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.
18+. the many times you & higuruma get caught at work.
I. case one: the evidence locker ( 8:12 PM )
higuruma hiromi is dark pressed suit, two rings on his long fingers & a moral compass that always points north. you’re a paralegal with skirt 3cm below the dress code & a magnet in your molars that has hiromi’s compass swiveling south.
you’re tugging on his tie now. “come onnn, ‘ruma. please?”
a paralegal should not be referring to their boss as ‘ruma. they also should not be dragging him into the evidence locker at 8PM to look for a ‘missing file’ he swears doesn’t even exist. you’re currently doing both. and higuruma lets you.
your lips are summer sticky & far too hot. your hand’s in his hair now, nails on his nape, his palm bunching at the folds of your skirt. your breath’s ridiculously hot in his mouth as you huff & puff against his tongue, shoving him against the lockers. hiromi slaps your ass when you dare to let out a whine.
BANG !
the loud sound jolts your bodies apart. higuruma’s palm is still on your thigh—“hiromi ?!”
“the auto-lock,” his palms drag over his face. he breathes, “it’s eight-thirty. the basement seals automatically till the morning shift.”
he lets out a low, frustrated groan that vibrates through your rib. even now, you’re still pressed against him, half-clothed tits pressed into his chest as his thumb grazes circles on your hip. he dials a number with his other hand, ignoring the sloppy, gloss-drenched kisses you leave on his jaw as he speaks to the security desk at the end of the line.
half-an-hour later—after higuruma’s stewing & you calming him down with apology head, complete with your hair tied in a sympathy bun of course—the heavy metal door drags open. a security guard armed with a flashlight walks in. he’s greeted with the sight of higuruma buttoning your shirt, sympathy bun long come undone.
you’re free. and you’re in so much trouble.
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: UNAUTHORIZED AFTER-HOURS ACCESS & BREACH OF SECURITY
punishment: Written warning & $500 Penalty fine for Emergency Override.
issued by: Levi Ackerman, Chief of security.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi, [Y/N] [L/N]
‘the evidence locker is no place for ‘private deliberations.’ and keep in mind all audio is recorded. in no world should the word ‘tight’ be moaned in an emergency distress call.
II. case two: encrypted outlook thread ( 12:21 PM )
higuruma hiromi ought to teach you a lesson.
frankly, you’re the worst paralegal he’s had the mispleasure of working with since joining pearson hardman. he can’t help but envy his rival, phoenix wright, and his paralegal, maya fey!
you’re much too forgetful, too busty, too disorganized. at 9AM today the files for the high-priority danganronpa case were due on his desk. they didn’t reach him till eleven, and you had the audacity to add on a sticky note labeled ‘sorry!’ and ‘meet me downstairs for some apology head ;)’. higuruma hiromi has concluded that you never learn.
so he decides he’ll teach you himself.
Subject: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: Higuruma Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
Not only were the documents I requested for prep late, they were also extremely disorganized. This is a serious case regarding kidnapped and murdered children, and I suggest you exercise some more seriousness and be more meticulous in your conduct. You also left an implicit sticky-note attached to the files. I suggest you come visit my office, lest I file a formal complaint.
Regards,
Higuruma Hiromi
—
Subject: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
Counselor,
Are you threatening me with a complaint? I’m just doing my job. I did notice your tie was a bit crooked today, though, so I’d be happy to come fix it for you when I swing by your office. Or take it off completely. Let me know when you’d like me to drop in and fix those files!
Regards,
Y/N L/N
—
Subject: RE: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: Higuruma, Hiromi
To: [L/N], [Y/N]
Y/N,
You can come fix it now. And then I’m going to fix the way you think you can talk to a Senior Associate. I will lock the door, and you will not be released till you admit exactly how much of a headache you’re deliberately trying to be. Don't test me, [Y/N]. I’m a very patient man, but even I have limits.
Higuruma Hiromi.
ー
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Investigative Documents for Danganronpa Case
From: [L/N], [Y/N]
To: Higuruma, Hiromi
ruma,
i suck at corporate speak 😭 are u saying ur gonna eat my pussy orrrrrr
—
Subject: [SECURITY ALERT] KEYWORD FLAG / SERVER SCRUB
From: Hange Zoë (IT Department)
To: Higuruma, Hiromi; [L/N], [Y/N]
CC: Human Resources (General Inbox)
Hi Hiromi, [Y/N],
Just a friendly heads-up: I’m running the quarterly server audit and the 'harassment/explicit' keyword filter just went off like a fire alarm on your thread. Specifically because of the word 'pussy.’
Sorry to intrude on your corporate sexting session! I’ve paused the sync to the main server, but the automated log has already been forwarded to the Senior Partners. You guys might want to check your calendars. Erwin at HR just opened a new 'Conduct Investigation' folder with both your names on it (uh oh!)
Best of luck to you both! And Y/N, I could be wrong, but I think his last message was implying BDSM; though I don’t doubt he’d be willing to eat you out as well!
Happy eating!
Zoë Hange
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: MISUSE OF COMPANY COMMUNICATION CHANNELS / EXPLICIT DIGITAL CONDUCT
punishment: Mandatory 2-hour 'Digital Ethics' Webinar & temporary monitoring of all outgoing firm emails.
issued by: Erwin Smith, Head of Human Resources.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi, [Y/N] [L/N]
‘It has come to our attention that the Danganronpa Case thread was used for ‘personal negotiations,’ that which our investigative committee has concluded were most likely inappropriate. Please refrain from using the firm’s Outlook servers as your personal Wizz/Tinder moving forward. And Higuruma, we expect better from you. Please report to room three on floor six after lunch break. The door will not be locked.’
III. case three: company zoom meeting ( 5:04 PM )
higuruma hiromi thinks he’s so fucking smart.
he also thinks he’s the king of calendar invites. so when he tells you to send out an email for a company zoom meeting for 6PM but set the zoom’s actual time to five, he supposes his intellect rivals god.
“you’re late, y/n,” higuruma’s voice is close to guttural. he’s laid back on his desk chair, tie loose, legs spread, hair impossibly messy. and you’re knelt on your floor, laptop on your thighs.
you’re sporting the cutest little bath robe higuruma has ever seen. you’re grinning at the screen, cheeks peach-dappled & lips bent in a clumsy smile,
“hi, ‘ruma! wanna see my tits?”
lord, how higuruma adores you !
and who is he to say no? he leans back against his seat, swivel chair groaning with a creeeaaak. he’s already unzipping his pants as you begin to shrug off your pretty pink robe, breasts glazed over & supple in the fluorescent light.
a tiny, bright green notification pings at the bottom of the screen.
[Participants: 48]
higuruma freezes. then rises up, palm curling off his shaft & inching towards his keyboard.
slowly, agonizingly, he clicks on gallery view.
forty-six pearson hardman employees stare at him back.
erwin smith looks like he just witnessed a war promised to him 2000 years ago. hange zoë has a measuring tape held up against the screen. his rival, phoenix, is making a face that reminds him of the many memes of that one streamer you’d often send him—i show meat? levi ackerman has already left the meeting—he knows because the notification flashes at the corner of the screen.
and right there in the center box? harvey specter, senior partner of pearson hardman ltd, has his chin in his hand & eyes intensely locked on to the screen.
is he looking at your breasts ?
oh right, you! you’ve been calling out for the past one minute now, completely unaware of the other forty-six employees watching your wet nipples glisten in the light.
“‘ruma? ‘ruma? ugh, is this thing on?”
higuruma slams his laptop shut. it bangs louder than the gunshot that killed charlie kirk.
★ Y/N L/N ⎯⎯ DISCIPLINARY RECORD.
offense: PUBLIC INDECENCY / TOTAL BREACH OF FIRM REPUTATION
punishment: Termination of Employment (Effective Immediately)
issued by: Harvey Specter, Senior Partner ; The Board of Directors.
CC: Higuruma Hiromi (RESIGNED), [Y/N] [L/N]
‘Hey guys! Harvey here. So after a meeting with the rest of the board, we’ve come to the decision to terminate your employment. Higuruma, your resignation letter has been duly received. Gonna be completely honest, that was the last thing I ever expected to see in a corporate meeting. But you two really spiced up my evening, thanks! I tried to negotiate with Jessica and the other directors on your behalves, but sadly they weren’t having it.’
P.S: ‘Nice cock, Hiromi! Very impressive both length and girth wise. And sorry for sneaking a peak at your chest, Y/N. At the very least, your boob job looks very natural. Best of luck to you both!’
⁺໒꒱ིྀ༝ bunny!reader is taken care of by dbf!ghost after a drunken night out
you weren’t exactly sure when, or how you’d managed to get your lieutenant riley’s phone number … let alone how you ended up in his apartment, completely wasted out of your mind, sat criss-crossed on his toilet. lightly swinging your feet back and forth, you smiled up at the masked man above you, your swollen lips stretched into a dopey grin. ghost was dressed comfortably, his sweats and hoodie an instant clash against your dangerously mini lace dress, your tits pushed up just right.
“ghoooost, m’tired,” you whine with a small hiccup, “s-so tired,”
with an old camouflaged t-shirt in his fist, ghost grunts knowingly, a defeated sigh leaving his lips as he watches you gently kick your feet towards his meaty thighs, “c’mon, pet, knock it off, yeah?” he scolds you lightly, swallowing thickly as you slowly slide your foot up his thigh, stopping right under his hip.
staring at your foot with parted lips, you meet ghost’s gaze, sweetly batting your lashes together, “my feet … me duelen tanto,” you pout, your eyes never leaving the older man’s as you softly push your toes into his skin.
god, you were too fucking cute, too pure. why did you have to be price’s kid? ghost respected your father, hell, your father trained him — the respect ran too deep. but, ghost was well aware of your attraction to him, it scared him — you’re younger, have way more potential than he did at that age, you’re not as cold as he is, not as exposed to the world and how scary it can be.
letting out a low growl of surrender, ghost grabs ahold of your foot, applying just enough pressure into the balls of your feet to have you letting out a relived moan — fuck. maintaining his hold on your foot, ghost jostles you out of your dazed state, “won’t hurt as much f’ya get into bed, love,” he coos.
“will you sleep next to me?” you question, your doe eyes glazed over as the lieutenant’s chest deflates with a deep exhale.
still holding onto your foot, ghost shakes his head, “you’re price’s kid — s’my captain—”
“not a kid,” you go to snatch your foot back, but ghost is that much quicker than you, holding your foot flat against his hard abdomen.
cocking his head to the side, ghost stares at you with reprimanding eyes, his pupils blown, “hey, don’t gimme tha’ — none of tha’ bratty stuff,” he corrects you, “you’re drunk, and i can’t betray y’dad,” his voice is stern and final, and just as his hold on your foot softens, you’re quick to pull your foot away.
ghost tries to ignore the dull pang in his chest when he catches you blinking furiously, clearly fighting back warm and fat tears that stung at your waterline, your normally sentimental nature now enhanced by all the bottom shelf tequila shots you took. the older man never wanted to see you cry, so him being the reason for your tears made him feel that much shittier.
with a small sniffle, you reach your hand out towards ghosts, keeping you watery eyes away from his, “um, i-i can change in here,” you squeak out, straightening your posture to the best of your drunken ability.
nodding silently, ghost places the crumpled clothes into your hand, wordlessly exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind him. you’re quick to stumble up to your feet, grabbing onto the wall to balance yourself as you let out a short cry, your struggles to undo the zipper of your dress setting you off completely.
ghost remains stood outside of the bathroom door, running a frustrated hand over his masked face as he takes in the sound of your whiny cries and you bumping into the wall every now and again. he decides to give you a few minutes to yourself, before checking in on you, his shoulders squared and jaw locked.
just as he moves to knock on the door, it opens, revealing you nearly swallowed whole by his shirt alone, eyeliner-tinted tears streaking your puffy cheeks, “smells good,” you mumble, your body slightly swaying as you keep your head down.
“listen, love, i—”
with those big puppy eyes of yours, you blurt out, “do you li-like me, ghost?” you hiccup, your vision all wonky and cloudy from residual tears as you teeter a bit too far on one side, nearly tripping over your own feet.
“i shouldn’t,” ghost steps forward, placing both of his massive hands on your shoulders, steadying you, forcing you to keep your eyes directly on his, leaning down to reach your height, “n’you shouldn’t like me,” he warns, his voice flowing in one of your ears and straight out of the other.
“but, i—”
ghost lifts one of his hands from your shoulders, moving it to gently cradle your jaw, raising a daring brow to you, “you’re price’s kid … m’not good f’you,”
the older man goes to nudge your chin with his knuckle, but you move too fast, catching his thick finger between your sharp teeth with a bubbly giggle. ghost remains silent, internally cursing himself as he decides to test the waters — throw you a bone, i mean, you’ve been nothing short of a sweet little bunny to him.
letting out a sigh, ghost extends his finger, watching with parted lips under his balaclava as your warm mouth and wet tongue close around his finger. you keep your eyes firmly on ghost, slightly hollowing your cheeks with a muffled hum as you slooowly slide your lips off of his thick digit, catching the tip of his index between your teeth, before you press a short kiss to his finger.
“c’mon, bunny,” ghost stands up tall, and with a playful roll of your eyes you can’t help but blush at the masked man, holding your arms up towards him, “gonna be the death f’me, fuckin’ hell,” he surrenders, lifting you by your underarms, your legs instantly swinging around his surprisingly slender waist.
resting your throbbing head against ghost’s, you snuggle into the side of his neck, bringing your hand up to toy with the loose thread that hung from the hem of his balaclava, “can i see your face, jus’ once?”
simon continues making his way to his bedroom, each of his steps heavy, but careful, “when y’wake up, ask me and maybe i’ll show y’my face, how’s tha’ sound, pet?” he coaxed, lightly patting your bottom as he leans down, laying you onto his mattress.
you let out a sleepy hum, squirming a bit as you find a comfortable position on the lieutenant’s bed, inhaling the lingering scent of his musky cologne that remained with his pillowcase.
ghost watches as you lull yourself to sleep, shamelessly ogling at the hem of his shirt that now bunches up above your lower back, your full plump ass on full display, your skimpy pink panties nearly swallowed by your soft asscheeks and puffy pussy.
clearing his throat, ghost brings a hand to your core, hooking a prodding finger through your damp little panty, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulls down his balaclava just below his mouth, “y’asleep, bunny?”
shifting your leg a bit higher, you wiggle your ass cutely, “no,”
“good,” simon kneels onto the bed, grateful for the darkness as he watches you peek from your pillow, searching for any sign of his face.
ghost lets out a pathetically hungry groan as he stuffs his face into your panty-covered pussy, inhaling deeply as he hooks your leg around his neck, suffocating himself in your sweet warmth.
past midnight, every night, without fail— moaning behind your bedroom door, porn echoing off the walls, barely muffled by whatever cheap ass speakers your laptop had. his name wasn’t on your mind. never was, never would be. you were too busy with your legs spread, vibrator buzzing between your thighs, lips parted in glossy desperation as your hips arched off the mattress, chasing your next high like it was oxygen.
you were a gooner. through and through. always needy, cockdrunk without any cock, and fucking shameless.
it’s been like this for months now, and toji swore it had to be some kind of karmic punishment. not because you were messy or rude or hard to live with. but because you were just loud. too loud. and lately, your little nightly sessions were getting out of hand.
he would wake up at two in the morning to the sound of you moaning. not your porn, not the squeaky, high-pitched girl you’d been replaying for the last thirty minutes, but you. mewling, breathy, muttering curse words in a fucked out whisper as if you were seconds away from crying.
at first, he figured it was temporary. you were just settling in, maybe a little too quickly, but regardless, it was probably just a phase. hell, he even thought he might catch a break during november. you know, the whole ‘no nut’ thing going around. but nope, you lasted three whole days. three. and on day four, it was like something inside you snapped— because you came back swinging harder than ever.
tuesday night. 12:46 a.m. toji was laying in bed, phone charging, pillow over his head, already exhausted from a long day of work.
and just when he thought he might get some peace, he hears it:
“fuckfuck, right there, oh my goddd—”
he groaned into the mattress. it wasn’t the porn. it was you. again.
and lately, it had started bleeding into everything. gotten so bad to the point where he swore he could hear you even when you weren’t home. he’d walk past your empty room during the day, fully locked up, and still think he could hear those breathy little whines echoing faintly from inside. your voice was imprinted on his fucking brain. sometimes when he closed his eyes, he swore he could hear the faint buzz of your vibrator like phantom noise.
you were haunting him.
then, the next morning?
like nothing ever happened.
you’d walk into the kitchen wearing your stupid little slippers and oversized tee like a good girl, yawning as if you weren’t the reason he was up all night, cock hard and jaw clenched. you didn’t even look at him with shame or guilt, not even an ounce of embarrassment.
like you didn’t just finger yourself to a compilation of tentacle hentai for two and a half hours straight.
toji had finally had enough.
+
you didn’t hear him come in.
not at first. you were too far gone— back arched, slick fingers stuffed inside you as another video played, screen propped up on your pillows. your thighs were shaking. your eyes were glossy. you hadn’t even cum yet, but you’d been edging yourself for almost an hour, pussy so wet the sheets were damp beneath your ass.
then the door creaked open.
you sat up halfway, blinking, chest heaving, “toji—?”
he didn’t say anything.
just stepped inside, shirtless and pissed off, dark hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed, eyes low with something you couldn’t quite place.
“what the hell—”
“you don’t know how to be quiet, do you?”
you flinched.
he shut the door behind him, locked it.
“every night. moaning. whining. crying into your fucking pillow—” his voice dropped as he stepped closer, towering over you now, gaze sliding down to where your fingers were still between your thighs, glistening with your arousal.
you yanked your hand back. “i-i didn’t think you—”
“didn’t think i could hear you?” he scoffed. “sweetheart, the whole building can hear you.”
your breath hitched.
you should’ve been embarrassed. maybe even scrambled to cover up. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. your heart was pounding, your pussy was throbbing, and your body was still soaked from the half dozen orgasms you hadn’t let yourself have yet.
“you know what your problem is?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he crouched in front of the bed, one knee pressed to the mattress. “you don’t know how to ask for help.”
you stared, wide-eyed, caught somewhere between panic and desire. he reached forward, grabbed your vibrator— warm, wet, softly humming, and tossed it to the floor.
“gonna shut you up for real.”
before you even got the chance to speak, he’s already dropping down between your legs, his huge palms spreading them apart, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the bed. his mouth was on your pussy right away. no teasing, no warm-up. he licks straight through your folds, wide and heavy, collecting all the slick you had worked up for the past hour.
“you don’t know when to stop,” he muttered, breath hot against your core. “so i’ll do it for you.”
his hands clamp down on your thighs, nails pressing crescents into your skin. his tongue works you open, licking everything, sucking on your clit before dipping down again. your whole lower half was a disaster. sticky and overheated, juices leaking down your crack while his spit slides over it, pooling between your thighs. he groaned into you, the sound rough and low, and the second he heard you whimper, he slid two fingers inside you without saying a word.
you gasped— tight around him already, walls fluttering from the stretch. he curls them instantly, fucking them in slow, deep strokes as his mouth seals around your clit and sucks hard.
“f-fuck, toji—” your voice broke a little when you said his name.
he doesn’t let up.
his fingers pumped into you steady, knuckles deep, thumb rubbing circles into your clit when his mouth pulls away just for a moment. he’s watching you now, watching the way you react— how you clench everytime he curls his fingers just right.
“you make this much of a mess by yourself, baby? fuckin’ dripping—” he muttered, voice thick, a string of spit still clinging from his lips to your cunt.
then he lets another glob fall, watching it land right on your clit before pushing it in with his fingers, leaning down again to lick around them, fucking you open with his hand.
you screamed.
your legs kicked, heels digging into the bed, hands flying to his hair— pulling, gripping, trying to stop him because it was too much.
he just moaned.
“t-too much, wait, wait, i—!”
you cum hard. your legs shaking, pussy squeezing around his fingers as your orgasm hits full force. you cry out as your vision went white and your brain flatlined. but he didn’t stop. he fucks you through it, tongue lapping up your cum, dragging it back into you with this obscene, slurping groan, like he couldn’t get enough.
when he finally pulls away, his fingers slid out soaked and glistening, he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, savoring every drop.
“get on all fours.”
you blinked, barely able to breathe.
“now.”
you scrambled up before you could think, limbs unsteady, body still twitching from the comedown. your chest rose sharp and shallow as you flipped over onto your hands and knees. hands trembling where they pressed into the sheets, ass high up in the air like you were presenting it for him— because you were.
you heard him behind you. the soft rustle of fabric, the harsh clink of his belt being unbuckled. his pants hit the floor with a heavy thud, and then, a wet slap.
his fist, pumping along his cock. slow, heavy strokes. breathing deeper now.
you didn’t even have to look back to know he was staring. you could feel it. the heat of his gaze crawling down your spine, burning low in your stomach. your walls clenched on nothing in anticipation, hole fluttering around the emptiness, desperate to be filled.
and then you felt it.
his tip— thick, hot, flushed— pressing between your folds, dragging slow through the mess he’d made earlier. he rubbed it up and down, coating himself in your slick, teasing your entrance while your hips jolted everytime he passed over your clit.
“this what you wanted, baby?” he murmured, breath warm against your back. “been fucking yourself for weeks just to stay empty, begging for something real.”
you nodded frantically, biting your lip so hard it almost bled.
and then he slammed into you.
you screamed into the pillow, whole body jerking forward from the force of it. he didn’t give you a second to adjust— just bottomed out, buried to the hilt, his pelvis flush against your ass.
“so loud,” he growled, fucking into you with bruising force, the sound of skin slapping against skin already bouncing off the walls. “so fuckin’ noisy all the time. whining, moaning, always actin’ like a dumb little slut in heat—”
you were gushing. literally.
your pussy took him deep with every thrust, swallowing him whole, over and over, no resistance. the flood between your thighs was nonstop. wet, loud, splattering out around the base of his cock with every movement. your thighs were already soaked. his were worse.
“you like this shit, don’t you?” he groaned, grabbing your hips harder. “like being used, fucked stupid, so wet for me i can barely stay inside, fuck, baby, you’re making a mess.”
you sobbed into the sheets, mouth open, jaw slack, eyes rolling. you didn’t care.
you were writhing, whining, gooning on his cock like you’d never touched yourself a day in your life, already close to cumming again because he was hitting so deep, grinding against that spot that made your legs go numb.
“p-please- need it, need more—”
“more?” he scoffed, laughing under his breath. “can’t even hold yourself up and you’re still beggin’? greedy lil thing.”
his palm lands a harsh strike to your ass, then grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back until your spine arched. he fucked into you harder, every thrust faster than the last, hips snapping against yours with a punishing pace.
“then take it.”
you came again.
a sharp, overwhelming release forced out of you, squirting all over his cock with a squelch so loud it made him groan, eyes locked on the mess coating his length. the spray hit his thighs, ran down his balls, made everything slippery. his hips stuttered for just a second, slick pouring out of you in waves as your pussy clenched around him, still trying to milk him for more.
“jesus- fuck- keep doing that and i’m gonna ruin you.”
you couldn’t even speak. couldn’t form words. your mouth was open but empty, tongue hanging out, drool leaking onto the sheets below you. all you could do was take it— whimpering while he used you like a toy, grunting with every heavy thrust, cock battering your walls over and over.
he leaned over you then, chest colliding your back, one hand still in your hair, the other gripping your hip so tight it hurt. his mouth ghosted over your ear.
“should’ve done this weeks ago,” he whispered. “then maybe you wouldn’t be such a brat.”
+
you passed out after round three.
he fucked you until your legs fully gave out. until your eyes rolled back. until your muscles seized, overstimmed, crying into the sheets and begging him to slow down.
he never once did.
he stayed buried inside you for a full minute after, cock twitching, both of you panting, drenched in sweat and cum and everything else.
you fell asleep on his chest.
and for once— for once— your room was quiet that night.
…though not for long.
because in the morning, he woke up to you already rutting against his thigh.
“toji,” you whispered sweetly, shameless as ever. “wanna go again?”
there's times when simon riley helps you trim the hairs on your pussy, it's an easy task for him, and he's more than happy to lend you a hand should you need so, feeling too tired to busy yourself with it, bending over, lifting your legs and spreading them out on uncomfortable angle, you have him for this, just ask.
he'd get on his knees against the shower's tile floor, your leg dangling at the stretch of his shoulder, exposing your pussy, hidden under a layer of outgrowing bush, water dripping down from your ankle, tracing a line down his flexing bicep, to the wretched tattoos and bulging muscles, as he nudges his crooked, sharp nose in the underside of your thigh, nuzzling in the suppleness of your warmed skin.
big hand hovering over your pussy, fingers swooping carelessly down your pubic hair, ghosting lightly where your folds hide, itching the trimmer close to cut the curling hairs, enough so they won't irritate you, and also look good at the same time, as his calloused fingers tap at your other leg, making you widen your stance, holding onto him softly, carefully, while he helps you, roughened palms enveloping and grounding at the same time.
bending closer, his wet palms smooth over both your thighs, as he tries to get a better view, your back leaning against the cold, wet wall, shudders snaking down your spine, and your hips buckle, so close simon can glance over the pretty, tender folds of your pussy, quivering in timid anticipation at close contact, your tummy clenching, as you feel the rush of the slick out your pulsing hole, and then the buzz of the trimmer shuts down.
simon purrs for you to — “hold onto me, lass”, voice low, tethering on a rasp, and you do, trembling fingers grasping, tangling in his short, dampening locks, as you feel the warm, thick swipe of his tongue against your sopping slit, cunt parting for his hungry mouth, the hairs on your mons tingling against his nose, and the pleased hum he let's out vibrates in a drawn out moan, syncing with your hushed whimper.
higuruma genuinely goes dumb when he gets head, his jaw goes slack, his eyes rolling back in his head every time his tip hits the back of your warm, soft throat
he’s not too loud tho, lots of choppy gasps and sharp inhales before he holds his breath only to release it in a long groan
he reaches behind him and grips the headboard or the back of his head with one hand while he runs his fingers through your hair with his other, not pushing, just feeling you bob up and down on him; the feeling drives him crazy
he thrusts his hip up a little to meet ur sucking tho, nothing too hard, just little pumps that match ur rhythm. sometimes he’ll roll his hips in a circle just trying to stimulate himself some more
his back arches like crazy too, he has to consciously keep his back on the bed or he’ll be aching by the time he finishes
You grinded yourself against his leg, smiling. “Hot.” }
ʚ cont: age gap, choking, drug mentions, sex toys, masturbation, teasing, dirty talk, rough sex, oral, fingering, handcuffs, unprotected sex, toji and readers dad are besties <3
“How does ten sound, babe?” The sound of your ex’s voice echoed through the phone, dark and full of dangerous promises.
You rolled over in your bed, feeling the tiny shorts hugging your ass ride up higher. Feet kicking up behind you, you stared at your manicured nails in the dim light of your room, only half listening to his words. “Uh-huh, sounds great.” It didn’t—sound great. He was a decent lay at best, and a dried-up waterpark at best. You were only making plans with that loser to piss off your bodyguard.
“Knew you missed me, angel.” He chuckled into the receiver, making you gag. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea… Oh well, at least if mr four and a half inches couldn’t finish you off, the drawer full of pretty vibrators you had could. “You gonna be able to sneak out without yer’ daddy seein’ you though? You know I love fucking that little pussy, but I’m not tryna get in trouble with his scary ass.”
Pussy. You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, daddy dearest is off on some fancy business trip for the weekend, so it's just me here.” Lie. Toji Fushiguro, your dad's best friend and your stuck-up asshole of a bodyguard, was lurking just downstairs, ready to put your ass in place if you even attempted to sneak out. Luckily, you had stolen one of your father's spare keycards before he left for his trip, so you could sneak out without him finding out.
Not like it mattered, anyway. Once you had this prick's prick inside you, you planned to take a nice little video for him just for the sake of pissing him off.
“Oh, thank god,” he chuckled. “God. So fucking excited to see you, baby. Missed fucking your tight cunt. Did you miss me fucking you, princess?”
You flexed your fingers out in front of you, pouting when you noticed one of the gems on your pinky had come off earlier. Fucking annoying. You just got those done. “Uh-huh,” you droned, “sooooo excited to feel you inside me.”
“Yeah, I bet you are, I'm gonna put my cock inside you and…” His voice droned on and on as he told you all the things he planned to do to you. Don’t get it twisted, his words were hot, and in theory, everything he described sounded amazing. It was because it was from HIM that it stirred no desire inside you. Maybe if he were able to make you cum even once, his fantasies would sound more exciting.
After hanging up the phone with your shitty ex, you rolled over to your back and planted your feet on the bed, resting your hands on your stomach. Turning your head to the side, you checked the time. Six o'clock. Shit. What the hell were you supposed to do for four hours? The chef had finished dinner an hour ago, so it wasn’t like you had anything left to look forward to.
Sighing, you rolled over and hiked a thigh up on the bed, stuffing your arms under your plush pillow. A nap couldn’t hurt. After all, you had already had your fun parading around in the kitchen, teasing that uptight asshole Toji with your tiny shorts and too-thin top with no bra. Going back down just to try and get his attention would seem desperate.
Closing your eyes, an image of you sending a video of your sex tape to Toji popped into your head. Would he hate it? Would he get off to it? Pervy old man probably would. A thought that held no merit, of course, as Toji had picked you up from countless parties of you half naked and drugged up, sometimes in the middle of the act, and hadn’t done a damn thing about it. Not to mention that one time you tried groping him through his pants when he was driving home, and he ripped your hand from him so fast it gave you whiplash.
Whatever. It was more fun to think he was some secret perv anyway, so you would think that way. Continuing with your filthy, unrealistic fantasies, you soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
Cold. That was the first thing that came to mind when you woke up. Why was it so fucking cold? You cracked your eyes open slowly, greeted with the darkness of your room. Though through the dark, you saw the flashing light on your bedside table. It read “9:21”. With a groan, you squeezed your eyes shut. The sleepy haze was thick in your mind, and honestly, nothing sounded worse than getting up and putting effort into getting ready to fuck some shitty limp dicked fuckbag.
“This has got to count as self-harm,” you groaned, shivering while pressing your arms against the mattress to push yourself up. Pulling your straight leg towards your body, something jerked against you, preventing you from moving. The feeling sent a jolt of pain down your leg as your leg was jerked back to its straight position. “What the fuck?” You whispered into the dark, tugging your leg toward you again.
Once more, you were greeted with… wait… was that—
The lights flicked on, blinding you. You groaned, wincing as the warm hue of your overhead light flooded the room. “What the hell?” You shouted, cracking open your eyes open to be greeted by the more than confusing sight of Toji Fushiguro standing at your bedroom door, one large hand engulfing the light switch, the other stuffed in the pocket of his horribly unprofessional attire of grey sweats.
You furrowed your brows, about to protest once more, when you looked down at your ankle. Your lips parted. Your ankle had been handcuffed to the foot of your bed. Your blood ran hot with anger as your eyes snapped up to meet his annoying face, which now held a smug smile, almost like he had won something. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Did you handcuff me to the bed when I was sleeping?”
Toji crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his chin upwards, looking down at you while leaning against your shut door. “Know anyone else with a key to your room?” He said.
You snarled, “Gods damned pervert! What’s your fucking problem! And how long were you standing there?”
Toji uncrossed his arms and slowly stalked towards the bed. Your heart skipped as you looked him up and down, trying to recoil against your headboard, but coming up short… for obvious reasons. Fucking asshole. It was easy to forget just how big he was when he wore a suit, but with his physique on display like this, in a tight black shirt, it was hard not to notice. He dominated the room with his presence alone, sucking oxygen out of the room with each step towards you.
You crossed your arms over your chest, knowing what you looked like in a cold room in your shirt that protected absolutely nothing. When he stopped at the foot of your bed, he took a seat, dipping the mattress, then reached into his pocket and pulled out—
What. The. Fuck??
“Give that back, asshole!” You lunged forward, forgetting all about how intimidating he was or how indecent your clothing was as you reached for the pink phone case with dangling charms on it that he held out in front of him like some kind of bait.
Toji stood when you got too close and stepped back. Once. Twice. Just until you couldn’t reach him from the end of your bed. “Toji Fushigoro!” You screamed, feeling your frustration burn your cheeks. What was his angle?
“Gonna cry?” He smirked, dangling your phone between his fingers like a two-year-old. “Don’t tell your daddy, I don’t wanna deal with his 'scarry ass' when he finds out I made his babygirl cry.” Your heart skipped at his choice of his words, but before you could look deeper into them, he continued. “He's a good man, but shit does he spoil you. If I ever had a daughter, I’d make sure she didn’t end up like you,” he tsked, flipping your phone around before clicking on the screen.
It unlocked.
“Hey! What do you think you’re—”
“Just a spoiled slut who thinks she's smart enough to steal her daddy’s key card to go have unprotected sex with some young guy.”
Your heart dropped. How did he—
“Phone sex isn’t the quietest shit in the world,” he said, answering your question before you could get it out. “Heard you pretending to moan at this bastard's words from downstairs. Could hardly hear my show because of it.”
Your eye twitched as he continued to scroll on your phone until he clicked a button and held it up to his ear. His eyes locked with yours in a challenge. “Toji Fushiguro…” you started, manicured nails balling in the sheets. “If you do what I think you’re doing, I’m gonna—”
“Sorry,” Toji said, raising a brow. “Not your ‘babe.’” You were pretty sure smoke was coming out of your ears at this point. “You're gonna have to find somewhere else to house your blue-pilled cock for tonight, boy.” And with that, he hung up the phone. He hung up. On your lay.
You don't remember reaching for the pillow that you threw at him—that he caught while laughing. Nor do you remember throwing the plushie your dad brought home from Venice for your twentieth birthday last year. He caught it. Again. “Quit throwing a tantrum. How old are you? You’re going to break—”
The glass that was once resting happily on your bedside table was being thrown across the room. But before it could even shatter against the door, Toji was there. His hand around your throat. Pinning you to the bed with a knee on the mattress between yours.
You desperately gripped his massive hand that didn’t squeeze too hard, but kept you in the submissive position he wanted you in. “I said, quit it.” He said, his face so close his breath tickled your cheeks. “Do you have any idea how much that glass costs, you spoiled brat? Huh? Or do ya’ just not fucking care?”
Blood rushed to your head, making the pulse in your neck pound. Wadding up your spit, you spat right in his face. Despite how satisfying it was to watch the muscle in his jaw bulge, it wasn’t quite enough to make you smile. “Go to hell. Who the fuck cares about some shitty glass? You cuffed me to the bed and stole my phone, asshole. Next time—”
His grip tightened around your throat. “Next time what?”
“Next time…” you gasped. “I won't miss.”
Toji shook his head, his lip curling in disgust. “How did you end up so fucking spoiled? Your daddy showers you with attention, and yet you still seek it out from everyone who walks by. Cock or pussy, you don’t care, do you? Have some respect for yourself.”
His words didn’t sting. Not even a little. In fact, it was just what you needed to bring a smile to your face. You burst out laughing, right in his face. “Ohhh, because you’re so much better? I’ve heard about your lays. Like you said, these walls are thin. You don’t think I can’t hear you telling my daddy about all the girls you’ve had? Unlike me, though, it seems like someone’s a little more picky with his preferences. Unless you swing that way too, and you haven't told him about that.” Another laugh burst from you. “Oh god, do you want my dad?” You giggled. “Is that why you’re so coy?”
Toji had a deadpan expression on his face. His fingers around your throat didn’t even so much as twitch. It kinda pissed you off that he didn’t care. This was supposed to piss him off, not frustrate you even more. “So what is it?” You asked, “Or are young college chicks more your type?”
Toji scoffed, pulling back his hand from your throat to squish your cheeks together. “Guess you haven’t been listening. Last time I had a college girl was twenty years ago.”
God. Something was seriously wrong with you that the reminder of his age made you hot and bothered. This was Toji Fushiguro. Your asshole bodyguard. He wasn’t supposed to be hot—sexy ass fuck voice and ass sculped by the gods or not. “What the fuck ever.” Your smile fell, and you shoved him off, surprised when he relented to sit back on your bed. You tucked your knee against your chest.
You could’ve sworn Toji’s eyes flickered to your ass as you did.
“Shitty lay or not, I was excited to get out of the house and get some action.” You pouted, “The hell am I supposed to do now?”
Toji gave you a once-over and shrugged before standing. His shirt had ridden up from your little tousle, exposing a not at all unwanted glimpse of his happy trail and sculpted V-line before hiding it from view. “Hell, do I care?”
You frowned. “Isn’t your job to keep me happy?”
His face scrunched. “My job is keeping you here and not out in some boy’s bed getting knocked up.” He said, reaching into his pocket to pull out your phone before tossing it down on the bed.
“I'm on the pill, jerkoff.” You cursed. What was his problem? With a sigh, you flopped back onto your bed, turning your head to look at the clock that now read “10:03.” “Could’ve had a cock inside me three minutes ago.” You half pouted, not minding not having to entertain that goon. Faking orgasms gets exhausting after a while. Best case, he would’ve had some molly on him, and the drug could’ve done the heavy lifting, but you didn’t really feel like dealing with the nasty crash of that shit come morning just for some plan to piss Toji off—entertaining as it was.
“I didn’t cuff your wrist,” he said, raising a brow while looking down at you like you were the scum of the earth. “Take care of it yourself.”
Cocking your head at him, you smirk, an idea popping into your head. “You know what, that’s not a bad idea.” While Toji stood there with a more than unimpressed look on his face, you reached over to your drawer, arching your back for dramatics, and dug around until you felt the soft handle of a clit sucking vibrator. Bingo. If you couldn’t send him a sex tape, this would be the next best thing. Lying back on your bed, you parted your legs and set the vibrator down, then reached up and slid your fingers in the hem of your shorts.
“The hell are you doing?” Toji’s gravely voice echoed in the room.
You smiled while shucking your shorts off—well, as off as they could go while having your foot cuffed to the bed—and arched your back, spreading your legs further to show off the green butterfly pattern of the front of your panties. “You told me to take care of it myself, didn’t you, Toji?”
His lip twitched. “It’s Fushiguro, and I didn’t mean with me here. Don’t wanna see that shit.” He wasted no time in turning around and strolling towards the door, but you couldn’t have that.
Clicking on the vibrator, you shoved it down your panties and wasted no time in sliding the intensity to full, pressing it right over your clit. Shit. So much better than your ex’s cock. God, sex toys are a work of art. Thank you, women-owned sex shops. A gasp left your lips, one you didn’t even have time to dramatize. “Fuck.” You moaned. “Fuck.” It was breathy and sounded nothing like the drugged-up, exaggerated moans Toji had heard from you before.
Toji reached the door just as you whined. Whined. His hand stopped on the handle he had gripped.
Bingo.
Fucking sucker. You had him now.
Biting your bottom lip between your teeth, you arched your back and reached for your breast, though it did little for you when you played with your chest on your own. Bla bla. It was needed for dramatic effect. “Oh shit… that feels so good. Good idea, Toji.” You moaned his name, smiling when his back stiffened.
He turned then, eyes flashing something dangerous, but he didn’t dare look away from your eyes. “What did I just say? It’s Fushiguro. And quit that.”
“Quit what, Toji?” The vibrator hit a particularly sensitive spot, making you wince and inhale sharply. “Jesus, this thing is fucking s-trong,” you giggled, arching your back to escape the pleasure. Maybe you should’ve felt some embarrassment about getting off like this in front of him, but you knew he wasn’t going to do anything, and teasing him was fun as hell. Besides, for the five hundredth time, he’d seen you getting drilled in doggy—and stopped the show himself, a little masturbation show was nothing.
“Turn it down then.” He said, finally letting his eyes fall. The rush warmed your veins from that look alone surpised you. He was watching, that’s what you wanted. But… was it the satisfaction? You shook your head, cheeks heating for some gods forsaken reason. He averted his eyes once more, but you couldn’t have that. “You’re really just gonna let me… shit… get off on my own?”
“Yes.” He answered too quickly, turning the doorknob.
Shit.
“Toji.” You moaned. “Toji.”
“Stop.”
“Toji,” you rolled your hips, chasing a high. “Fuck, Toji, that feels so good.”
“Brat, I said, quit that shit. Now. I’m not playing with you.”
A smile pulled up your cheeks, but it faded when the vibrator hit just the right spot, stealing your mind with it. “Toji.” You chanted, over and over and over, eyes crossing and rolling back in your head, back arching—
The vibrator was gone, thrown somewhere across thr floor, making lots of noise against the polished wood.
His hand was around your throat. “Shut. Up. I said I’m not playing with you.” He whispered, his face too close to yours, his knee, that had kept its distance before, now pressed against you. “I don't know what kinda sick pleasure you get outta teasing me like this, or what you think you want, but your bratty ass better knock it off.”
Cheeks flushed, you gripped his thick wrist with both hands, squeezing your thighs around his much larger one. “I was so close,” you whispered.
“I don’t care.”
“Toji,” your eyes found his lips. Shit. What the hell was happening? You hated him, yes, but fuck, that vibrator did its fucking job too well, and now you couldn’t see anything but the clouded lust that encompassed him and made him look like the god of sex himself. “Toji. Eat me out.” You whispered.
His nostrils flared. “I don't fuck with college girls, brat. Do you listen?”
That wasn’t a no… kinda. Technically. Ok, it was definitely a no, but it was a flimsy, poor excuse for a no at best. Besides. If he really didn’t feel anything, he would have left with his moral high ground and walked out the moment you started using the toy on yourself. And he didn’t. “Just your tongue.” You said, “I’m close already, won’t take long.”
His fingers tightened around your throat, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. You thought he might say no for real, and your teasing game would be over, but then his eyes found your lips. “You're my friend's kid.”
“So?” You whispered against his lips, separated by the thinnest slice of air.
“I'm forty-two.”
You grinded yourself against his leg, smiling. “Hot.”
Toji’s face crinkled in disgust before he looked down at the wet patch you were leaving on his grey sweats. You followed his eyes. Oh yeah. Hot as shit. You smirked, burning that image into your head to get off to for the next… forever. “Your dad is a good man, brat. Girls like you aren’t supposed to have daddy issues.”
You shrugged, rubbing your thighs together around his thigh and using his muscles exactly how you needed him. “Guess I’m special.” You said. Then, when he looked away at the wall, perhaps searching for his morality that would make him NOT eat out his best friend’s daughter, you reached for his cheek with a hand, steering his attention back towards you. It may have worked a little too well, as he ripped your wrist from his face and pinned it to the bed. “Don’t touch me.”
“Eat me out.” Was your reply. “Do it, Toji.”
“Tell me what to do again, you little brat, and you’re not gonna like it. I’m not as nice as your daddy.” He whispered, his voice the definition of sin. “Not gonna coddle you like he does. Unlike him, I can see you’re not a sweet little girl anymore.”
You nodded. “I like that.” You didn’t like him pinning you down and acting like he was the boss. But hey. You knew you were the one in control, and that’s all that mattered. So, if you had to play the docile little kitten act like he wanted to get his tongue on your throbbing clit? You would. “Want you to show me what it’s like to be treated like a woman, Toji. Heard all those stories about how you made girls squirt with just your tongue. I’ve…” Your eyes rolled back in your head as you rolled your cunt against his thigh. You could’ve sworn he flexed the muscle on purpose.
“Don’t you say you’ve never done that before.” He said a bit impatiently, catching your lie. “I've seen you do it on some girl's face in one of your shitty clubs, brat. This innocent act isn’t gonna work on me.”
Well. Shoooooot.
Toji’s grip left your neck and wrist, and when you lifted your head to make sure he wasn’t gonna walk out on you, your head was snapped back against the mattress as Toji yanked your thighs down the bed, settling your thighs around his head. You fixed your posture, lifting yourself to look at him between your panty-covered thighs, his face close enough you felt the breath against your cunt.
Shit. ShitShitShitShit. It was almost annoying how good he looked. Was he supposed to look so good?
Toji looked almost bored as he looked up at you with dark eyes. Eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Hope you're watchin’, cos this isn’t gonna happen again.” Before you could think of something snarky to say in return, he pulled your panties to the side, and his lips were on you.
“Oh god—” it was the first thing you could say, the only thing, really. He sucked on your sensitive clit, and just that one little bit of pressure alone was enough to nearly send you over the edge. God. No one should be that good, that fast. He didn’t even have to get himself used to your cunt, he just found your clit and immediately started working his magic like it was his hundredth time going down on you. Only it wasn’t. It was his first.
He hummed, moving his fingers up to tease your leaking opening. You couldn’t tell if it was him or the toy that got you worked up, but you were thankful for it all the same when he slid a finger inside you and instantly curled it forward. Your hands gripped his hair as your thighs squeezed his head.
Your head fell back against the sheets, back arching when he lapped at your clit way too fucking eagerly. “Oh shit,” you gasped, head shaking back and forth on the bed as he quickly overwhelmed your body with pleasure. “Shitshitshit.”
Toji pulled back and kissed your clit, something that made you throb around his finger. “Happy?” He asked.
You nodded over and over, looking down at him with a ruined expression. “Yes, Toji. Fuck, yes. God, this is so much better than a damn toy.” You groaned, brows furrowing.
He smirked, adding a second thick finger that made you flinch, and began pumping and curling it with the other. “So much better, huh?” His mouth was back on you then, working its fucking magic as he lapped and sucked on your clit like it was ice cream, working you over with the perfect pace and pressure. Your eyes crossed when he swirled his tongue around your clit in a circle before flicking it gently, then sucking on it.
“Oh shit, do that again.” You moaned.
“Said I’m not gonna listen to what you gotta say.” He mumbled against your cunt. “Take what I give you. Not gonna listen to some spoiled brat. I know what you need.”
You nodded, rocking your hips against his face. “Yes, you do. God, you do.” You found that when you said those words, you actually meant it. A long, drawn-out whine fell from your lips when he repeated the action anyway twice more, smiling against your cunt when your legs started to shake. “Thank yoooou,” you whined, gripping his hair in an iron-clad grip.
He pulled back again, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. Getting harder. Faster. Rougher. “So she does have manners.” His smirk was deadly. It nearly stopped your heart—that must be the reason why the treacherous bitch skipped behind your ribs.
“You’ll find I can be realllyyy nice when someone is licking my pussy— oh goddd.” Your words tapered off into a breathy moan when he found your clit again, flattened his tongue, and shook his head.
“That all it takes to turn you into a good girl?” He chuckled, the sounds coming from his fingers working your clit, almost sending you over the edge. “I’ll have your daddy find someone to keep their tongue on your clit twenty-four-seven if it makes you nice.”
You decided not to tell him that he should absolutely be that person, because his ego was already undubitably inflated enough. It was annoying how good he was at eating a girl out, but fuck, he made it really damn hard to stay mad when it felt so perfect. “Maybe I should start fucking older men. Clearly, they know what they’re doing.”
The hands around your thigh tightened following your words. Then, he stopped thrusting his fingers, pressed them as deep as possible inside you, and curled them as fast as he could over and over. Hard. Hard enough to make debauched noises spill freely from your lips before you could even attempt to hold them back. “I’m not old, brat.”
You smirked, biting your lip while looking down at him as he slowed his torturous fingers. “Pretending there's no age gap here while my pussy is in your mouth is kinda pointless. ‘Sides, I like it.”
Toji grimaced again. “I don’t. Young women are too much work. Too bratty.”
“Thought you liked putting me in my place. Isn’t that why you’re thrusting your hips into my mattress, pretending you’re fucking me into the bed? You wanna fuck women like me. You like the rush it gives you.”
Toji paused. Paused. And looked up at you. “Maybe I’m not doin’ enough if you’re still running that damn mouth.” In another mind-numbingly quick movement, Toji had you flipped on your stomach, the chain rattling against the bedpost as it clanged around.
“What are you—” A heavy hand braketed by your head against the mattress as a hand below ripped your panties clean off. The tearing sound of fabric was enough to make you gasp, washing some of the pleasured haze away. “Toji!? What the hell! Those were my favorite—”
The unmistakable feeling of a hard, warm cock pressing against your cunt made you shut up. Toji’s body was heavy as he lay on you, rubbing the fat tip of his cockhead around your wet hole. “You took your pill today?” He whispered, teeth biting the shell of your ear. “Huh?” Your eyes rolled back in your head. What the fuck was happening? Was he really going to— “You want this? Want me to put your young bratty ass in your place?”
Shit. His voice and his fucking words were a lethal combination. No one should sound so hot. “Toji…” You whined, waiting in anticipation for the stinging burn to come. You knew it was unlikely for someone like him to give you a warning before he fucked you. “Are you really gonna… I thought you didn’t have sex with younger women.” Why were you hesitating? Maybe it was because of the way his body engulfed yours, maybe it was because you had a feeling his actions could prove his words, and he was about to fuck you stupid into the mattress. A fear of letting go, maybe?
“Do you want my cock or not?”
You nodded. “I took my pill today.”
You were right. He thrust in with no warning, knocking all the air out of you as he filled you completely.
“Good girl.” He said, then, he ruined you.
His hips were fucking merciless as he pounded into your sweet spot over and over and fcking over, making you eat your damn words as you cried out for more, harder, god, fuck, please. Tears flooded your eyes as soon as he thrust it in; the stretch was more than anything you’ve had before.
Soon, a hand was cradling your cheeks and turning your head to the side. Toji smirked, his heavy hips slapping your ass with loud, wet sounds. “Got a damn crybaby on my hands.” He pulled out until just the tip was inside before slamming back inside, making you cry out as more tears flooded down your cheeks. “Not a bad view.” He groaned before releasing you and shoving your head into the mattress. “Red, if you wanna stop.” He said, pulling his hand back to slap your ass hard enough to make it sting. “Otherwise, cry all you want. Turnin’ me on.”
“Toji!” You whined, arching your back to match his thrusts. Snaking a hand under your hips, you began rubbing your clit in quick circles, feeling your orgasm creep up on you. “S-o fucking gla-d you stopped prettending to be abov-e fucking meee.” You whined, your words coming out chopped and broken as he fucked the English language out of you one thrust at a time.
Toji shook his head before pressing his head to the side of yours, making sure his mouth was right next to your ear, before he said. “Didn’t have a choice when you started playing with your pussy in front of me. I love your daddy, but I’m still a man at the end of the day.”
You smiled a fucked out expression into the sheets, nodding over and over as he drilled you so fucking deep he may have imprinted himself inside you forever. “Can’t tell him about this fuck though, r-ight?”
Toji snickered, thrusting balls deep against your ass to roll his hips in circles, making your breath hitch. “Right, little princess. Now cum. Can feel you throbbin’ me, been around long enough to know what that means.”
“Oh shit—” You grit your teeth, your hearing starting to flicker in and out as he worked you over that edge and right into the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. You blacked out while crying his name, shaking against the sheets, body going completely limp. You relied on nothing but him to get you through the bliss that stole your mind and left you an empty husk of nothingness.
With a half-clouded mind, you listened to Toji growl as he pulled out at the last second, before shooting his load all over your ass. Usually, it was a feeling you would hate—someone marking you like their territory, but the pride that overwhelmed you, knowing you made him cum a river all over your ass, overwhelmed your irritation. He groaned loud and long as he stroked himself through his high, thrusting into his hand as he milked himself of every last drop.
“Messy messy.” You slurred, smiling against your sheets now drenched with your own tears. “You came so much.” You teased.
Toji slapped your ass, making you yelp and turn the smallest bit with all the energy you had left to glare at him. “Blame this tight little cunt. Thought you were gonna squeeze my cock off when you came.”
You snickered, falling against the sheets once more. “Clean me.” You mumbled, to which Toji groaned, smacking your ass again half-heartedly before he got up. The bed squeaked as he stalked towards the bathroom connected to your room. You heard the water room through bliss-filled ears, and when he came back and began cleaning you dry, you remember mumbling one last thing before you dozed off into sleepland. “Uncuff me too, you shitty fucking pervert bastard.”
Toji paused in his pursuit, staring down at you like he’d never seen you before. His lips curled in disgust, the vein in his forehead popping. “The mouth on this girl.” He cursed your father's name, shaking his head before going back to clearing you. “Might have to take her out for a ride again just to clean that fucking throat out.”
SUPPORT DEPARMENT!READER x KATSUKI BAKUGOU ༄ cw for the story: angst, situationship, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, bakugo is a bitch and needs a hug, so does reader, fluff, eventual smut, suggestive, cussing. A/N: this chapter is mainly exposition, sorry! i will get into their dynamic in the next part <3 enjoy!
just like everyone else, you grew up fantasizing to be a hero one day. you watched all might all day and night on tv, admired local heroes in front of you, even joined a couple forums online that were all about heroes.
you dreamed of being one, of going to UA, working alongside teens across the country that have the same goals and aspirations as you was intoxicating to think about.
soon enough, your quirk developed, you had your dads quirk, you could take away heat from the air around you and channel it into the tips of your fingers. it wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t big, but you felt like if you trained hard enough, you could make it to the hero course.
your parents had split when you were young, and you were on good terms with both of them so the summer you had developed your quirk, you visited your dad for 2 months.
he was a mechanic, and he lived out in the outskirts of the city, and he was very.. rugged.
you learned quickly that slacking off was not allowed at your dads house. you weren’t allowed to sleep in, you had to wake up before the sun and help him work on cars but soon you got a taste for it. you had grown a love for cars, engineering, welding, etc.
by the end of summer, you were getting up on your own, enjoying seeing the sunrise as you guys went to the junkyard, coming out covered in grime and sweat, grabbing scraps for your new love of inventions.
of course you still were aspiring to be a hero, but you also really loved inventing new things, so you didn’t know what path to choose and your quirk was perfect for welding.
so you talked to the counselor at your middle school, wondering what career paths you could choose that would involve both saving lives and heroes and engineering.
“have you heard of the support department?”
support department?
you searched it up online,
“Students in this department focus on developing support equipment that help heroes out on the battlefield. With a workspace stocked to the brim with all sorts of special tools, the department provides an unmatched creative environment.”
you smiled at what your screen displayed.
it was perfect, so your new dream was to enroll into UA, join the support department, and open your own agency that’d help heroes build the equipment of their dreams that help them fight crime.
so that’s what you studied. you were in your first year of junior school (7th grade) when you realized this, so the next two summers you went back to your dad’s to work on cars and inventions, but during the school year, you trained. you trained really fucking hard. you did not play about getting into UA and chasing your dreams. if you only lived once, you were gonna live it right.
so you changed your schedule, mirroring the one you had during summer. you’d wake up every morning, go to the nearest junk yard which was a mile away from your house. you brought your wagon, and lugged scrap after scrap into it, dragging it back home.
your mom had made your own personal workshop in the basement, knowing how much it was your passion. you’d spend hours on hours down there, and not to toot your own horn but you were insane at engineering. if you could think it, you could build it.
your creativity was through the roof, you started taking commissions and fixing up cars by yourself, earning a bit of money to buy yourself an at home gym to train even more.
before you knew it, it was time for ‘entrance exams’, except for you, for support department students, you had to submit an invention, an original piece that was unique to you, easy to use, but difficult to make.
you spent months on your invention, your admissions essay, and your recommendations. you were overachieving, but you didn’t care.
when you got the letter in the mail, your heart thumped and thumped, your hands started to shake, barely seeing where the letter was sent from, all you could see was the UA stamp.
“mom! mom! it’s the letter!” you called out, setting it on the dining table as you saw your mom excitedly rush out of the bathroom, half her hair in hair rollers. she knew how hard you worked and she was proud of you if you got in or not.
“what are you doing? open it up!” she said, smiling ear to ear. you could swear she was more excited than you.
you picked up the letter, opening up the envelope and taking it out when a little button looking thing dropped out. you furrowed your brows, moving to pick it up before a hologram flickered on. you and your mom were both stunned, taking a step back before getting met with the face of all might, your childhood hero and inspiration, welcoming you to UA, and to their support department.
once the words reached your ears, you and your mom jumped around, hugging each other, beaming from ear to ear. you got in! you were gonna be the best of the best, and you weren’t going to let anyone get in your way.
you then read the letter in the envelope. you got a full ride scholarship off your inventions and recommendations alone. you felt like you could cry, and you did. happy tears streamed down your face. all this hard work? absolutely worth it, and you weren’t gonna slack off just because you got in.
further down the letter, it said they were going to be enforcing dorms earlier than usual. something about teaching future heroes about responsibility before becoming an adult, blah blah blah.. all you could think about was how you got in all by yourself, you won, and getting into UA will go amazing on your resumes and help you open your own support agency in the future.
this was your first step to your dream.
in the months before moving into the school, you obviously kept up your practice, but allowed yourself to relax a bit, you no longer had the anxiety and weight on your shoulders of trying to enroll, so instead of 5AM, you woke up at 7AM instead. you let yourself hang out with friends more, go out more, and spend some of that cash that had piled up through commissions and a job that you had taken up at a local coffee shop as a barista when you thought you had to pay for UA on your own. doing this, you learned about the world outside of your basement or the junkyard, and grew an appreciation for clothes and shopping.
the day to move in crept closer and closer, you started packing your clothes, using 2 suitcases. i mean you were gonna be there for a year, and obviously you were gonna visit home, but you didn’t wanna travel back and forth for clothes. you packed up everything you could, and used moving trucks to deliver furniture once the day did roll around.
walking up to the dorm building was scary. a chill ran down your spine as you stared at the huge building that was shaped like a U. it was smaller than the school, obviously, but still big. general, hero, support, and management students were all mixed into 2 buildings. the school didn’t want to separate students, it saved money and was under the guise that it’d help you make friends with whoever, despite was class you got into.
what they didn’t state was the hidden hierarchy inside the buildings. after a month, you soon learned that some hero students looked down at the rest, most general students looked down at support department students, and management was a weird mix of egotistical assholes and shy people who knew that they were in the ‘lowest’ class. lowest meaning easiest to get into, which wasn’t really true. you felt like you could’ve easily gotten into the general course, but whatever. you didn’t care about that.
back to the dorms, other people were passing you by when someone bumped into your shoulder. it was a tall guy, muscular, and weird blonde spiky hair.
“watch it, extra.” the stranger growled at you.
you were taken aback, annoyed at the audacity. “you bumped into me, weirdo.” you scoff, rolling your eyes.
you thought this was a well-mannered school, guess not. you brushed it off though, lugging your suitcases into the building. you were met with a big common area, there was even a small kitchen with a cafeteria. you smiled, it was modern, fancy, nothing like anything you’ve seen before.
you rolled into the elevator, going to the second highest level, where your dorm was.
you were nervous. still. you didn’t know who you would meet, if you would make friends, if people would like you.. but all you needed to focus on was unpacking.
ding.
the elevator doors opened, and you walked out, strolling down the long hallway until you got to the end. your room was at the very end, it had more open windows, letting a LOT of natural light in. you knew you had to get curtains though, since the windows were so big. you walked in and gasped. your very own living space. obviously you’d have to decorate and make it home, but all in due time.
you walked in, closing the door behind you, looking at your view. you could see the city from here, which wasn’t a huge drive, 10 minutes, 20 maybe if the traffic is bad, which it usually is.
on your other window was pure forest, you could see beautiful mountains. it was stunning, breath-taking view.
you put on some calm music and unpacked, humming to yourself and you hung your clothes, folded pants, ironed your uniforms, and placed your usual tools and books you brought in the shelves and drawers that the school had provided.
you were exhausted by the end of the day, you watched the sunset dip under the mountains and you closed the curtains you had installed earlier as you changed and got into bed and slept for a couple hours before waking up in the middle of the night.
thump. thump. thump.
were those.. drums? music? who the hell was playing such a loud instrument so late at night?
you needed your sleep. you could not be tired on your first day so you got up and out of your dorm, stepping down the hallway a bit. the noise was coming from your neighbor. seriously? am i gonna have to deal with this for 3 years? you thought as you knocked politely on their door.
no answer.
you knocked louder.
no answer, and you could hear their music getting louder, almost as if they were trying to tune out the knocking.
you started to bang on their door before you heard the music stop and angry stomps to the door before it swung open.
a handsome face met you, but it was tainted with a scowl, a disgusted and annoyed look.
wait a minute.. you recognized that ugly hair. it was the same dude that bumped into you earlier. a flicker of recognition flashed on your face before you furrowed your brows.
“the hell do you want?” he growled down at you.
“mind turning down your music? to 0, maybe?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his audacity (again.).
“mind getting some earplugs, bitch?”
you gasped, shocked a bit.
“some people are trying to get their beauty sleep.”
“yeah, you look like you really need it.” he chuckled in your face, his eyes roaming your disheveled form.
you groaned, “if anyone needs it, it’s you.”
“yeah? well go fuck yourself.” he said before slamming the door in your face. you groaned harder, shuffling back to your room and slamming the door shut as well. you got into bed, trying to cover your ears with pillows to block out the obnoxious drums from next door.
𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 description. you’ve bewitched him the moment you fell from the sky. sukuna finds himself experiencing feelings he thought he was incapable of harboring again as he nursed you back to health. thus, he can’t let you go—his darling angel.
𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 contains. sfw, fluff : heian era!, non-sorcerer! reader, sacrilege (?), oblivious reader, mentions of injuries & blood, gruff to soft kuna ♡, size difference, usage of pet names (little one, angel, brat). sequel will hold possible yandere themes and smut. wc : 2.5k
nora's ♡ note. this dynamic has been plaguing my head for weeks on end (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥).
In all of your existence you’ve learned that luck was never in your favor. Being clumsy since a young cherub is all you can remember, as if gravity had a personal grudge against you. It’s something you unfortunately had to embrace throughout the years and that same fortune laughs right in your face once more.
It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Your trajectory was particularly wild during this journey, like you’ve been thrown off balance—flight patterns irregular and chaotic causing you to fall straight down from the heavens.
The gods should've taken you back then when they had the chance, shield you from the cold, hard ground of earth and protected their little angel. They should’ve ripped you away from the powerful grasp of a curse with four arms that had found you. Yet, they left you to plummet down without a second thought, breaking one of your velvety wings in the process.
Fate, too, had twisted cruelly. It led you from the arms of the divinity, to the doorstep of a monster.
The air was thick with the smell of decay and ruin, mixed with the coppery scent of carmine trickling down your back. It took a few moments before you regained your bearings and realize your predicament—of the very thing you were told to stray away from since a child.
Earth.
You had never touched the dirt of this planet before, never even thought to do so. Folktales from the elders spewed knowledge of curses that come in all sorts of different shapes and sizes—lurking amongst shadows as well as plaguing the soil. They reigned terror over humans for centuries, it was enough to keep you at bay, to just remain from above.
Looking around to get a sense of your surroundings, your ears listened keenly for any sign of possible danger. Only to have a prickling sting shoot up your spine like little pin needles as you attempted to move. Your breathing was heavy, vision blurry from the impact with your heart pounding against your rib cage—likely out of the unease you felt. Like an impending doom. Everything was excruciating, so much so that the sound of your pained cries pierced through the silence of the forest around you seconds after.
"What’s an angel doing in my territory, hm?" Sukuna's deep gravel voice drips with a mixture of amusement and intrigue, making your bleary eyes finally lock onto his announced looming figure hidden behind luscious greenery. You freeze at the sight of him but can’t help in observing him curiously through sniffles.
How long had he been standing there for? You hadn’t a clue, however he watches with mild interest as you remain weeping—unable to get any words out. In his ears, the sound was strangely melancholic and beautiful at the same time.
“Shit, what a mess.” He steps closer, each movement deliberate as he towers over your much smaller form—broken and ragged amid the wreckage.
The fierce gaze of ruby eyes wandered over the entirety of your sorry state, taking in your feathers. They seemed almost too innocent for this world, much like yourself—untouched by the grimy fingers of sin.
Though now your quills, once radiant—an emblem of grace and your heavenly origins, were terribly ruined. Crumpled and tattered with a stain of an ugly scarlet red that continued to spread across your torn clothes.
With a lazy smirk, he crouched down to your eye level to reach out and brush his calloused fingers roughly against the frayed edges of your mangled wing, as if they ached to touch you. He found the feathers soft and downy, like snowflakes against his coarse skin. It earned a flinch and whimper in his favor, making his initial amusement waver. Your snivel was soft, like a wounded animal—his hand twitches involuntarily from it with a strange ache in his chest, something he couldn’t quite pin.
The image before his eyes should have brought him satisfaction—proof that you, too, could be marred and destroyed—yet it felt…out of place. No, worse than that. It felt like a perversion of everything he ever believed in. For once, Sukuna didn’t like the sight of blood—didn’t relish in someone’s agonizing pain. Especially not on someone as elegant and pretty as you.
He had encountered celestial beings before, but they were all self-righteous, filled with the arrogance of their perceived superiority. You, you seemed different. There was no celestial glow, no regal poise. Rather, a naivety that made him want to laugh.
"Please…help me.” The first words uttered from your mouth had been so quiet, so meek that Sukuna had to strain to catch them. You don’t know what compelled you to plead for him, but the anguish of pain that felt like torture—the resignation of his presence, made it hard to care.
He had not expected such a supplication from you either, one of the divine and benevolent beings. He had expected you to challenge him, to display the same arrogance that he loathed so much in gods and sorcerers alike. Instead, he hears the fragility and sweetness in your voice—a melodic sound like chimes in the wind, silky and gentle. It clashes with the constant darkness that shrouded him. Utterly conflicted was an understatement of how he currently felt.
“Why would I assist you?” he mocked with a scoff, though his regular gruffness was not entirely there.
You don’t catch onto his sneer, clinging to the hem of his hakama in a shaky feeble grasp due to the discomfort of your injuries. His eyebrow twitches in mirth, no one dared to touch him so casually—you were either incredibly stupid or…you might’ve hit your head pretty hard too.
“I don't wish to die,” you hiccuped with pinched brows. “Not here, not like this. I beg of you.”
He stays silent for a moment, his mind wrestling with the incongruity of the situation. Was this feeling clawing at his chest akin to pity? Or something else? He wasn't so sure, but the contradicting emotions that swirls inside him momentarily clouds his usual callousness.
To aid you would go against everything he stood for—everything he believed in. The very idea of succumbing to an angel’s plea was revolting. It was almost comical, but the sheer vulnerability in your tone, the desperation that clung to every word and grip of your small hand made it impossible to treat as a jest.
He’d thought you were better off left to perish. Such purity had no place in this world of cruelty and betrayal, of selfishness and greed. But there was something about the way you peered up at him—your soft watery gaze sparkling with hope, head tilted in interest like a lost puppy that made him stop.
Unlike others who would tremble at the mere sight of him, you showed no signs of terror. There was no care for the many eyes or extra pair of limbs on his tattooed body.
To you, he was just another being. Not a curse. Not a monster. Nothing to be overly fearful of.
His engrossment was piqued by your lack of caution. The way you didn't cower away was a refreshing change he wasn’t used to, it intrigued him. You just regarded him with a certain ignorance, unaware of the actual power he possessed which further pulled him into you.
He should’ve taunted you, relished his superiority over you, and refused your request. Should’ve let you stumble around, defenseless and at his mercy.
But he couldn't. Instead, without another word he lets out a deep sigh, finding himself with a touch more tender than earlier reaching out to you. His fingers grasps your nimble hand—dwarfed in his, startling even himself with the consideration of his own action.
“Hold still, angel. You’ll only hurt yourself even more.” With surprising care, he began to pick you up smoothly, lifting you into his four muscled arms in little to no effort.
Your weight was almost negligible in his hold, your frame against his burly one an odd sight. He tries to ignore the way you felt so small, so fragile against his broad chest, focusing instead on the task ahead.
Sukuna carried you to his temple, footsteps as confident and silent as ever through the wilderness. Despite the dark nature of his existence, he was incapable of leaving you to suffer a slow painful death. As you clung to him weak and vulnerable, his very being was drawn to the innocence that surrounded you. From the way your arms wrapped around his wide shoulders to the way you nuzzled your loving face into the juncture of his neck, all trustingly—naive.
And oh great heavens you smelled so good, luscious hair tickling his nose when he couldn’t stop himself from slightly turning his face. Briefly nosing the tresses—lightly, just barely touching you.
Flowers he breathes, lillies to be specific, fresh ones—much like those on a spring day he burned to ashes in the middle of razing many unimportant villages. He didn’t have the time to take in the sickeningly sweet scent before until now, it filled him with some sort of pleasant serenity.
It was as if you were a beacon of light in his world consumed by shadows, a light he couldn't bring himself to extinguish. You were too untainted for this spoiled land, let alone Sukuna’s grasp.
Yet, here you were in his domain, now in his care. He'd taken you in out of boredom, possibly even a hint of curiosity.
Not sympathy. No he would never admit that.
All curses and mortals say that being in the presence of Sukuna was a fate worse than death. So why is it that the King of Curses—rough hands, skilled with violence and power used for carnage, had tended to you with such reverent care?
Has your luck not forsaken you this once?
Perhaps it was the curiosity getting to the best of him, but he had even allowed you to sit on his lap. You placed your faith in him wholeheartedly as he tugged off your shredded clothing mindfully, the top half of your body bare with your back facing him. He adverts his four eyes from ogling your exposed breasts, something he seemed to really struggle with.
“Since when did I have manners?” He mumbled with a click of his tongue.
“I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
“Nothing. Look forward.”
His lower pair of arms holds you still by your waist, touch delicate whilst he examines the extent of the bruises and blemishes that sullied your sweet form. The normal brute strength he wields was replaced with a great gentleness that mirrored the touch of a softhearted lover as he cautiously held your fractured wing in one of his free hands, turning it this way and that.
Sukuna concentrates on the issue at hand, his fingers moving almost magically as they manipulate his cursed energy. The healing force pulses through you, mending most of the shattered delicate bones and knitting some torn feathers back together.
“So that’s what sorcerers are capable of,” you ponder aloud. You’re able to sit up straighter now, peering over your shoulder again at him in awe. A cute expression with a sparkle of wonder in your eyes that made him huff followed by another curt response.
“Don’t get used to it.”
Though this wasn’t merely enough, for some reason his reverse technique didn’t work fully on you—it was peculiar, he's the strongest sorcerer but it was as if he weren’t meant to touch you at all.
He grumbles and took it upon himself to do the rest manually. Each damaged quill was smoothed back into place with a patience that seemed to conflict with his standard impatience. And every small whine or wince of pain from your dewy pouting lips would be hushed soothingly, his usual sharp edges softening more with every passing moment.
In fact, he finds himself almost entranced by the small noises you make, the way your body reacts to every touch of his hands. You were quite sensitive, he muses.
Even Sukuna was puzzled by his own behavior. He had never had the need to care for anyone in centuries, let alone a fragile, broken creature like you. But he was so compelled to offer something he had experienced ages ago, something he had long thought buried—compassion.
"Pathetic," he muttered, more to himself than to you. Though the word didn't have the same scorn it would normally hold.
Regardless of the circumstances, there was a strong sense of intimacy in the entire ordeal. Especially with the little to no words being exchanged, something harmonious being shared that can only be understood between you two.
This contradicted everything he abided by. There was no hint of malice in his usually heartless eyes, only what appeared to be genuine concern. He wiped you down with a wet rag, ridding that vile sight of blood marring your otherwise perfect skin and even took the time to trim the mangled feathers of your wing in an attempt to salvage the ones that could be saved.
Occasionally he would brush his fingers over your back, an excuse to feel your supple smooth flesh and witness it prickle with shivers. Each movement was slow and calculated, to not cause anymore unnecessary pain almost like he was afraid to break you.
All the while, you sat patiently in his lap, not batting an eye to the powerful curse assisting your half naked form. You were like a small, trusting bird, submitting to the hands of a monster without an ounce of self-preservation. It filled him with a sense of allurement to your being. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath on your skin and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat which seemed oddly soothing.
"Almost done little one," he whispers lowly, his voice betraying none of the strange feelings swirling within him.
In the quiet moments when he worked on preening your feathers, meticulously picking off the tiniest bits of debris and dirt that clung to them, Sukuna was reminded of a time when he too had been innocent.
Soon enough your wings, once dirty and matted, began to gleam again, their original pristine white slowly returning. Once he was satisfied, he wrapped your wing in a makeshift splint, ensuring that it would heal properly on its own.
Though you were now left in another predicament. Your inability to fly, leaving you vulnerable without your primary source of defense, was a dilemma that left you stuck on where to go. You couldn’t possibly fly back home in this state nor could you travel through unknown terrain that held threats with every step you can’t even fathom.
Sukuna, without much hesitation—quite an unusual decision—granted you the privilege of staying with him temporarily until your wing fully healed. Why he did it? He couldn't say aloud. The building companionship or the responsibility he already began to feel for you kept him from sending you off. Either way, you found yourself in the presence of the King of Curses, a creature far more intriguing and complex than he appeared.
"Thank you so much," you expressed politely as he began to cover you up in the robe that was previously on his large frame. The heat emanating from the fabric brings you a sense of comfort, easing your anxieties further. Everything you had learned about curses growing up was unlike what he had just shown you.
Sukuna was taken aback by the earnest gratitude in your voice. Nobody ever thanked him, especially not for sparing their lives. But here you were, offering him words of appreciation with a smile sweet enough to rival the best of sweets. He pauses, fingers lingering on the robe as he draped it over you and grunted, refusing to acknowledge the slight flutter in his chest at the sight of your curled lips.
His garment was far too large for you, practically swamping your smaller figure. The sleeves hung limply over your hands, and the hem pooled around your feet. In any other situation, anyone else would've looked ridiculous, but there was something strangely endearing about the way it made you look even more delicate and vulnerable.
Sukuna's gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression almost contemplative as he responded, "Don’t get it twisted, woman. I may change my mind and eat you." He made it sound so nonchalant, but the protective gesture of tying his robe around you to hide your chest betrayed his words.
Ideally you should have taken the threat seriously like anyone would, but you react with a giggle and do the unthinkable—tippy toeing up to place a soft chaste kiss on his cheek.
. . .
What?
If what he felt in his heart earlier was a flutter then now it had just stopped entirely for a second.
Sukuna's eyes widened ever so slightly, a hint of surprise and—dare he say, blushing—lightly coloring his stern features. For a moment, he stayed quiet, not used to such affectionate gestures. A strange sense of flustered confusion washed over him as he felt the imprint of your very soft lips, coupled by the song-like laughter leaving you left a trail of tingling warmth to spread throughout the entirely of his body
If anything he didn’t feel a single bit of displeasure…and that scared him. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure; he can't have this affecting him. No, he had a reputation to maintain—that of a fearsome curse, not a reeling mess because of a simple kiss on the cheek.
“You—!" he began to protest, his curt exterior faltering whilst unable to properly string together a coherent sentence. For the first time in a long while, the great Sukuna Ryōmen was at a loss for words.
"Hm?”
His demeanor crumbled substantially, replaced by utter bewilderment at your obliviousness to the effect you had on him. Sukuna's jaw ticked as you looked back at him, your raised brows and tilt to your head only adding to your clueless reaction, making you appear even more endearing.
"Never mind," he grumbled, expression hardening back into its usual sternness, though the slight dusting of pink on his ears deceived his true feelings before turning to walk away. Not without you trailing after him closely from behind like a shadow—with a pep to your step of course. “Tch, brat.”
Desc | Your boyfriend was a perfectionist—so when you told him his heąd game wasn't that good, he took it personally ➜ Now, with a book and determination, he's is set on proving you wrong. But when he starts flipping pages mid-act, you realize you might've created a monster.
Cw║ ørāl f!xát!on, crack/šmųț (proceed with caution 18+ ⚠️) ōvėrstım, praısė, service dom!choso, fınġer!ng, pıv implied at the end, volleyball!player reader, mărk!ng, choso has braces & glasses, nerd/dork! Choso duh, sızę difference (if you squint,) + college au.
WC ➜ 2.1K ♪ ML
11 min read & Oneshot.
Your boyfriend was a perfectionist at everything he did. And when it came to pleasing you? Best believe there was no exception.
When you were reluctantly honest with him, telling him his head game skills weren’t that good, it hurt at first, yes, but he urgently became dedicated to getting that statement to eventually change. Proving he could take criticism well, he studied multiple articles and at one point even bought a few expensive books that fairly put a hole in his wallet on how to give a woman pleasure.
Which led you to being here in his neat dorm room after volleyball practice.
Head spinning like whirlpools as you leaned up on both elbows, staring down extremely fascinated at your boyfriend in between your spread thick thighs.
His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, pale flushed face buried into your pussy all while checking every second to read another step.
“Cho, w-what’s with the book,” you stammered, already becoming a breathy whiney mess, from the tutorial he was following. “You could’ve–”
He must’ve finished reading a step off of the page or something, since he cut you off. Not with words, but with slow gentle wet kisses on your clit. As if he were taking little nibbles on his appetizer before getting to the main course.
Your whole body jerked. “Oh, fuuuck…” A long drawn out cry fell out from your mouth, sauntering over to his ears that were painted light-pink at the tips.
Choso hummed like he’d just confirmed one of the fun-facts about the clit having 10,281 nerves. Briskly adjusting his tortoise-shell glasses before flipping to the next page in the book propped open beside him titled “Giving Oral Sex, For Dummies!”
He kept his face relished between your legs, licking long, careful stripes across your slit—like he was terrified of leaving you unsatisfied again.
“Choso!” You abruptly gasped at his mouth working itself on you, tossing your head back, before blinking up, staggering eyes watching him. Unsure whether your stomach began to twist in arousal or secondhand embarrassment.
You were too lost in ecstasy to fully process what was happening either way, the only thing your brain could maybe manage to pick up was the faint buzz of the TV static in the background.
He continued, moving away for a moment to bring his head towards your slightly sweaty inner thigh lips latching onto the soft flesh, sucking delicately, as if the spot had a fragile sticker placed on it.
His tongue flicked against the skin in lazy strokes while a deep low groan vibrated against your thigh, and you felt it—the sensation rumbling through your skin, sinking into your bones.
You shivered. A whimper left your lips before you could stop it, secretly hoping his roommate wasn’t there. Your thighs twitching ever so slightly as heat charged through you.
Choso lifted his lips about thirty seconds later, admiring the deepening mark blooming on the fat of your thigh. He smiled, exhilarated at the sight of his masterpiece, his fingers kneading possessively at the painted flesh.
“Shit, it looks so beautiful on you, angel.” He murmured, voice spilling with warmth. His half-lidded eyes dragged over your skin, pupils dilated with admiration.
Your stomach flipped at the lovesick haze in his expression, heart hammering at how beyond gone he looked over a single bruise.
Then, Choso’s lips curled into a small, knowing smirk, fingers tracing the sensitive mark he’d left behind.
“Damn,” he uttered, amusement sprinkling his voice, “what’s the team gonna say when they see this, huh?” His confidence had soared—fed by the pretty sounds you repeatedly gave him, the way your body responded so easily to his mouth. Thanks to this little guide he knew he’d never receive poor ratings on his oral skills again.
Your breath hitched. A fresh wave of heat rolled through you at the realization—your shorts weren’t long enough to hide it.
“Shut up, and just make me cum.” You shot back, face heated in embarrassment, still making it your business to humble him somewhat.
Choso let out a deep, throaty chuckle against your thigh, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.
“Yes, ma’am!” He grinned, flashing just enough of his braces to make your mind dizzy, eyes gleaming as he lowered himself back between your legs. His wet muscle circled your bud at a deliberate, teasing pace—never too fast, or too slow, just enough to keep you desperate.
His mouth was hot, breath fanning over your slick sticky folds. When he pulled back just slightly—lips and chin glistening—his braces caught the bright light.
You swore you felt weak at the immense sight, everything about this man turned you on.
Choso licked his lips, not even bothering to wipe the mess off his face, and let out another low hum.
“Mmph, the book didn’t mention you’d taste this good, baby.”
You would’ve rolled your eyes at the comment—if his tongue wasn’t currently making your legs shake.
Meanwhile, your boyfriend’s violet eyes switched back to the page in front of him, scanning the text like he was preparing for a damn exam.
“Choso—oh my god—what are you even…”
“Shh, relax for me, okay?” He mumbled shushing you, pink lips still strikingly warm against your pussy.
Then—he turned the page, mouth poked out paired along furrowed brows. Tilting his head seriously too concentrated on what he read.
You blinked in disbelief, jaw dropping wide at the action nearly like you’ve seen a ghost. Did he just skip to another page?
“I need to see what step five is.” He added on, eyes glued to the details on what to do next.
“STEP FIVE?!”
Your head shot up, barely able to focus through the waves of pleasure crashing over you. But sure enough—Choso was nodding to himself, eyes scanning the page, mustering under his breath like he was taking mental notes.
“Hmm. Increase suction gradually… Got it.”
A second later, he wrapped his lips around your puffy clit and sucked, languid but firm, and your whole body convulsed. Your legs snapped around his head, locking him in place as your face contorted in pure, unfiltered pleasure.
“Choso—fuck—what exactly are you studying for?!” you yelped, genuinely confused, fingers tangling into his dark brown ponytails for support.
Your boyfriend actually pulled back, pushed up his glasses, and raised an eyebrow at you like you asked him the most obvious question ever.
“For you,” he answered back, completely calm. Then—without hesitation he dove right back in, swishing his head back and forth as his pointed nose brushed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Holy. Shit.
You were fully losing it, while he remained completely composed, taking his sweet time applying every technique like he was testing out a new experiment. His fingers gripped your thighs, keeping you extended open like a damn science project.
“Ooh…ngh—Choso, wait!“
He did NOT wait.
In fact, he casually flipped to another page and straight away tried a new tongue technique.
Your back almost arched off the bed. Your head fell back. You were so gone.
And then you heard a fucking pencil scribbling?
“…Baby, the hell?” You heavily panted chest rising and falling on loop. “Are you seriously taking notes?!”
A long pause poured throughout the room, then sheepishly followed behind a high pitched…
“Maybe.”
If you weren’t seconds away from falling apart on his tongue, you’d burst into rib-hurting laughter.
“You’re doing amazing,” he praised, like you were the one putting in work—like you weren’t the one seeing stars.
And as you felt his fingers easily push inside, curling just right, your stomach tensed.
Your own fingers never felt this good.
Your body recognized that telltale tightening in your core—the coil rapidly winding down.
No fucking way.
No way your boyfriend—who was literally using a goddamn manual—was about to make you cum off of it.
You swallowed hard, body trembling.
But with the way Choso was fingering you—intent, precise, full-on committed—you had a sinking feeling this was about to be the best orgasm of your life.
And you were right.
“F-Fuck—Choso, I’m…“
He didn’t stop. His fingers pressed up against that spot, tongue moving faster, tighter, messier, fully loyal to the task at hand. His glasses slid down his nose a second time. His face was dripping with you, and he didn’t even care.
If anything, he looked like he was thriving.
“C’mon, baby,” he coaxed, lapping you up like you were his drug. “I know you’re close.”
You were. Too close, causing you to have an almost love-hate relationship with his attentiveness.
Your thighs shook around his head, your fingers scrambled for something to hold onto, the tension snapped in your belly, and suddenly—
You were coming so hard you forgot your own name for a minute.
A sharp sob tore from your lips as your back arched off the bed, pleasure crashing over you in thick, electric waves.
Trembling, while Choso whimpered low. Desperate with arousal, like you just did something to him.
Then you felt it.
His hips rolling against the mattress, shaking the whole bed.
Grinding into it like he was losing his damn mind, whining softly as his fingers dug into your thighs nearly leaving more marks.
The awareness sent a fresh wave of heat through you.
Even with his mouth on you, his hands on you, his tongue deep in your pussy—he still needed more.
Finally, your body collapsed—unable to lean on your elbows anymore. Boneless, breathless, outright ruined.
Choso pulled back, shining with your slick on his chin, glasses fogged, pupils blown like a hot air balloon as he stared at you, awestruck. His breath came in uneven pants, chest rising and falling as if he’d just finished a marathon—except the only thing he had been running was his tongue against your cunt.
You let out an unhurried, quivery breath, body still trembling in the aftermath.
“…Gosh, you’re so ridiculous, babe.” You sighed, still trying to catch your composure, the remnants of pleasure making your voice weaker than intended.
Choso grinned, bashful, swiping the back of his hand over his chin as if to wipe away the mess—only to smudge it further. “Listen… it helped at least?”
Your core throbbed, empty, still fluttering around nothing. The ghost of his fingers, his mouth, the relentless precision of his tongue, lingered between your thighs, and it was very clear—you weren’t stopping here.
You tilted your head, voice firm. “I want your cock inside me. Now.”
Choso choked on his own spit.
His whole body tensed, hands gripping your thighs a little tighter, lips parting like he wanted to say something—but nothing came out. His pupils were blown, his breath shaky, and fuck, he was practically vibrating with restraint.
But who was he to deny you?
His fingers fumbled to undo his sweats, shoving them down just enough to free his cock—already painfully hard.
The tip drooled an ample amount of pre-cum, glistening under the dim light, a desperate testament to just how much eating you out had ruined him.
He exhaled sharply, giving himself a few slow, measured strokes, watching the way your thighs trembled, the way your lips parted when you saw him. A deep moan rumbled in his chest, and he finally lined himself up, running the swollen tip along your entrance, smearing his slick against your heat.
Then—he fucking picked up the book again.
Your eyes popped open.
“Choso.” Your voice was sharp and dangerous.
Forcing him to freeze.
“Uh—“ He glanced at the book. Then at you. Then back at the book. “I just wanted to see if there’s a section on penetration—”
“Boy if you don’t put that damn book down.”
Choso’s eyes widened, and the book was on the floor in seconds.
“Okay, okay—fuck,” he laughed breathlessly, his hands finding purchase on your thighs again. “You’re so sexy when you’re all bossy.”
You felt the massive tip press against your entrance, splitting you open as he steadily pushed in.
Yeah, you could tell you were in for a long night.
By the time morning hit, your entire body ached—not the good kind of sore after a tough practice, but the kind that made you rethink all your life choices. Your legs felt like jelly, muscles strained and overworked in a way even the most brutal drills had never managed.
It was worse than endless blocking reps. Worse than the time your coach made you do wall sits for five straight minutes after missing a serve.
You groaned as you shifted, a sharp ache shot up your thighs. Your abs protested, your hips throbbed, and as you carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed, you had a horrifying realization.
There was no way in hell you were walking normally today.
Your toes barely touched the floor before your knees buckled, forcing you to grab onto the nightstand for balance.
Already dreading the moment you had to step onto the court.
All you could do now was pray your coach wouldn’t notice how funny you were walking.
➜ Masterlist.
➜ A reblog, like, or comment is highly appreciated!!
➜ A/n | I had this silly little idea a few days ago, so I hope you enjoyed it :) + this was lowkey supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away
cw: no boundaries, possessiveness, spit marking, mild coercion
Give me a Ghost who is absolutely down bad and disgusting for you. Never heard of the term called boundaries in his life.
Teammates? He steps outside to clear his head—craving fresh air, only to find you with a cigarette between your fingers. Asks for a drag, but pushes it aside when you try to hand it over. Instead, he leans in, big grin plastered on his face, lifting the mask just enough to expose the tip of his nose. "Blow." You hesitate. He doesn't.
A firm grip on your wrist ensures you won't slip away. Mouth open, waiting, he insists that every drag you take isn't for you. It's for him.
Neighbours? After months of absence, you find him waiting on the stairs of your apartment complex. He doesn't talk much, but you know he listens. You tell him about how you've been, what's changed. Maybe you mention someone new. Maybe you don't. Doesn't matter. He doesn't hold back—just sinks his teeth into your neck, sucks at the tender flesh with the intent to leave a mark. With his task completed, he cups your face, gazing down at your big doe eyes and mouth wide open in surprise. Takes this chance to spit in your mouth, marking you inside and out. "Sorry, doll. My scent wore off since last time. Had t' sort that out'."
part 2 with a yandere!Ghost is up, so go check it out if you’d like ♡
⟢ synopsis : rafe apologises to you. content warning .ᐟ oral sex (f!receiving) 18+
“babygirl.”
you haven’t looked at rafe since he set foot into your room. curled up against the headboard, you’re scrolling mindlessly through your phone, every inch of your posture radiating pointed disinterest. the mattress creaks as he sits beside you. he watches your mouth set in that stubborn little line that makes his pulse throb in his temple.
“gonna ignore me all night?” still nothing. rafe leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, and starts to chew at his thumbnail. he’s thinking, running through his options. six months ago, he’d have ripped that phone from your hands and thrown it across the room, maybe even yelled. you would’ve snapped back, and it’d have turned into a fight. now, though… he hesitates.
“what’s it gonna take to get back in your good graces?” his voice is casual; cajoling, even. “a formal apology? flowers? what do i gotta do to get back in your pants tonight?” he reaches for your thigh, but you jerk away like you’ve been burned. regret prickles in your chest when you catch the slight flinch that crosses his face. so you lift your gaze, making a show of considering his words. then, flatly—“depends on how hard you grovel.”
⟢.
your body is an altar, and rafe is on his knees.
the ceiling fan above is a blur, but you’re not seeing it. spine curved taut like a bowstring, your legs are draped over his shoulders, heels digging into the hard muscle of his back. all the petty anger from earlier is siphoned out of you like air from a punctured lung. in its place, there is only heat. dizzying pressure. your mind is soup, nothing but a mess of shattered thoughts, synapses misfiring, pleasure warping the edges of your awareness until the only thing that exists is him. and of course, that maddening, glorious mouth.
“still mad?”
another slow drag of his tongue, and reality tilts, shatters, stitches itself back together. your thighs clench around his face, a knee-jerk reaction, but rafe doesn’t mind—if anything, he welcomes it, hands tightening on your hips like he’d hold you here forever. your lips part on a breathy, broken sound—not a word, not even close. a knowing chuckle against your fever-hot skin, wholly devastating.
clingy!rafe who takes you with him wherever he goes, whether it's to a party, a hangout with his friends, or running errands, you're right there beside him.
clingy!rafe who always needs to be touching you. holding your hand under the table at dinner, a hand on your waist when you’re in public, squeezing your thigh while he drives, or having you beside him while he sleeps, he'll do anything to touch you.
clingy!rafe who'll go crazy when you're mad at him and giving him the silent treatment. he'd be all pissy with everyone until you forgive him. in response, he shows up at your doorstep with a bouquet of your favourite flowers and candies, saying sorry and begging for your forgiveness.
clingy!rafe who acts all nonchalant when you're not around, but he's waaittinggg for when he gets to come home to your pretty little face and have you in his arms.
clingy!rafe who immediately wraps his arms around you once he gets home, smashing his lips onto yours.
clingy!rafe who now has you on the bed, hovering above you as he kisses your neck and fucks your sore little cunt with his needy cock. he loves hearing your moans and whimpers while he shows you just how much he missed being away from you.
rafe who keeps a buzz cut because he has sensitive hair follicles and you could have him on his knees
he’s a dominant guy, rarely letting you have even an ounce of control in the bedroom. that is, until you thread your fingers through those auburn locks and pull
the first time it happened he whined, fucking let out such a pathetic noise that you couldn’t help the devilish grin that crawled on your face. he must’ve been caught off guard too because he just stared up at you riding him with those pretty wet blue eyes
so you did it again, and he rutted his cock back into you desperately. you leaned down to suck hickeys into his tanned chest while still holding his hair until he came deep in your pussy with a pained cry
he clearly did not like the amused look you had afterwards, because the next day he came home with the whole mess of hair shaved off :(
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