
you don’t look away from them as you do it. “if you’ve got a problem with who i like,” you say, “that’s yours to deal with. not mine.”
they look so pathetically small now. mean in a way that isn’t powerful anymore. you turn away from them without another word and start toward the door, tugging shoko gently along with you. people part as you pass, some smiling ear to ear, some indifferent, most already losing interest.
college attention spans are short like that.
you guide her into the night and down the street a few paves. then shoko pulls you into a hug. it’s sudden and oh so tight. her arms wrap around you and her face presses into your shoulder like she needs to make sure you’re still there.
“thank you,” she says quietly. you hold her just as tight. “for what?”
“for that,” she says. “for not letting them talk like that. for… choosing me, i guess.”
you smile into her hair, and squeeze her arm twice. "for you i'd do that a million times over, sho." she pulls back just enough to look at you. her eyes are bright, a little wet, a lot warm.
“you know that was big, right?” she says gently. “for you.”
you nod. “yeah.”
“are you okay?” she asks. you think about it. about the way your chest feels lighter than it has in years. about how scared you were ten minutes ago and how steady you feel now. “yeah,” you say. “more than okay.”
she smiles, then her eyes change from bittersweet to playful.
“so,” she says, tilting her head. “we’re dating now, huh? that’s news to me.”
your face heats up instantly. “what? no, i just- i was proving a point-."
“mm,” she says. “sure.”
“oh gosh,” you blush. “i didn’t mean to, like, announce anything.” she steps closer, getting up in your space. “you don’t want to date me?”
you open your mouth and stumble. “that’s not- i didn’t say-”
she kisses you. her lips mould perfectly with yours. when she pulls back, she smiles. “i’d love to date you.” you stare at her for a good second, then you giggle. “yeah?”
“yeah,” she says. you lean in and kiss her again, grinning into it.
college is messy. people talk. parties get crashed. friendships crack and reform and fall apart.
but right now, with shoko's hand in yours and the night fanning open in front of you, none of that feels so scary anymore.
it feels like a beautiful beginning for you, and this beautiful, allusive girl you'd become infatuated with.
okay, yeah. maybe you were a little gay.
"i haven't seen you smoking lately, what's up with that?"
"i only smoke when i'm stressed. i use your tits as stress toys now, so there's no need."
summary! frat boy gojo's come to you seeking help on his physics homework (when in reality, he just wants to be around you), and when you get to his apartment, you're surprised to see his equally as attractive, yet very nerdy looking twin. if his brother was so smart, why did he need your help? and worser yet, why were they both eying you up like something to eat..? (fratjo is awkward and sweet, nerdjo is flirty and sly.)
PART TWO <– here by @pillsatoru as apart of our collab !
"c'monnn, please sweetheart? i'll even pay you."
gojo was constantly nagging you in physics. if the course wasn't gruelling enough, this 6'4 chunk of awkward muscle was making it worse with his insistence on being the centre of your attention.
"just a few hours at my off campus place! no frat guys involved at all, pleaseeee?" he begged from his seat next to you.
he had his head tilted and propped up in his palm, with his stupid backwards hat and that infuriatingly seductive stare. after a few minutes of pleading, you caved.
“okay,” you mumble after a second, pretty eyes falling over your notebook. “but only because you look really stressed. and just for a bit, yeah?"
yeah, 'stressed'. little did you know he was fine at the subject, he just needed an excuse to hang out with you because he was too shy to ask you out properly. for a notorious charmer like gojo, he was surprisingly bad at talking to you, the one girl he actually wanted.
he gave you quick side hug and scuffled your hair, jumping out of his seat, "you won't regret this!" and he zoomed off mumbling something about needing to 'tell his bro to clean up.' whatever that meant.
you blush at the empty seat he left behind, fingers tapping at your pen. your heart feels a little fast, which is stupid, because it’s just gojo. your silly, overly friendly-friend gojo. you tell yourself you only agreed because you didn’t want him to fail. that’s all!
the thing was, although you and gojo were what most would consider good friends, you'd never seen him as the guy who'd hang around someone like you.
you were shy in the way that made people lean in when you spoke because they couldn't quite hear. the kind of person who listened more than she talked, who remembered the little important things, who said sorry too often even when you didn’t even do anything wrong, and he was this big bravado fratboy who everyone loved and adored.
you two were starkly different.
but, as your relationship started to grow after he'd decided you were his new best friend in physics, you'd come to realise he was more of a nervous wreck hiding behind fake confidence than anything.
he'd always toy impulsively with your cute pens, draw silly doodles all over your notes, then get shy when you drew on his back, he'd shut the lid of your laptop whenever you were typing just to piss you off, then apologise over and over when you ignored him after. he'd call you sweet names like, 'honey,' and 'sweetheart', only to blush like crazy afterwards because when it came to you, all the chivalry he'd accumulated from talking to so many women at parties decided to disappear.
nevertheless, gojo thought you were really cute, so much so that he needed a super intelligent plan to get closer to you without asking you outright. class time wasn't cutting it for him anymore, he wanted more.
so, what better way than to invite you over for a 'study sesh' and try to wow you with his other skills? maybe he'd cook you something, that'll surely make you swoon!
he just had to warn satoru that he'd be coming over with a guest..
~
you [7:34 pm]: hey !!
you [7:34 pm]: i'm outside >_0
gojo stares at your message with a big smile on his too-perfect face. your little emoticons always got him giddy, who even used those anymore? you, apparently. and it was adorable.
then, he's knocked out of his daydreamy cloud when he realises you're out there, waiting.
"oh fuck."
he scrambles off his bed like a clumsy idiot towards his full length mirror, he looks at himself in the reflection and toys with his locks until they looked voluminous and wavy, then flexes his muscles as some sort of confidence boost.
with one big deep breath, he stalks towards the front door and opens it with a grin.
you're there, standing so sweetly with your text books in one hand and laptop in the other.
cute.
in a panic, he spurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
"wow, you look... really.. epic?"
what the fuck gojo.
he cringes so bad. of course the first thing he says to you is something a two year old would say to a drawing his friend showed him. god, strike me down now. i deserve it.
“o-oh,” you say, heat creeping up your neck. “thank you.” you tuck your hair behind your ear, very interested in the concrete by your feet. what did that even mean?
he clears his throat and opens the door further for you to walk in. this night was already turning out bad and he hadn't even started cheffing up.
you decide to disregard gojos comment. after all, he was always like that, right? the same goofy guy you'd been sitting with for a year now. nothing weird!
the apartments nice, he's apparently got good taste when it comes to decor. warm browns and reds, like a cool 2000's mum's house. only, when you place your things down on the kitchen bench, you spot some manga and an unopened pack of digimon cards in the shelving on the wall.
wait, was he into that? really? him?
satoru's the picture perfect frat guy. he's attractive, really athletic, you wanna say smart but you haven't seen proof of that just yet, and loud. especially loud.
he's so outwards with his interests and hobbies there's no way he could of possibly hid this from you. he's too much of a blabber mouth.
did he live with someone? did he have a roommate? this was only his off campus apartment after all..
you stare at the geeky little section with a small smile until you're pulled back to reality when he comes up behind you and slips into the head seat of the dining table.
his laptop's already sitting there ready for 'studying', and you sit down in the closest chair. then, he takes another deep breath as he trys and fails miserably to make some more small talk. maybe score another hang out!
"so, you doing anything this weekend?" please say nothing, please say nothing!
you toy with the sleeve of your sweater, "our finals due on monday, so just studying." you reply softly, opening your first textbook up to the index.
"cool, cool." god, how was he gonna save this? he didn't prepare for the conversation aspect of this as much as he'd prepared the house and the ingredients for whatever he was gonna make you.
before he can cook up another grade A conversation starter, you speak for him.
“um,” you start, then stop. your fingers worry at the edge of your sleeve. “this is silly, but… do you like digimon?” you ask curiously, looking up at him as he leans back into his chair. you couldn't help yourself, you had to know.
he's confused first, then follows your line of sight to the self. shit, he thought he told satoru to move his nerdy crap!
he scoffs, then shakes his head. "o-oh, no, that's my brothers. he's into all that pokémon esk shit." he nervously laughs.
brother?...
on cue, who else but satoru walks out of what looks like a bedroom. and holy wow, he's identical to gojo.
your face must show some kind of shock, because he laughs a bit, smiles, winks at you? then he waves.
you gently wave back and beside you, gojo's staring daggers at this man.
"i told you to stay in your room, toru. you're cramping my style."
satoru just rubs his neck and shoots gojo an apologetic, yet mischievous smile, pushing the bridge of his black rimmed glasses up his nose.
"sorry, bro. didn't mean to interrupt you and your girl, just needed water." he laughs.
oh gosh, his laugh was hot.
on instinct, you accidentally blurt out, "i'm uhm... i'm not his girl." then, you slap a hand over your mouth like you were trying to push the words back in.
satoru raised a brow at your adorable hastiness.
"oh, i'm so sorry, sweetheart. didn't mean to assume anything, i just thought since you were here and gojo only really brings girls he's involved with over i-"
"oh my god, shoosh, satoru." gojo groans. you watch as satoru's face relaxes and he once again, rubs his neck.
he's cute, and surprisingly flirty for such a nerdy looking guy...
where gojo would have mounding bulk, satoru had a slimmer, yet still muscular look. gojo was taller, but satoru had his same, beautiful face.
satoru smirks and lazily steps up to the table, “i’m satoru. gojo’s twin. he didn't tell me he had such a cute friend.” he takes your hand into his and kisses the back softly.
your face goes pink as you choke out a, "hi.. i'm [name], it's uh.. super nice to meet you." you gulp, but satorus too busy looking you fondly in the eye to notice.
from beside you, gojo's scoffing at this little interaction. this was supposed to be a you and him thing, not a you him, and his brother thing.
satoru pulls out a chair and sits on the other side of you, deciding it would be rude to just leave you so abruptly after meeting. not because he thought you were the cutest thing since they brought out biyomon plushies, of course not.
“so, you're the one helping this meat head study, huh?”
you nod quickly. “just a bit. i mean, i’m not amazing or anything.” you bashfully smile.
“oh.” satoru smirks, “that’s so, so nice of you.”
gojo clicks his tongue. “don’t sound so shocked.”
“i’m not,” satoru says with a yawn. “i try to help you out all the time and you brush me off, she must be special. are you smart, honey?" he's now talking to you again, watching your eyes so intently it makes your thighs press together.
“she's very smart, so go away." gojo scoffs, grabbing at your wrist to make you face him, not his snarky brother.
you freeze a little at the sudden tension, shoulders drawing in to yourself. you’re not used to being the reason voices get so sharp like this.
gojo leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest. he feels like a poser all of a sudden. his brother with his degrees and his fancy equations and his stupidly suave charm. you with your organised life and perfect mannerisms. and him, who doesn't look the part, but feels like the biggest dork here.
maybe you’d be better off with someone like satoru.
someone who speaks your language. someone who wouldn’t need to beg for help. someone who wouldn’t drag you into his mess just to get your attention because he's too pussy to just ask you out on a proper date. jeez, having a crush sucked.
he clicks his tongue and straightens up, enough with the depressing thoughts, he's better than that, he wanted you, and if satoru was gonna stand in the way, he would just have to prove he's better.
“anyway,” he says, louder than necessary because god forbid you two forget him for more than a minute. “toru here's in astrophysics.”
you look back at satoru, eyes lighting up. “oh wow! really?”
satoru nods,. “yes mam. i’m doing my honours thesis right now, pretty hard stuff...”
“urgh, see?” gojo says, waving a hand at him. “total geek.”
satoru just chuckles, still eyeing you up with his eyes hooded behind those glasses.
you tilt your head, confusion creasing your brow. “wait...”
gojo hums, and you look at him now, not satoru. your voice is still gentle, but there’s curiosity and logic in the undertone.
“if your brothers taking such a high level physics course, why do you need my help?”
yikes. cats outta the bag.
gojo opens his big mouth, but of course, nothing comes out.
his face heats up far too fast, and not in a cool way. not in a smooth way. his ears go red and he rubs the back of his neck hard, suddenly very interested in the grain of the table.
“i mean-" he starts. “it’s not like- god, he’s busy. and it’s not exactly the same material. and i didn’t want to bother him and-"
he looks at you and you're staring up at him with those big, thoughtful eyes, and he sighs. there's no point in lying to you.
he laughs. “okay, yeah. fine.”
satoru looks between the two of you with a smile.
gojo exhales. “i wasn’t desperate. i just-" he shrugs, awkward. “wanted you over, or whatever. i think you're really sweet."
you smile at that, because yeah, you knew, but listening to him ramble made you smile. "you could of just asked to hang out... i would of said yes." you push lightly, and he chokes out a laugh at how suddenly teasing you're being.
"alright then, c'mon." he pushes his chair back and pulls you up too, guiding you towards the kitchen with one strong arm. he gets you infront of the bench then lifts you up, putting you down on the counter with ease. you giggle in shock, but settle as he pats your thigh.
"you're gonna watch me whip up some mean fried rice." he says with a huge grin. "what i really brought you here for, sweets." he has to turn around immediately so you don't see the blush crawling at his cheeks. he bumps into the fridge as he turns like the big guy he is, then apologises to the fridge under his breath, and opens it up to get the ingredients out.
you're really conflicted right now, if you were being honest.
first off, sure, satoru's always been your friend, but you'd assumed he was too out there for your type of personality to mesh with. so, you pushed down whatever romantic feelings begun to blossom the day he started harmlessly teasing you in class because he was that guy, confident and funny, you were just some shy girl in his physics class.
but now, he was pretending to need help just to be in your company? what was the universe playing at?
and to add insult to injury, he's got this secret sexy brother who looks like a slyer, more calculated version of him. was having a crush on two brothers at once a sin or something? if so, you're going to hell.
pulling you out from your thoughts is satoru, who announces from his spot at the dining table, "i'll leave you two too it then." as he stands from his seat. but, just as he's about to head to his room you quickly blurt out a, "wait-" then flush when both of them look at you. “i-i mean… you don’t have to go. if that’s okay.”
"hmm?" he looks over his shoulder at you, smiling like he knew you'd say something to keep him there.
"i- i just... you don’t have to go, right, gojo? do you have enough for three?" you turn back around to look at gojo, you can tell he's about to pout and say no, but when he locks his gaze on yours and you're staring at him with those pleading eyes, he sighs and caves. "of course he can."
satoru grinds then slips onto the stool at the breakfast bar behind you, pulling at the hem of your sweater.
"thanks, sweetheart. you're so kind." he winks.
there's a crack from gojo's direction and you whip around to see he'd accidentally snapped the wooden spoon he was using to stir fry the vegetables.
"oo, someone's antsy."
"shut up, toru."
satoru just chuckles smoothly and leans back in his chair like he owns the place, ankles crossed, eyes flicking between you and gojo with that knowing little curl to his lip.
“so,” he says clicking his teeth. “how’s frat life treating you these days?”
gojo perks up instantly, like a dog who's owner just got home.
“oh, it’s sick,” he says brightly. “the guys are great. loud as hell, but great. we just moved the couch again because suguru kept spilling beer on it and swore it was cursed. friday nights are kinda wild, but sundays we just order dumb amounts of food and pass out watching trash tv.”
he laughs easily, hands moving as he talks. he sounds far more comfortable than he did a minute ago, you loved when he talked about the frat, it was obvious he really loved his friends.
“sounds… lively,” satoru says. his eyes sharpen up just a touch. “and all the girls you bring over? they enjoying the hospitality too?”
... oo, that hit.
gojo stalls, “uh,” he says. “i mean. it's not really like that.”
you look at him, curiously, and he notices immediately.
“i don’t-" he rushes on. “i mean sometimes people come over, sure, but it’s not like a big thing. and it’s not like i’m just dragging random girls back every night or whatever. that’s not really me.”
he laughs, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
“toru’s understating. like always.”
satoru hums. “am i?”
his eyes flick to you. “i just figured,” he continues, mild, “with his reputation and all, you’d be used to a revolving door.”
gojo swallows. you can tell he hates how that sounds. hates how it might settle with you.
“it’s not like that,” he says again, quieter. “i don’t want you thinking i’m some… i don’t know.. man whore. i don't sleep around with more women than anyone else."
he trails off, glancing at you, then away. the confidence drains right out of him when your attention is on him like this.
before it can stretch too long, he clears his throat and turns to you, desperate for safer ground.
“hey,” he says. “how are you going with finals? you said monday was rough.”
you smile up at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice and the fact he'd remembered such a small detail from the conversation you'd had earlier this week.
“oh gosh..." you sigh. “i'm a bit stressed out, but it's okay. physics is really killing me but i think i’ve got a handle on it all."
“see,” gojo says quickly. “she’s got it.”
satoru smiles.
“i could help you out, [name],” he says.
but it's the way he says it that makes your chest beat faster.
“i’m very good at explaining things,” he adds, eyes on you. “and i have a lot of free time when i’m not buried in my thesis. if you ever needed… extra support.”
gojo spits. “she doesn’t.”
satoru ignores him.
“i mean it,” he says to you. “i’d give you everything you could ever need, all of it.”
you choke on absolutely nothing. the dampness between your thighs is getting worse and worse with each teasing word from satoru and sweet stumble from gojo.
satoru’s mouth perks up, satisfied.
gojo’s neck muscle twitched, he turns back to the stove, stirring the rice with unnecessary force.
“she’s smart,” he says. “she doesn’t need you swooping in like that.”
“i’m not swooping in,” satoru replies. “i’m only offering.”
“yeah, well, stop.”
the rice starts to cook through. gojo doesn’t notice until it crackles, he mutters something under his breath and abandons the pot entirely, stepping over to you instead, wanting to have more of a connection in this now very tense room.
he scans your face, then it seems as if his eyes snag on something because he stands close, like, really close.
“sorry,” he says, suddenly shy again. “your hair’s just.”
he reaches up, hesitates for a second, then gently nudges a strand away from your face. his fingers barely brush your cheek.
“it was in the way,” he adds, stumbling.
you look up at him. his ears are red and his pretty blue eyes won’t stay still. he was adorable, never mind you.
inside his head, he's beating himself up, because he knows how this is supposed to go. he knows how to flirt, how to charm women, how to talk like he knows exactly what he’s doing. he’s done it a hundred times with girls, the difference is, they never look at him like you do. with that understanding smile and kind eyes, no. they stare with lust and passion, they're tarte where you're sweet.
with you, everything's so, so different.
satoru watches this with a very open kinda amusement.
“wow,” he says. “you’re really doing a number on him.”
gojo groans. “shut up.”
“i’ve never seen you like this,” satoru continues. “usually you can’t stop talking. now you’re tripping over yourself.”
you laugh softly.
gojo’s eyes snap back to you.
“i am not,” he says, but there’s no heat behind it.
you reach out absentmindedly, your fingers curling around his hand where it rests on the counter. his skin is warm and solid. he stiffens up then relaxes when you don’t pull away.
“the food smells amazing,” you say. “i can't wait to try it.” under your breath, you mouth, "ignore him." and he smiles at you sweetly.
“y- yeah,” he says. “cool. cool.”
he squeezes your hand without realising he’s doing it and his face feels like it’s on display. he turns away fast, back to the stove, bumping his hip on the counter again.
satoru chuckles.
“careful,” he says. “you’re going to hurt yourself.”
gojo flips him off without looking.
you stay where you are, hand still where he left it, smiling to yourself. this back and forth was something else...
.
when the foods ready, you end up on the couch.
you're wedged between them on the plush leather, their thighs on either side of yours, brushing up on you every time they moved.
south park starts to play on comedy central and you balance your plate carefully, fork hovering as you take a bite.
holy wow, it’s good, better than good.
“hey,” you say, nudging gojo lightly with your elbow. “you did a really nice job, this is good.”
his face lights up and he laughs like the goof he is.
“yeah?” he asks. “i mean, i kinda eyeballed the seasoning, but i figured-"
“it’s really good,” you repeat softer.
he grins, wide and proud, and satoru clicks his tongue.
“easy there,” satoru says. “don’t inflate his ego too much, sweets."
“i’m so serious,” you say. “the rice is perfect.”
satoru peers at his plate, poking at the vegetables. “except,” he adds, “someone was stingy with the broccoli.”
gojo scoffs. “you literally took extra.”
“i did not.”
“watch me genuinely crash out, you took half of mine already!"
satoru leans over you regardless and plucks a head of green from your plate, he takes it to his mouth and eats it, winking at you before he swallows.
gojo makes a very offended noise on your behalf, "oh, come on,” he says. “that’s rude.”
he stabs one of his own pieces of broccoli and reaches up with his other hand. his fingers tilt your chin toward him and he guides the fork to your mouth.
you freeze for a sec, then open up, taking it from him.
“see,” he says. “much better.”
you can feel both of them watching you. satoru’s smile is sly and gojo’s ears are bright red.
they're so close, you can feel their breathing from time to time, their biceps brushing up against your shoulders, gojo's thick thigh hard against yours while satoru's arm snakes around the back of the couch. you couldn't do this anymore, one more second of this sweet torture and you'd end up in a coma.
“hey, uhm... guys? i should probably head home.” you say, twirling a strand of hair through your finger. you'd wanted to stay longer, maybe have a civil talk to one of them instead of this brotherly banter, but the heat between your legs needed tending to and you weren't taking the chance of if they'd give you what you wanted or not.
gojo’s head snaps toward you. “huh? already?” you swear you see his eyes go glassy.
“i'm sorry gojo, it’s just so late,” you say, even though you don’t sound convinced yourself.
"aw man." he sighs, satoru only laughs at his brothers childish gesture.
you pat his thigh softly then stand, an action you didn't know sent heat straight to his cock. you gather your things, trying your best not to stagger from the shake in your legs.
as you're about to say the last of your goodbyes and retreat to the comfort of your dorm, you hear rain. it's heavy, and it's loud.
how perfect.
you peer through the window and the street is soaked. lightning flashes in the sky, thunder rolling in close behind it.
you sigh. “of course.”
gojo’s stumbling up himself, grabbing the keys to his car. “i can drive you!"
another crack of thunder cuts him off and the rain comes down much harder.
satoru laughs softly. “yeah, that’s not happening.”
you hesitate, fingers tightening around your bag strap.
“you can stay,” gojo says quickly. “i mean, i can pull out a mattress. you can take my bed. i’ll sleep on the floor! it’s fine.”
“or,” satoru says, stepping closer, “you could come stay in my bed.”
he takes your hand before you realise he’s doing it, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“my bed’s bigger,” he adds. “and i’d be happy to share with you, honey.”
your words tangle. “i- i don’t-"
gojo grabs your other wrist, not hard, just gently. “no! stay with me,” he says. “you’re comfortable with me.”
satoru tilts his head. “oh c'mon, could help her study.”
“don’t,” gojo snaps.
“keep you up all night,” satoru continues in your ear now, voice dropping. “i’d teach you everything you wanted to know, sweet girl... and i can tell there's a lot you want to learn."
gojo shakes his head, flustered. “no! no. come with me, we could play games, uno, snakes and ladders. whatever you want, [name].”
gojo usually thrived off of competition, but with his own brother? for a girl he'd been crushing on for months? no thanks.
satoru was eating this up, his cock twitched and pulsed with each small noise that slipped from your mouth. he could tell you needed tending to, he had a good eye. and he was gonna use that to piss off his brother to the best of his ability.
you’re stuck between them, being pulled in two directions. your pulse is loud in your ears. both of them are talking, offering, trying.
then, satoru leans down to whisper one final offer in your ear, he'd spotted the way your thighs were clenched and decided to capitalise on the opportunity.
“i’ll treat you real good if you come sleep with me, baby,” he murmus. “let me make you feel good.”
that’s it.
gojo's pulls you back, shoving satoru away from you with a sharp push.
“what the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps. “don't be so vulgar, she's not used to it.”
satoru laughs, unbothered. “c'mon, relax.”
“and don’t touch her like that,” gojo continues. “you just met her, for gods sake. i’ve known her for ages.”
“oh yeah? and look how far that got you,” satoru shoots back. “you’re too busy tripping over yourself to realise what she really needs.”
“shut up.”
“you don’t get how her brain works,” satoru says calmly. “she needs someone smart enough to keep up.”
your chest tightens. “hey.”
neither of them listens.
“you think cooking rice makes you impressive?” satoru adds. “she deserves more than that.”
"you don’t know what she needs! she'd be better off with a guy whose egos bigger than his dick."
"and you're any better? i bet you couldn't satisfy a girl like her even if you tried. all those sorority hoes have your head inflated."
"you better watch your fucking mouth-"
before gojo flips out, you step forward, placing yourself squarely between them.
they stop.
you look between them, sensing both anger and curiosity in their eyes.
“i-" you swallow, then steady yourself. “stop deciding things for me when i'm standing right here.”
CONTENT WARNING. MDNI, fem! reader, law student! reader, lawyer higuruma, 6.9k words, age gap (24&36), fluff & smut, slow burn? game of thrones references, porn with plot, unprotected sex, office sex, rough? sex, sloppy makeouts, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, higuruma is an EATER, spit, praise, choking, pussy spanking, dirty talk, belly bulge, big dick higuruma, he loves eye contact, dacryphilia? he’s mean & cocky if you squint. enjoy!
your pen sits between your teeth as your eyes switch from the thick textbook splayed open on your kitchen island and your laptop screen.
the cursor blinks for the millionth time in your setup word document. countless words plastered in that irritating format of times new roman size twelve that you’ve done a thousand times over.
words mutter under your breath as you multitask in reading, taking notes, and applying the newfound information to your assignment.
“hey, is your prof still asking you guys to take internships?”
your roommate comes from hibernating out of her room, eyes glued to her phone as she saunters over to the kitchen.
you barely catch the words that fly out her mouth, brows furrowing as you look up from your work for the first time in hours. the swivel stool you sat on creaks as you sit up straighter, cringing from how long you held that crouching position.
“uh…. no.” you shake your head, confused as to why she brought it up. she was never the type to dwell on your life as a law student unless overhearing about a case study that seemed ‘too juicy’ to skip out on. “deadline’s like, next week so they’re just talking about the paper due the week after to describe our experience so far.”
“oh.” she says, sounding surprised. “well, did you find anything?”
you hum. “i’ve got an interview tomorrow. it’s multi-hire so i’ve got a good chance. why?”
“nothing really.” she shrugs, taking a breath as she scavenges the freezer, grabbing the first pint of ice cream she sees. “a friend of my cousin works at this law firm and i think she said they’re looking for a temp since she’s going out of the country for a while.”
you nod, chewing on the end of your pen. “send me their info. i’ll check it out.”
so that’s exactly what you do. your roommate helps you exchange information with this friend who you’ve learned to be is a young woman named shimizu. she worked as a assistant for an independent defense attorney, higuruma hiromi.
you’ve heard his name a few times from news outlets, primarily known to take on difficult cases but nonetheless highly skilled and quite honestly a prime example of what you hoped to become as far as talent.
shimizu was going overseas for a little over half a year. that’s entirely way more than what your assignment calls for but you would be paid well plus it could serve as the perfect job to strengthen your experience in law.
it didn’t take much for shimizu to hire you, her eagerness to hurry up and leave was clear. she sent you an email describing her normal routine, things to keep an eye on that higuruma normally forgets and a warning to just be patient for any cases he picks up.
naturally, you were nervous. palms sweating as you clutched your purse and tucked the folder shimizu provided tightly between your arm.
your heels clack with each step you make up into the building then finally, in bold letters, ‘higuruma law office’. you knock, looking around as you wait for a response.
“come in.”
the voice is so deep it sends chills down your spine. anxiety pools your chest as you twist the handle, making slow hesitant steps into the office.
it’s small but not cramping and fairly neat. you continue forward, making your presence known. who you assume to be higuruma sits at a chair, pen scribbling against a paper at an incredible speed.
he doesn’t look up at first, deeply sighing and too focused on the work in front of him. that is until he takes notice of your silence following your entry. his eyes immediately lift, dragging over your attire for a momentary second. “i’m sorry.” he clears his throat, standing then approaching you with his hand out. “how can i help you?”
“i… uhm… i’m y/n.” you meet his hand with a nervous smile. “i’m filling in for shimizu?” it’s embarrassing how unsure you sound as if you hadn’t met shimizu yourself telling you detail for detail about the duties of the job.
his brows furrow slightly as he slowly slips his hand from your weak grip. he checks his watch then runs his fingers through his hair. “right, right. i forgot about that…” he sighs, moreso to himself and then nods, pointing to the empty cubicle beside his. “take a seat, did shimizu already inform you on what we’re currently working on?”
you nod, carefully setting your belongings down and making yourself comfortable on the chair.
“could i see? if you don’t mind.” he stands over you, watching as you turn the monitor on with quickness and log in to your email account, surfing through the important ones you had starred before finally landing on shimizu’s.
higuruma leans over, his presence immediately makes you feel small and you can slightly feel the weight of his chest as he gently grabs the mouse from your hand.
you keep your eyes on the screen, fiddling with your fingers while he looks at the lengthy details relayed. suddenly, he takes a breath then clicks forward and slides the keyboard over.
“looks good.” he finally stands, eyes dropping down to you. “we’ll just be working on that for today. if anything changes i’ll let you know.”
for the first three weeks of working for higuruma goes the same way. coming into the office, saying hello, and him sharing any updates on the current case. some days call for extremely long hours, others are your typical. then there were days like today where you’d be traveling together and have to stay overnight at hotels.
one room, separate beds.you and higuruma hadn’t crossed that bridge of being comfortable with one another just yet. it was still awkward smiles and brief exchanges of conversation only in relation to work.
with the work day being over, you showered and decided to walk around the hotel for a bit, maybe grab a bite to eat. you also brought your textbooks and laptop so you could use the time to study for the baby bar you have coming up.
you sat at a table, eating as you focus on your studies. no more than half an hour passes when a figure approaches your table.
“mind if i sit?”
your eyes lift at the deep voice, widening for a short second as you realize it to be higuruma’s. he stands there in a plain black t-shirt and same colored plaid pajama pants with a plate of food in his hand.
it was different to see him in a more cosy state rather than being suited up. when you focus on the fact he’s still there, tilting his head as he waits on your response you sit up and nod a bit frantically.
“yes—yes, of course. please sit.” you gesture to the seat ahead of you which he takes.
it’s silent for a moment as you’re more frigid now, eyes glued to your book without reading a damn thing. higuruma pops a fry into his mouth, looking around the semi-packed dining area before returning his attention to you. “you’re still in school?”
you nod, “in my first year.”
he raises a subtle brow at that which you don’t even notice considering you’ve found it difficult to always make eye contact with him.
“first year?” he hums, chewing down on another fry. “you’re young.”
“i guess…” you laugh shyly. “it’s not like you’re old.”
he smiles at that, leaning in with his elbows on the table as he continues to take singular bites of his food. “you don’t think so? how old do you think i am?”
you shrug, finally lifting your eyes to scan the features of his face.
he was obviously older than you but you only deduced that from the way he talks and conducts himself yet he didn’t share any facial features that gave away his age.
“thirty?” you squint, not wanting to guess too high and he gets offended.
he chuckles, shaking his head. “no, but i’m honored you thought that low. i’m thirty six.”
“still young.” you smile, dropping your eyes back down.
“so what’re you learning?” he sighs, leaning back again, spreading his long legs to be more comfortable and points at your books.
“nothing really.” you mumble. “just studying for the baby bar.”
“wow…” he nods partially in shock, suddenly thinking of the age gap between you. it’s been so long since his days of staying up all day and all night long when preparing for that exam. “you think you’ve got it? i could help you out.”
you definitely don’t got it. there were still at least another two months before you’d have to take the exam. all the current information you were learning was still processing and quite honestly you had a habit of doubting your skills and weren’t sure if you’d be able to get the score you’re aiming to achieve.
you shake your head at higuruma’s offer. “no, it’s okay. you already have so much going on. i rather not add to that.”
“i’m offering.” he smiles warmly, wanting to assure that it wasn’t a big deal as he crosses his arms lazily across his chest.
it’s only for second that you ogle the surprising size of his bicep when it’s contracted. you shake your head again. “i’ll be fine. thank you though. i appreciate it.”
higuruma hums not pushing any further on the subject. “do you drink?” he asks after swallowing down a bite of his burger.
“sometimes.” you shrug, clicking through your documents of notes that you were hardly paying attention to with higuruma making small conversation.
“would you like to drink now?”
the second time you look at him you see the teasing look in his own as if he’s urging you to loosen up for the night. he’s clearly in the mood to get to know you. perhaps one night of a few drinks wouldn’t be so bad.
“i suppose…” you sport a bashful smile, clicking out of your tabs and shutting down your laptop. you set it aside with your textbooks as higuruma orders your first round of drinks.
it starts off timid as if he’s testing the waters with some cocktails then began to try a little of everything. tropical drinks, shots, beer, and wine. of course you limited yourself to one of each— aside from the shots due to the fact you had a busy day tomorrow but it was surely enough to get you a bit passed tipsy.
higuruma proved to be holding his liquor better than you, smiling fondly as you babble on about the targaryen family line. at first he was curious about a video you were laughing at from tiktok and had to explain it was from game of thrones. you then learned he never watched the show and thought he’d find major interest in it.
you would yap about the politics, power, family, loyalty, and corruption. though once you got to the targaryens, higuruma had to pause at the mention of inbreeding.
“so what’s the difference between velaryons’s and targaryen’s?”
“velaryon and targaryen are house names.” you giggle, toying with your straw. “family lines. being valyrian is like, their racial background.”
“interesting…” he nods, sipping on his rum & coke. “and what’s the relationship between uh… daenerys? and jon?”
“i really shouldn’t be telling you this.” you laugh. “don’t you want to watch it now?”
“…i guess you’re right.” he grins, followed by a sigh as he stretches his arms over his head. “should we watch it tonight?”
you check the time on your phone, it was late. nearing midnight. it was tempting to indulge in a late night watch of one of your favorite shows but you’d probably regret it by the morning.
you bite down on your bottom lip, hiding the smile that wants to show. “it’s late…” you sigh out. “we probably shouldn’t.”
“then let’s start now.” he urges, opening his wallet and dropping a few dollars to cover the tab and allow the server to end their night with a more than generous tip. “c’mon.” he gestures his head, holding his hand out to you.
even with being a little drunk, you still felt shy coming in such close contact with higuruma. as you lifted your hand to connect with his, he guided you through the hotel and it grew quieter upon reaching the elevators.
he’s still holding your hand, waiting for them to open. you attempt to ignore the way his thumb gently brushes against your skin rhythmically and how this must look to bystanders. the thought is cut short when the doors finally split open and higuruma lets go of your hand to palm your lower back.
higuruma follows you in, pressing the floor number. you stand side by side, him humming a soft tune whilst you stare down at your feet to avoid meeting his stare that you could feel burning into you.
it was like a breath of fresh air upon reaching your floor and seeing the doors open. higuruma places his hand to your back again, guiding you down the quiet hall before reaching your room.
he presses the keycard to the sensor, following you in. you take slow steps inside, dropping your laptop and textbook onto your bed.
“what’s it on?” he huffs, turning on the tv.
you make yourself comfortable under the sheets, sighing in relief from the cold. “hbo.”
he surfs for a few seconds before shaking his head. “i don’t think this tv has that.”
“oh…” you frown then look at your laptop. “i mean, we could watch it on my laptop?”
he turns, thinking on what that means.
you both knew that meant laying down on the same bed, next to each other. he rubs his chin in thought. “only if you’re okay with it.”
your body grows hot but you nod slowly, scooting over to make space for him. he eyes the empty space for a few seconds, making hesitant steps forward. “are you sure? we could always watch it another time.”
“…it’s okay.” you spoke softly. “i want to watch it with you.”
he smiles at that, proceeding to lift up the covers and tuck himself under the covers beside you. the immediate warmth of his skin brushes yours and the two of you look at each other the moment he’s settled.
his eye contact is so intense and… unsettling almost that it has chills run down your spine. you want to look away but higuruma speaks up before you can.
“you’re really shy for a future lawyer.”
your brows furrow at his statement. “m’not.”
“you are.” he chuckles, eyes low as he can feel the crash from all the drinks overtake him.
“i think it’s just you.” you boldly argue.
he raises a brow. “yeah? what about me makes you so shy?”
you open your mouth but nothing can follow through especially with him so close you can feel your stomach churn when you catch yourself looking at his lips. “just… shut up.” you huff, grabbing for your laptop.
higuruma laughs, watching you log into hbo, searching for game of thrones. he steps out of the bed momentarily to turn off the lights before you can press start.
you settle the laptop atop both your legs, sighing as you press play on the first episode.
within the first thirty minutes, you fall asleep, your head rested against higuruma’s shoulder. he stayed up through three episodes, thoroughly enjoying the cause of events but forced himself to go to sleep or else he’d be having a rough day.
by the time the morning comes and your alarm goes off, you groan softly, eyes struggling to flutter open. you aimlessly search for your phone, shutting off the annoying sound before laying back down but then you feel a touch of skin.
you fully open your eyes, face twisting in fear at the sight of higuruma in your bed sound asleep. you weren’t that drunk where you didn’t remember wanting to watch game of thrones together but you weren’t sure why he stayed on your bed through the rest of the night.
you poked him, the action immediately waking him up. he breathes heavily, eyes fluttering open. he turns his head to face you. “good morning.”
“…morning.” you mumble, all the slight confidence you gained last night completely gone. though you did feel a certain comfortability now around him.
“sleep okay?” he husks out, lifting himself from the bed.
you nod, nervously twisting the sheets.
he checks the time. it was still early and you wouldn’t be meeting with your client until the afternoon. “do you want breakfast?”
“sure.”
“anything in particular?” he grabs his keys from the nightstand, swinging them around his pointer finger.
“your choice.” you shrug.
he hums. “go shower. get dressed. i’ll be back.”
you do as he says, showering, getting dressed, then eat breakfast with him once he gets back.
the day follows on as planned, you meet with the client, discuss the case, write down details, aim to search for more evidence and layout options.
for the next few weeks, you spent long hours traveling with higuruma to collect more evidence in support of your case. for a time you were able to juggle all the work but the stress of your bar exam coming up was starting to take a toll.
you wanted more time to study but you also had to sacrifice a lot of time to help higuruma. so you start to force yourself to stay up most nights, hardly getting any sleep, caffeine intake drastically rising.
it not only began to present itself through your physical presence but with the way you interacted with higuruma. at first he could understand having been in your position of working between school, studying, and work but as the weeks passed he noticed your decline was starting to affect your work performance.
he’d allow for a few things to slide but not at the risk of a client's future behind bars. so when he asks you a question and you remain too zoned out to answer, he’ll sigh.
“y/n.”
“hm?” you’ll hum, pen twisting between your teeth, completely focused on the textbook laid out.
“look at me.” he commands, tone still gentle as he waits for your eyes to meet his. higuruma was completely aware of your inability to do so but he couldn’t care at the moment. so when you only lift them for a second as if to show you were listening then drop them back to your computer screen he shakes his head with a sigh.
you don’t even notice him stand then come around to palm your chair until he shuts your laptop closed and snatches the pen from your hand. he ignores your surprised reaction. “is this becoming too much for you?”
you frown, opening your mouth to say something but you can’t follow through. instead you shake your head.
he spins you in your seat, forcing you to face him. “can you look at me when i’m speaking to you, please?”
“higuruma, i’m sorry—” you start with a small pout, not listening to what he asked.
“you don’t need to apologize. just look at me.”
it’s silent for a few seconds and you finally flicker your eyes up to look at him. a hand rests on the chair, the other on your desk completely caging you in. you can smell the strong but warm scent of his cologne that radiates off his skin and clothes.
“is this too much for you?” he asks again. “i can give you a break.”
“n-no.” you deny his inquisition. “the work is fine. it’s just… the studying. i’ve got my exam coming up really soon, i’m sorry.”
“it’s fine.” he assures, “look, on the weekends and on our breaks, i’ll help you study. it’s not nice seeing you like this, okay?”
you nod and he stands at his full height, comfortably squeezing your shoulder then patting your head. “take a nap. you look like you need it.”
there was about one more month left until you’d have to take the exam and higuruma keeps through on his promise and dedicates any moment of extra time he has to help you study.
his methods actually allowed you to gain more sleep, balance work more appropriately, and retain the information easier. you genuinely felt like you were learning. you even complimented higuruma on his skills of teaching, claiming that he’d make a great professor.
this continues throughout the month until it was time for the actual day. he helped you study in the morning for a bit, not too much as he didn’t want to override your brain. he got you breakfast and decided to drop you off at the testing site.
“i’ll be right here, okay?”
you nod, looking at him with a solemn smile. you hesitate at first but overwhelmed by your emotions you reach over the console to give him a hug. “thank you…”
he lets out a breath that sounds close to a laugh, hands coming around to circle your body. his palm rubs up and down your back in a comforting motion. “you’ve got this.” he whispers. “good luck.”
you head into the building, gone for a total of three and a half hours. he fell asleep in the car for about an hour until he hears three rampant knocks to the passenger window.
he sees your figure standing there with other individuals following out the building. immediately, he unlocks the door, watching you hop into the car without a word.
“how do you think you did?” he sighs, turning the ignition of the car.
you can only shrug, anxiety riddled through your body. passing was the only option for you. you opted out in taking it the first month the exam is taken so you’d have more time to study. this was your last chance or else you wouldn’t be able to advance in your studies.
higuruma takes in your worrisome expression, reaching his hand out to gently squeeze your shoulder. “should we go out for some drinks?”
you let out a small laugh, looking at him and nodding.
the two of you settle for some small bar, doing the same as before. indulging in every kind of drink but still keeping limitations. eventually, higuruma suggested to watching game of thrones and you in your slightly drunk state of mind couldn’t deny.
you end up at his home because you were too scared of what your roommate might say if you brought higuruma home. you step into the threshold, eyes wide as you stare around in awe.
“why is it so empty?” you giggle, noticing the lack of… anything.
it was as if he simply bought the house and disregarded buying any furniture, dishes, and utensils. does he even live here? was your initial thought as you scavenged through his pantry, cabinets, and refrigerator only to find nothing that could saturate your hunger.
“i spend most of my time at the office.” he huffs, tugging off his suit jacket and tossing it on his sofa. “i mainly come back here to shower and change clothes.”
you hum, clutching your purse as you continue to look around, dragging your fingers along surfaces.
that’s sort of become your lifestyle too now. you’ve no doubt seen higuruma more than your own roommate— which supported why you definitely couldn’t bring him over without warning.
he steps towards you, pointing to your purse and jacket. “would you like to shower?”
“that’d be nice…” you nod, handing him your belongings to toss with his jacket.
he grabs an extra towel he luckily had and his pajamas for you to wear since you didn’t have any clothes of your own. “i plan to order some food, do you want anything in particular?”
“dealer’s choice.” you smile at him. he nods, leaving you to shower as he picks on what to eat. you shower for about half an hour as you spent half of that time snooping around his restroom for any indication of a woman being here.
it was surely none of your business but you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by higuruma. naturally, amongst the things you wondered about was if he shared a life with someone. though it should’ve been obvious with the way he never spends his time at home and the simple fact of you being here.
you dried yourself off, putting on his clothes and unsure of where to put the used towel, you walk into his bedroom searching for a hamper. though you find yourself eager to just look around. there wasn’t much to find except for the basics.
you open his closet and find a wide range of suits all in black and white along with his pajamas that were the same color. he also had a distinct collection of watches and cologne.
you end up spraying the different fragrances into the air, adoring the mixture of them being woody, earthy, and citrusy. you take one, spraying it onto yourself.
“having fun?”
you turn fast on your feet, startled by his voice. he sports a teasing smile and you can’t help but feel your body grow hot in embarrassment. “um… sorry…” you laugh nervously, placing the cap back on to the cologne and settling it back in its original spot.
he shakes his head, fond of how you looked, “it’s alright. i ordered chinese.” he then hands you the remote to the tv and his phone for you to track the food. “log in to hbo. i’ll go take a quick shower.”
you nod, heading back out and taking a seat on his sofa. you log into hbo and as you waited, you ended up using his phone to scroll through tiktok. you definitely could’ve used your own but it felt more fun to use his considering the fact he didn’t even have the app in the first place.
the food arrived and within ten minutes after higuruma was done with his shower, fully dressed. he was wearing the same thing as you with the exception of his clothes looking larger on your frame.
he takes a seat beside you, spreading out the arrangement of food he bought on the mini table he had. you press play on the show and hour after hour you felt happier, completely forgetting that you even had an exam today. forgetting that you spent months worrying about this very day all thanks to higuruma.
you always grew a certain amount of courage after drinking so it went without a thought for you to sigh after feeling full then lean sideways to rest your head on his shoulder.
“thank you for today.” you mumble, eyes glued to the screen.
higuruma’s sprawled back, legs spread until you lean against him.
he doesn’t want to think too hard about the current proximity, simply enjoying the moment as he throws an arm around you so you’d feel more comfortable snuggling up to him.
“you deserved it.” he squeezes you gently and you don’t say anything in response, just cozying up to him some more.
from that day, you and higuruma grew closer than ever and you began to notice that you often thought about him, smiled at him more, opened up, and gained the courage to look at him longer.
with every compliment, touch, and night that you spent at his house watching game of thrones whilst eating food, there was no denying that you shared particular feelings for him.
and as the weeks past, you began to wonder what you should do with these feelings until the time came where the scores for the bar exam were out. the two of you were sat in the office per usual, and you received an email notification describing that the scores for the exam were out and where to check them.
you swallowed thickly, logging in to your admissions portal.
“did you ever get a copy of the prosecution's discovery?” higuruma asks, mindlessly flipping through a file.
his question is followed by silence and he’ll lift his head. “y/n?”
upon the continuous silence, higuruma rolls on his chair, peeking his head over to your cubicle to see you hiding your face and your shoulders shaking. concerned at the sight, he stands, and approaches you to palm your shoulder and that’s when he begins to understand that you’re crying when a fragile sob falls past your lips.
his heart burns at the broken sound. “what’s wrong?” his eyes lift to your monitor and see the familiar page of the exam results. he scrolls through the letter to see you’ve passed.
a laugh of relief spills from his throat, glad that your reaction isn’t due to any devastating news. his hand circles around your wrist and tugs at it. “come here.”
you slowly stand, allowing your emotions to flow upon feeling his arms encircle you tightly. you’ll cry into his chest, managing to thank him through your tears. he’ll shush you, rubbing at your back and cradling the back of your head.
“you did such a good job.” he murmurs into your hair.
he continues to mumble praises into your hair and ear, holding and consoling you until your crying has calmed down. once he hears you letting out small breaths to control your breathing, he pulls back, wiping at your tear stained cheeks. “i’m so proud of you.”
your body grows hot at the compliment paired with his stare as he gently cups your cheek, thumb swiping across the skin.
you let out a shaky breath, not sure if it was from your crying or that feeling pooling between your legs. your eyes drop down to his lips then back up to his eyes. higuruma does the same and you can’t help but curl your fingers around his dress shirt.
both of your breathing picks up and neither of you are sure of what to do in this moment. you can feel his free hand drop from your back then down to your waist as you each exchange flickering looks between your lips and eyes.
“higuruma…” you breathe out and he shakes his head, closing his eyes then pressing his forehead to yours.
“hiromi.” he corrects, switching his hand that cups your cheeks to palm the back of your neck. “my name… say it. that’s all i need.”
you fight the whine that bubbles in your throat, gripping tightly onto him as you open your mouth. “hiromi…”
he gives in at the immediate desperation his name holds, roughly pressing you against him so your lips could meet.
the two of you have your hands moving everywhere along your bodies and a gasp rushes from your lungs as he frantically lifts you onto the desk.
items clatter everywhere as he knocks them away whilst dipping his tongue into your mouth. it’s frantic and eager the way your mouths clash together. soft groans and moans spilling into the air as papers crumble beneath your figure.
you kick off your heels as hiromi hikes your skirt around your hips, pressing your back against the surface and knocking your legs open with his knees, revealing the lace panties hidden underneath them.
he presses himself against you with a rough groan, one hand hoisting your leg at his waist, whilst the other taps your cheek then grips your face to press into them. “open.”
your jaw widens, and hiromi hums before spitting in your mouth then leaning in to connect your lips again.
he’s hard and big.
it’s all you can think of as your tongues mesh together in perfect harmony.
weeks of built up feelings that you both tried so hard to fight all falling at the seams. you reach up to tug at his black roots as he unconsciously ruts himself against your clothed core.
you take advantage when he finally pulls away, a string of saliva following with him. his lips are swollen and covered in spit as he leans down to kiss along your jaw, then suck at the skin of your neck. you pant feverishly against his ear, gripping tighter onto him each time his bulge connects with your clit just right.
deep shaky breaths fly through his nose as rolls his hips, eyes squeezing tightly from the tightness building in his pants. it felt so fucking good to hear those soft whimpers and moans escape your lips. “feels so good.” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. you two practically rubbing against each other like bunnies in heat without even starting the main course.
you whimper feeling yourself clench around nothing. your hands grasp for higuruma and he hums, kissing just below your ear. “gonna cum?”
you nod, mouth slacked open as he breathes harshly against your neck. “that’s okay, sweetheart.” he huffs, using his free hand to travel down between your bodies. fuck, he thinks the moment his fingers feel how drenched your panties are. your eyes blow wide as he pinches your clothed clit then rubs in tight circles. “you can cum, it’s okay.”
“oh my god.” you tremble and writhe against his lengthy figure, clawing at his back and arms as you feel lost on what to hold on with your orgasm building every second.
he stops the movement of his hips, grasping your neck so you’d be staring straight at him as he picks up the pace of his fingers. “come on.” he licks his lips, maintaining the eye contact he forces you to hold. “i wanna see you. you’re almost there.”
“hiromi—” you choke on the air, threatening to close your eyes but he shakes your head, warning you to keep them open as your body trembles from the euphoria that overcomes you.
“good job.” he wipes at your forehead and cheeks, standing to his full height. you use his tie to lift yourself up, meeting your lips again and immediately sloshing your tongue with his. while he fumbles to unbutton your shirt you do the same then aggressively toss off his tie. his large hands grope at your breast before unclipping your bra to flick and twist at your nipple. you moan into his mouth, fingertips caressing the light muscles of his abs.
he finds it quite amusing how you flinch with each twist and tug but nonetheless you let him continue his worship of your body. he leaves your skirt cinched around your waist, squeezing your hips then slowly tugs your panties down your legs.
you can’t imagine what he plans to do next until he drops both his hands behind your thighs, pressing them down as far as he can before bending down to dip his head between your legs.
his tongue flattens against your leaking hole, sucking up all slick your pussy produced. you reach straight for his hair, choking on a moan. “w-wait, i can’t.” you tell him, quivering at the sudden sensation. it certainly didn’t help with how big his nose is, he had the advantage to nudge it against your clit each lick and suck.
“i just want to taste you.” his voice vibrates against you, eliciting a strangled moan out of you. “is that okay, love?” he pulls back momentarily, mouth and nose coated in your juices as he presses a kiss to either side of your thighs.
what gets you is the fact he genuinely waits on your response. you nod feebly and he presses a kiss to your clit. “thank you.” is all he says before continuing his actions. your eyes immediately squeeze shut and you’re not sure if you’re trying to push his head or pull him closer. regardless, your back arches off the desk, pulling at his hair as he holds you down to prevent any more of your squirming.
a sound of absolute satisfaction rumbles in his chest and higuruma loses himself in your taste. he’s quite filthy really. you would’ve never expected him to be the type of man that relentlessly switches between licking, spitting, and sucking the way he does. a small pool of liquid has likely formed under you by now.
“r-romi, m’ gonna cum.” he hears, feeling the way you buck up against his mouth and quite literally has to force himself off you at the announcement. he seethes in a breath, huffing and puffing, licking around his mouth.
higuruma stands straight again, unbuckling his belt, letting out a soft breath as he no longer feels constricted. your eyes fall when he drops his pants and briefs. shit. i mean, you figured he was big but not that fucking big.
you yelp as he pulls you to the edge of the table, slapping his thick cock against your drooling hole that pulses around nothing.
“can i?” he collects your mess between his fingers, spreading your folds and gliding his shaft between them.
you nod but higuruma shakes his head then grips your neck to pull you up. “tell me, sweetheart. can i?”
“p-please.” you look up at him, all doe eyed and desperate. his hand squeezes your neck and keeps you looking at him as he uses his other hand to pull you closer, prodding in just the tip then slowly pushes himself into your warm, gushing cunt. your mouth slacks open at the stretch, gasping for air as higuruma squeezes tighter from the way you sporadically clench around his length.
he’s only halfway in and it’s taking all his energy to not cum. your pussy is torturously sucking him in, so much so a quivering grunt echoes from his chest. he pats your thigh in response. “ease up, it’s just me, darling.” he tells you, and you want to laugh at how serious he’s being. ease up? not fucking possible when at least eight inches length and formidable girth was pushing itself into you.
once he’s finally filled to the hilt. your legs cross around his hips, grasping his wrist, preventing him from squeezing too tight on your throat. “you’re always such a good girl… so smart and beautiful.” he praises, leaning in to peck your lips then follows with butterflies kisses along your jaw and neck then comes back up to meet your lips again. your mouths twist slower, fiery and brimmed with passion to distract you from the roll of his hips.
“so warm.” he moans against your lips, biting down and sucking on your bottom one. he finally lets go of your neck, pushing you on your back again then clasping both thighs as leverage to pummel himself deep into your pussy. he groans along to your whimpers and moans, dark eyes focused on the imprint that shows itself on your stomach with every thrust.
his light abs glisten with sweat, his brows furrowed as he zones into the way he disappears in and out of your pussy that sucks him in and coats his base white.
papers crumble beneath your fist as your moans are pulled closer together, the indication that your orgasm was fast approaching. the effect likely to be huge since you already had your first and was denied your second. hiromi grunts, fixing you into a mean semi-mating press, legs over his shoulders as his balls mercilessly slap against your skin to echo around the office space.
“gonna cum.” you quiver but higuruma smacks your clit as if that’s supposed to help.
“hold it.”
“i-i can’t.” you look at him, pouting.
his eyes snap up to meet yours and he smacks you again. “hold it.”
he somehow moves faster and harder, harshly breathing with sweat beading down his temple. after a minute, you’re completely spent, eyes watering as you shake your head. “romi, please. i can’t hold it.”
“shhh.” he huffs, pressing his palm over your mouth, viciously chasing the high of his orgasm. he rolls his eyes shut, sticking two fingers into your mouth. “go. hurry up and cum.”
it’s only a few seconds after his command that your waves come crashing down, body yearning to close upon itself due to the overstimulation but higuruma keeps you spread open, still thrusting for what feels like over a minute.
he pulls out, a hand immediately coming to pump at his length, the other angling your body just right so when he forces your mouth open, hot spurts of his cum land on your breasts, chin, and tongue.
hiromi takes a breath that sounds like he’s inhaling fresh air, squeezing at his tip to extract every ounce of his fill. he takes a good and long look at your weak body, collecting his remains that landed on you to push back into your mouth.
“so beautiful…” he cups your cheek, holding you upright since you clearly can’t. “you alright? did i hurt you?”
“no… i’m okay.” you mumble, staring up at him as if he held up the moon and stars. “was i?… okay?”
“absolutely, love.” his brows furrow, gently caressing your skin as he looks at you. “more than okay. perfect.”
you smile shyly at that and he has a similar question on his mind as he helps in cleaning you up. “are we okay?”
“am i okay for you?”
hiromi has begun to understand your naturally shy and timid nature but it also crossed his mind that your sense of overthinking would come into play with your age gap.
it wasn’t drastic of course but he would never want to put you in a position that made you seemingly uncomfortable.
you nod with a small smile, gripping his bicep and pulling him in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “more than okay… perfect.”
nerdjo’s a fool for his pretty, high maintenance girlfriend.
I. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #107 : “BUT TORU, I DON’T GET IT..”
11:57 am location: SC/MATH 3020 (Vari Hall, Room B)
you’re supposed to be solving laplace equations. instead, you’re sending satoru doodles of you pregnant with his child.
satoru gojo is jacques marie mage glasses & messy blanche hair & forearms thicker than his head. he should be studying—god, he should be, but his pretty girl is texting him mid-lecture & satoru’s something of a fool for you so he foolishly decides, who is he not to reply ?
and his replies are earnest. always earnest. too punctuated, too grammatically correct.
toruu : You’re the cutest girl in the world.
toruu : Pay attention, okay?
his first message makes your heart swelter & bloom. the second makes it drop to your ass.
but satoru gojo is honey mouthed & heart-achingly sweet. and when your boyfriend asks you to focus so sweetly, how could you not obey?
so you open your notebook & close it right back.
you : toru i tried :( i don’t get ittttrt
toruu : Send me the question.
and you do. along with a selfie of your cute pout, of course. satoru’s reply comes in in an instant:
toruu : Gorgeous girl.
toruu : Okay, try isolating the variable first.
you do as he says. satoru’s instructions always come easy-sweet. sugar coated & simplified like he’s talking to the softest girl in the world. & perhaps he is.
toruu : Good. Now distribute.
toruu : Yes. That’s it. Keep going.
toruu : That’s perfect, baby. My smart girl.
your cheeks grow mushy & sticky & heart-wrenchingly soft.
satoru gojo is going to be the death of you.
II. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #126 : LOVER BOYS DON’T IGNORE THEIR GIRLFRIENDS !
time : 1:48 pm. location: york lanes ( indoor mall )
“satoru hasn’t texted me in fifteen minutes.”
“they faces killing me why nobody give a fuck.”
you ignore shoko & her bitter response. you’d rather die than argue with a bitch & her bad bob. you lean to rest your head on suguru’s shoulder, who’s much more empathetic & strokes your hair lovingly.
“isn’t he tutoring right now?”
and he is. somewhere across campus, in a cramped corner of the scott library, gojo satoru is bleary-eyed & suffering.
he’s supposed to be explaining calculus to confused first year yuuji itadori. but his phone, face-up & gleam-screened on the mahogany table, hums and vibrates with desperation.
1 new message: princess 🧸💗 1 new message: princess 🧸💗 1 new message: princess 🧸💗
satoru’s jaw is tight. there’s crescent shaped crevices in his palms & his knuckles rouse rash red. his focus flickers. he catches a glimpse of your latest message: the preview of a selfie, that low adorable angle where you’re peering at your phone from under your lashes & your lips jut out in a ‘where are youuu’ pout.
fuck.
“uhh, gojo?” yuuji’s biting his pencil again before he points it at the vibrating device. “aren’t you gonna answer that..? i dunno, it looks important.”
it is important. it’s you. but if satoru answers now, poor yuuji’s paid tutoring session would immediately be over.
“it’s fine, yuuji. let’s focus on finding the derivative.”
and it is fine. because gojo satoru is a man of logic. a man of discipline. a man of pa—
princess 🧸💗: i always knew you’d get tired of me one day
princess 🧸💗: it’s okay. thank you for everything toru 👍
gojo satoru grabs the phone faster than you can say go pandas! his thumbs fly over the screen, ever precise, ever trembling.
toruu: Baby, please don’t say that.
toruu: I’m almost done. I’ll be with you in ten minutes. I’ll buy you that Drake meal you wanted.
toruu: I love you. Please wait for me?
back at the mall you’re reading his text. and god, your heart bubbles up like soda pop. “he’s coming,” you murmur into suguru’s shoulder, scrolling past his text without a reply.
“great!” shoko cheers with fake enthusiasm, taking a puff of her vape (suguru’s complaining that the pineapple & kiwi she blows make his poutine taste sour-ish, & she shouldn’t be vaping anyway, but guess what? shoko doesn’t care!)
“now can we stop acting like it’s the summer hikaru died?”
“no.”
instagram’s algorithm is always on your side. you’ve opened the reels tab to find a video of a rainy window, a quote captioned over it: ‘if he wanted to, he would. silence is a choice.’ simple. short. effective.
you add it to your story. suguru catches a glimpse of your screen & chuckles.
“y/n,” he sings your name, tutting. “you’re gonna give the boy a heart attack before he even hits the common area.”
“he deserves it.”
satoru gojo has already viewed your story. he shows up within the next five minutes.
III. PRINCESS MELTDOWN #167: BABY, I’M BORED.
time : 3:58 pm. location: science & engineering building
there’s solution bubbling pink in a flask. in lab four, the air’s sticky with the sweat of too many boys with glasses & a half-drunk energy drink rotting in the corner.
gojo satoru is huddled over a circuit board with two other boys who look like they haven’t seen sunlight in days.
nerd #1 points at the monitor : “if we adjust the frequency here,” he’s muttering, “the entire wave function collapses. it’s an impossible solve, gojo.”
“it’s not impossible. you’re just missing the constant.”
gojo satoru is the god of lab four; formulas on his fingers & equations on his tongue. he’s leaning over now, fingers on the screen when the heavy steel door swings open,
“hi, toru!”
you’re all soft perfume & clicky heels & smile as sweet as sugar. satoru’s head snaps up instantly—his glasses slip down his nose, & he flicks them back upward, eyes glimmering in the fluorescent light.
“hi sweetheart,” he breathes, “you’re here early.”
the other nerds are staring now, and for good reason. how did gojo satoru—who’s paperbacks & friday nights spent bent over research papers—pull a pretty thing like you ?
“are you doing science ?” you’re already across the room, arms around his neck as his palms press you flush against him from the side. your perfume’s sticky in his lungs. “why’s that line so squiggly? you guys should make it straight. it’d be much prettier.”
nerd #4 winces. “actually, that’s a representation of—“
“you’re right, baby. it would look prettier. have a seat, okay?”
you hum an okay! & plop yourself down on his lap. nerd number 3 & 2 exchange glances. nerd #1 asks, god, me when ?
the group discussion starts up again. satoru is half-science half-yours—his thumb traces circles on your thigh as your feet kick in his lap, & you’re asking one too many questions while satoru tries—tries to pay attention.
“toru, what does this button do?”
“that’s the power supply, baby. please don’t touch it.”
“but it’s glowing. can you make it glow pink ? i think it should glow pink.”
“noted. you’re squirming, princess.”
and you are. nerd #4 wonders how you’re still balanced. the discussion continues but you’re a constant background noise of ‘toru, look at this tiktok’, and ‘baby, i think the lighting’s washing me out.’ you try to touch a wire. gojo catches your hand mid-air & cups it with a kiss.
you flop against his chest. “satoru, i’m bored.”
& satoru is tired. exhausted, really. he’s fighting the rash creeping up his neck as nerds one to four watch you pout in his lap like a spoiled child. “i want matcha. can we go get some?”
you can’t. because this is a project due in twelve hours. because satoru has only so much time to lock in—
“alright, let’s go.”
nerd #3 is distraught: “huh—?! gojo, you can’t leave now, we’re in the middle of a breakthrough!”
satoru doesn’t even look around. he’s smoothing your skirt after you hop off his lap, your bag already slung over his shoulder. he’s leading you out by the hand; “sorry guys. i’ll send my solution to the group chat. brief me on the updates later?”
the door swings shut. nerds one to four are in awe.
soft sukuna's had his eye on you ever since you joined his chemistry class. after crushing on you for months on end, he finally plucks up the courage to ask you out on a star gazing date for valentine's day ! 💘 apart of my valentine's day event !
a thought very prominent in ryomen sukuna's mind as of late.
chemistry class used to be such a drag, he'd show up, do absolutely no work, complain that he failed to all of his fratty friends, then do it all over again the next semester.
until, of course, you joined his line.
you were the picture perfect example of a shy, nerdy girl. with your clothing an array of soft colours and vintage hollister sweaters, your notes all neat and thorough, and your eyes always focused on the professor, you had him awe struck from the second you walked in.
it was a little strange, considering he was 6'5, 95kg of pure muscle, pierced to hell, and tatted from head to toe in fierce markings. you two seriously couldn't of been more different.
still, nothing enthralled him quite like seeing you every monday morning.
he'd started showing up to class early everyday to catch you on your way in, pushing the big, heavy door open so you didn't have to tire such pretty little hands. he'd started sitting in the row behind you instead of way up the back, just so he could watch the way you wrote so nicely.
he'd even started paying attention, proving to the assholes he left in the back row that he was smart when he applied himself.
answering questions in class became a regular, just so he knew you could hear his voice in a different sense than goofing off in the corner, or making bad jokes with his mates. he clocked the way you'd look over your shoulder briefly in surprise whenever he got stuff right, and his heart had never thumped faster.
so, after about three months of obsessing over a girl he hadn't yet spoken to, (not because he was nervous, frick no.) he'd decided with valentine's day coming up, now was a better time than any to ask you out on a date.
y'know, how normal people pursued a relationship, not the age old snap n tap method he'd been using since highschool...
so, with all the courage he could muster, a week before valentine's day he'd waited after class for all the other kids to filter out.
you always stayed behind to look over your notes, something he'd always admired about you was your dedication. as well as being admirable, it gave him the perfect slot to get you alone and finally pop the question.
he'd been rehearsing it in the mirror of his ensuite for the past week, it couldn't go wrong, it shouldn't go wrong! he had the perfect ratio of nonchalance and chivalry packed into his planned out attack, it just had to go smoothly.
he watches you from a few rows back, the lecturer had slipped away and it was just the two of you.
you can do this, ryo.
he pushes up from his seat before he stress too hard about it. the row of chairs creak as he steps sideways through the row, one hand braced on the backs so he doesn't trip over his own boots. this was supposed to look all suave and smooth, effortless, even.
it really, really didn't. he looked like an oaf.
he moves down the steps, eyes fixed on you where you sit looking over your notebook, flicking through the pages with your lips around the tip of a pen in concentration. fuuuck.
mind out of the gutter, ryomen.
he tells himself to slow down and walk like normal, he can't look like he's stalking up to you for any nefarious reasons.
but, as god would have it, by the time he reaches the last few steps you're already packing up.
no.
no, no, no. shit!
your pencil slides into your case, your notebooks shut, and your bag zippers get pulled shut. crap, he was supposed to catch you before that. say something casual while you were still seated so you couldn't escape.
instead, you stand.
he gets choked up halfway down the steps, brain going blank because this was not a part of the plan.
you swing your bag over your shoulder and turn toward the aisle, eyes down as always, clearly aiming for the door before anyone can corner you.
he sighs and books it, he's not acting all cool and composed anymore, no way. he couldn't just let you get away, he was desperate.
he takes the last few steps too fast, almost missing one, then strides down the aisle with a pace that borders on a jog. the sound of his boots slipping and slapping against the wooden floor echoes so loud he might as well have yelled at you by now. you glance up at the noise, looking all cute and startled.
you try to sidestep him in fear of getting in such a big man's way, but he panics and plants himself directly in front of you.
it happens in a split second. your bag catches against his hip, your stack of textbooks jostle loose, and multiple papers slide free like a magician’s trick gone horribly, terribly wrong. everything spills to the floor between you in a loud, humiliating cascade.
the dull sound hits him straight in the gut.
“fuck. i am so sorry.”
he practically screams that, he winces at himself immediately, hands lifting as if that fixes anything. you are staring at the mess, then at him, eyes wide and absolutely mortified.
“god, i didn’t mean to block you. i just, i was trying to—” he cuts himself off because explaining while your notes are scattered everywhere makes him look ten times worse.
he drops to a crouch, the floor is cold against his palms as he starts gathering all the loose pages, careful with the edges like they might and will tear under his big fingers. your handwriting is small and tidy, lines straight as if written at the edge of a ruler.
“shit, i’m sorry,” he tries to mutter a little softer than the ear rape from before.
unfortunately you decide to kneel down and pick up some stray pencils just as he shoots back up to hand you the papers, and your heads collide with a dull crack.
it is gnarly enough that he hears both it and the hurt little sound that hisses past your lips, more surprised than anything. you rock back on your heels at the contact, and that wincing look on your face smashes his heart smack bang in the middle with a wooden, spiked mace.
“oh fuck—” he hisses, reaching toward you instinctively. “are you okay?”
his hands hover near your temples, big fingers spread wide and ready to check your skin for a bump. he stops himself an inch away, since touching you out of nowhere is probably the worst possible move he could make at a time like this. you already look like you want the floor to swallow you whole.
he pulls his hands back so fast it almost looks like he got burned.
“sorry. sorry. i didn’t mean to— i just—”
jesus christ, get it together.
he smooshes a hand down his face, very annoyed at himself. this was supposed to be all smooth and simple. stroll up, say something chivalrous, then ask you out like a normal person.
instead he has assaulted you and ruined your cute little organized notes.
real charming.
you press your fingers lightly to your forehead, blinking up at him. “i’m fine,” you say quietly.
he doesn't believe you, that much is obvious. the spot he knocked feels fine on him, but you are most definitely not built for hard knocks like he is. guilt creeps into every pore of his skin.
“i should’ve watched where i was going,” he says, even though it was very much him who stepped in your path. he shoves the rest of your papers into a neat stack and holds them out to you with surprising care. “i, uhm... i didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
that part slips out honest.
you nod shyly, then take the papers from him. your nails brush his tough skin for a good second and it sends his brain haywire. it was insane how even the smallest of touches could make him shiver.
he straightens up, giving you space this time, forcing himself not to loom over you like a weirdo freak. the door is right behind him, and you glance at it, then at him. waiting.
he can feel the opportunity slipping through his hands again.
say it.
his mind supplies every rehearsed line he practiced and then promptly erases them. all that comes up is the image of you walking out that door and him sitting with this embarrassment for another week.
he swears at himself internally, vicious and relentless.
you had one job. do not mess this up.
“i wasn’t trying to block you,” he says, finally. “i just needed to talk to you for a second.”
you look up at him through pretty, fluttering lashes, blinking away some of the leftover pain before nervously nodding. “hm? what is it?” you murmur.
you were so shy, he could crush you with two fingers if he wanted. he meant to be gentle with you.
he takes a deep breath, then bends down a little, trying his best to be on your level. “i think you're really cute... y'know that?” he starts. “n' i think i could treat you real nice.” he chokes a bit when your face somehow twists into a shyer expression.
“jesus christ— i.. i would really, really like to take you out this weekend. i get that it's valentine's day, it might be a bit much right now, but i—”
“okay.”
“...what?”
“i... uhm. i said okay?” you repeat.
the smile this man cracks is embarrassingly cheesy.
“wow, sweet! that's sweet. i'll uh... can i get your number? shit— probably should've asked that first—”
before he can panic any further, he's ripped from his ramble by the heavenly sound of your soft laugh.
he stops immediately, a hand flying to his neck to rub at it softly as his smile grows tenfold. you're holding out your phone, your phone number displayed on the screen. “cool... cool...” he smiles, typing in the digits.
~
[ryo] 7:42pm: hey. how’s your head?
he stares at the screen with the nail of his thumb between his teeth, flops back against his pillows and then immediately sits up again... because what if that sounded too blunt? maybe too concerned? too much?
three dots pop up almost right away and he almost shits himself. you're texting him. right now. holy fuck.
[name❤️] 7:43pm: hi!! i’m all goods (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ
[name❤️] 7:43pm: it was just a tiny knock!
he exhales through his nose, shoulders finally dropping.
[ryo] 7:44pm: tiny knock
[ryo] 7:44pm: i literally clobbered you with my thick ass skull.
he winces at the memory and it replays on loop. y'know when you do something so embarrassing and you just can't stop hyper fixating on it? yeah, that's what he'd been doing for the past two hours.
[name❤️] 7:45pm: it was kinda funnyy
[name❤️] 7:45pm: well, after the shock wore off kdkxjsjdj
he grins at that despite just cringing over it all a second ago.
[ryo] 7:45pm: yeah? didn’t look funny. your poor face was all scrunched up
he runs a hand through his slick hair and starts pacing now. his roommates are loud in the hall but he's shut his door, he needed quiet for this very important moment.
[name❤️] 7:46pm: nooo
[name❤️] 7:46pm: you just surprised me is all
[name❤️] 7:46pm: i’m okay, promise (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
that stupid little emoticon turns his ears a raw red, you were so dorky, it was adorable.
[ryo] 7:47pm: good.
[ryo] 7:47pm: wouldn’t be a great start to valentine’s day if i concussed my date.
he cringes after sending that. hmm, was that too forward? or too confident?
[name❤️] 7:48pm: noo it's okay, my head feels good!
he laughs under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
[ryo] 7:48pm: okay thank fuck
[ryo] 7:49pm: i know i'm a little rowdy, i mean obviously after that little display. but i can tone it down if you scare easy.
he bites the inside of his cheek the second that goes through. why would he say that? he's throwing.
[name❤️] 7:49pm: i don’t scare easy!
[name❤️] 7:49pm: i just… startle easy 🙂↕️
he imagines you typing that with your little nose scrunched trying to defend yourself.
[ryo] 7:50pm: noted.
[ryo] 7:50pm: i’ll try not to charge at you like a linebacker next time.
he sits at the edge of his bed now, phone in both hands. his heart will not calm down. c'mon. this is texting, he's done this a thousand times! it's just, with you? it feels so intimate and.. different. like he's whispering in your ear. maybe he was just a pervert.
[name❤️] 7:51pm: i appreciate that very much
[name❤️] 7:51pm: my poor textbooks would too
he groans quietly, dragging a hand down his face.
[ryo] 7:51pm: don’t remind me.
[ryo] 7:52pm: i’m still embarrassed about that
[name❤️] 7:52pm: you said sorry like… five times, it's fine!
[ryo] 7:52pm: wasn’t enough.
there is a pause. longer this time. he almost types something else just to fill the space but decides that might come off too strong and stops himself.
[name❤️] 7:54pm: it’s okay, really
[name❤️] 7:54pm: i only got a small bruise
his stomach drops.
[ryo] 7:54pm: you’re kidding.
[name❤️] 7:55pm: nooo it’s tiny
[name❤️] 7:55pm: wait i’ll show you
he quirks a brow at that.
show him?
a second later, an image comes through.
[name❤️] 7:55pm: {image attached}
you are sitting cross legged on a soft looking bed with a pale pink duvet and copious amounts of plush pillows stacked behind you. youre staring at the lens all smiley, giving an adorable little thumbs up to the camera. there's the faintest shadow of a bruise high on your forehead, barely noticeable unless you were trying to really look for it.
still, it guts him. or maybe turns him on, he can't really decide right now..
he actually makes a strangled noise in his room that's somehow a laugh and a groan at the same time. he stands up, and starts pacing again.
“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he sighs to himself.
you look so stupidly cute tucked into your bed with your hair loose and a sweet sweater swallowing your hands whole.
and you sent that to him. him!
he drops back onto his mattress, staring at the photo picking apart its every detail. like a loser.
[ryo] 7:57pm: you look fine.
[ryo] 7:57pm: cute, too.
his thumb hovers over the word cute before he sends it. too much? too soon? he sends it anyway.
[name❤️] 7:58pm: cute?? (///▽///)
[name❤️] 7:58pm: that’s not fair i look like a marshmallow
he laughs again.
[ryo] 7:58pm: i love marshmallows
he immediately groans at himself, that was so corny.
[name❤️] 7:59pm: oh my god
[name❤️] 7:59pm: what a line
[ryo] 7:59pm: shh
[ryo] 8:00pm: i’m tryna be suave
[ryo] 8:01pm: you really are okay though?
[name❤️] 8:01pm: yes sir
[name❤️] 8:01pm: it’s barely even there
[ryo] 8:02pm: don’t call me sir. makes me sound ancient.
[name❤️] 8:02pm: sorry, sorry. how old are you, btw?
[ryo] 8:03pm: a year older than you.
[name❤️] 8:04pm: you are ancient !
[ryo] 8:05pm: stop being a brat 💔
he winces at himself for that, maybe that was a bit too relationship-y... oh well, he could save it.
[ryo] 8:06pm: so
[ryo] 8:06pm: about saturday
[name❤️] 8:06pm: yeahhh?
okay he's locking in.
[ryo] 8:07pm: i was thinking i’d pick you up around seven
[ryo] 8:07pm: there’s this lookout spot just outside town. not a lot of people know about it
[ryo] 8:08pm: figured we could go stargazing?
he stares at the message, that sounded decent, romantic but not cringe, right?
[name❤️] 8:09pm: stargazing!
[name❤️] 8:09pm: that sounds so fun!
[ryo] 8:09pm: yess
[ryo] 8:09pm: we'll have blanket and snacks and no loud idiots.
[ryo] 8:10pm: promise i’m not taking you out there to kidnap you or anything
the second it sends he wants to launch his fuckass phone across the room.
why would you say that, who says that?!
three dots appear then disappear then appear again.
[name❤️] 8:11pm: HAHAHA
[name❤️] 8:11pm: that’s exactly what someone planning to kidnap me would say
he lets out a relieved laugh.
[ryo] 8:11pm: yh i walked into that one
[name❤️] 8:12pm: it sounds really nice though!
[name❤️] 8:12pm: i’ve never actually been stargazing before (๑°⌓°๑)
[ryo] 8:13pm: then it’s settled
[ryo] 8:13pm: first time for you. i’ll make it good
he pauses, then adds:
[ryo] 8:13pm: the stargazing. i mean
he buries his face in his pillow with a groan.
[name❤️] 8:14pm: i knew what you meant!!
[name❤️] 8:14pm: you’re so awkward it’s kinda cute
cute.
you called him cute.
he stares at that word until it feels hot branded into the folds of his brain.
[ryo] 8:15pm: don’t get used to that
he is grinning like an idiot in his empty room.
[name❤️] 8:15pm: awe man
there is something about the way you type that's so careful yet playful, he adores it.
[ryo] 8:17pm: seriously though.
[ryo] 8:17pm: i’m sorry again about earlier.
[name❤️] 8:18pm: awe sukuna, it's fine!
his name on your screen makes him jitter with excitement.
[ryo] 8:18pm: you can call my ryomen, if you want. or ryo?
[name❤️] 8:18pm: ooo okay! ryo it is.
[name❤️] 8:18pm: i promise i’m not secretly mad at you or anything, btw, so don't stress it
[ryo] 8:19pm: okay good
[ryo] 8:19pm: i’d hate to think my first move was almost knocking you out cold
[name❤️] 8:19pm: you’re being dramatic
[ryo] 8:20pm: i’m allowed, you have a bruise with my name on it
he lays back again, phone above his face waiting.
[name❤️] 8:21pm: well
[name❤️] 8:21pm: i guess that just means you owe me a good date 😊
he laughs out loud.
[ryo] 8:21pm: oh i plan on it
[ryo] 8:23pm: hey. can i get your socials too?
[name❤️] 8:24pm: sure!
[name❤️] 8:24pm: it’s @—— on insta
[name❤️] 8:24pm: and the same for twitter but i barely use that one 🙂↕️
he immediately opens instagram, types your handle in, and your aesthetic little profile pops up.
your smiling face looks back at him for the second time that night and he smiles just as big as before.
[ryo] 8:25pm: got it
[name❤️] 8:25pm: ur stalking me already?
[ryo] 8:26pm: absolutely
he switches back to instagram to properly stalk your page.
he's not thinking about parties or stupid hookups or whatever his friends are doing down the hall, no. he's dreaming about saturday. about you under the night sky and about him trying his hardest to not mess this up
~
pep talk time.
it's the day of valentine's day, and sukuna's standing in front of his mirror talking himself up.
you can do this, you're a sexy guy.
he's got his best looking jeans on, a studded belt, some nice sneakers, and a black beater. his jewellery matches for once, with his face an array of shiny silver to match his rings and chain.
he looked good, better than usual.
he could do this.
on his way out of the frat after getting good luck wishes from his brothers, he's up and out the door checking his appearance one more time in the reflection of his phone.
he pulls up to your dorm a little before sunset with the busty engine rumbling beneath him as he parks out front. he cuts it, but he doesn’t get out straight away,
he just sits there with the bouquet of lilies resting on the passenger seat, wrapped in brown paper with a neat little twine bow he tried desperately to tie himself. he'd spent half an hour in the florist with the old store owner picking out the perfect ones for the occasion, making sure they'd fit your personality just right.
he runs a hand over his mouth, then through his hair, then checks his reflection in the rearview mirror for the fifteen hundredth time.
“you’re fine,” he mutters to himself. “you look good. you’re hot. she already said yes.”
he grabs the flowers before he can stress even more about it and steps out, boots hitting the pavement.
the air’s cool and the sky’s all streaked with orange and hues of pink. perfect conditions for the perfect date he'd been meticulously planning. he leans back against his truck for a second, rolling his shoulders, then walks up to your dorm entrance.
he knocks twice, waits a minute, then almost fucking chokes at the sight of you, standing there in the doorway, framed by the warm hallway light behind you.
your outfit is this cute downtown girl kinda vibe that's short enough to show your legs but still loungey, very star-gazing appropriate. your makeup’s done all nice with glossed lips and pretty lashes. you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag, fingers twisting it nervously.
he stares in awe, his brain shorting out completely. he was prepared for you to look nice, not this good. jeez, were you tryna kill him?
“hi,” you say softly.
“hi,” he manages back.
red orbs drag over your being before he can stop himself. not in a pervy way. just… taking you in.
he clears his throat quickly and thrusts the bouquet toward you like he almost forgot he was holding it.
“these are for you.”
your face lights up. “oh wow…”
you take the lilies carefully, bringing them close to your nose.
“they’re so pretty,” you murmur, smiling up at him.
he rubs the back of his neck, shy himself. “of course... uh— you deserve somethin' pretty.”
your face grows hot at his flirt.
“you look amazing,” he blurts out before he can overthink it. “like— so pretty. just... wow.”
you duck your head a little, clearly very flustered. “thank you..." you start, "you look really good too.”
he grins at that, confidence creeping back in.
“yeah?” he steps a little closer. “told you i’d clean up nice.”
you nod shyly, hugging the flowers tighter.
“i’ll just put these in water really quick,” you say, stepping back inside.
he stands there awkwardly in the doorway while you move to a little table beside the entrance where a glass vase is already sitting. already filled with water.
he notices that.
you were expecting flowers? shit, he's glad he asked nanami for some first date tips earlier that week.
you slip the lilies into the vase carefully, adjusting them so they sit just right. then you turn back to him, smoothing down your top.
“okay,” you smile. “let's go.”
he offers you his hand without even thinking about it.
you look at it for a second, then place your smaller one into his.
it fits. perfectly.
he cups his fingers around yours gently, not too tight, and leads you down the steps toward his hilux.
he opens the passenger door for you, hand steady at your waist as you climb in. he shuts it carefully, then jogs around to the driver’s side.
once he’s inside, he starts the engine and peers over at you. you’re sitting there with your hands folded neatly in your lap, looking a little nervous but still harboring a smile.
“thanks for coming out with me tonight,” he says after pulling away from the curb.
you stare up at him. “of course. i'm excited.”
“yeah?” he asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.
you nod. “yeah.”
he relaxes into his seat a little.
“i’ve kinda wanted to ask you out for a while,” he admits with his eyes peeled on the road for once. he couldn't drive recklessly like with the other chicks he's used to, no. you weren't like that and he couldn't risk you thinking he was an asshole.
you turn toward him more fully now. “really?”
“yeah,” he huffs a throaty laugh. “i’ve seen you in class since the start of the semester. always sitting there so engaged.”
you giggle softly and he almost swerves. that sound hits him straight in his ridiculously fast beating chest.
“don’t do that,” he mutters under his breath.
“do what?” you ask.
“laugh like that. it’s distracting your uber driver.”
you giggle again, trying to muffle it this time.
he shakes his head, smiling. “you even made me start paying attention.”
you nod. “i noticed.”
“oh, you did, huh?”
“mhm. you started answering questions more, n' stopped sitting all the way at the back.”
he glances at you impressed for taking note of him.
“damn. you pay attention too.”
“i do,” you say proudly.
“well,” he continues, “you kinda inspired me. i didn’t wanna look like a total idiot in front of you.”
you blink at him. “you’re not an idiot.”
“good,” he says lightly. “i’m tryin' real hard not to be tonight.”
for such a big buy, he was shaping up to be more awkward than you. you could get used to this.
the conversation starts moving along quickly as you drive further.
he tells you about how he switched majors once before settling where he is now. about how his brothers at the frat drive him insane half the time and that he's getting a little sick of the party animal lifestyle everyone loved to glorify. about how he likes working out because it clears his head of the stress of life.
you tell him about your favorites, about how you almost dropped the class the first week because you thought it would be too hard.
“no way,” he says. “you? you think chemistry's hard?”
you roll your eyes playfully. “it’s intense!”
“you’re intense,” he shoots back.
you look at him like you don’t know if that’s a compliment.
“in a good way,” he adds quickly. “you care about stuff. that’s, like, rare.”
frank ocean plays quietly in the background while trees zoom past the window. he throws in a few dumb jokes here and there to keep you entertained, and you laugh at almost all of them. every time, he has to clutch the wheel tighter in fear of crashing.
by the time the town lights start thinning out and the road gets darker, you’re both talking over each other a little, interrupting, smiling, and laughing like you were already a couple.
he pulls into the lookout, gravel crunching under the tires. your eyes are wide, staring out at the open sky. the first stars are already visible like little flickering fireflies in the big black ink.
“wow,” you sigh, but he's watching you, not the sky.
“you like it?”
“it’s so beautiful.”
he kills the engine and turns toward you fully.
“sit tight,” he says softly. “i’ll get the tray ready.”
you nod and offer him a smile. “can’t wait.”
he hops out, heart racing for a whole new reason now, and moves to the tray of his truck.
he rounds the back of the hilux and drops the tailgate with a metallic clank that echoes out over the quiet lookout. you hear him shuffle around back there, the soft click of a switch, then another, then a string of warm yellow blinking to life.
“okay,” he calls, trying and failing to sound casual. “c’mere.”
you hop down from the passenger side and walk around the truck, hugging your arms around yourself against the cool evening air.
and then you see little lights. fairy lights. strung so prettily along the inside edges of the tray, looped around the bars in uneven lines that clearly took effort. a thick mattress laid out flat with layered blankets in different colors, big pillows (some with the tags still on them, bless his heart for buying the expensive ones for such an occasion) piled up against the cab. there’s a little wooden crate acting as a table with snacks stacked on top, chocolate, strawberries, chips, a thermos, even those stupid little heart candies that taste like chalk but everyone eats on valentine's day regardless.
you stand there in complete and utter awe.
“well?” he asks, suddenly very insecure and unsure, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck again. “is it… is it too much?”
you shake your head quickly. “are you kidding me?”
you step closer and trail your fingers over one of the fairy light wires, staring at the glow against the darkening sky.
“you did all this?”
“yes, ma’am,” he shrugs, but he’s watching your face so closely it’s almost comical how nervous he looks. “figured valentine’s day deserved something better than a movie and greasy takeout... not that i’d ever dream of taking you out on something like that! i just— i mean—”
“it’s beautiful,” you cut him off.
he stops and sighs so deeply. “thank god,” he says with a small grin. “took me forever to figure out how to make the lights not look so stupid.”
“they don’t,” you promise. “they’re perfect.”
he steps closer without really thinking about it, stopping just in front of you. the fairy lights reflect in his red eyes, turning them golden at the edges.
“may i?” he asks quietly, with his hands hovering near your hips.
you nod, and he smiles.
his hands settle at your waist and he lifts you up like you weigh nothing at all. you let out a cute, surprised laugh as he sets you gently onto the mattress. you flick your shoes off, then crawl back a little, getting comfortable against the pillows, smoothing your skirt down. he watches your every movement with a fond expression and climbs up after you, sitting on the opposite side at first, legs stretched out, bracing one arm behind him.
you tilt your head back and look up. the sky has gone fully dark now, stars scattered everywhere, more than you’ve ever seen on your light-polluted campus.
“the sky's so gorgeous,” you whisper.
“yeah,” he says. but again? he’s not looking at it. he’s looking at you.
the lights from the strings frame your face in gold and your pretty lashes cast tiny pinned shadows against your hot cheeks. your lips are still glossy, and he swallows down the thought of what it would be like to kiss such perfection.
you don’t notice because you’re too busy tracing constellations with your finger in the air. “i can’t believe you did this,” you say gently.
he exhales a short laugh. “i can’t believe you even said yes to me.” that makes you glance over, surprised. “hm? and why wouldn’t i?”
his eyes drop to his hands and he opens and closes them bashfully.
“i dunno. you’re just… you.”
you frown. “huh? what does that mean?”
he combs his thick fingers through his pink spikes.
“means you’re smart as hell. and sweet. and you actually care about stuff. you sit in class taking notes while i’m trying to remember not to fall asleep.”
“yeah? but you’ve started paying attention,” you remind him.
“because of you,” he says immediately. “that’s my point.”
you blink up at him as he explains further. he huffs, frustrated with himself.
“i just— i feel kinda outta place sometimes. being this… attracted to you.”
your heart stutters at that.
“attracted to me?”
he scoffs lightly. “don’t act surprised.”
you smile shyly. “i’m not acting.”
he leans back against the back of his truck further and nods.
“i guess you’re just… a little different to the chicks i’m used to.”
he thinks back to the amount of girls he’s hooked up with three minutes after meeting them. he can’t remember any names or any real conversations.
“they’ve all been kinda shallow. or maybe i’m shallow, i don’t know. but this is…”
you blink but you don’t pull away.
“but you?” he continues. “i’ve been sitting behind you in chem for three months trying to figure out how to ask you to coffee without sounding like a fucking moron.”
you laugh softly.
“it’s not funny,” he mutters, though there’s no bite in it. “i’ve never had to rehearse a sentence in my entire life.”
“you rehearsed?”
“mhm. in the mirror,” he admits. “today. for like ten minutes.”
your hand flies to your mouth to hide your giggle.
“that’s actually really cute.”
“don’t call it that,” he grumbles.
“why not?”
“because i’m trying to look cool.”
“you’re failing.”
he narrows his eyes at you, but there’s amusement in there somewhere.
you scoot your butt a little closer across the mattress until you're almost touching him.
“i’m glad you’re into me,” you say quietly.
“yeah?”
“yeah. i always thought you were really cute.”
what?
“what?”
you feel a little self-conscious now. “i just… didn’t think someone like you would go for someone like me.”
his head snaps toward you.
“what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
you look down at your hands. “you’re charismatic. confident. everyone knows you. and i’m just…”
“just what?” he presses.
“shy.”
“you think that matters?”
you hesitate. “doesn’t it?”
“no,” he says far too loud. “no, it doesn’t.” he corrects. “you’re the one who shouldn’t be into me.”
your eyes widen. “what?”
“yeah,” he says, getting worked up now. “you’re organised, you’ve got your life together. you’re probably gonna graduate with honors and get some insane job. i mean, i live in a frat house with idiots who think setting a couch on fire is peak entertainment.”
you giggle.
“i’m serious.”
“i know,” you say, smiling.
“i’m not used to girls like you,” he admits, voice dropping again. “girls who… don’t just want the version of me that’s all loud and risky at functions.”
you reach out without thinking and rest your hand on his forearm.
“i like you how you are,” you say.
“oh yeah?”
“mhm. the guy who ties twine bows really badly and buys silly fairy lights to make things moody.”
he looks away, embarrassed.
“shoosh.”
“no,” you say softly. “i really mean it.”
you scoot even closer than before, then lean your head gently against his shoulder.
oh god.
he's had girls straddle his lap five minutes after introductions. he has had hands in his hair and acrylic nails down his back, mouths on his neck without a single 'hey, how are you?'
and yet, something as mediocre as putting your head on his shoulder has him cheesing.
you look up at the guy. “you okay?”
“yeah,” he says.
“you’re really stiff.”
“i’m fine.”
you smile against his arm. “relax.”
easy for you to say.
he forces himself to loosen up, letting his shoulder drop slightly so you’re more comfortable. after a second, he lifts his arm and carefully drapes it around you. ok, getting bolder.
you tuck into his side closer happily.
he stares straight ahead at the horizon, trying to steady himself for what he's about to spill.
“you make me nervous,” he admits quietly.
“me?” you sound genuinely shocked.
“yeah. you.”
your heart jumps and flutters with all different species of butterflies, “yeah, why?”
“because i don’t wanna screw this up.”
your hand curls lightly into the fabric of his black beater.
“you won’t.”
“you don’t know that.”
“i do,” you say simply.
he looks down at you, “how?”
“because you care,” you answer. “and guys who care usually don't screw stuff up.”
okay, he guesses that was true. he hadn't tried this hard for anyone else, so it had to be why this was going so well and he hadn't totally fucked everything up.
the fairy lights glow around you, little reflections dancing over the blankets. somewhere far below, a car drives past on the main road, its headlights tiny in the distance.
“you’re seriously the cutest girl i’ve ever seen,” he says suddenly.
you blink up at him.
“i mean it,” he continues. “the way you get all serious in class. the way you correct the professor under your breath. the way you just—exist.”
you hide your face against his shoulder.
“stop.”
“no.”
“you’re embarrassing me.”
“good,” he murmurs.
you laugh softly.
“i’m really glad i asked you out,” he says. “i almost pussied out.”
“well, i’m super glad you didn’t.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you nod. “i would’ve never done it myself.”
“why not?”
“duh. i thought you were out of my league.”
he lets out a disbelieving sound.
“that’s insane.”
“is it?”
“yes,” he says firmly. “if anything, i’m the one punching above my weight here.”
you lift your head. “you really think that?”
“i know that.”
your smile turns softer this time.
“well,” you say, settling back against him. “good thing we both ignored our own bad opinions.”
he laughs for the millionth time that day, something very out of the ordinary for someone like ryomen. “i guess yr' right.”
“hey,” he says after a while of just being in each other's presence.
“hm?”
“this is just our first one.”
you look at him. “first what?”
“first valentine’s day together.”
your heart grows ten times in size.
“first, huh? that's bold of you,” you tease softly.
he smirks. “well, i don’t plan on going anywhere.”
you smile and press a small kiss to his shoulder through the fabric.
oh god. oh god. we got a kiss boys.
his body's gone completely stiff. every. single. part..
"someone's all nervous again, y'know, ryo? you're really—hmph—!"
he cuts you off with a proper kiss, one smack bang in the centre of your lips with one hand tilting your head to face his, deepening it all.
as you're kissing back, his hands grip up on your waist. you reply by snaking your hands up his shirt against his warm torso, feeling each and every one of his rippling abs.
“not so shy now, huh?”
"what can i say... i'm getting comfortable." he laughs in reply, kissing you harder.
he moves his hips around, then grips your waist and lifts you straight into his lap like it’s nothing. you gasp softly against his mouth as you land there, legs settling on either side of his meaty thighs.
this kiss was nothing of the gentleness the first one had.
it’s much slower but somehow so much deeper.. he's got his hand placed at the back of your head, pushing your mouth against his rougher, the other holding you tight and snug against him. he tilts you just right so your lips press harder together.
you kiss him back just as eagerly, fingers pushing higher beneath his shirt, palms skimming over his pecs now.
he exhales through his nose, almost a laugh.
“best valentine’s day i’ve ever had,” he murmurs against your mouth.
you smile into the kiss.
“yeah?”
“yeah,” he says, nudging you gently until you’re both tipping sideways, down down down until the blankets catch your weight. he lowers you down, hovering over you for a second, eyes dark with want but still appreciative.
this date? complete win, go ryomen.
and as he leans back in to kiss you softly, the fairy lights glowing around you sparking long like a second set of glimmering stars, he knows he’s never going back to anything less than this. than you.
valentine's day with the cute girl from his chem was a complete success.
oh? you want to see what dates the other college jjk characters would take you on? then look no further! my valentines writing event has all you could ever need ! sixxels' valentines event masterlist 💘
this fic is good because you can read my frat!sukuna x shy!nerdy!reader headcanons AND oneshot as add ons!
All work belongs to @sixxels Do NOT repost, modify, translate to another language, or plagiarise in any way on ANY platform.
Leon S. Kennedy, ornery and stubborn and an enigma you long stopped trying to make sense of, never goes home after grueling missions. He comes to you—battered and bruised, with stitches coming out and blood dripping from his wounds, seeking… something. You still haven't figured out what; whether it's comfort, a small handful of little deaths before the morning light, or a gentler hand than his own to rub antiseptic into his cuts.
Whatever it is, you know he finds something in you that he cannot get anywhere else.
wc: 4.2k
tags: angst (?), descriptions of wound care, implied/reference sexual content, hair washing as a form of intimacy, post re4r leon, unspecified reader age and gender, mentions of blood and open wounds. lmk if i miss anything! (cross posted to ao3)
an: spent half my day writing this instead of doing anything semi productive. leon needs someone to take care of him. and yes, i do strongly believe he likes to listen to classical music after god awful missions
He’s a lot like a wild animal, you think—showing up at strange hours of the night, skulking around your front porch just out of sight while you laze about in your home with a book in hand and classical music softly playing from a worn down speaker you never got around to replacing, blood dripping from the leg he nearly bit off himself to escape the trap he found himself ensnared in.
(When it really comes down to it, he's hardwired to sacrifice.)
He thinks you don't know he’s there, thinks you can't smell iron and gun oil and gasoline drifting in through open windows. You’ll let him believe it, so long as it keeps him from running off.
It's a sort of routine you've fallen into.
Leon S. Kennedy, ornery and stubborn and an enigma you long stopped trying to make sense of, never goes home after grueling missions. He comes to you—battered and bruised, with stitches coming out and blood dripping from his wounds, seeking… something. You still haven't figured out what; whether it's comfort, a small handful of little deaths before the morning light, or a gentler hand than his own to rub antiseptic into his cuts.
Whatever it is, you know he finds something in you that he cannot get anywhere else. Something unspoken, too big for him to say aloud.
(You find something in him too, however little of it he has to give.)
Tonight, it's raining when he comes to you.
He's soaked—drenched down to the bone—and shivering. His hair is plastered to his forehead, rainwater dripping down his prominent cheekbones and even farther down his neck, disappearing at his shirt collar. His skin is smooth, though beginning to crease under the weight of time and stress. You notice another fine line or two, a new gray hair since you last saw him. His clothes are sopping wet as well, dripping onto your welcome mat, showing off the hard lines of lithe muscle wound tightly through his arms, clinging to a defined abdomen and inhumanly strong legs. You forget how strong he is, in the times that he's gone—he's never seemed to feel the need to show you his strength either, only ever touching you as though you were holy, but Leon carries himself in such a way that he cannot hide it.
He looks haunted, more so than usual.
You don't know much—you can't know much, but he was gone for a long time, and his eyes look heavy.
And he’s bleeding.
It's not bad. Far from the worst you've seen, but there's still blood beading up from a laceration on his forehead and dripping down to his eyebrow.
His hair is oily too, evident even with the rainwater clinging to the strands and dripping down his face.
You know he doesn't have the chance to care for himself on his missions (hardwired to sacrifice, when it comes down to it), nor would he think to, even with the time.
“That bad?” You ask, opening your door to let him in.
You watch as he takes in his surroundings, like he expected something to be different from the last time. What you don’t tell him is that you always keep your home the same so he always has something consistent to come back to. You just let him observe, watch the calculated movements of his eyes, like he still isn't sure whether this is safe—like he's expecting to need to flee at any moment. The scent of petrichor and pine trees waft in through open windows, mixing with his cologne and rusty iron. Rain beats against your roof, mixing with the music still playing in the living room.
You picked a song you know he likes, picked it as soon as you heard his bike blazing down the road—something soft, one of the rare few classical pieces he enjoys.
Something familiar. Soothing.
“You could say that.” His voice is hoarse, like he's using it for the first time again. “Never going to Spain again.”
You say nothing—you don't need to. You just give him a small laugh and usher him to the bathroom. He knows the routine by now, knows how you fret over him at the smallest drop of blood. He used to fight you over it, batting your hands away when you inspected the cuts and scrapes, but you wore him down over time; kept your hand stuck out and eyes turned down long enough for him to come to you himself.
You sit him down on the edge of your bathtub and push his soaked bangs away from his eyes.
He looks so tired.
(He always does, these days.)
You closely inspect the cut—four butterfly strips struggle to hold the lacerated skin in place, but held up poorly against the rain and Leon’s speeding. You know he has a habit of picking at his skin too, but exchanges flesh for bandages when available. He doesn't realize he's doing it, you know that, so you change the dressings instead of reprimanding him.
As you gather your first aid kit, the one you never kept until he started coming around, you feel Leon’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.
“Do you need to talk?” You ask, ignoring the feeling of being watched.
It's an olive branch you always extend.
“Not really.”
One that is never accepted.
“I guess I can cross off Spain as a vacation spot, then?”
He smiles at that—charming and boyish, a small glimpse into the man he used to be, the one you met all those years ago in a shitty dive bar before the world had its way with him.
You wonder what could've come of him had it been a bit kinder.
No matter.
You focus instead on the way his eyes crease at the corners and his eyebrows minutely rise, making him look happier for that moment in time.
“You’ll have to check that one off your bucket list without me.”
“It’s not worth it if you're not there.” You don't mean to say it and you know he doesn't mean to freeze when you do.
You both ignore it.
(There's a lot you ignore. Like the way he watches you when he thinks you don't notice and the way you do the same to him; the way you cried yourself to sleep the first night he showed up at your door with a black eye, split knuckles and a limp after going MIA for over a year. The way he always, always comes here instead of home after missions and what that might mean to him and the way you hope this feels more like home.
The way you know you're hopelessly, helplessly in love with Leon Kennedy, who is hopelessly and helplessly stuck behind a wall built from government contracts and emotional detachment—a fact that reigns true no matter how hard you fight to ignore it.)
“Let me see,” you say, brushing away the slip like it meant nothing.
For a moment, the only sound is that of rain pattering on your roof and your intermixed breaths, the music long forgotten. You brush back Leon’s hair again, threading your fingers through the damp strands with your non-dominant hand while your other works an alcohol soaked q-tip under the butterfly strips to loosen the adhesive.
“You can just rip them off,” he offers impassively, noticeable bracing himself like he expects you to accept.
“That’ll hurt.”
“I'm used to it.”
“That's exactly why I’m not doing it.” You continue soaking the q-tip, wiggling it under the adhesive and repeating until the first strip pulls away without resistance. Leon watches you the whole time, eyes flicking back and forth across your face, down the expanse of your chest, even further to the curve of your hips and waist. There's something more than lust, deeper than hunger in his eyes and your stomach twists at what it may be.
“You're too good to me sometimes.” He doesn't look away from you when he says it. His hands, previously balled up into loose fists on his legs, come up and gently skim the back of your thighs, his touch leaving gooseflesh behind.
“I'm only as good as you deserve,” you mutter. You remove the second strip, the laceration now in better view.
It's not too deep, but probably called for stitches over steri-strips. You know Leon well enough at this point to know he refused, and likely put up enough fight to make the medical examiner compromise on the dressing.
He winces when a drop of alcohol makes its way into the cut as you go for the third strip. “Sorry,” you whisper.
“It's okay.”
His fingertips trace small patterns on the back of your thighs, so subtly you think he may not realize he's doing it. Leon never seems to show physical affection consciously—not when you're outside of the bedroom and your clothes are on. Even then, he's distant. Never lays himself bare in any way other than physical.
“How long do you get to stay this time?” You ask as you peel away the third strip. Another drop of alcohol trickles into the cut, but he hides his reaction this time.
“Not sure.” He tilts his head, chasing the sensation of your other hand still laced through his bangs, holding them out of your way. He nuzzles his head into your hand, so subtly you almost missed it. You run your fingers through his hair in response, gently scratching at his scalp and you see gooseflesh break out across his skin, concentrated on his neck and feel a deep groan reverberating through his body more than you hear it.
“Thinking about going on leave. Staying here for a bit. I have a few strings I can pull after this.”
This must have been a bad one.
You want to ask. “You deserve a break,” is what you settle on. The last butterfly strip is stubborn to peel away, the adhesive unaffected by Leon’s picking habits and the rain beating on his face. He flinches when you tug at it.
“I wouldn't go that far.”
“I would.”
“You worry too much.”
“Somebody has to.” He shakes his head, but leaves it at that. You ready an alcohol soaked pad and apologize for how it’ll burn.
He claims he's used to it and it's fine, but you both know he hates it.
His fingertips dig lightly into the backs of your thighs at the first sting of disinfectant, then disappear altogether when he finally seems to realize they sought your skin for comfort in the first place. In an uncharacteristically bold move, you grab his hands on their retreat and place them back where they were.
He looks at you like you're some kind of goddess—awestruck, reverent, baptized in rubbing alcohol atop linoleum flooring and yellow lighting.
Under the weight of that stare, you work a q-tip around the remaining adhesive stuck to his skin, thoroughly cleansing him before reapplying the dressings.
“You need a shower,” you say absentmindedly, readying the strips beside you. “Your hair is dirty.”
“Can't—shoulders took a beating from the recoil. Can barely get my arms above my head.” He demonstrates his range of motion for you. True to his word, his arms barely clear his chest before visible pain spreads across his face.
You scoff. “And you say you don't need a break.”
He says nothing.
“I’ll help you when we're done with this.”
Leon looks mildly distressed at your offer. “You don't have to do that.”
“I know,” is all you have to say, because that's what this—whatever this is—boils down to, isn't it? Small acts of care and compassion that are never owed, never expected, but still freely given without the promise of repayment. A little reality the two of you have built in your home, separate from the rest of the world; something only the two of you know about. You tend to his wounds and make him dinner when he shows up unannounced in the small hours of the night, he cleans up the mess he tracks in and washes the dishes when you're done cooking and traces patterns into the small of your back until you fall asleep.
A routine that you both have fallen into without ever having to write it out.
You're both silent while you dress his wound, rain and distant melodies filling the air around you. The strips apply easily, the skin not so separated that it's a fruitless task but enough that you can't engage in small talk for the sake of focusing. Leon stares straight ahead, no longer watching you; you find that you miss his eyes being on you, but he still touches the backs of your legs.
You're fine settling with that.
When you finish, Leon picks up the bloody cotton balls and q-tips and bandages, carefully disposing of them while you clean your hands.
“Can you take your shirt off?” You ask, beginning to run a bath for him.
You know he is feeling worse than he lets on because there's no ridiculous joke, no knowing look. Just quiet. Just compliance.
You watch pain flash across his face as he lifts his arms. “Let me help,” you offer. He accepts without complaint, and the two of you begin stripping off his shirt while the tub fills. It takes longer than what might be necessary, but you refuse to move him in a way that will cause him more pain. You’d rather cut the shirt off of him than do that.
But, eventually, Leon’s shirt is stripped away and the tub fills with warm water and heat sits heavy in the air, damp on your skin. You try to stop your wandering eyes, but the bruises and cuts littering his tanned skin steal your attention. He looks like he's been through hell and back. You add a healthy scoop of epsom salt and eucalyptus scented soap to the bathwater at the sight of him—the salts to soothe his aching muscles, the soap to preserve his modesty in the water, should he desire it.
Leon tends to be protective of his body. You suspect the scars have something to do with it.
(You tell him they're beautiful, he tells you you're lying.)
“Let me know when you're ready,” you say, leaving him to finish undressing in private. You grab a plastic cup while you wait.
It's only a handful of moments before he calls you back into the bathroom. His clothes are neatly folded on the counter, belt coiled on top and boots on the floor, caked in mud. He sits in the tub with his back hunched and hands clasped together around his curled legs.
He looks small—afraid, like he’s ready to flee from this moment of vulnerability.
You've never helped Leon wash himself before.
You've bought his favorite soap for him to use. You’ve asked him what detergent he prefers (all he would say is yours) and keep it stocked so you can wash his clothes. You have spare clothes for him. You've cleaned and bandaged his wounds more times than you can count—you even took a couple volunteer classes to better learn how to care for him like this. You learned how to cook his favorite meals. You learned what textures he gravitates towards for his bedding and made sure his favorites are always clean.
But never this—this, somehow, is far more intimate than anything you have done for him.
(More intimate than even sex.)
You sit on the edge of the tub, paying no mind to the water splashes soaking your thin shorts.
“Is this okay?” You ask, giving him the opportunity to stop this, to tell you he doesn't want your help and he’ll just properly wash himself when the soreness has subsided. While you wait for his reply, your eyes trace along more bruises. You see a large bruise along his right shoulder and peck, likely from the recoil of his rifle; you see another one, deep purple and green and angry, blossoming on his back amidst a nasty scrape as though he were thrown. His torso is covered in other smaller cuts and scrapes, and there are stitches along his upper left bicep.
(Who did he sacrifice his body for this time?)
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Thank you.”
You fill your cup with water, gently tilt his head back and slowly pour it along his hair line. Leon’s eyes are squeezed shut, brows knitted together like he still hasn't actually decided that this is okay. The only sounds between you are Leon’s deep breaths and trickling water.
It's peaceful.
On the fourth cup of water, Leon’s shoulder visibly loosen, seeming to disappear with every stream of water down his back, but it's replaced with small tremors—like he is holding something back.
“I almost died over there.”
You pause. Frozen for just a second, living in a moment that feels like a lifetime, in a reality where Leon isn't here with you.
You don't want to be there.
You want to be here, in this bubble you've created for yourselves, where he's decided it's safe enough to tell you this.
“Don't think I've ever been that close to it. I…” He hesitates, shoulders locking again as you pour more water. “I was afraid. I thought I wouldn't get to—” You don't get to know what he wants to say. He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale and minusculely turns his head from you.
“Is it over now?”
“I think so.”
“Good.” You pause. “You don't get to skip out that easy.” His laugh is softer than you wanted, but at least it's there.
He’s there.
Hair properly saturated, you reach for the bottle of two-in-one shampoo (which you repeatedly tried getting him to change, but to no avail—he’s nothing if not stuck in his ways) you keep in the bathroom for him, always ready for when he may show.
You squeeze a generous amount in your palms. “Why do you always do this?” He asks quietly as you begin lathering his hair.
You hesitate to answer for a moment, but continue to scrub at his scalp and admire the way his eyes drift closed at the sensation.
“Why do I do what?”
“This,” he emphasizes, gesturing to the room. “Let me show up out of the blue, beaten half to death, and just… take care of me? Why do you care?”
It's a good question. One you ponder while you lather and scrub his hair, watching how, despite himself, Leon sinks a little deeper into the water, relaxing more with each passing moment.
Why do you care so much?
You met Leon a small handful of times before Raccoon City, no more than thrice—back when his cheeks were rounder, his hopes were higher, and he always wore that charmingly sly grin. Nothing serious, nothing romantic even, just a budding friendship that was ripped out root and stem far too soon. You thought he was dead until he turned up at your front door (you're still not even sure how he found you) beaten and battered, saying he had nowhere else to stay that night. He never stopped coming back after. You don't really know why, and you aren't sure he does either, but there seems to be something for him here he can't find anywhere else.
Against your better judgement, it blossomed into something you had no control over.
It was impossible not to.
So, why do you care?
Because it’s as natural to you as breathing, molded by hand from the space he fills in your kitchen at midnight and your lips slotted against his.
“Probably for the same reason you keep letting me.”
And it seems there's nothing else to say as you rinse the shampoo from his hair, he just gives you that look again—the one that stops your heart and tricks you into thinking there's more he's able to give you.
You leave Leon to dry himself off, deciding he doesn't need your help with that part.
When he meets you in the living room, his hair is sopping wet, dripping down his bare torso and sweatpants are draped low across his hips.
You go to chastise him, tell him he's not sitting on your couch when he's still wet as a dog, but he makes himself as small as he can manage and lays his head in your lap—how could you stop him? How could you ruin a moment so vulnerable, so human from a man who has been conditioned to be anything but? He lays next to you, beaten down and exhausted beyond comprehension, and he looks content, more than you've ever seen from him so you think a bit of water is more than worth the trade.
“I thought I wasn't coming back,” he says softly as you card your fingers through his dripping hair.
Your heart stops. You suspected that was the case. “I'm happy you did.”
“I don't want to leave again.”
“Do you have to?”
“I will.” He's shaking like a leaf, like it's causing him physical pain to say his next words “But I want to stay. I don't want to go back. Not yet.”
You don't want him to either.
You tell him as much.
He sits up, moving awkwardly around his pain and looks at you with terrifying intensity. “If– if I do take a break… can I stay with you?”
You don't have to think about your answer. “Always.”
Leon’s eyes flick back and forth between your own. His are glassy, threatening to spill over with unspoken emotion, and lined with a bright red that shows the exhaustion he’s fighting with himself to hide.
“I don't know what I would do without you.”
You feel overcome with your own emotion. Leon doesn't talk like this. Ever. Your heart swells, chills break out across your skin despite the scorching heat his body sears into you.
“You don’t have to figure that out. I'm here with you—always.”
He leans forward gently, slow like he's scared you'll run away from him, or maybe scared that he’ll be the one to run. Large, calloused hands come up and cradle the sides of your face, thumbs brushing back and forth along your jaw, at the place it meets your neck—a spot he's kissed and bitten and nipped more times than you can recall, now the subject of divine devotion. And softly, like it was a declaration of so many years of unspoken feelings, he kisses you. It's not heated, it's not passionate, nothing like the fire you normally burn up in; it's raw—vulnerable and tender and so fragile, the only sound it could survive is rainwater and violin.
“I’m bad at this,” he begins with a shaking breath. “I don't know if I can give you more than this—but I… I don't want you to go anywhere. And I don't want to show up to another man’s car in your driveway.”
As if you could ever accept another man’s touch.
“God, I'd probably kill the son of a bitch,” he says with a wry laugh. “When I collapsed, you were all I saw—the only thing I could think about was not getting to see you again and it felt more terrifying than death.”
You can't stop yourself from asking. “Collapsed?”
The idea of Leon in such a miserable state is enough to nearly choke you. To think, while you were curled up in bed or bored and miserable at work, Leon almost died.
You've never heard him make such a claim before.
You watch as he parses through what he can and cannot tell you. “There was some kind of disease– a parasite. It nearly took me over. I collapsed right in the damn lab that held the cure—if it weren't for Ash–” he cuts himself off. “Baby Eagle, I wouldn't be here.”
“Leon…”
“Getting back here was the only thing that kept me going– back to you.”
You cup his face, your hands so much smaller than his, barely covering half the area of his own.
“You can stay as long as you want, as long as you keep coming back to me.” He smiles, yet another glimpse of that fresh-faced rookie sneaking between fine lines and creased brows.
Leon captures you in a crushing hug, head tucked beneath yours and body scrunched in on itself.
“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”
“You didn't have to do anything, Leon,” you say, as you card your hands through his hair again. “You being here is enough.”
He grumbles something into your skin as his head slowly drifts toward your stomach and his arms loosen. It's well past one in the morning by now—he must have been exhausted. You are as well, you realize, as Leon’s soft snores (that he claims don't exist) intermingle in the soft sounds of your living room. Music still drifts in the air, mixing with petrichor and eucalyptus as you drift off to sleep.
You know your neck and hips will be sore in the morning.
You know Leon will be closed off again—despite his confession. Not because he's been disingenuous but because he knows nothing else.
You know the air will feel damp and coffee won’t be made until he wakes.
It's all okay—it's perfect, so long as you get to stay in this little reality you've crafted together a moment longer.
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