emmy im love you so much 🥺💗 you already know how i feel abt ushijima 💗
───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────
a sleepy ushijima is a cuddly ushijima.
the early morning light streams in slow, paints his face a golden halo & you smile softly at the sight. it’s rare to wake up before your boyfriend — almost impossible honestly, what with his four am runs & early morning practices — but even he needs breaks, & today was one for sleeping in.
he’s got both arms wrapped tight around your waist, face half buried in your chest and this close you could count his eyelashes — long & pretty like a disney princess, you couldn’t even get those with mascara — & the faint freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose. like this, every inch of him was bathed in sunshine, making him absolutely radiant.
unable to stop yourself, you traced a gentle finger down the slope of his nose, the bow of his upper lip, the stubble at his chin. little moments like this remind you just how handsome he is; you loved him for a million and one reasons besides that, but you couldn’t say he wasn’t breathtaking. your free hand buries itself in his hair, twists his wayward strands this way and that in careful amusement; his bed hair is atrocious, but adorable all at once.
a gentle kiss to your hand pulls you from your reveries, & a flush darkens your cheeks at the sight; toshi is smiling up at you softly, eyes half open and golden in the morning light. “watching me sleep instead of sleeping? doesn’t seem very wise,” he hums, and the gravelly tone of his morning voice lights goosebumps along your skin.
“s’not every day i get to,” you admit, not even a little ashamed at being caught. you’d admire him every morning if you could, sleepy and warm and sweet as he was.
“how about we sleep a little longer instead, hm? i’ll make breakfast,” he decides after a heavy yawn, nuzzling closer against your skin. lazy, warm kisses cover every inch of you he can reach without moving, & you giggle at the tickling feeling of his stubbly cheeks brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.
“sure, toshi. but i want pancakes.”
“keep playing with my hair like that & i’ll make you a feast.”
true to his word, he cooks a feast once you both drag yourself out of bed in late morning, & you sit on the counter to “help” — steal bits of egg while toshi’s not looking, & sprinkle flour into his hair while he protests. you start a foodfight that neither of you are willing to finish, & laugh loud enough to wake the neighbors.
he kisses you more times than you can count, sticky sweet like the pancake syrup, & your love fills the sunlit kitchen for days after.
suna rintarou x gn!reader
1.4k words / best friends to lovers
idek man. but @saezzi (thank yew for reading it over) said it was ok so @.@ anyways first hq piece yay
you like suna rintarou a little too much at 1:19am in bed, with his hand on your back, drawing odd patterns over your (his) t-shirt. his other hand is holding his phone, youtube on, playing a video of deep sea diving and swimming with sharks.
you're sleepy and the atmosphere is perfect, and he looks like a dream when he's painted by the soft glow of your bedside mood lamp. pink and purple hues blur the line between friendship and something more.
you roll over into his arms, slotting your face into the crook of his neck.
"going to sleep?" he asks. you hum an affirmative sound, eyes already closed. he echoes it back.
he doesn't get off his phone, and the soft blue light emanating from the device keeps you in the limbo between consciousness and sleep for just a while longer.
long enough to feel him shuffle—minimal movement but it's easy to tell when you're all pressed up like this—angling his face toward you, then the softness of his lips when they kiss your forehead.
but suna is soft and he is warm, his hand is back to stroking your skin, and you're too far gone to know if it was real or a figment of the fondness you nurture for him.
you like suna rintarou a little too much at 3:29pm on the crowded train home, but you've found two empty seats to yourselves at the very end. you're by the window, dizzy with your eyes closed and your head on his shoulder because the lady across the aisle has enough perfume to suffocate the entire carriage.
the train ride is mostly quiet but the sun is loud and has no regard for your peace. it blares down on you even through the thin curtain that separates you and the glass window, like miya atsumu when he's been deprived of attention for a while.
your eyelids twitch, then a shadow befall your face. when you peek an eye open, suna's got his big hand over your head like it's all just so casual. you tilt your head to look at him, but he only coaxes you back on his shoulder. you're not sure if he notices the heat of color on your cheeks, but he doesn't comment either way.
"go to sleep," he says, completely unfazed by the solar assault on his own eyes. "i’ll wake you when we get there."
you like suna rintarou a little too much at 8:18pm in the third set of a match that has dragged on for way longer than anyone expected. he moves like a blur on the court, and you're the always the first person to jump from your seat whenever he blocks a spike or lands a clean hit.
"sunarin!" you would yell, holding up a sign with his name in bold glittery letters, loud enough to drown out some of the miya fangirls.
suna would find you no matter where you are in the stands. he looks to you first every time, because catching that bright grin of yours is always better than raucous cheers from his teammates.
it's easy to categorize the neutral expression on his face as indifference, but you know him better than most. know that the slight quirk of his lips communicates something only you two can understand.
it's warm, so fuzzy that you don't notice the way the rest of the team follows suna's line of sight, nor the teasing and knowing smiles when their gazes land on you.
"i'm your first supporter, rin," you had said once upon a time, back when you were just children, your hands bandaging his scraped up knees after volleyball with the other neighborhood kids. "i'm your biggest supporter!"
years later and you're still watching him from the bleachers, still wearing that smile so bright it could rival the sun.
the match resumes, he goes back into position but his eyes remain on you for a second longer.
you like suna rintarou a little too much at 12:22am on a midnight snack run with the miyas, even though half your attention is divided on atsumu who keeps throwing pointed chuckles at suna because the convenience store cashier is not subtle at all.
maybe she doesn't need to care about subtlety when she's that pretty. every brush of her fingers against suna's as he hands her your shared items seems deliberate. you're standing right here—probably looking like chopped liver to a woman on a mission—and you don't know if suna notices her flirty smiles or if he just doesn't care, but that spark of irritation flares up inside you anyhow.
when he pulls out his wallet, you're still huffing internally, already picturing how this next minute could play out. she'd bat her eyelashes, put on a devastatingly beautiful smile and suna would cave because he's still just a man after all.
someone gasps—atsumu, likely—and you snap out of it just fast enough to catch the cashier slump slightly. she glances at you, and you're looking over suna's shoulders to find him fishing out some bills, but he's holding the wallet open for longer than you think is necessary. in the transparent photo slot is something you thought you lost a while back, a polaroid of you making a silly face at the camera. he's there too, barely visible peeking out from behind, but he was looking at you.
suna thanks the cashier politely and grabs the plastic bag from the counter. when he leads you out the door by your hand, you don't even need to look back to know it's atsumu who's squealing into his palm.
you even like suna rintarou at 7:12am on a cloudy sunday morning, maybe a little less than usual when he's pounding on your door like he's about to kick it down any second now.
"what the fuck?" you snarl when you catch him on the other side of the threshold. "i was sleeping!"
he's out of breath, his hair's all wind blown, that lanky figure of his leaning against your doorframe as if he’s about to pass out. even half-asleep, you know that he's not supposed to be here. no, he's supposed to be on a stuffy bus with the rest of his teammates on the way to a tournament in another city.
three hours away for three weeks. you already said your goodbyes last night, already sent him off with a handmade bracelet for good luck.
"i just…" he starts, but it comes out ragged because there's still not enough air in his lungs. he steps forward regardless, uncaring of your disheveled appearance—messy bedhead and your sleep shirt hanging off one shoulder—and pulls you all up into his personal space.
there's a sheen of perspiration on his forehead that you spot from this close. you hear the incessant buzzing of his phone in his pocket, but suna doesn't seem bothered so you don't ask. one of his hands finds the nape of your neck, not unfamiliar, but still quite foreign in this context that you haven't yet deciphered.
"i need to do something," he says, his voice much more even now. and you would ask question what on earth could he possibly need to do at the ass crack of a sunday morning, but his other hand finds the small of your back and you feel the butterflies again, rampant and insane.
"rin…"
then he's leaning in until there's no space between you at all. his lips on yours, tasting faintly of mint and the mango gummies you gave him in case he got carsick. the sky is still cloudy, but you're kissing him back and suddenly you don't mind at all that he almost broke down your door and disrupted your much needed day off.
you're dumbstruck when he pulls back with cheeks rosy and lips shiny, and his gaze is fixed on your mouth. sharp eyes now softened, pupils all dilated. you don't reckon you look any better.
what the fuck.
maybe the thought actually comes out in a dazed mumble because your best friend is laughing lightly, his hands still holding you close. "you're not coming with us this time," he says. "i'm gonna miss you."
and it's on a gloomy sunday morning in the threshold of your home that you realize, belatedly, despite all the signs and blurry lines and knowing grins from the miyas, that suna rintarou likes you too.
You’d never slept over before. Not for lack of trying—he’s invited you a few times now, usually in that whirlwind, fast-talking, Bokuto way: “You should stay! I’ll make popcorn! We can watch that terrible space movie you love—wait, not terrible, just… objectively confusing!”
And eventually, you said yes. You’re newly dating, still figuring each other out. Still brushing pinkies under the table, pretending not to smile when he calls you his favorite distraction, and marveling at how easily he can light up a room. Last night was nice. Messy and real. He made you laugh so hard you snorted water out of your nose. You fell asleep curled around his arm, warm and stupidly happy.
You wake up expecting him to be gone. You’ve heard the stories—how Bokuto’s up with the sun, always the first at the gym, how he “accidentally” does 200 push-ups before breakfast because he couldn’t sit still. So when you stir around 9:47 a.m. and find him still beside you, wrapped in blankets and very much not at the gym, you blink in quiet confusion.
And when you try to sit up?
He groans. Loud and pitiful. Then immediately rolls toward you, snaking an arm around your waist, and slumps half his weight on top of you. “Don’t,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep.
“…Don’t what?” you whisper.
His face is in your neck, voice muffled and petulant. “Don’t leave. Too early.”
You laugh under your breath. “It’s basically ten.”
“I’m not emotionally ready for ten.”
You freeze a little, startled by how different this is from what you imagined. No bouncing. No bright energy. No dramatic grin. Just a sleepy man-child melting into you like the mattress is quicksand.
“Aren’t… you a morning person?” you say cautiously.
He groans again. “I am,” he mumbles, “just not when you’re here. You ruin everything.”
"Wow. Thanks."
“No, I mean… you’re warm. And you smell good. And your shoulder’s soft. And the bed feels better with you in it. So now I’m clingy and helpless. Congrats.”
You turn your head, just enough to glimpse his expression—eyes closed, brows drawn, nose scrunched into your skin as if he’s memorizing it.
“I was gonna make coffee,” you murmur.
“Betrayal.”
“You didn’t seem like the clingy type,” you tease, trying (and failing) to pry yourself from his arms.
He only holds you tighter, tugging you closer until your back is flush to his chest. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, lips brushing your collarbone. “You weren’t supposed to find out on the first sleepover.”
You go still. It’s the first sleepover. This was supposed to be casual, a night of snacks and movie reruns while trying not to overthink anything. But this? You weren’t prepared for this.
You clear your throat, flustered. “I could… come back after coffee?”
“No."
You laugh, helpless. “Koutarou—”
He silences you with a gentle touch, turning you toward him until there’s barely any space left between you. His voice is soft now—quieter than before, careful. “Just five more minutes.”
Then he kisses you. Soft and slow, not wanting to startle you. But when you don’t pull away—when your breath catches and your fingers curl instinctively into his shirt—he deepens it. His hand finds the small of your back, drawing you in, needing you closer. There’s no such thing as close enough. He’s still half-asleep, but he’s fully sure of this—of you.
When his lips leave yours, he says nothing. He just buries his face in your stomach and wraps his arms around your waist.
You lie there, stunned—lips tingling, the warmth of the kiss still clinging to your skin. Your fingers find his hair, brushing through the tangled, sleep-ruined strands without thinking. His breathing slows. His weight settles against you, easing something deep in your chest.
And even though your brain is buzzing and your heart is screaming, this is really happening—you somehow manage a soft response. “…Okay. Five more minutes.”
suna is always there to adjust your skirt. his fingers are always curling over the edge of the fabric, lightly tugging down when you bend over or reach up. anytime it threatens to go up, his hands are there first.
it's the same with your shirts. you reach up, and he'll pull down to hide the silver of your skin, though his hand will linger. your hoodie falls back while lying on his shoulder; his fingertips are already pulling the hoodie into its place. the earphones you two share will be adjusted; he'll reach over, ensuring that they are comfortably on. he'll place a hand on the corner of the cabinet or the corner of the desk.
he does it with everything. your tank tops, shorts, dress with a revealing cleavage. probably comes unconsciously, a habit built over the years shared together. you, however, notice. it's a nice, subtle way of showing his love for you.
in which suna rintaro shows up to his sister's new apartment, but you’re the only one home to deal with it
featuring: suna rintaro x gn!reader
suna rintaro is your best friend's brother, meaning you've known him for as long as you can remember.
long enough that, if you really tried, you're sure you could count the exact number of 'be more careful's he's ever muttered bandaging your scraped knees in the sunas' backyard.
which also means he might still have that awful video from your first year of high school --- the one of you sobbing through the saddest movie you'd ever seen and clinging onto his sister like life depended on it.
and naturally, it means that in all your years of knowing him, he's always been just out of reach, always just two years superior.
suna rintaro, who stands in front of you now, plucking candy from the bowl you and his sister left out in your new shared kitchen.
"hey, y/n," he drawls from the counter as you step inside your home, exhausted from a long day of classes and very much not expecting company.
startled, your first instinct is to whip out your phone:
---
rikaa<3: oh my brother said he’s gonna drop off some stuff from home, i js gave him the apt code
rikaa<3: u prob won’t run into him tho
rikaa<3: nvm ur already there LOL lmk ;p
---
you dislike all three of her messages as you slip off your shoes and shuffle over to the surprise intruder. "rintaro..! it's been awhile, how are you?"
"i'm doing well." he glances up at you briefly before gesturing towards your new apartment. "i see thing 1 and thing 2 are still getting into trouble together."
you roll your eyes, but relent a small smile at the familiar nickname. "if by getting in trouble, you mean your sister and i are living together, then yes. yes, we are."
"figures." the brunette chuckles, making it a point to unlock his phone, but not resume whatever scrolling you assume he's been up to. neither does he attempt to move at all from against your kitchen counter.
instead, he stares.
meeting his gaze, you find yourself scanning the boy, briefly. in the last few years, it had become increasingly clear that rintaro was not your favorite suna --- you were practically inseparable from his sister, still receiving birthday gifts from his mom, and prone to cracking years-old inside jokes with his dad.
but rintaro?
you'd always figured it was unrealistic to keep in touch with any friend's brother, and you had to admit that by your teens, it was simply easier to ignore his presence than confront the way you felt whenever he set foot into rika's room, all long limbs and mischievous eyes. still, it's clear that in the months you hadn’t seen him --- too busy adjusting to adulting, school, and a move into your first real apartment, albeit with his sister --- that he's been taking care of himself. for a lack of better words, he looks grown.
guess that’s what pro sports do to you, you think.
unfortunately, that doesn't change the fact that he absolutely does not own the kitchen counter he's so leisurely propped against right now.
as if reading your thoughts, the brunette smirks. "want one?" he picks up a wrapped candy from the bowl and tosses it to you.
"...these are mine."
raising his palms in surrender, rintaro watches as you return the treat back to the bowl, eyes narrowing in light amusement. "so...how's life been, college student?”
you purse your lips, trying to remember how long it's been since you've seen his face this clearly. "it’s fine, not like it's my first year...i guess i've been a bit busy lately...” then to dissipate the awkwardness of your ramble: “um, how are your parents?”
"they’re well," he hums, “you’ve probably seen them more than i have these days, with the move and all.” he waves a dismissive hand, as if to physically change the subject. "enough of that. how was korea?"
you pause.
now, you'd be lying if you said you were unlike all other students your age and never checked story views on instagram, but either way, your recent visit to korea --- courtesy of the latest three day weekend --- was, without a doubt, a trip worth posting about. more importantly, and you could never tell rika, but you had most definitely been tracking her older brother in your views.
but with good reason!
at first, you thought nothing of the older suna heart-ing your stories --- just intermittently, and reserved for photos of you hanging out with his sister, or even his mom for the occasional girls’ night.
but you couldn't deny how your heart skipped a beat the first time rintaro pressed like on one of your cuter selfies. then again for a spontaneous ‘ootd!’ and most recently for a particularly nice solo, in korea.
still, you never expected him to actually remember the things you uploaded on social media, let alone bring them up.
you blink, caught somewhere between confusion and embarrassment and something slightly warmer.
"oh yeah, you saw that?"
rintaro shrugs, unbothered, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "hard to miss. you post a lot."
"doesn't mean you have to watch everything." or like it. you suddenly remember a rather specific picture you'd posted: a shot of you against the dark skyline, eyes half lidded and clothes blurring as you spun around in a sort of confidence one could only identify as liquor. you remember how your equally tipsy friend had insisted you put it out for the world to see.
"i don't have to," the brunette replies, finally slipping his phone into his pocket and opting to direct his entire body towards you instead. "guess i'm just a fan."
in a sudden wave of horror, you realize how provocative the story had been.
rintaro had liked it just an hour after you hit post.
"korea was nice," you mumble, heat rising on your face. "fun." yet again, suna rintaro succeeds in making you feel small.
"seemed like it," his gaze lingers on you, a little more focused than before. "you looked happy, y/n."
something in your chest tightens at that. you always knew he was attentive, but when was the last time this attention was directed towards you?
silence falls again, and this time it stretches.
you hate that your heart is beating faster than it should. this is just rintaro. rika's annoying older brother. the same guy who used to snicker when you lost a video game, who dragged his feet walking you and his sister to the convenience store, who'd barge into the latter's room during sleepovers just to steal your snacks.
rintaro --- who always made sure to offer a rematch, who, no matter how begrudgingly, never forgot to pull out his own wallet for your late night indulgences. who had once told you you had 'good taste' in between bites of your favorite candy.
the one who left oddly casual likes on your instagram stories to this day, reminding you that he was there. that he always has been there.
and it's like he reads your mind again. "you still cry at movies?" he asks, face now directed towards the communal tv in your living room.
you scoff. "excuse me? that was like one time."
"mmm," his lips twitch. "pretty sure i recorded you one time. i've seen you do it, like, five."
you step closer without thinking, narrowing your eyes. "you keeping count?"
he doesn't step back, flashing a smile. "someone has to."
it hits you then. how much taller he feels when you’re just a few inches away, how his presence fills the space in your home. broader shoulders. slower movements. the same calm, observant gaze, but heavier somehow. a little less boyish, and significantly more sincere. you're hit with the vague scent of cologne, and you can't help but wonder when he traded in mrs. suna's choice of detergent --- a soft, familiar scent that still clung onto rika's clothes --- for something this intoxicating.
rintaro's not a kid anymore.
but neither are you.
"you've changed," you murmer.
he tilts his head. "yeah?"
you nod, increasingly aware of the tremble in your voice, your hands, and the way he's looking at you like he's trying to figure you out too. "a little."
he hums. "you too."
you laugh, trying to shake off the tension. "hopefully for the better."
"probably," his voice dips, quieter now.
your breath hitches.
"so i'm guessing you do still cry at movies?" he asks, but it comes out softer than you expect.
you groan, not missing the way his mouth twitches at the sound. "and i'm guessing if you're mentioning this again...you still have that video, don't you?"
"maaaybe." he drags a slow finger across his cheek in mock tears.
"rintaro---"
"relax." a faint smile. "i'm not showing anyone."
"you better not."
"i wouldn't." he pauses, then adds, "i always thought it was kinda cute." he looks at you, and there's something you can't decipher in his eyes, like he's testing the waters, ready to retreat at any moment.
"...that's one way to say i was a crybaby."
"and still are?"
you open to your mouth to argue, but stop.
"depends," you admit.
"on?"
"the situation."
rintaro studies you for a moment, like he's weighing something. then quietly, "what about now?"
your heart skips a beat. "what about now?"
at last, he pushes himself from against the counter, arms folding loosely as he lowers his face to level with yours. "you look like you might."
you let out a small breath, half-laugh, half-something else. "i'm not going to cry in my own kitchen, rintaro."
"good," his gaze softens lightly. "would've been embarrassing."
"oh, shut up. i'm not a kid anymore."
"i know."
a beat passes before he turns to reach into the candy bowl, then hesitates back towards you.
"...can i have one?"
you blink. "you've already had, like, ten."
"yeah, but those were stolen."
"and this is different how?"
he holds your gaze, that same undecipherable weirdness settling into his expression once again. "this time, i'm asking you."
it shouldn't feel like more than it is. but it does.
you swallow, then reach into the bowl yourself, picking out a piece and holding it out to him.
"here."
his fingers brush against yours --- neither pulls away. you watch as rintaro glances down at your hand, then back up at you, his face still dangerously close. "thanks," he breathes.
he takes the candy just to put it in his pocket.
caught in the moment, you inhale a shaky breath, delirious on what you'll say next.
"so are you gonna kiss me?"
and for the first time in your life, you watch rintaro's resolve crumble.
his lips are softer than you expected. more hesitant. more careful. just slightly more restrained than the one time you’d allowed yourself to imagine kissing him at 16 --- right after he’d hugged you ‘goodbye’ at graduation and mere hours before you vowed to eradicate this silly little crush in his absence, once and for all.
up until just half an hour ago, you would’ve sworn you succeeded.
in the present, rintaro’s hands cup your cheeks, warm, and calloused just enough to make your breath catch.
your own arms slide around his neck, tugging him closer, and he exhales sharply in response. up close, you catch the faint flush on his cheeks, and you pull him in just a little more --- enough to feel him unravel all over again.
when his mouth finally lets go of yours, you find yourself staring up at a pair of blown pupils, completely breathless.
"y/n, i--"
beep! beep! beep! beep!
his eyes widen.
beeeep!
"i'm homee!" your best friend calls from the door, saving you just enough time to scramble off of her brother and pat down your clothes. head spinning, you listen to the sound of rika's footsteps --- "oh." --- and then the silence which follows in their stop. "what are you still doing here?"
"just about to leave," rintaro sighs from next to you. "uh, the groceries and mom's food are all in the fridge."
you watch as he rolls his shoulders back, once, then twice, before slipping his hands into his pockets, and finally, start towards the exit.
holding open the door, rintaro makes one last scan of your house. "nice place," he says, and you make a mental note of the slight pant in his voice as he eyes you one final time across the counter. "think i'll drop by more often."
"just don't steal our candy!" you call back.
the smile he returns is utterly fond.
click!
"what a weirdo," rika mutters, too busy scoping the new contents of your fridge to notice your goodbye. she pokes her head out just a moment later, tossing you a fresh yakult in a gesture that feels oddly familiar. "he didn't cause you any trouble, did he?"
you shake your head, heart beating still a little too fast.
"no, he didn't."
you wonder when exactly suna rintaro stopped being just your best friend's brother.
cw: suggestive content, reader is depicted to be shorter than him (non-specified height)
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a ‘hand-on-hip’ or ‘hand-on-nape’ policy. because of the sheer height difference, he’s constantly finding ways to tether you to him. whether you’re standing in line for coffee or walking through somewhere, his large, calloused hand is either resting firmly on the small of your back or his fingers are hooked into your back pocket, pulling you flush against his side. He likes the physical reminder that you’re right there.
;; boyfriend!ushijima uses his wealth in the most understated, attractive way possible. he doesn’t brag, but you’ll mention your favorite snacks are running low, and the next day, a box of twelve arrives at your door. he thinks it’s only logical to provide the best for you. If you’re tired and he can’t take you home, he’s already booked a car to pick you up so you don’t have to walk. he’ll look you dead in the eye and say, “you deserved the upgrade,” as if spending a small fortune on your comfort is as natural as breathing.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is a fan of you wearing his oversized clothes. he knows he’s massive, and he likes the way you look drowned in his clothing. he’ll purposefully leave his heaviest, most expensive cashmere sweaters at your place just so he can come over and find you wearing nothing but the knit and a pair of wool socks. he won’t say anything at first; he’ll just walk up behind you, bury his face in the crook of your neck, and inhale deeply, his large hands bracketing your waist.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is incredibly observant during quiet moments. while you’re reading or working, you’ll feel his gaze on you—heavy and intense. when you look up, he doesn’t look away. he just watches the way your lips move when you think or the way your shirt slips off your shoulder. “you’re very beautiful,” he’ll state plainly, his voice dropping an octave, “i find it difficult to focus on anything else when you're in the room.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a very specific ‘gym recovery’ routine that involves you. after a long training session, he’s needy in a way only you see. he’ll sit on the floor between your legs while you’re on the couch, letting you massage his shoulders. the heat radiating off his skin is intense, and he’ll tilt his head back to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, silently demanding a kiss—or something more—as thanks for his hard work.
;; boyfriend!ushijima handles you like you’re the most precious thing he owns, yet he’s remarkably firm. he likes to pick you up—to reach things on high shelves, or just because he wants to feel your legs wrapped around his waist. there’s something about the way he can support your entire weight with just one arm while the other holds your face that makes your heart absolutely race.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is a literal furnace in bed. sleep with him means being tucked securely under his arm, his chest acting as your pillow. he’s a heavy sleeper, but the second you try to wiggle away in the morning, his grip tightens instinctively. he’ll mumble your name into your hair, his morning voice rasping and deep, pulling you back down until you’re pinned beneath his sheer mass. “stay,” he commands, and with the way he’s looking at you, you wouldn’t dream of leaving.
;; boyfriend!ushijima views your body with the same disciplined intensity he applies to volleyball—he studies you until he knows every curve, every sensitive patch of skin, and exactly which touch draws a specific sound from your throat. he isn’t loud about his desire, but it’s constant. you’ll be at a dinner party, surrounded by his wealthy associates, and he’ll keep his expression perfectly stoic while his hand slides under the table, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your inner thigh, inching upward just enough to make your breath hitch while he continues a conversation about athletics as if he isn’t undoing you.
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a thing for your neck. he’s a ‘marker.’ he’ll be behind you, his large hands sliding under your top to grip your hips, and he’ll pepper heavy, wet bites along the sensitive skin of your shoulder. he likes the visual proof that you belong to him, and he’ll linger on a spot until he’s satisfied with the color, his thumb tracing the bruise he just left while he watches your reaction in the mirror.
;; boyfriend!ushijima is obviously a fan of so-called claiming behaviors that border on obsessive. he finds it logical that because you are his, you should carry his scent and his marks. if you’re wearing a dress with an open back, you can expect him to spend the morning leaving a trail of biting kisses along your shoulder blades and the nape of your neck. he also likes the visual of his handprints lingering on your hips the next day; it’s a silent, physical receipt of how thoroughly he looked after you the night before.
;; boyfriend!ushijima has a side to him that only comes out when you’re alone in his penthouse. after a shower, he’ll walk out with nothing but a low-slung towel, the water still dripping down the deep V of his abdomen. he knows exactly what he’s doing when he corners you against the kitchen counter, leaning in so the heat from his damp skin rolls off him in waves. he’ll take your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back to expose your throat, and whisper, “i’ve been thinking about this since you arrived a while ago on the third set,” before his mouth finds yours with a hunger that is anything but ‘polite.’
;; boyfriend!ushijima finds your reactions to his wealth almost as endearing as your reactions to his touch. he’ll buy you silk lingerie that costs more than a car just because he ‘wondered how the fabric would feel against your skin’ under his hands. he’ll help you dress, his large fingers fumbling slightly with delicate clasps, but he’ll inevitably end up unzipping it halfway through because the sight of you in something he bought specifically to take off you is too much for even his legendary self-control to handle.
;; boyfriend!ushijima gets incredibly possessive when you wear his dress shirts. because he’s so broad, the fabric hangs off you, barely covering what it needs to. he’ll watch you walk across the room, his eyes tracking the way the hem rides up, and he’ll suddenly lose all interest in whatever he was doing. he’ll catch you by the wrist as you pass, pulling you onto his lap, his hands sliding underneath the fabric to find bare skin. “i think,” he’ll murmur against your neck, “that you look better without this.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima has zero stamina issues. he treats intimacy like a marathon, not a sprint. he’s methodical, patient, and incredibly thorough. he’ll keep you awake until the early hours of the morning, his body moving with a powerful, rhythmic precision that reminds you he’s a professional athlete. just when you think you’re finished, he’ll flip you over, his weight pressing you deep into the mattress, and whisper, “done? i’m nowhere near done with you yet, my love.”
;; boyfriend!ushijima aftercare is a masterclass in silent devotion. once he’s thoroughly exhausted you, he becomes a gentle giant. he’ll carry you to the bath, his arms never wavering despite the late hour, and wash you with a tenderness that feels almost sacred. he’ll wrap you in one of his oversized robes, tuck you into the high-thread-count sheets, and pull you flush against his chest. he likes it when you fall asleep while he’s still inside you, his hand resting heavy and protective over your heart, marking the rhythm of the only person who can make the great ushijima wakatoshi weak in the knees.
n: oh i’m FREAKED out 🙉🙉 just something to feed my babies while i rest for a bit.
going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt
tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry
osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack
as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?
you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…
either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle
just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.
he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.
sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.
he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces
“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…
thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.
omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too
ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd
“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”
osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable
there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.
it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.
there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.
“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?
he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs
he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face
his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly
“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.
before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.
i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about
you hired him because you had little to no time to make healthy meals, living off of microwave ramen most of the time. incredibly unhealthy so you hired a private chef. you didn't see him often, only in the morning for a couple of minutes as you ate your breakfast and occasionally he would stand across the counter preparing your lunch.
you can't deny that he's cute, brown hair and big biceps that are constricted from his black compression shirt, the way his muscles are flexed every time he moves. his cooking skills are an added plus. you thank whatever angel is watching over you to give you such a hot man who can cook your meals. but obviously, you had to keep it professional but that doesn't stop you from ogling at him and he doesn't notice either so there’s no harm. (he has noticed.)
and he's not one to complain either. he particularly likes it when you come home late. hair in a messy bun, the first couple of buttons from your work shirt unbuttoned a little bit and at certain angles he can get a peek of the lacy black bra you decided to wear that day.
but his top favorite is when you come out of the shower on those late nights, dressed in your victoria secret silk pajama set, hair wet, and cheeks red from the heat of the shower. you smile softly at him as you take a bit of the dinner he cooked that night and he always falls to his knees weak at the sight of your smile rather than the usual scowl on your face due to the annoying people you have to deal with at work.
and when you fall asleep on the couch as he cleans up the dishes he freezes, he's never seen you so peaceful. would it be breaking boundaries to carry you to your bed? no he thinks, i mean you back would hurt if you slept here all night he justifies as he slowly picks you up and places you softly on your bed.
one day he will get to do that and sleep with you in his arms. but right now he had to plan out your breakfast for tommorow.
♡ in which... the jjk men get cuteness overload/agression over you.
♡ featuring... yuji, megumi, toji, choso, sukuna (heian era sukuna, his bit is suggestive !)
♡ Yuji Itadori
You and Yuji often get together for movie nights, and tonight's not the exception. After persuading him into letting you choose the movie this time, you thought you'd be more immersed, but the way your eyes are drooping mid watch is proving quite the opposite.
You love the movie you picked, but the tiredness from the day is catching up to you. You wanted to unwind, sure, but not to be so relaxed you'd end up fighting sleep! Yuji was fully immersed in the movie, but it only takes him some glances in your direction to tell you're drifting off. And Yuji being Yuji, he can't help but point it out immediately.
"Sleeping on me, really?" He teases, and you jolt awake. "No! I'm just... resting my eyes."
"For two whole minutes?"
"Uh... maybe?"
Yuji laughs a little at your half-assed answer, yet his grin soon softens. He pauses the movie, quitting the teasing early today. "We can keep watching some other time, I know you had a busy day. You should rest, you can take my bed."
"No! I won't," You shake your head quickly, "We're only missing like, forty minutes of the movie. I can handle it."
"If you're sure..." "I am."
Yuji shrugs when you confirm again, deciding to respect your determination. And he didn't want to see you fail, but when your eyes fall shut five minutes in, he can't help the smile on his face.
"Resting your eyes again?" He quips, chuckling softly as you're startled again.
"Nope!" You manage to answer, "This part's just pretty boring."
"Boring? We just got a huge plot twist!"
"Well, it gets boring when you know what happens!"
You groan as Yuji bursts into laughter again, knowing he's fully aware you're bullshitting your way through this conversation. He decides to leave you alone for now, though, mostly because he's kinda interested on the climax of the movie, but also because he knows you're not in right headspace for this.
When the movie's nearing its end, Yuji relaxes and leans back on the couch. He had been stealing more glances here and there, watching how your eyes went lidded until you made the effort to keep them open again. It made his heart swell with affection... but nothing quite like now, when he feels the weight of your head falling on his shoulder.
You're out cold. The soft glow of the TV reflects on your face, and your hair's getting in the way from the tilting of your head to meet his shoulder. He shifts slightly so you're more comfortable, and you unconsciously curl into him, your hand gripping his sleeve.
Yuji's heart does this thing in which it threatens to stop beating for a second, and he almost wishes it actually did. He's spiraling. You've never fallen asleep on movie night, or in his vicinity in general. Usually, there's enough energy from the two of you in the room to last for the entire night, And you watch two or three movies in a row before deciding to call it quits. Now? You didn't even reach the credits, and you're humming sleepily while seeking his warmth. And he's NOT surviving it.
Yuji kinda wishes you were the type to snore, or talk in your sleep. Maybe even be a sleep walker. Instead, he finds out you're a cuddler. By being the victim of your embrace, of all ways. Guess that's why you have tons of plushies in your room. He just wishes he didn't have to bite on his fist to avoid screaming and jumping around from the rush of feelings he's getting.
You mumble something in that tiny, sleepy voice that only comes out in this state, and his heart suffers another violent stab of affection. He's bouncing his leg, looking away, doing just about anything to refrain himself from startling you awake. But he can barely control himself, and it's patetically showing.
That's when he switches tactics. Instead of praying to calm down and let you sleep on his shoulder like a normal person, he tries to nudge your head sliightly away with a finger. Just enough so there's a little space between you and you can't continue using him as your pillow. But your head falls back in place against him, his attempt unsuccessful.
After, he pushes your head away and forward with his hand, trying to make it comfortably rest on this cushion he's holding under your head... But it slides off again, this time falling into his chest.
Oh, this worse. This is worse this is worse this is so much worse— because your asleep self seems to find this new place so much more comfortable, your face burying itself in the crook of his neck instantly. And now his heart is practically lurching on his chest, a quiet yelp escaping him at the intimacy of the situation.
So what does a man do when found himself in such a compromising spot?
Wake you up, probably.
But Yuji's not just any man, because instead, he spends the next 20 minutes staring at the ceiling while gripping the couch's armrest with all his might.
Once you stir awake, you blink sleepily until straightening up, mumbling apologies. Yuji nods stiffly, facing away from you, acting like it was no big deal.
You rub your eyes with your palms, going on about how cuddly you 'sometimes' get when you're tired or sleepy, how you didn't mean to make things awkward.
Yuji reassures you immediately, saying he was too focused on the movie to even notice you drew closer.
You appear to believe him, leaning back in the couch with a quiet exhale.
To occupy the silence, Yuji fills you in with his commentary on the movie, giving his general thoughts.
But the part in which he almost had a breakdown because you were too close? He thinks he'll keep that to himself.
♡ Megumi Fushiguro
Megumi's sitting on the bed, scrolling on his phone while he waits for you to come back from the bathroom. He just wants to relax with you for a while, maybe watch a movie before bed or just cuddle the night away (though he'd never say it out loud), but you're sure taking your sweet time inside. He thinks you're just being thorough, probably going through those long night routines you put yourself through sometimes. But nothing could have prepared him for the view when you came back in the room.
"Megs, over here!" You call out with a giggle, standing at the doorframe. His eyes are halfway closed, he's already considering skipping the movie and going straight to sleep, but you're still here probably up to something.
Megumi sighs, lifting his head to look at you like he's being held at gunpoint, but his eyes widen once they fix on your frame.
"Is that...?" He trails off, a strong flurry of emotion washing over him as he takes everything in. You're wearing a comfy onesie with an adorable strawberry pattern, and you brought his dogs with you and made them wear strawberry hats.
the sight of you matching with his dogs felt so life threatening he had the urge to rise his fists and end the menacing feeling right there.
But he snaps out of it, aware of the obvious truth that this is not a violent situation yet wondering why the hell it felt like his heart would stop when he saw you.
"I saw these online and I couldn't resist buying them. The little hats can be gotten on sale when bought together with the onesie, can you believe it? That's such a cute combo!" You comment happily as you sat down by his side, his body visibly stiffening at your sudden closeness. Shiro and Kuro pad over as well, their hats so ridiculous he wonders how you managed to put them on without them making a fuss. They are always so calm with you for whatever reason.
"So, do you like it?" You ask, brows knitting together as you see him him stare at the floor. "Megumi?"
"You look fine." He answers curtly, turning even further to the side. His heart's pounding away in his chest, to the point where he's worried if you're able to hear it. And if this were anyone else he'd say the idea's stupid, but he can't deny the physical evidence of the effect this little stunt is having on him.
You don't seem deterred at his lukewarm answer, noticing the tinge of red on the tips of his ears despite his efforts to conceal his embarrassment. You scoot closer and he instinctively covers his face, clearly doing a conscious effort to appear composed, but a mere glance your way in that dumb outfit is enough to have him spiraling again.
"I'll go to the bathroom." Megumi announces while up abruptly, making a beeline to said room. You laugh freely now that he's out of sight, the way he attempts to act nonchalant while being obviously affected never fails to amuse you.
When Megumi returns, he sits by your side like nothing happened, avoiding looking at you for obvious reasons. He spends five whole minutes stealing glances your way while he listens to you talk, trying to convince himself that he's composed now.
"Hey, Megs?" His attention's fully back on you at the mention of his name, tilting your head in your general direction. "What?"
"Remember how I said the hat and onesie were a combo purchase?" you ask and he nods automatically, "well, in order to get two hats, I bought two onesies, so..."
Megumi slowly turned to face you fully, the meaning of your comment obvious. "If you think I'll wear one just to match with you-"
"Then I'd be right?"
"Of course not."
But Megumi's a bit of a liar sometimes, because you only had to say 'please' once for him to cave and wear the remaining onesie.
Later that night, he's laying on bed with you in his arms, cursing how absurdly comfortable the material of the pajamas is. You're already asleep, but he's having a hard time doing the same now that he can admire you freely.
There's no one around (at least not awake) to judge him, but he still can't let go of his grumpy expression, annoyed at how his heart's racing and his face remains warm.
It's going to be a very long night.
♡ Toji Fushiguro
"What's so important you can't spare me your attention?"
"Just need a minute to pick a nice horse to bet on, doll."
"Okay? You'll lose even if you do your research."
"Zip it, brat."
You grumble as you dramatically flop in the bed beside him, your efforts to annoy Toji have been futile. He's too fixated on his stupid horses, and yeah it's only been three minutes but you're his partner! You came to see him so you could spend time with him, not watch him plan how he'll gamble his money away.
You're in one of those 'attention seeking' moods as Toji likes to call them, and you own up to the name with all your might. He doesn't want to pay attention to your lovely self in every minute he's on your presence? Then you'll force him to acknowledge you. You're hella bored anyway, and it's fun to mess with him. So you rummage through your purse and sit back up beside him.
"Since you're so busy, you won't mind being my model right?" You ask as you get out your makeup pouch, "I want to test some techniques. You just have to stay still, anyway."
Toji raises an eyebrow like he has no idea what business his skin could have to do with your makeup that you use on yourself, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction and just shrugs. "Be my guest."
You frown slightly, not pleased with his lack of reaction, but you take it in stride and decide to have fun with it.
You begin using Toji's arm as a canvas, drawing lines with lipstick, blending concealer on his skin, and particularly doing things that make no sense at all. You're just messing with him, making it obvious this serves no purpose, but he just hums and let's you do whatever you want. And while making a mess out of his skin is fun, you're not achieving anything. Time to try something else.
You turn to your purse again, getting out a sheet of stickers you conveniently brought with you. Toji watches from the corner of his eye, distracted but good enough at hiding it, before going back to mindlessly scroll through the options on his phone. "You're gonna 'test something' with those too?"
"Yeah- yeah." You reply as you reach for the first one, "Just testing their stickiness on skin. Important business, really. You wouldn't get it."
"Sure, sure." Toji drawls, remaining still and calm as you place the stickers on his skin. You go up to his neck this time, and even place some in your face. And though he's undisturbed, you're having way more fun with this activity. The sight of Toji with stickers all over his body amuses you so, and your smile only widens the more you go on.
You firmly press one on his cheek, before looking for your phone. You need to take a picture of him like this, and if he wants to keep acting indifferent to you, then you'll at least have a memory of sticker-filled face. You spot your phone and are about to grab it, but Toji suddenly hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your face towards him.
"Toji-?" You're silenced as he cups your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks. "Hey!"
"Shh... C'mere." Toji reaches for the sticker sheet you left behind, lazily pressing the remaining ones to your face. It's his little revenge for what you did on him, and he's enjoying it by the way he's smirking at you. You squirm the whole time, but he always pulls your hands away with infuriating ease, making it so you never get to interrupt his process.
It doesn't even take a whole minute for the sheet to be completely empty, your face as full of stickers as his. Toji stares at his handiwork appreciately, though he's more pleased at your annoyance than the decoration on your face. He squishes your cheeks repeatedly. "Much better, ain't it? Now you can go ahead and take all the pictures you want."
"You...!" You punch weakly at his chest, displeased that he outsmarted you. But Toji's smirk only widens, a strange warmth blooming in his chest at the sight of you sulking all pretty with those silly stickers on your face.
"C'mon, you wanted a picture, didn't you? Let's get it." He pulls you closer with a headlock, his hold loose but firm enough to get you in place. He reaches for your phone, snapping a selfie of you two in that position. You glare at the camera all the way, though your resolve breaks halfway and you smile. He manages to get that on camera too, his pleased smirk still in place.
"Happy?" He asks with obvious sarcasm, that annoyance returning to you tenfold. You twist your head enough to bite on his bicep, but he nudges you closer and bites your cheek.
"Hey!" You complain immediately, and he huffs out a laugh. He really was holding back this affectionate restlessness, but the urge of biting and squeezing you in his arms grows worse the more you fight back.
"What? You started it." He shrugs as you rub the sting away. "Now stay put for a while, I couldn't get anything done 'cause of you."
You groan in exasperation at his comment. The admission that you successfully disturbed him pleases you, but you wanted to get his attention long-term, not slow down his process. Still, you both lay down in bed, his arm still locked around you, making a surprisingly comfortable pillow for you.
Toji occasionally squeezes you tighter, and reaches to bite your shoulder out of nowhere. You scold him each time, but he's not deterred. That funny feeling's sitting deep inside him, faint but present, and even with your chiding he's exactly where he wants to be.
You pretended to hate it all, but you set the picture he took as your homescreen as soon as you were alone again. And you heard it from Shiu, but he set it as his wallpaper for your chat. his homescreen would be too public, he didn't want randos to be looking at you. specially not work-related people. shiu was the exception because the bastard's nosy as hell.
You're a menace, but so he is. Maybe that's why you match each other so well.
Better start plotting in which way you'll annoy him next time.
♡ Choso Kamo
You woke up in a cheerful mood, a pleasant feeling running through your body. It's sunny outside, the birds are chirping, and it's the perfect weather for a date. You texted Choso as soon you could, and as the great boyfriend he is, he made his way over in a whim.
You planned to go walk through the park together, feed the pigeons and everything. After, you'd set up a picnic when you felt hungry. Then you'd just lay there for a while, talking and enjoying each other's company. Choso was already in the living room, waiting so you could walk from your home to where you'd spend your time together. And as perfect as you were hoping the date to pan out, you really wanted to dress accordingly.
You're a bit nervous, you have to admit. This isn't your first date with Choso, but there's a feeling of novelty today that's making you both giddy and unsure. For your dates, you've usually played it safe styling-wise because you didn't want to overdo it. But you're inspired enough to give it a try, so you choose from those outfits you were saving for special occasions.
You take a bit longer than usual getting ready, styling your hair, picking out your accessories carefully and making sure to use your favorite perfume. Once you're done, you take a quick look at the mirror, before finally going out to where Choso is still waiting.
Choso's a sweetheart, you remind yourself. The only opinion that matters is his, and he's always been supportive to you. The worst he could do is not compliment your look because he thinks you're beautiful as you are (an overwhelmingly good result, definitely). You call him softly to get his attention, hyping yourself up with those thoughts.
When Choso takes in your look, his reaction is immediate. But he doesn't compliment or reassure you, he just starts... crying?
Wait. CRYING???
"Choso-! Are you okay?!" You rush over to him, horror etching on your features at the sudden predicament. His covering his face with a hand, giving you a weak nod as he sniffles.
"Oh my- what happened?! You were fine just now, was it the outfit? Is it- is it bad or something?" You ask in a small, worried voice, and Choso perks up immediately. He cups your face with his hands, eyes locking with yours with an intensity that belies the tears in his face. He shakes his head firmly.
"None of that. You just..." A sniffle. "You're too cute."
You stiffen. "...What."
"The colors, the pretty accessories, the way it all matches you... it's making me feel like when I see adorable puppies compilations. But it's you, so it's worse."
"It-" You splutter, "It what?"
"Your bag... You're wearing the fuzzy cat bag, it's really cute. There's also that small bow in your hair, which by the way looks specially nice today. I've never seen you with those clothes before, but you still smell like you. It's making my heart beat too fast, and telling my arms they need to be around you."
You finally laugh freely, shaking your head. "You can come and hug me, Cho."
And he doesn't need to be told twice, holding you firmly against him.
"You cry so easily, you know," you tease him softly, wiping his tears when he pulls back.
"You make me feel a lot of things." Choso admits, before pausing.
"You might not want to go out like this, though. You'll make other people cry."
You chuckle, "I don't think they'll cry... they might just compliment me if they're bold enough. Worst case scenario, someone might try to flirt with me, but tears aren't likely."
"Flirt?" Choso straightens up slightly, thinking deeply about the word. He didn't quite get why some would make moves on taken people, seeing as pointless. You've always shown yourself uncomfortable when others flirt with you so shamelessly, though, so he quickly turns more serious.
"I won't let them bother you." Choso states, his stance turning protective.
"I know, I know." You giggle again, looping your arm with his as that giddiness returns. Choso's gaze softens at the action, face flushing faintly. "Shall we go, then?" You ask, and he manages to nod.
Something about him being so easily moved to tears pulls at your heartstrings, even if you know he wasn't actually hurt. It all just reminds you of how pure his feelings are, how he just can't hide anything when it comes to you.
You begin your walk together, with Choso both alert at the environment and stealing little glances at you. Glances that get him flustered each time, a bashfulness that's so apparent in his face.
You can't help but smile everytime you catch him looking, warmth spreading over your chest all over again.
And with your confidence back, you're sure this will be an amazing date.
♡ Ryomen Sukuna
You are Sukuna's most beloved concubine, and this is a surprise to nobody.
Dressed in the finest silks, spoiled with frequent gifts and indulged more than anyone— no one dared to defy your status as the king of curses favored one. No one with a will to live, at least, if the executions of those who bothered you had anything to say in the matter.
Perhaps it was difficult to understand for outsiders, Sukuna himself doesn't know how it happened, but there's something in your presence that sets him at ease. He's grown fond of your presence and requires it often, always looking for you on his leisure time.
Which explains why he's heading to the gardens, knowing you enjoy being there on your free time.
Could he have just requested your presence? Yes, of course. But he finds it most amusing to see you naturally interact with your environment, so he makes his way himself without haste.
Sukuna spots you easily, standing in front of your crouched form with his arms crossed. You notice him right away, his imposing shadow looming over you in a way that's imposible to ignore. Without missing a bit, you turn your head to meet his gaze. "My lord, do you require something of me?"
"Nothing but your presence, you may pretend I am not here. However, I also wonder why you are sitting in the floor like a child playing with dirt." He gives you a once over, making you feel overly aware of your position. You're not intimidated, still, remaining in place as you point at the basket in your lap.
"I sometimes see bunnies, deers and other creatures running across the garden. I wished to offer them some berries, in hopes they'd interact with me." You answer honestly.
"If you wanted a pet of sorts I could have had one captured one for you." Sukuna offers practically.
"While I'm thankful of your intentions, their comfort is my top priority." You gracefully refuse. "I merely enjoy interacting with them once in a while, I don't wish to disrupt their lives."
Your answer's absurdly naive to Sukuna, but that's part of your charm to him. It doesn't bore him if it comes from you, your human empathy has yet to stop amusing him.
In fact, your words about those animals remind of how he feels about you—someone whose presence he desires but whom he does not want to harm. At such realization, he refrains from questioning you this once.
Instead, he shifts his stance, gaze lifting to the patches of green laid ahead. "Have you been successful in your pursuit?"
You smile wryly, dissapointment barely concealed behind your gaze. "Well yes, somewhat. It's not the first day I seek them out, so they've grown more curious about the food, and seem to understand I'm not a threat. They must feel threatened by others, still, as they ran away when they noticed I had company."
"Would you be implying I scared them away?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, his tone sharp but laced with mirth.
You catch the lack of threat easily, your tone still soft as you answer. "That could be the case, but it would have happened with anyone, my lord. These creatures are skittish, and anything unknown makes them go back into fearfulness. Perhaps I should leave the basket here for them and return some other day."
Sukuna knows you're indirectly answering in affirmation to his question, but god do you have a way to reply in ways that never set him off. He can read the melancholy in your tone no matter how much you try to conceal it, though. He's aware you wanted to see your stupid animals, and that his presence is far too threatening to make any living being come close. So, with the heaviness that comes with wanting to be selfish and steal you away, but loving you enough to put your needs before his, he stops you.
"No such thing. You'll stay sat and fulfill your ridiculous whim, I may spare you some minutes. Make sure they come over fast. I don't want to wait for you all day."
Sukuna walks away from you, leaving you dumbfounded. He's still at a distance in which he can see you, but he's given you space to continue. You know this is the way he shows you affection, so you quietly appreciate it and hold the treats out once more.
It takes a few minutes, but some rabbits begin approaching you. You're ecstatic, you've seem them get closer and closer for days but never enough to make contact. This once, a bold one cautiously hops closer, eating straight from your hand.
You can't help your smile, the sight is adorable. It's even better once more start coming closer, the tiny creatures surrounding you now that they're sure you're safe.
You're fawning over them, cooing and breathing out whispers of awe. You're restraining your movements as much as you can, cautious so you won't scare them away, but there's obvious contentment in your actions.
Now, while you're taken by the rabbits' cuteness, Sukuna can't help but be focused on you instead. And they could be soft, fuzzy and whatever other crap you see in them, but they have nothing on you and that soft smile you're sporting. No living being gets close, not with the way he's finding true pleasure in your joy.
And Sukuna's felt this before, this pleasantness that thrums and runs through his body in soft waves. The one he chases, the reason why he insists on watching you perform the most menial of tasks. But this time? This time's different. And he's not sure if he's understanding whats going on at the moment.
In your time together, you've made Sukuna feel many things. The softness afore mentioned that he reluctantly got used to, the quiet pride in knowing you're his to be with. The ire that warps him when someone wrongs you, the lust that swallows him when you're alone in your chambers.
But this? This is strange. The softness is there, but it's hitting him intensely in an uncharacteristic way. There are no gentle waves washing him over, but rather a seaquake threatening to drown him.
It's sharp in a manner that resembles his hunger for blood and death. It makes him feel like sinking his teeth into you, crushing your frame against his.
But the sensation's not telling him he wants to hurt you, which is weirdly contradictory for the intensity he's feeling towards you.
If there's one thing Sukuna's not fond of, it's uncertainty. He allows it in a certain amount sometimes, all for his own amusement, but he's not enjoying not being able to identify this.
So he quits trying to analize it and makes a bold assumption, interpreting the feeling as whatever feels closer to it.
"I trust you had your fun." Sukuna returns to your side, the bunnies running away as fast as they can. You give him a nod, pleased that you achieved your goal for a few minutes.
"I enjoyed it. But are you feeling unwell? You look... unsettled." You ask worriedly, taking in his tight expression. It's really taking everything in Sukuna to keep how he's feeling under wraps, but your genuine concern paired with the image of your soft state earlier is enough to undo him.
"Irrelevant. Come to my chambers." He dismisses curtly, already turning around.
"My lord...? Are you sure?" You ask in a gentle tone, and he feels another sharp tug to his chest. He clenches his teeth.
"Must I repeat myself? Stubborn. I'll bring you over myself." He wastes no time making good on his word, holding you in his arms and pulling you taut to his chest. He walks straight in direction to his private room, the same frown that concerned you still fully set on his face.
Sukuna crosses the state in long strides, servants immediately get out of his way. Once you're inside, he sets you down in the bed, and you have the gall to question him again. He glares at you, but still answers. "You've placed inconvenient feelings inside of me, so it's your task to take care of them."
See, Sukuna's mind might appear complex to others, but his logic is fairly simple. Since the restless energy he felt towards you was not violent, it could only mean one other thing. And he was going to make sure he'd get rid of this vexating feeling, and you were going to help him like you knew how to.
Affection and ferocity coexisting? Unfathomable in his head.
Just be a good concubine and let him take this out on you, yeah?
♡ notes: first time writing for toji and sukuna kinda nervous ! (megumi too, but he was easier). i had ideas for inumaki and geto but didn't know how to write them, im kinda tired too :( might write at least a short paragraph for them tmr so you know what i had in mind. this is my apology for dissapearing 2 weeks btw. if i don't meet a premature death by the hands of my pending assignments i'll post twice next week. finally, i adore heian sukuna. hope you enjoyed his part as much as i did writing it.
the comment just slips out of nobara’s mouth like it’s nothing. “honestly, he’s like a dog.”
you blink. “who?”
she levels you with a bland look. “who do you think?”
she nods her head to yuji, who’s walking past with megumi. he’s all smiles and as if summoned by the universe itself, he looks up, eyes landing on you. his smile softens, he waves.
your heart does an embarrassing little somersault.
nobara leans in. “exhibit a.”
“i don’t see it,” you say weakly.
“if he had a tail, it’d be wagging right now. he likes you.”
“…no, he doesn’t,” you mumble unconvincingly.
“please. he’ll start bringing you sticks if you asked.”
you feel heat creep up your neck. “you’re exaggerating.”
nobara snorts. “am i? call him a good boy, see what happens.”
“i am not doing that,” you choke.
she just hums, already bored with your resistance. “suit yourself. you’re missing out on prime entertainment.”
so, naturally, later, when you and yuji are asked to pick up supplies from storage (extra training mats? you weren’t quite sure), nobara’s words linger in the back of your mind.
he grabs the boxes without complaint, and reaches over to add the ones you had in your arms to his pile.
“i got those,” he says, easy and bright.
“yuji, you’re already carrying like—five.”
he grins. “six isn’t that different.”
your chest does that stupid flip again, and: “thanks,” you say softly. “you’re such a good boy.”
silence.
yuji freezes mid-step, and you immediately regret everything.
“i didn’t mean—i mean, i did mean it, but not like—i just—” you start rambling, heat flooding your face.
he turns to look at you, and oh.
if nobara had been exaggerating before, she isn’t now.
his ears are bright red, eyes wide, and his smile, that usual easy grin of his, has gone all shy around the edges.
“i—what—” he stammers, voice cracking. “wha—did you just….”
you briefly consider faking your own death. “i just meant—”
his expression softens, deepens, turns warm and a little dazed. “say it again,” he blurts.
you blink. “what?”
“th-that,” he says, flustered. “what you just said.”
your pulse is loud in your ears. “…good boy?”
if possible, he gets even redder.
“man,” he laughs nervously, ducking his head. “that—uh—felt really nice.”
your heart melts, reduced to a puddle on the floor.
“it wasn’t, like…weird?”
“no!” he blurts immediately. “i, uh—you can say it again. only if you want to! just—yeah.”
he looks at you with those soft brown eyes, that gentle smile.
nobara was right.
you smile despite it. “c’mon, good boy. let’s drop these off.”
you don’t miss the way his entire face lights up this time “right!” he says, grinning. “i got it!”
yeah. if he had a tail, it’d be knocking things over.
⌗︙・megumi pushes his whole body on top of yours when he fucks you ⸜⸜・
one thing megumi does when he fucks you is that he puts his whole weight on top of you. he just can't help it. he knows he's too heavy but he just wants to be as close to you as possible. he loves to do it especially when he's fucking you doggy.
"feel so good." he moans, drilling his cock inside of your cute little pussy. his body is stretched all along your back so that his face is close to yours. you can feel his hitched breaths on your neck and cheeks plus you can hear his moans clearly. megumi grabs your boobs with one hand, kneading them while he tries his best not to fall on top of your completely. that's until your arms give up from how good he's fucking you and the top half of your body falls on the mattress. now he has the perfect view of your perky butt and he just wishes to eat it after he's gone with fucking you.
"are you ready for my cum?" he asks, sounding all breathy. you're close to your release too, his cock hits the best places inside of your pussy. after few more thrusts, both of you are cumming at the same time. you can feel the warm ropes of his cum filling your insides, making you feel funny inside.
"thank you so much baby for making me cum. let me eat it now."
Synopsis: Toji, the TA, won't bump up your latest essay a couple marks, not with just some begging at least, so you try a different method:
good ol' pussy persuasion
Warnings: toji art by @/youKa.i on insta, smut, porn with a lil plot, nerd!toji, a couple years older than reader but both students, reader harasses him but don't save him he's right where he wants to be, some comedy aspect, college au, non curse au, f!reader, blowjob under the desk, unethical behaviour, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, briefest choking, sex against the window, pússy inspection, belly bulging, overstimulation, spitting, a little fisting I guess or almost, Toji's poor so this is canon compliant jkjk, creampie and unprotected sex, brief pussyjob, size kink/difference, hidden sex, not proofread
Word Count: 10.7k
“For the last time,” he drawls, “I’m not bumping you up a grade.”
You groan, pushing your legs to catch up to him faster.
“Come on, I need this. I’m not asking you to break the rules. All I want is for you to reread my essay and find extra marks, which you will!”
Toji Fushiguro is a tough nut to crack, though he doesn’t look it — one glance at him and one would think he’s a laidback TA. He’s the exact opposite; he takes his job a little too seriously.
For days now, you’d been hounding him, pleading with him and degrading yourself all for him to ‘remark’ your last paper and ‘coincidentally’ find a few extra marks that would push you to the top performing spot you’d been eyeing since forever. Each time you rushed into his office, waited for him after his classes, and followed him to his apartment, he’d shrugged you off with the same ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’ look in his eyes.
Rounding the corner, his long legs making no accommodations for your shorter ones, he says, “No. If you wanted better results, you should have put in a better performance. Surely you’re smart enough to work out that that’s how life works.”
Hands grab his arm, yanking back with all your strength only to be dragged along with him and his burly body. Your heels scrape along the floor. People stare. You don’t care. “Don’t be an asshole. You know my essay was good. It was really good. Just give it a read. A proper one, and not the rushed job you do because you’re overworked and underpaid.”
He stops.
Your face bumps into this back, forehead nearly bruised by the hardness.
His brows rise above his glasses as he fixes you a look. “Kid, your essay was good — decent introduction, clear structure, sufficient evidence — but it’s not good enough for the extra marks to push you into the top band. Your closing argument fell flat ‘cause of your wishy-washy writing style, you didn’t adequately humour the counter arguments and undermine them to strengthen your thesis, and, worst of all, you misspelt ‘complement.’”
A frown graces your features.
“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”
“No. With an I, it’s to flatter someone. With an E, it’s to enhance, pair well, or complete another thing.” Toji explains rather robotically, eyes still dead and voice monotone. “For example, if I said you’re a pretty girl, that’s a compliment. And if I said, your essay goes well with the trashcan over there, that’s a statement that suggests the two complement each other. See the difference?”
He’s already stalking off again, hands in his pockets, huge stature unwilling to accommodate the people walking down the hallway.
You break into a jog, panting embarrassingly by the time you reach him. “Dude, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’re basically friends. Can’t you do your best pal a solid?”
Toji glances down at you. He pushes a door open, holding it a second longer than he needed to. You follow behind him. Somewhat amused, he replies, “We know each other because we’re on the same course, not by choice. And I don’t know what you mean by the whole ‘we’ve gone through a lot together’ thing — the most dramatic thing we’ve faced is when the projector didn’t work and we had to go into a different hall. And we’re definitely not friends.”
Well, fuck, you’re running out of rope.
“Then, let’s officially be friends,” you offer, elbowing him gently. “If you ever need help, buddy, I’ll always have your back.” Then, in an act of complete desperation, you begin shakily singing, “You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. When the road looks tough ahead—”
A heavy hand shoves you away by your head. You stumble into a bulletin board.
“Enough,” he gruffs. “My day’s already fucked because the prof lost his papers and wants to blame me. I don’t need to lose my hearing on top of that.”
Your head flits around. “Did you guys see that?” People give you weird looks. “He just shoved me. The TA just shoved me. We need to protest his violent behaviour by demanding he remarks our papers. Who’s with me?”
Everyone walks past without another look at you.
Toji, on the other hand, lifts his glasses and runs a hand down his face. Muttering something under his breath, he pushes a door open and holds out a hand before you can mindlessly follow. “It’s the men’s bathroom. Tell me you’re not shameless and stupid enough to come in here.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
His eye twitches.
As though an idea comes to him, he straightens ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take a dump; you’ll be waiting a while.”
“That’s okay — I have no more classes so take your time but make sure you don’t stay sitting down longer than you need to,” you tell him, smiling innocently and standing aside to let a guy walk out, ignoring the freaked out face he makes at you. “You can get hemorrhoids."
He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.”
That seems to be as much of you he can tolerate because he walks in without another word to you. Opposite the door, you lean against the wall, whistling and coming up with alternative lines you can pull on him.
God, he’s so stubborn.
It’s not like giving you the marks docks his pay or lowers the professor’s opinion of him. He’s clearly just being an ass.
If he wasn’t such a good TA, a genuinely intelligent man, you would have gone above his head and asked for the prof’s personal assessment. But no, he has to be knowledgeable, a helpful source of information when you’re lost, someone who seems to know everything about any topic, who knows the exact pages of a textbook you should read to further your understanding, and who’s never declined a meeting for clarification on something you wrote.
For years now, you two have had a friendship-like relationship, often sharing snacks and exchanging brief words before or after lectures and classes, despite what he says.
Everyone gets along with him, though you’ve never actually seen him hang out with friends or go to parties. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Word on the street is he works part time in a couple different places. Some say so he can afford drugs, some for tuition.
The rumours never interested you, apart from any that mused about his love life, which seems to be nonexistent except for the many girls who hit on him. Not that you’re especially interested.
It’s just fun to be in the know.
Who knows how long has passed since he went in there. Your phone says fifteen minutes. Is that a normal amount of time for someone to be taking a dump?
Hesitantly, you push the door open and yell out, “Fushiguro? You doing okay? Is it stuck? For a couple extra marks, I’ll give you a hand.”
No one replies.
Brows furrowing, you bend down, looking through the stalls. No feet. What the hell?
Ahead, a window is ajar. Big enough for a man to squeeze through. Well isn’t that convenient? The kind of convenient that exists only in fiction.
Aggrieved and feeling bamboozled, you stomp back to your dorm room, slamming the door, jumping face down on the bed and screaming into the pillows. You’d feel better if you knew he had a grudge on you, if you bumped into him the first day and spilled his coffee all over himself and he’d never forgotten it. Instead, he’s just like that: does things by the book, does his job well, and achieves the best grades with ease.
Naturally, he’d become the professor’s assistant, a coveted position that seemed like it was made for him from the very beginning, and made your life a living hell because he won’t ever make concessions for you.
Sure, you shouldn’t ask him to, but it’s not like you’re asking for much. You’re generally a high performing student — punctual, hard working, ambitious — but you had one bad day which resulted in one bad essay and it lowered your average and now the internship you’d been eyeing could be snatched from your hands in a blink of an eye.
“It’s just not fair,” you cry out to your teddy bear. “It’s three marks. Three! Would it kill him to reread my essay and find those three marks?”
Mr. Teddy stares back at you and says, “He’s a grumpy man. Don’t take it personally.”
You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.
“Teddy…you’re right. He is a grumpy man, a TA with broad shoulders, yummy arms, and thick thighs with a bubble butt, but a man nonetheless. If he won’t pull favours for me, student to student, maybe he’ll pull favours for me man to woman.”
The plushie falls to the bed as you stand, staring at yourself in the mirror and formulating a plan.
With that you decide to seek him out the next day, sporting a new outfit and a different attitude.
.
.
.
“Hi.”
“Fuck off.”
The cafeteria’s busy. It always is. It’s loud enough that most people wouldn’t even hear the exchange — chairs banging on tile, trays clattering, someone laughing too loudly at a table nearby.
Toji’s hunched slightly over a bowl of udon noodles, chopsticks moving lazily as he slurps them down. Some sports clip plays on his phone, propped against his dented metal water bottle. Commentators yell about something you don’t understand. His sleeves are pushed up over his forearms, revealing ropey muscle and the faint silvery line of an old scar running across his wrist.
An old hoodie hangs off his shoulders over a plain white T-shirt. Distressed jeans, worn sneakers. He’s too big for the plastic chair, long legs spread under the table. When he saw you approach, his feet had hooked onto the chair legs, forcing you to fight to remove it from his clutches so you could take a seat.
So damn rude.
His glasses have fogged slightly from the steam of the noodles.
He doesn’t look up. But he knows it’s you. You can tell by the way his mouth tightens for half a second before he goes back to eating.
You snatch his phone away. His green eyes flick up, annoyed. You smile, arms pushing your breasts together so they spill over your tight top. Toji’s gaze doesn’t waver. He continues to stare at you like you’re a pest.
“You can’t take no for an answer?” he asks though it’s not a question at all. “Might want to retake the consent course.”
Manicured fingers walk up his bare forearm before scratching down from his elbow. His skin is warm. Light dusting of hair tickling your fingertips. “Oh, Toj, have I ever told you how handsome you are? Because you really are. You’re so damn hot I can hardly focus on the lectures.”
He snorts, still eating his noodles and still refusing to look at your cleavage. “That’ll explain why you’re missing marks.”
Jaw dropping, you force yourself to recover quickly. A heeled foot brushes against his calf, sliding his jeans up. You bat your lashes, sultrily saying, “The only thing I’m missing is your cock in me, big boy.”
Toji meets your eyes again. His scarred lips twitch. “I don’t need to tell you that was bad, do I?”
You cringe, foot dropping and whole body slumping back into the chair. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.” Then you sit up, handing him his phone, and asks, “Are the noodles good? I’ve never had them.”
Phone pocketed, he shrugs. “They’re just the cheapest deal on the menu. Growing girl like you should get something more filling.”
The menu’s extensive, and the only thing sticking out to you is the chicken burger and chicken tenders meal deal. It seems to be especially popular today but you’re not sure you can finish the whole thing.
“Hey, if I get the Meal Super Cluck Blaster, will you share it with me? I’ve got dinner plans later so I don’t want to fill up.”
That finally gets a reaction. Toji leans back a little and gives you a slow once-over. Tight top. Lacy bra peeking up. Glossy lips. More jewellery than usual. His eyebrow lifts. “That why you’re dressed like a hooker?” he asks lazily. “Hot date?”
“Nah,” you reply, waving him off. “Wore this for yo— Wait.” You lean forward, staring at him wide eyed. “Are you jealous? Are you in love with me already? Because for extra marks, I’ll cancel my dinner plans and promise myself to you for all eternity.”
Toji rolls his eyes. “Go get something to eat; you sound insane.”
You hop up. “Okay, but stay there, alright? Take my burger because I only want the tenders. Oh, and will you share a pot of cheesecake with me? I’m lactose-intolerant but I really want cheesecake right now.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He’s still here when you come back.
As soon as you hand him the wrapped up burger, he scarfs it down the way big men do, like they haven’t eaten in days. You push him the tenders too. You’d actually gotten a double serving of everything so you have your own portion of tenders and he gets to eat another burger. There’s no way a man his size could survive on udon noodles.
“Also, let’s not act like you didn’t leave me hanging outside the men’s bathroom yesterday,” you bring up after sipping your juice. “Can’t believe you left through the bathroom window just so you could get away from me.”
“I didn’t,” he says, mouth full and adjusting his glasses.
You frown, dipping a piece of chicken in hot honey. “No, you definitely did. I peeked and there were no feet in any of the stalls. Unless you’re telling me you can grow invisible.”
“Just lifted my legs when I heard you come in, which I knew your crazy ass would do, so I could finally leave in peace. Didn’t think it’d take you fifteen minutes though.”
A laugh escapes you. “You were waiting me out? Does that sound like the mature thing to do? Jeez, you need to act your age.”
Toji’s eyes meet yours. Your smile falters for the briefest second. “I’m not that much older than you,” he reminds you. “Only by two years.”
“And yet you call me kid or kiddo,” you retort, clearing your throat. Have his eyes always been that green and deep? And is his voice usually that husky and masculine? Because you could have sworn guys your age don’t sound like that.
He shrugs again, second burger finished in a blink of an eye. “Never hurts to remind yourself.”
“Remind yourself what?”
The legs of his chair screech as he pushes it back. He stands, picking up his tray, and answers, “Forget about it. Enjoy your dinner plans. And I’m taking the cheesecake — no one wants a gassy date.”
“Wait,” you call out before he can turn away. “My marks?”
A pat on the head ruffles your hair.
“Still a no, kid.”
.
.
.
“What if I suck your dick?”
Toji lifts his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got a ton of papers to grade for another class; I don’t have time for you.”
The door shuts behind you. His office is bare, not a single decoration littering the place, not a plant nor a picture.
His office is exactly how you remember it — disappointingly, aggressively empty. The walls are a dull institutional beige that makes the overhead fluorescent light feel even harsher. No posters. No photos. Not even a sad little plant struggling for life in the corner.
Just a desk. A filing cabinet. Two chairs that look like they were stolen from a waiting room. It’s the kind of office someone occupies temporarily, like he expects to leave at any moment and doesn’t see the point in settling in.
Leaning against the desk anyway, your fingers drum lazily along the edge.
You’ve been here before: once to argue about a paper he’d shredded with red ink, once because you’d missed an exam and needed him to sign a form, and once because you’d sworn you heard him swearing loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.
You grip his shoulder, squeezing as you scan the fat stack of papers on his desk — the prof’s particular about handwritten essays. There’s so much to read through; you do not want to be him.
“God,” you mutter, flipping through a few pages of the stack. “There’s like fifty here.”
“Seventy-two,” Toji corrects without looking up. His handwriting is sharp and aggressive, red ink slashing through entire paragraphs like he’s committing academic murder. You wince in sympathy for whoever wrote the paper currently being dismantled.
“Good thing you can multitask, can’t you? I’ll suck your dick under the desk, you grade papers, and you bump me up a grade. Easy.”
He shrugs you off, hulking body hunched over and pen scratching on the papers, leaving harsh circles and comments like, ‘what the hell does this mean?’ and ‘you can’t just say perchance.’
Toji gruffs, “I’m serious. Take your jokes elsewhere.”
Nah, you think to yourself.
With a massive struggle against his weight, you yank his chair back, wheeling him a distance from the desk and clambering under before he can fill the space again. He makes some noise above you but you pay him no mind. Your hands rest on his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, marvelling at the density, at the strength you find in them.
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” His foot nudges your knee. “Get the fuck out. I’ll cropdust you if I have to.”
You call his bluff by clutching his clothed cock. He jolts, grunting. Laughing softly, you muse, “You say all that but you have a semi already — did my proposition get you hard, Toji?”
You’re rubbing his hard on, trying not to get flustered by how big he feels, and how fat the girth is. Of course he’s big. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’s a big man so naturally the proportions will match up.
“Suck my dick, don’t suck my dick, it doesn’t matter,” he says, sighing and probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting those marks.”
He thinks that’ll stave you off because he knows you’re whoring yourself out for a grade. What he doesn’t know is that your stupid little brain’s already forgotten about all of that the moment you felt his cock. Now all you can think about is how you’ll have to stretch your lips nice and wide to take him in, and even then, even when your throat is lax and loose, you won’t be able to take him to the base.
Toji grunts again, peering down at you. “You mouthing at my dick? Did’ya not hear what I said?”
Like you’ve been possessed, you press kisses to where his tip is, humming around it. “I heard, but your dick’s saying other things to me, and I know which I prefer to listen to.”
“My dick’s not marking your paper, so get the fuck up,” he growls.
“Don’t wanna.”
“You’re fucking killing me here.”
A heavy hand bundles your hair up, pulling but you fight against it, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints. His boxers have a hole, and yet you only find it endearing. Freeing his cock so it bounces up and smacks your cheek, it leaves a wet mark on your skin.
Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin.
Oh fuck, he really is big.
With nothing between you and his dick, you can see him in all his glory in the partial shadow of under his desk — long, thick, flushed red, already shiny at the slit, veiny as hell, hairs at the base wild and unruly, with weighty balls to match. You’ve never seen anything better.
Tongue out, you lick him from base to tip, prodding at his frenulum.
“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth.
You moan wantonly, already addicted to the salt on his kin, to the texture of his veins, to the softness of his cockhead. “Toji, you’re so big. I don’t think this’ll fit inside me.”
The thing throbs, bobbing. A droplet oozes out and you quickly lick it up. The hand that was pulling your hair has grown slack, simply resting on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping the wood.
Voice hoarse, he mutters, “If anyone can make it fit, it’ll be your stubborn ass.”
Your eyes meet his from under the desk, mischief sparkling in them you’re sure. His cock throbs again. “I thought you had papers to mark, Fushiguro. Maybe you should get on that, no?”
A calloused thumb presses down on your lips, shushing you. It slides down, bringing your bottom lip down with it, before releasing it so it’ll bounce back in place. That same thumb holds your jaw open, hand guiding your mouth to his tip. You know what he wants. You also know that he knows that you both know that you won this time.
Wide as you can, you take as much of his length as possible. You don’t get much further than a third of the way, full beyond belief and overwhelmed by just how much of him there still is. Your nails dig into his thighs.
“If this is supposed to convince me to give you extra marks, then you’re failing real hard, doll,” he notes, gripping the base. “Can barely fit the head, can you?”
He’s acting like it’s your fault he’s so big.
Challenged, you loosen your throat to take him an inch deeper. You gag around the length. Toji curses under his breath. “Careful,” he mutters. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
You ignore him in favour of shallowly bobbing, sucking and licking what you can, as though he’s a lollipop. It’s actually kinda fun.
The familiar sound of pen scratching on paper and paper rubbing on paper echoes in the relatively quiet office. Only the wet sounds of your mouth sucking his cockhead pierces the silence.
Growing more and more used to his size, you flick your tongue around the head, letting your hands wrap around the rest of him, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth. Occasionally, he makes a couple breathy noises — low grunts when your tongue laps up his tip, gravelly groans when you hollow your cheek to suck, and rough exhales through his nose when you grip his balls, massaging them, thumb rubbing the seam.
It becomes easier to forget why you were here in the first place; you’re just blowing him for your own entertainment now, wanting something to occupy your throat.
Then, he asks, as though he’s making casual conversation, “How was the date?”
“Hmm?”
Toji rolls his eyes. “The date,” he repeats. “How was it? He pay for the meal? Open doors, see you to your door, kiss you goodnight and shit?”
Your lips stretch into a smile. You release him with a pop! “I didn’t go on a date,” you tell him. “My friends hosted a housewarming party because they moved in together. I had a great time, thanks for asking.”
Is he pleased? Unaffected? Genuinely just making conversation? Hard to tell, except for the pushing of his hand, urging you back to his dick, and taking him further inside your throat, till his tip bumps the back of the gummy walls.
“Good,” he exhales out, thighs flexing around your body. “That’s real good.”
“My blowjob skills or that I had a great time?” you ask, words muffled and barely understandable.
“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”
A knock on the door has you both stiffening. Toji glares down at you and whispers, “It’s the prof. Do not make a sound.”
He didn’t need to tell you that — you’re well aware that if you get caught, you’ll both face disciplinary action, and will likely be kicked out of the university. That’s worse than not getting the internship.
The office falls quiet so suddenly you can hear the ticking of the wall clock. Toji’s hand tightens briefly against the desk as the knock comes again. “Come in,” he calls, voice steady.
The door opens before he even finishes the word.
“Ah, Fushiguro, there you are,” the professor says, stepping inside with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d left already.”
From your position under the desk, you can only see shoes. Polished leather. Slow steps across the floor. You don’t slide his cock out of your throat, lest it makes a sloppy noise that’ll give you both away. So you breathe through your nose, being very, very quiet.
“No, I was just finishing up some grading,” Toji replies, cool as a cucumber.
His tone is annoyingly normal. Completely unbothered. He’s really convincing. Has he done this before? Is this a normal occurrence? Do a lot of girls offer to blow him for better marks, and does he take them up on it? Are you the one exception to his generosity?
“Good, good.” Papers shuffle. A chair creaks as the professor sits across from the desk. “I actually wanted to ask about the research methods essays.”
Of course he did.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
Toji shifts slightly above you — just enough that the movement brushes your shoulder — and then he leans back in his chair. “Yeah?” he says.
“I noticed something odd in the submissions this year,” the professor continues. “Half the class seems to misunderstand the section on sampling bias.”
He hums thoughtfully. “You mean where they’re supposed to explain the limitations of convenience sampling?”
“Exactly.”
A sheet of paper slides across the desk.
“You see this one here—”
From below, you hear Toji pick it up.
“—they describe the method correctly, but their conclusion contradicts their own analysis.”
There’s a pause whilst the TA reads. You stare at the underside of the desk and try not to shift your knees. God, this is like torture. Having a cock lodged in your throat and not being able to do anything with it is hell. Above the desk, they’re chatting away, talking about your fellow students, with the professor none the wiser that one such student’s under the desk.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “They’re treating correlation like it proves causation.”
“Precisely!” the professor says, sounding delighted. “It’s surprisingly common.” Another pause. You hear a pen tap the desk twice. “I was thinking next year we might restructure the lecture slightly,” the professor continues. “Maybe introduce a short case study before the assignment.”
“Could work,” Toji replies. “Give them something concrete, tangible, to analyse.”
Your legs are starting to cramp. Your lips tighten around his hot cock. Toji brushes your hair back from your face, a quiet act to show he hasn’t forgotten about you. The professor keeps talking, completely unaware.
“Also,” he says, shuffling more papers, “the literature review sections were stronger this year.”
“Mm.”
“I suspect the workshop helped.”
Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.
“You handled that well, by the way,” the professor adds. “The students seem to respond to your feedback.”
This is way too boring, you decide. In an act you might end up regretting for the rest of your life, your offended tongue prods his tip where he’s still leaking salty precum.
He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood.
The professor asks him if he’s alright, and Toji replies, “Fine. Sorry. Just had a cramp.”
A triumphant smile pulls at your lips, which is quickly wiped away by the sudden pinch at your cheek. You wince, unable to smack him in retaliation.
A sigh fills the room. “I fear you work too hard, Fushiguro. You ought to take a break here and there. Do something fun and wild, or whatever it is people your age do nowadays.”
“I am having fun,” Toji says, hand coming back to rest on your head, growing heavier and heavier until you’re forced to take him inside your mouth, deeper and deeper. “In my own way.”
He’s filling you up more than he was before, now more insistent, no longer so passive. You’re struggling to take him but he’s not letting up. Fuck, you’re soaked between the legs. Who knew you had an oral fixation?
“Well, good,” the professor says. He pushes his chair back. Your heart jumps in joy. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know those papers won’t mark themselves. Boy do I not envy you.” He laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too, Professor.”
Footsteps move toward the door. The handle turns. The door opens. Closes. Silence. Two seconds pass.
Then Toji peers down, licking his scarred lips, and mutters under his breath, “You needy fucking girl. Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t resist not being a pain my fucking ass. If you want cock so badly, then here you go.”
His hips thrust up, hand keeping you in place. Your eyes fly open, throat stretching to take all of him in. Oh, he was as pent up, as frustrated, as you were. The force in which he’s rutting inside your throat displays that nice and clear.
“You’ll do anything for a good grade, won’t you? Even debase yourself like this. God, you drive me crazy.”
You gag around his cock but he doesn’t pay any mind to that. No, Toji’s just rutting inside your mouth over and over again, grunting louder and louder now.
Meanwhile, your hand seeks out the heat between your legs. You grind against the heel of your palm, moaning around his length. The vibration has his balls tightening up.
“Fuck!”
Hot cum bursts inside, coating the walls of your throat and your tongue.
Toji leans back in his chair, which creaks. You pull him out, coughing at the salty burn. Damn, even his loads are big. It’s like a cream puff exploded inside your mouth.
Hands carry you up, sitting you on his thigh. One rubs your back in circles, the other wipes away the tears at your eyes, licking at the wetness he’s collected on his thumb. “You good, kid?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“Yeah,” you respond, voice hoarse and not fooling anyone. “I’m good.”
You take a sip of his water from his water bottle, not caring about the fact that you’re drinking from where he had been, and if he cared that your mouth which had been sucking on his dick and cum is on his cup, he didn’t say.
He sighs, tucking himself back in and says, “Come by my place tonight. Hand me your essay again and I’ll reread it. But I’m not making any promises about finding extra marks, alright? It’s just a second chance, and the only one you’ll get.”
Dopily, you smile at him. “Throat game that good, huh?”
His lips twitch. He shoves you away, smacking your ass as you walk away.
“I’ll text you the time and place. Don’t be late.”
Nodding, you head for the door, not leaving however till you ask, “Should I wear matching underwear, or is this a strictly keep your clothes on meeting?”
“Fuck off before I regret it.”
“Lacy thong it is!”
.
.
.
“Should I spread my legs now or do you want me to fluff you first?”
Toji’s deadpan face meets you when he opens the door. He sighs as though he’s regretting this already. Regardless, he lets you in.
You can tell he showered recently — there’s the scent of cheap soap lingering on his skin and his hair is still a little damp.
His apartment is nice and clean, which surprises you somewhat. Most guys your age tend to be messy. But you should have known the TA would be neat and organised.
“I’m serious,” you begin, snuggling up to his side and batting your lashes up at him, “what position do you want me? I’m not the most flexible but I’m not too bad.”
Shaking you off, he pushes you in the direction of the living room where the coffee table is covered with carefully laid out papers he no doubt carried from campus to continue working on. “Go sit down, you horny gremlin. Make some room for your essay and let’s get this over with.”
You do as he says, folding your legs so you can sit by the coffee table on the rug. You take the essay out of your bag, shoving all the others to the side. With a frown, you ask, “So we’re really not fucking?”
He folds himself down too, sitting beside you, knee brushing yours. “I don’t solicit sex in exchange for academic favours. Dunno why you’re so surprised by that — can’t recall having done anything to make you think otherwise.”
“Well, you did give in after I blew you, so…”
“I was gonna offer before you did all that,” he informs you, snorting. “Just never promised to give you the marks.”
Toji adjusts his glasses, taking your papers and starting his reassessment of it. His lips purses, brows furrows, and he stares at the thing like it could tell him the answers to the universe. That or it’s so bad he just can’t fathom what you were thinking.
“Second paragraph, third line, why the hell is it so convoluted?” he asks, voice returning to that grumpy tone you’re more than familiar with now.
It’s the latter, it would seem. He really meant business. You shaved and everything for nothing. What a shame.
Leaning over, you rest your head on his big bicep, and, with a pout, reply, “I thought it sounded smart; I was pretty proud of that line actually.”
“No, doll,” Toji says, sighing. “The simpler the better. Don’t purposefully complicate your syntax. Only do what’s necessary to get the point across. If I, an expert in this topic, can barely understand what you mean, how is the ordinary person supposed to?”
“Yeah, okay. Simple is better, I get it.”
He continues reading, red pen in hand and making annotations as he goes. Meanwhile, you’re worming your way into his lap: one hand resting on his thigh at first, then a leg thrown over his. He notices what you’re doing — there’s no way he doesn’t know — but he doesn’t put up a fight. Eventually, you’re sitting in his lap, his chin resting on your head, and his arms caging you in.
Toji’s warm. He’s comfy to rest on despite all the muscles. Closer now, his soapy scent envelops you. It goes straight to your head. You find yourself squirming.
“Keep still,” he reprimands, underlining a phrase twice for emphasis. “You can’t just use jargon if you’re not going to explain it. It’s bad practice.”
“Got it.” Fiddling with his spare hand, running your fingers down his and over his palm, you ask, “Are academics supposed to have calluses?”
“They bother you or something?”
“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”
He hums. “I do odd jobs here and there, some more manual than others so yeah I built up some calluses.” Without missing a beat, he pivots the topic. “Tell me again what the difference is between compliment and complement.”
You bring that hand up to your breast, imploring him to grope your tits as you reply, “With an I is to praise someone or something, and with an e is to say something matches well with another.”
A moan escapes your lips when he squeezes in approval. Toji mutters, “Good girl. Guess you do listen to me.” Thumb brushing your hardened nipple through the thin material of your top, you squirm in his lap. His lips move against the top of your head. “No bra?”
“I figured you were going to take it off me anyway so I didn’t bother,” you say, still pressing his hand to your tit, riding the motions of every grope and flick of your nipple.
Another hum.
Slowly, you guide that hand down lower. He must know what you’re doing, where you want it to end up, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand or put up any resistance; he’s curious to see how far you’re willing to go. And you’re curious to see how much restraint he has, how long he can hold out before his façade of nonchalance breaks and he’s fucking up inside you.
You tease yourself, and him, first — his fingers, with your guidance, tease your bare thighs, following the hem of your tight skirt. Growing breathless, you ask, “What kind of odd jobs do you do?”
Toji’s calluses tickle the sensitive skin in your inner thighs just right. He’s still marking your paper, occasionally fact-checking your ideas and his theories in a textbook on the table. Amused, he retorts, “You curious about me, doll?”
“Hmm, I want to know exactly whose cock will be stretching me out in a minute.”
He snorts, patting your clothed pussy. You jolt with every impact. “I tutor on the side. Fix up some cars in the garage in town. I’m a physical trainer for three clients at the local gym too. And when I’m low on money, I sell risqué pictures of myself. That disgust you?”
All while he answers, Toji’s blunt nails scrape your slit through your panties. He’s not applying much pressure at all, if any, and yet every skim, every travel up and down has goosebumps rising on your skin.
“N-no,” you answer quickly. “I think that’s really cool. If I had a body like yours, I’d take pictures all the time too.”
His laughter rumbles in his chest. An odd sense of pride warms your own. He says, “Your body’s more than good enough to sell too, you know. Don’t act like you don’t know guys give you double takes all the time, or that your ass could stop traffic.”
Giggling, you lean back, gazing up at him with a smile. “Do you stare at my ass sometimes, Toji?”
God, you’re soaked. You can tell, though you’re not embarrassed whatsoever. If anything, you’re just itching for him to pull your panties to the side and touch you skin to skin, to plunge inside your pussy and make a mess out of you.
“Tell me where you can, and should, insert a semi-colon in paragraph six, and I’ll give you an honest answer.”
He nudges you with his chin. “Go on. Quit thinking with your pussy and give me the right answer.” A little aggrieved, you sit up straight, holding his wrist to keep his hand between your legs. Your eyes scan the section. Tentatively, you point to a full stop on the second line. Toji shakes his head and smacks your clothed pussy again. “Try again, and don’t guess.”
“Here,” you snarl, feeling way past pent up. “Now give me my reward.”
Toji huffs. “Semi-colons help for varying sentence structures. It’s in the little ways you can convey your points compellingly. Don’t underutilise the right punctuations.”
“Yeah, yeah, smarty pants. Rub my clit and answer my question already.”
Cool air brushes against your swollen, glistening lips. You sigh when his warm hand covers the entire slit barely a second later. His middle fingers are instantly coated in your wetness. He groans. “Fuck, doll, you’re dripping.” Toji doesn’t give you a moment to respond to that; his fingers rub at your throbbing clit in tight circles, drawing it out of his hood. You moan, back arching.
Finally, he answers, “I stare at your ass all the fucking time after I glare at the losers whose eyes wander from their laptop screens . I’m a big, fucking hypocrite — that what you wanna hear?”
“Fuck yes!”
Rustling of paper reaches your ears. Then two hands are on you: one furiously rubbing the bundle of nerves and the other gripping your throat. He squeezes threateningly. Your vision spots, jaw dropping. “Look at you, all desperate to have my cock inside you. And for what? For a couple marks? You’re not ashamed?”
Your ass is grinding back on his boner, sandwiching the hard thing between your cheeks as your own answer. How could you be ashamed when he wants you so bad too?
“I’m horny! Are you gonna fuck me or not?”
In a split second, you find your world spinning. Your back falls on something hard. You’re staring up at the ceiling, papers scattered beneath you. Rough hands tug you down by your thighs. When you peer down, Toji’s staring up at you from between your lips.
“Yeah, I’m fucking you. You already knew I was gonna. You gonna let me taste your pussy first?” A challenging brow quirks up, like he’s waiting for you to push him away.
Instead, your legs hook over his shoulders, ankles crossed. You grin at him.
Panties pulled to the side, his fingers spread your pussy for him. Those eyes scan every inch. He releases a shaky breath, cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even your pussy’s pretty. Fucking gorgeous.” Running a hand through his hair, he says, “You’re always such a pain, aren’t you?”
“I can’t help that every part of me’s pretty,” you reply, twirling your hair.
“Shut up and play with your tits — I like a show with my dinner.” Toji spits a fat dollop right on your clit. It slides down your slit but before it can disappear in the crevice of your ass, his tongue is collecting it and shoving it inside your cunt.
You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”
In spite of his aggressive tone, you pull down your top, letting your tits bounce out. Those eyes follow every jiggle. “Good girl,” he rasps. “Squeeze them for me nice and hard. Good. Real fucking good.”
His glasses are foggy now with your own humidity, rattling with every movement. He’s eating your pussy out like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything better, like he’s going to make sure not a single trace of you can be found in his apartment after he’s done with you.
Growling, he spread your thighs wider. “Course you’ve got a sweet pussy,” he says, brows furrowing in what appears to be anger. “Course it’s sweeter than that fucking cheesecake. Course I’ll be craving you till I die.”
Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging for purchase. “Ngh, Toji, my clit…suck my clit!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Those scarred lips, the very ones you’ve stared at more times than you can count, wrap around your clit, sucking hard the way you did when you were blowing him under the desk. Electricity sparks inside, sending tremors up from your lower belly to your tits to the very tips of your fingers. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.”
Filthy squelches are being wrung out of you, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, addicted to how responsive your body is to him.
Two fingers worm their way through your pulsing hole, basking in the rough textures of your entrance, stretching your gummy walls on their way to curling against that spot that has you oozing more cum out.
“You’re fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re gonna struggle taking all of me later.” Then he barks a laugh, spare hand pressing down on your belly where the pressure builds up. Your toes curl. “A better man would take pity on you, go slow or wait another day, but I’ve already had my tongue inside your cunt so I’ll spare you the gentleman act.”
More fingers shove in, ignoring the screech that you let out. You’ve never had more than two and yet all four of his thicker, longer fingers are inside pushing your walls to their very limits.
Despite that, he remarks, entertained by the shock on your face which he studies through his glasses, “Suck it up, buttercup — my cock’s thicker than this, you know that.”
You do.
It’s all you’ve been thinking about all day. Hours after, your jaw’s still stretched out, sore and creaking after the workout you put it through. The thought of having something even thicker, longer than his four fingers has you growing dizzy, head handing over the coffee table.
“Yeah, my cock can’t wait to feel you too,” Toji says, not to you but to your pussy which is squelching lewdly and loudly. “Had to resist jerking my dick raw all day so you better make it good for me.”
Is it seconds later, or minutes, maybe hours, when you cum?
How ever long it is no one can deny it’s the strongest orgasm of your life.
Your entire body trembles, spasming beyond control. Are you screaming or silently moaning? Are your eyes shut or have you gone blind? And is he still pistoning his fingers inside you, damn near pushing all of his hand in?
“Stop,” you cry out. “No more, please!”
Mercifully, he yanks his hand out. Unfortunately, it leaves you feeling so empty you immediately crave the feeling of his hand gripping you from inside.
Lips and chin glistening, he kisses both inner thighs, which tremble.
Toji gathers you with one arm, showing off his strength as he carries you off the table and to the glass door which leads out to the balcony. It’s dark out and all you can see are the lights of people’s rooms in the apartment across. There are families lounging, dogs sleeping, TV’s blaring.
Behind you, you hear the rustling of his shirt as he throws it off carelessly. Bare skin grazes your own soon after his hands make quick work of the clothes you’re still wearing. In a flash, you’re naked. He bends down to pick up your fallen panties, inhaling the gusset deeply. Your legs cross tightly at the deeply satisfied groan he lets out.
“Next office hour,” he starts, lazily spreading your pussy lips and smearing your juices around so he can listen to the squelches and keep your squirming, “you better leave your panties with me. Consider it payment.”
You laugh. “Sure.”
Groggily, you try to keep your head up, wondering what you’re doing by the window, still a little out of it. A hand clutches your jaw, aiding you.
“I’m gonna fuck you against this window,” he announces, leaving no room for arguments. “You want those extra marks? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock like a champ.”
Ass gyrating back against the hot, heavy thing still confined in sweatpants, you wonder, “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”
He lets go of you. You have to catch yourself by pressing your palms to the cold glass. Toji drags your hips back, foot kicking your legs apart. His cock plops onto your ass, scalding. “No, I have a ‘get my time’s worth from shameless women who waste my time with demands for better grades by humiliating them’ kink.”
“Sounds long. We should get that shortened,” you drawl.
His cockhead slides through your pussy, coating itself in your wetness. The fat thing bumps against your clit. You shudder.
Satisfied with your natural lubrication, he prods your entrance. “Yeah, we should. Let’s call it, Shut The Fuck Up And Take It.”
Then he enters you in one go.
You scream.
The window fogs up with your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.
You’re taking so much of his length so quickly that it should be painful. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of pain, not one you didn’t like at least — only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled up is resonating.
Toji grunts. “Almost had to fist this cunt and you’re -hah fuck- still too tight.”
Pummelling his cock in, his hips don’t pause for a second. You gasp for breath, palms slipping and sliding on the condensation that’s built up on the glass. It’s like you can feel him in your lungs, so impossibly deep, so hot, so intimidating.
“God, it should be a crime to have a body like this,” he says, hands groping every part of your flesh he can reach. He slaps your ass to watch it jiggle for him. He’s an ass man, that much is clear.
The force of his thrusting has you pushed closer to the glass, so close now that almost your entire front is flush with the surface. The coldness grazes your nipples. You moan.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
He tugs you back to him, body sliding down the glass till your ass is jutted out. Toji carries your hips up so you can reach him, but it means your toes are only brushing the floor. You cling to the glass door as much as you can. Through the glossy haze, you see the marks you left on the glass, from the oils and sweat on your skin. You see the outline of your tits, all round and fat, the handprints you left and the smearing of them all over the place because you couldn’t grapple with one position to have them in.
Are people watching? Are you flashing a poor old man, are you reigniting a sexual appetite in a pitiful divorcee, making a housewife jealous, creating fantasies for some guy your age? Are people rubbing one out to the flashes of ecstasy on your face, to the swaying of your tits, to the rippling of your ass?
Toji’s fingers creep under you, furiously teasing your clit. You whine. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”
“Go on, gorgeous,” he rasps. “Lemme feel you cum around my cock. Make my dreams come true.”
Two fingers gather the cream that’s formed a ring at his base. He draws three letters on the glass for you to stare at. It spells out c u m.
God, he’s dirty.
Another orgasm ripples through you. Your thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Toji!”
He growls out, hands tightening their grip on your hips, threatening to bruise, “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum early.”
Without waiting for you to come down from your high, he flips you around. Your back thuds against the door. His cock reenters you in a clean, easy slide, cunt beyond soaked and stretched out. Your arms and legs wrap around him.
Those glasses of him have fogged up so thickly now that they fail to serve their purpose. Toji takes it off with one hand, sliding it onto your head, like a headband keeping your face clear of your hair. “Don’t let them fall,” he orders. “They break and you won’t be getting that internship.”
And his lips?
They smack against yours.
He kisses you, all tongue and teeth and drool dripping down chins, like he’s been waiting weeks, months, perhaps years to do that. And you kiss him back just the same.
Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches.
“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”
“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”
The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this.
Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.
Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”
Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”
His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain.
“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts.
You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”
“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”
“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”
Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”
He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows.
Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!
Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you.
Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button.
“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”
“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear.
Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”
His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours.
When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream.
“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after.
Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans.
He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs.
Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy.
Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them.
“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”
Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”
“Thanks!” you chirp.
“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”
.
.
.
“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”
Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.
“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”
That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.
Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.
After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official.
In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together.
A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by.
“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.
Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”
“Mmm.”
“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”
You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”
“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words.
In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.
“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”
The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.
Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?
“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”
Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”
The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”
You go still, this time for a different reason.
Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”
The bastard’s trying to distract you…
“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”
Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?
Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you.
“Don’t mention it, Professor.”
The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants.
He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.”
Your jaw drops.
Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.”
“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.”
The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again.
“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.”
Your heart?
Drops to the fucking floor.
Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.
Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—
Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”
“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”
Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense.
Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”
“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good.
Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.
Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.
“You sneaky piece of shit!”
He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.
Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”
“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”
“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.
“Whore,” he fires back.
Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.
“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.
pairing: jjk men x f!reader | Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Megumi, Toji, Sukuna
synopsis: his reaction when you tell him you're leaving/going back home when he thought you were sleeping over! although the sukuna one is a bit different (this was inspired by that one tiktok trend!)
cw: minor cussing (just once), petnames, fluff, pre-established relationship for all except Sukuna, heian era Sukuna, not historically accurate in any way lol
wc: around 700-900 each
જ⁀➴ Satoru Gojo .ᐟ
You and your boyfriend were lying on the ridiculously large and comfortable couch of his living room. You were sat up with your cheek in your hand, elbow propped on the armrest, while Satoru lay down. He was currently using your lap as his pillow— as he so often did. Your hand played with his hair, twirling the tips of it between your fingers.
You had insisted on putting a romcom on, which he wasn’t too eager about, admittedly. But it wasn’t like he was complaining about it. He simply remained silent, too unbothered to hide his disinterest.
And frankly? You hated it. You almost wish he’d whine your ear off about your bad taste in movies rather than just being indifferent. Because it made you feel as if he couldn’t care less whether you were here with him or not.
That’s when an idea popped into your head. The words spilled out of your mouth before you could think them over.
“It’s getting late, I think I should go back now.” you nudge his head lightly in the same way you usually did when you needed to get up to grab some water or use the bathroom, signaling for him to get off your lap.
Refusing to lift off of you, he remains silent for a moment, before slowly turning his head to look up at you. “What?”
“I said it’s getting late.” you repeat, holding back from smiling as you were already starting to find this amusing. You point to the window. “I want to get back home before it’s completely dark out.”
“And why would you want to go back home…? I don’t understand.” he frowns.
You furrow your eyebrows as well, mimicking him for the sake of playing along. “Why would I stay?”
“Because I want you to? I thought you were spending the night like usual.” He sits up, the blanket previously draped over him pooling at his waist, and folds one knee up to rest his arm against it as he looks back at you.
Now that he’s finally off of you, you seize the opportunity and stand on your two feet. You glance around the room, as if looking to gather your things to leave. Man, you were really selling it. “No, not tonight.”
“Why?” He immediately stands up. Walking over to you, he blocks your path, all 6’3 feet of him towering over you. “... is it because I wasn’t paying attention to the movie?” his voice grows quieter.
You scowl at him and fold your arms over your chest, even though you wanted to burst out laughing. You had a part to play after all.
“I’m sorry, okay? It’s not my fault I don’t like corny movies like that.” He shrugs, putting his hands on his hips. His gaze drops to the carpet beneath your feet. “Besides, it’s kinda hard to pay attention when you’re touching my hair like that…” his voice trails off.
“Well that’s a heartfelt apology if I’ve ever heard one.” you roll your eyes back.
He groans and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I mean it.” the tall blue-eyed man sighs. “Don’t go, please?” he finally lifts his gaze off the ground to look at you. Satoru gives you his signature pleading look, accompanied with a playful wink. “I promise I’ll be super-duper focused this time.” he leans down so both of your faces meet.
You let out a sigh and look away, completely ignoring the fact his lips were just a breath away from yours. You pretend to give it some thought for a couple of seconds.
“Alright, fine.”
His lips meet yours in a quick peck, and his arms encircle you as he lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder.
“Satoru! Unhand me—”
“Can’t, sorry. Don’t want you running away from me.” he shakes his head, patting the back of your thighs gently.
“I already said I wasn’t going anywhere!” you squirm in his grasp.
“Better safe than sorry though, yeah?” he chuckles, making his way back to the plush sofa in the center of his living room.
“You can be so annoying sometimes, you know that?”
“Mhm, I love you too baby.”
જ⁀➴ Kento Nanami .ᐟ
You played with your necklace as you let your eyes sweep over Kento’s familiar apartment. The kitchen where you had made meals together, the corner where you forced him to dance to jazz music with you, and the front door where you’d shared as many kisses as goodbyes.
Your boyfriend had excused himself for a moment and left you alone at the kitchen counter where you were previously chatting and enjoying a drink after coming back from your nice dinner date.
Knowing the routine the both of you shared by now, he was probably going to come back with a spare set of clothes for you to change into and sleep in.
And you curse yourself for the mischievous idea that squeezed itself into your brain. Perhaps you were feeling playful because of that dizzying kiss you shared earlier. Or maybe it was just the drinks. Either way, you were set on teasing him.
So, you quickly stand up from the stool and grab your bag. Kento comes back before you can make your way to the coat hanger at the entrance, however.
You hear the pause in his footsteps and turn around to face him.
And just like you’d assumed, he had a fresh change of clothes in one hand, and the makeup removing wipes you kept at his place in the other. His gaze stays stoic, although you’re sure it doesn’t reflect what’s going through his mind.
“You’re leaving?” He speaks in his usual steady tone.
You clear your throat and avoid his piercing gaze. “Yeah, it’s getting pretty late.”
He puts the clothes and makeup wipes down on the counter. “... I assumed you’d be staying the night.”
“Oh, no. Not this time.” you readjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
“And why is that?” he lifts one of his eyebrows
“I don’t know… I’m tired.” you blurt out. You should’ve thought this through more thoroughly, clearly.
A confused expression makes its way onto his face. “You’re tired, so you want to go out of your way to go back home instead of just spending the night here?”
You shrug and let your eyes trail away from him.
He takes a couple steps forward until he reaches you. “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you want to leave so urgently?” he searches for your gaze.
But you’re determined to keep playing along, and don’t even spare him a glance.
At your silence, he sighs. “… At least let me drive you home. It’s not safe for you to be out this late. Especially alone.” he suggests, but he’s already walking past you.
He grabs his car keys and slips them in his pocket before reaching for his coat.
You quickly turn on your heels and reach him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “I’m not going anywhere Kento.”
He halts his movements and looks back at you over his shoulder. “... What?”
“I don’t actually want to leave.” you look up at him, your chin resting against his back. “Just wanted to see how you’d react.”
He lets out a heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.
You let go of him so he can take his coat off. He hangs his keys back up and turns around.
“Don’t do that again.” he runs a hand through his blonde hair, the motion making some strands fall against his forehead. “I thought I upset you, or made you uncomfortable in some way.”
“Sorry, you know I like to keep you on your toes.” you chuckle and reach a hand out to grab his. Despite his frustration, his hand finds yours almost instantly, as if it was second nature to him. His large and steady palm encircles your smaller hand, thumb tracing circles against the back of it.
“There’s that, and those few glasses you had earlier which I definitely shouldn’t have indulged you in.” he grumbles and lets himself be pulled forward by you.
You giggle in response, unintentionally proving his point. “Not my fault you can’t say no to me.” your free hand finds his firm shoulder and you start swaying side to side while humming a soft tune the both of you liked.
He lets out a huff and shakes his head before a small smile breaks out on his face. He follows your clumsy lead and moves in sync with you. Kento speaks up again, his voice softer now. “You’re right. It’s not your fault you’re so charming.”
જ⁀➴ Yuji Itadori .ᐟ
You scrolled on your phone mindlessly, letting out the occasional laugh at a funny video. You’d been doing so for the past hour and a half now, while Yuji flipped through his comic book, deeply enamored in the story.
The both of you were lounging on his bed. Him sat up against the headboard, plush pillow supporting his back, while you were more slouched against him, head carefully caged in between his bicep and chest while he held up his book.
That’s when you fell upon the video. The one where you saw a girl in a similar situation as the one you were in right now, pulling a prank on her boyfriend. The prank consisted of her pretending she was leaving, just to see her boyfriend’s reaction. Luckily for you, you were wearing your earphones, and Yuji was far too focused on his reading to sense the imminent mischief coming his way.
Unable to stop yourself, you turn your phone off and lift his elbow to free yourself from his grasp.
“‘Kay I’m gonna go now.” you scoot yourself off his bed and stretch your arms once you’re back on your feet.
He closes his book and lets it fall on his stomach. “Huh?”
You chuckle at his cluelessness. “I said I’m leaving, Yuji. I wanna go to sleep.”
He sits up. “So sleep here.” the pink haired boy states simply, as if it was the obvious answer.
“... I wanna sleep in my room though.” you put a hand on your hip.
“What’s wrong with my room?” he stands up and steps closer to you, completely invading your personal space. He had a tendency to do that.
“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just— why are you so offended?” you snort.
“I’m not offended… I just don’t understand why you don’t wanna sleep over. You always do.” he tilts his head, the gesture reminding you of a puppy.
Thank god for your resolve, because if you didn’t have any, you already would’ve caved in and kissed him stupid.
“Not always.” you roll your eyes.
“You slept over last night and the night before though…” he scratches at his head, confused.
“That’s besides the point!” you huff. “Okay you know what? I’m just gonna go.”
He doesn’t even let you take more than two footsteps before his arms trap you in a tight embrace from behind. “You can’t just go without giving me a good reason to!”
“Yuji let go of me—” you move around, trying to slip free from his hold. Curse him and his superhuman strength. And although you try to sound angry, you can’t help the giggles erupting from deep within your stomach.
He ignores your demands. “Come on just tell me— did I do something wrong? Or do you just not like my room?” he laughs along with you, the sound booming in your ear.
“It’s not that!” you continue giggling, as he was now relentlessly attacking your neck and cheek with sloppy kisses. “God, you’re so gross! Stop it—” You push a hand against his face.
He pouts and gives your hand a small lick. “Me? Gross?”
You yelp and wipe your hand against his thigh. “Yes, you!”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’m just trying to show my girlfriend I love her.”
Feeling him settle down, you do the same and try to catch your breath from all that laughing.
His voice is quieter. “Seriously, why do you wanna go so bad?” he juts his bottom lip out.
“I don’t… I just wanted to see if you’d care whether I left or not.”
“... You for real?” Once he sees you nod, he lets out a sigh, feeling reassured.
At the sight of the overwhelming relief washing over him, you chuckle. “You’re acting like you avoided a catastrophe.”
“I really did.”
“Me not sleeping in the same room as you is a catastrophe?” you deadpan.
“Of course it is.” He gives you a small glare, as if it were a stupid question. “Wait— you don’t feel the same?”
You hold back from smiling too hard. He just kept giving you opportunities to tease him on a silver platter. “I mean… I’d live.” you shrug.
“Sometimes I think you might secretly hate me…” he sighs woefully.
You grab his hand abruptly and drag him back to bed. “Would you quit being dramatic? I never said I hated you.” letting yourself fall against the mattress, you tug him along so he falls on top of you. He catches himself at the last second to hover above you, supporting himself with his forearms.
“But you act like it—”
You cut his sentence short by pressing a kiss to his adam’s apple. It bobs against you as he swallows hard, his face and neck flushing red.
He lets out a shaky breath. “... You’re going to kill me one of these days.”
જ⁀➴ Megumi Fushiguro .ᐟ
The sound of rain hitting the window could be heard through Megumi’s room. It was late in the evening, and the two of you were resting in his bed.
His front was pressed against your back, and his chin rested against the top of your head. He had an arm draped over you. You weren’t doing anything in particular, simply lying down entangled with one another. Enjoying the other’s warmth. But you could tell he hadn’t dozed off yet.
Although he was probably about to. Today’s mission had been more rough than usual. And you could tell he was going to wake up sore all over tomorrow.
So, you concluded he needed some good rest.
“Megumi?” you speak up softly, not wanting to startle him.
His hand tightens around your waist. “Hm?”
“I’m gonna go back to my room now, okay?”
He lets his head dip down to be closer to you. “Why?” he murmurs against your ear.
You purse your lips together. Of course he was going to be difficult about this. “You need to be well-rested tomorrow.”
“... Still waiting for you to explain why you’re leaving,”
You sigh. His ability to remain a sarcastic jackass even while tired was truly impressive.
“You’re going to end up even more sore if you sleep with me like this. You know I move around a lot in my sleep.”
He goes quiet for a moment, as if thinking your words over. A heavy sigh escapes him. “I’ll be fine.”
Your hand moves to rest on top of his. You let it sit there for a moment before you try to detach his hand from your side. “No, you won’t. And I don’t want to be the reason you feel even worse tomorrow.”
His grip on you only tightens once he notices you’re trying to get rid of him. “Would you stop overthinking this? I told you I’ll be fine.”
“You say that now, but you’re going to complain and blame me later when you’re hurting all over.” you click your tongue and huff.
Megumi ignores your disdain, and pulls you back to him, pressing his chest against your spine even tighter than before. He nuzzles his face even closer, and you can feel his bangs against your ear, and his lips against your neck. His soft breath fans across your collarbone as he speaks.
“... I won’t, I promise.” he mumbles, his voice almost getting lost with the sound of the harsh rain tapping against the glass of the window.
“And how do I know you mean it?”
“I always keep my word, don’t I? Stop worrying over this.”
Your hand that was previously trying to get him to let go of you gives up, and instead runs down your face as you groan lightly. “Megumi, this is for your own good. I want you to feel better tomorrow.”
“And you don’t want me to feel better now?”
Your hand falls from your face to land on the pillow under you. “What are you talking about?”
“What about right now? Don’t you want me to feel good now?”
You stare down at his hand that was around your waist, stunned. “Well… yeah. Of course I do.”
“Then let me have this.” he huffs, burying his face against the collar of your shirt. He speaks up again, his voice softer this time. “Stay with me.”
“... You’re way too stubborn. I hope you know that.”
He hums, paying you no mind.
“Fine, I’ll stay. But if you say one word about it being my fault that you—”
“I get it. Stop nagging me.” he groans. But the second he feels your tense form relax against him once more, he whispers. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“... you really gonna make me say it out loud?”
You chuckle softly. “Yes.”
He clears his throat, and lowers his face. His eyes flutter shut, and you feel his eyelashes brush up against your shoulder. A soft kiss is pressed against your skin. “Thanks for being here,”
“I always will.” you respond.
જ⁀➴ Toji Fushiguro .ᐟ
You twirl the ends of your hair mindlessly as you watch him. Toji was hunched over in the midst of his small kitchen, rummaging through his fridge. The buzzing light of it highlighting his sharpest features, currently pulled into a small frown as he groaned about forgetting to buy a pack of beer.
He’d been in a pretty foul mood for the last hour or so. You’re not exactly sure why. He’d gotten off the phone with Shiu all bitter and angry.
You were hoping the two of you could share a nice evening— or night, but it seemed that plan had gone to ruin now. And you weren’t sure exactly what to do.
So there you were, sitting on the bed of his small one bedroom studio, keeping quiet out of fear of angering or stressing him out further.
After contemplating, you sigh and stand up. “Hey, Toji?”
“Mmh?” he grumbles in response.
“I’m leaving, okay?”
He closes the fridge and watches you as you make your way to the front door, grabbing your stuff along the way. His eyes widen in disbelief. He reaches you in two steps.
“Where you going?”
“... Home.” you look up at him, fingers tightly gripping your bag. You had hoped no argument would come out of this. He wasn’t one to fight or anything, but still.
“Why?”
“I don’t know I just…” you trail off. He stays silent, giving you the chance to think. You take a deep breath and speak up again. “Just thought I’d give you some space. Now’s not a good time for you, clearly.”
“Who said that?” his eyebrows knit in confusion, his frown only worsening.
“No one— it’s obvious.” you fold your arms over your chest. “I mean… you’ve been groaning and grumbling to yourself since earlier.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “So?” he throws his head to the side, gaze landing on his window.
“So… I’m leaving you be.” you say, your tone leaving no room for discussion as you turn your back to him, reaching for the doorknob and twisting it.
His hand immediately lands on the door and he pushes against it, slamming it shut. You look to your left, his large and rough palm laying flat against the wood right next to your head. “Don’t want you to.” he states, his other hand moving against the door on your right side this time, caging you in.
You sigh. “Why not?”
He stays still for a moment, before leaning forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder with a soft thud. “Need you here with me.” he mumbles.
You’re slightly taken-aback by his words, but out of fear he might deflect or retreat back in his shell, you say nothing. You simply reach a hand up, your fingers carding through his thin black hair.
“You sure? I don’t want to make you more upset than you already are.”
He clicks his tongue in response. “You don’t upset me doll,”
Unsure of what to do, you remain motionless and quiet, for the sole exception of your hand massaging his scalp.
“Don’t go. Stay here.” he mutters against your shoulder. His arms detach from the door to wrap themselves around your waist. That was probably the closest you would ever get to hearing him plead.
“... Alright, I’m staying.” your free hand moves to caress and trace along the veins of his arms.
A soft groan slips past his lips at the sensation of your hand in his hair, and he tightens his arms around you.
“Whatever Shiu said must’ve really upset you, huh…”
His hand slips under your shirt and traces the soft lines of your stomach. “Say his name one more fucking time,”
You hold back a laugh and scoff instead. “Okay, okay, calm down.”
His hand loosens around your waist, and he pulls away from you. You finally turn back around to meet his gaze. Your eyes soften at the sight of him. Hair just a tad greasy and disheveled, eyebags more prominent than before, shoulders not as upright and confident as usual.
“Don’t look at me like that.” he grunts and looks away.
“Like what?” you inch closer, hands finding his waist.
“Like you pity me.”
You shake your head with a smile. “I worry about you. It’s not the same thing.”
“Yeah well I don’t need you worrying over me like I’m some kid that needs help.”
“Sure, sure.” You nod. “How about you hop in the shower and I wash your hair?”
His eyes trail back to you instantly, and he looks down at you with a conflicted expression. He considers it for a moment. “Fine, but you’re getting in with me.” he grins.
You run a hand down your face but reluctantly agree. “I’m just going to wash your hair, Toji. That’s it.”
“You always say that and then end up—”
“In the shower you go!” you raise your voice to drown out the sound of his, and start pushing him towards the bathroom.
જ⁀➴ Ryomen Sukuna .ᐟ
Warm water flowing from your fingertips and trickling down his back, gentle candlelight bouncing off of the hard planes of his body, and the quiet breeze of the night air slipping past the lavish curtains and into the room.
It was currently late into the night, and Sukuna had summoned you to his chambers to bathe him. Just like he did every other night. He’d complained to you about his needlessly tiring and grueling day.
Dealing with—what he deemed to be—incompetent servants, his food being too cold for his taste, and the arrogant members of his court ordering him around (they were merely giving him suggestions on political matters).
You’d just finished giving him his bath, and were currently standing with his short-sleeved robe held out for him to slip into. You watched carefully as he finished drying himself off and turned his back to you, black tattoos and hardened muscles on display. They flex and contort as he slips his four arms through the large loop holes and shrugs the light robe on.
He turned around to let you tie the garment and your hands moved fast, tying a small knot around his waist, your eyes trained on the fabric in-between your fingers. Once finished, you took two steps back and bowed your head, hands clasped together at your front.
“If you do not need me for anything else, I will be taking my leave, my lord.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” He huffed, running a hand through his wet hair.
You let out an involuntary twitch. “... Is there something else you’d like me to do for you?”
“No.” he responds simply.
You raise your gaze for the first time, and look at him. “May I ask why you’re keeping me then?”
“You may not.” The tall man retorts and turns around, making his way to his bed. And you know, without him having to tell you, that he expects you to follow after him. So you do.
You stand with your hands still joined together, posture upright, your eyes glued to the floor, with your back against the wall.
He throws a glance at you and a sneer graces his lips. “Must you stand in the corner like a potted plant?”
You clench your hands, holding back from shooting a snarky response his way, and manage to stay quiet.
“Join me,”
Now that breaks your resolve.
You look at him across the room. “Sorry?”
He makes himself comfortable against his pillows, and folds one knee up, elbow propped up against it and his chin resting in his palm. “Have you gone deaf? Do not make me repeat myself.” he glares.
You swallow, hard, and make your way to him slowly.
“Before the sun rises again, would you?” he orders, and you pick up your pace.
You stand at the foot of his bed, quiet.
Once you’re finally close enough for him to scrutinize your every expression and feature, a smirk forms on his face, and he pats the space next to him.
Heat flares up in your stomach and you feel fear, anger and confusion (and maybe a bit of arousal), all at once.
“My lord… I am afraid I can not provide you with what you desire. Allow me to remind you I am but a humble servant.” You speak firmly. Well… as firm as you could manage considering you were probably going to lose your head in the next five minutes. But you’d rather be beheaded than get in bed with him against your will. “I could ask for a concubine to be called if that is what you wish.” you bow again, hoping to appease him.
His hand drops from his face and his smile fades. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Would you calm down, you vixen? I can practically smell the fear oozing out of your pores.”
A frown makes its way onto your face without you wanting to.
A beat of silence passes and he looks away before speaking up again in a softer tone. “You misunderstood my intentions. I simply wish for you to lie down with me.”
Your scowl melts into a confused expression, now more perplexed than anything.
But the most perplexing part of all this is the fact that you don’t find yourself completely opposed to the idea. On the contrary, you were almost tempted by it.
“Do not make me wait,” he speaks. Although this time, it sounds like a request disguised as an order. “Don’t you think you’ve already made me wait far too long for you?” He adds, voice quiet.
You finally comply, albeit hesitantly, and sit down next to him. You move carefully, as though one wrong move could mean the end for you. And considering you were dealing with Sukuna, you weren’t exercising unnecessary caution.
“Loosen up. I won’t eat you.” He scoffs and instantly pulls you by the waist.
All four of his arms pull you against him and make you lay on your side. One of them moves to pull the soft covers over you. He clutches you tighter against his form. Almost as if he were a child tucking himself to sleep, holding onto his favourite plushie.
You barely hold back a small chuckle at the mental image.
“Is this amusing to you?”
You freeze, cursing yourself for failing to conceal your emotions. “... perhaps.” you blurt honestly.
He lets out a short grunt, and nuzzles his head against your neck. “Just go to sleep.”
a/n: reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated. also pls dont be shy abt commenting i love it when ppl do that <3
ʚ ✉️ ⋆˚࿔ yuji has been waiting an eternity to play the role of super awesome supportive boyfriend when you’re on your period, but unfortunately for him, you’re not the best at staying on script.
ᝰ . itadori × reader ⌇ word count: 1.7K
itadori yuji loved to be needed by you.
it was the reason why when his phone vibrated, displaying your message of “raincheck? just got my period bleh :/” he immediately ditched megumi and nobara in favor of you, tossing a fleeting “sorry guys, boyfriend duties.” over his shoulder as he made a beeline straight for the nearest corner store.
the front door to your apartment clicked open, the rustle of plastic bags breaking the otherwise silence.
“baby, i’m here! i came as soon as—” the words died on his tongue when he finally caught sight of you. you, acting completely normal and finishing up with washing some dirty dishes. he cocked his head as a confused golden retriever would, the corners of his lips tugging downwards, dispirited.
the plastic bags spilled from his arms and onto the dining table clumsily—bags that were filled with all of your favorites. snacks, drinks, a little stuffed toy that reminded him of you, and even that one particular hoodie that you always found yourself stealing from him.
yuji often fantasized about being your knight in shining armor; his mind just couldn’t help but conjure up all sorts of scenarios in which he saved you heroically. whether that be from a super outrageous situation or something as mundane as the common cold.
he had thought about this specific scenario more than he would have liked to admit. he had thought about holding you so tightly, of you burying your face into his neck when your cramps got to be too much, of him rubbing soothing circles into your skin to help alleviate the pain. he was even packed with a full arsenal of knowledge about home remedies and what foods to avoid. itadori yuji had thought of everything.
when he walked in, he had expected to find you curled up in bed beneath the covers. to which he would have climbed in next to you, whispering that he was there to make it all better (corny, he knows). yet, there you were, standing in the kitchen as though you were completely fine.
“hey…” he pouted, visibly deflated. “i thought girls typically cramped and stuff. kugisaki said so.” his voice was low, the betrayal and disappointment beginning to cloud his eyes.
turning to him, you wiped your hands with a dish towel, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “well, i mean, yeah, but they’re not too bad right now.”
your boyfriend sank to his knees, the tile cold even through the fabric of his pants. all he had wanted to do was to impress you with his innate boyfriend abilities, but all he wanted to do in that moment instead was crawl into a hole and hide.
you chuckled at his dramatics. “yuj, you’re too good to me.” you were unable to hide the small smile that crept its way onto your lips. kneeling down with him, you wrapped your arms around his frame, placing a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. “my sweet, sweet boyfriend,” you cooed, pulling away just enough to pat his cheek lovingly. “let’s go watch a movie, yeah?”
—
his eyes burned into your skull as you curled up on the couch with him. you shifted stiffly under his gaze, wondering what could possibly be going on in that brain of his. were you acting weird? did he know something you didn’t? was he plotting something, and should you be on guard? you scrunched your nose at all the possibilities, the action only causing him to lean in closer, anticipating.
“what’s wrong? anything yet?” he blurted, hovering over your body and inspecting every inch of you with his eyes. “how ‘bout now?”
you shook your head, pushing him off of you and laughing at his eagerness to serve you. it was odd, but there was also something endearing about the fact that he wanted to take care of you, of how he wanted to prove how good of a boyfriend he was.
“c’mon, babe, won’t you throw a poor guy a bone?” he whined and threw his head back against the cushions, body limp and beginning to slouch.
truly, you were feeling better than was typical for you; your body had decided to be kind this time around and kept your symptoms minimal and tolerable. but yuji didn’t know that, perhaps it would be best if you played along for just a bit without being too obvious.
“y’know, a nice cold drink sounds good right about now,” you said, tapping a finger pensively against your chin.
yuji perked up at your words, eyes lighting up with the utmost elation. “on it!” he saluted you before darting into the kitchen to dig through his corner store haul. not even two seconds later, he returned with two cans of your favorite soda, still ice cold despite them having been left on the table.
you thanked him with yet another kiss on the cheek, grabbing the can from his hands before returning your attention back to the movie on screen. somehow, you two had ended up agreeing on the longest series known to mankind, and somewhere in between the second and third movie the bright colors and rapid changing scenery had begun to make your head buzz.
that in combination with the strong vanilla candle burning on the mantle and your heightened sensitivity wasn’t the most ideal combination. the seed of a migraine had been planted and it would only go downhill from there, that much you knew. it wouldn’t be much longer before your body fully succumbed to the pain, but you also didn’t want to be a party pooper and bail out on yuji either. he was completely engrossed in the action, reacting to every scene and dramatic line.
you allowed your eyes to flutter closed, pressing the cold can of soda against your forehead in hopes of mild relief—no matter how short-lived.
what you had tried your best to make seem a casual, discreet act piqued your boyfriend’s interest. the thing about yuji was that when it came to you, he was observant and receptive. he took notice of all the subtleties—how you closed your eyes when there was a particularly bright flash, the way you kept your nose covered with the blanket, and the way you used your cold drink as a makeshift ice pack.
getting up from his seat, he extinguished the candle, placing it as far away from you as possible before clicking the television off, all while mumbling something about how that one in particular was the most boring of the series and he was tired of watching it. in truth, he wasn’t actually bored of it, but he’d never admit that to you.
when he did so, he couldn’t help but note the relieved, yet confused, look on your face. the blanket dropped from your hold and eyelids slowly fluttered open at the absence of the bright lights.
“you okay?” he knelt in front of you, the back of his hand resting on your forehead to check for fever.
you nodded, eyes closing once more. “mhm,” you hummed and leaned into his touch as his hand drifted from your forehead down to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing gently at your cheekbone.
“i’ll be right back,” he whispered, lips finding their way to your forehead.
you listened as his footsteps faded away into the other room—the kitchen most likely—until the sound of his steps grew closer and once again he was kneeling before you. this time, however, with a glass of water and a small bottle of your preferred painkillers.
sitting up—hair disheveled and all—you took the pills, chasing them down with the glass of cold water. you had barely set the glass down when yuji hooked his arms underneath your legs and carried you into the bedroom. the bedroom where he had unmade the bed and drew all the curtains shut so it was as dark and comfortable as possible.
“just call if you need me, okay?”
you lied still as he walked out, not daring to move a muscle until you were able to hear him rustling around in the living room, cleaning up after all the snack wrappers and whatnot. your head went dizzy the moment you stood, but you did your best to power through and stumbled your way through the creaking door and into the hallway.
“yuj…?” you called out softly.
the rustling ceased. “hey, baby, what’s up?” he poked his head into the hallway where he caught you standing with a blanket around your shoulders.
“get in here and cuddle with me.”
a boyish grin that quickly evolved into a full-fledged cheshire cat smile stretched its way onto his lips. he didn’t waste a moment more, his body moving of its own volition, arms briskly sweeping you off your feet—as gently as he could muster so as to not aggravate your delicate state—before taking you back to bed.
his arms were strong around you as he shifted to fit himself against your body, chests pressed together and legs intertwined, before cocooning the both of you beneath the covers. his head dipped low, his lips finding purchase on your bare shoulder where the warmth seemed to seep straight through his lips and into his veins.
lacing your fingers with his, you brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head. you didn’t have to say anything for him to catch on, he immediately knew what you wanted and he would gladly give it to you. with his fingers massaging your scalp, you allowed yourself to relax under his touch, a small sigh slipping its way past your lips.
somewhere between yuji’s light touches and the painkillers taking effect, you found yourself nuzzling deeper into the cotton of his t-shirt, the smell of his detergent mixed with his natural scent making your eyelids heavy and lulling you in and out of consciousness.
“i got you,” he murmured, chin resting atop your head and arms pulling you in impossibly closer, his fingers never once daring to stop their caressing.
and though you were in pain and he hated that, a small, teeny tiny, little part of him was content enough with the fact that he got to fulfill some of his long anticipated boyfriend duties. even if not everything had played out the way he had originally imagined.
content: ushijima asking for help on English is one thing--him sitting just inches away from you is another
tags+warnings: fluff, ushijimaxfem!reader, thirdyear!ushijima, tendou+semi appearance, not proofread
character(s): ushijima
word count: 1.6k
a/n: im sorry in advance this was written on the bus LMAO
Brown shoes pattered as the students of Shiratorizawa started to cluster in the slightly filled classroom. It was lunch break, and you decided to stay in with your feet bouncing slightly and earbuds in, the music blasting so loud it could be heard from the external world. It was so loud you didn’t pick up on the dress shoes cladding on the wooden floor. You were so focused on reading up the next lesson for English that you didn’t feel a tall, looming presence in front of the desk.
“[Y/N].”
A few more seconds passed until an unknown hand plucked your right bud out of your ear.
The muted classroom suddenly filled your hearing, and the chatter of classmates could be heard crystal clear. Your eyebrows furrowed at the action, and you trailed your eyes to follow up the cladded arm until you reached a calm, yet slightly tilted head.
Wakatoshi Ushijima.
Your mouth clamped shut with only a slight hum in response to the stunned and sudden intrusion of the ace on your academy’s precious volleyball team.
Your puzzled expression had you blinking your eyes more than usual, causing him to only slightly clear his throat.
“I know you may not know me, but you’re [Y/N], right?” His expression remained unchanged as if carved from stone. It almost felt like you were in deep trouble with how a million eyes darted right at the two of you.
After quickly glancing around the now hushed classroom, you peered back up at him and nodded, “Of course, I know who you are, Ushijima-san.”
The pressure of possibly being the next target of rumors in the upcoming week terrified you. It was astonishing at the rate and creativity these students could create over the slightest piece of information.
He only nodded in return and began to rummage through the black book bag slung across his body. It took him a moment to finally find what he was looking for, and he stretched out his unwavering hand to reveal another English textbook.
“I was hoping you could tutor me for the upcoming finals.”
“Huh?” You quickly zipped your lips shut as the thoughts in your head blurted out.
Okay, that really stumped you; your eyes scanned the area for some sort of snicker or nudge of the arms as a sign of a prank.
But that wasn’t part of his nature, was it—no, he meant business with how his sandy-brown eyes never left yours.
It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it either. His voice was crystal clear and projected enough for everyone to chime in. You would expect that from the volleyball captain, yet he still needed your help with English.
“What do you need help with?” you continued.
There was a short pause as he suddenly moved away from your gaze, his hand reaching out for a vacant chair and pulling it up next to you. The slightly grating sound of the chair legs scraping against the wooden floor paused any remaining conversation in the classroom, drawing all eyes to the two of you.
His sudden presence filled your senses in seconds as his side profile came into view. The scent of fresh laundry lingered in the air as he was near. You could see the fine details of his chiseled jawline, and the determined set of his brow. Up close, it was no surprise he looked even more handsome.
Suddenly, your palms felt a little sweaty, and the room got a little warmer.
His intense focus and proximity made it hard to breathe steadily. His huge frame caused him to lean back on the small wooden chair, making it creak slightly under his weight. Meanwhile, your frame remained sort of uptight, your back straight as a rod, in fear you might accidentally touch him.
The sheer size of him was overwhelming; his broad shoulders seemed to take up more space than the chair allowed, and his legs spread slightly to accommodate his height. His arm brushed lightly against yours as he reached forward, causing a spark of electricity to shoot up your spine.
He placed the blue textbook next to yours, his large, calloused hands moving with surprising gentleness. Flipping to a certain page, he revealed a passage that had been neatly bookmarked, as if he already knew exactly what he needed help with. The text was underlined and annotated in pencil, showing his efforts to understand it on his own.
His voice, low and steady, broke the silence. "I figured you would be the best to tutor me."
He glanced over at your in-progress notes, his gaze unwavering and thoughtful. The closeness of his presence made the air around you feel charged, every small movement amplified your heightened awareness.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I... I’d be happy to help, Ushijima-san."
He nodded appreciatively, his stoic expression softening ever so slightly. “Thank you. I won’t take much of your time. It’s quite difficult to find time after school to study.”
As you started to explain the notes you had been working on, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze on you. It was intense like he was studying every word you said, every movement you made.
The sliding door abruptly slammed open, the force of it causing a few heads to turn in surprise. An overly excited redhead waltzes into the room, a completely annoyed companion trailing behind him.
“I thought I saw ya in the window while walking past, Ushi!” Tendou explained, his mouth wide open with a pearly-white smile, eyes gleaming with mischief. His voice echoed through the now silent classroom, making sure everyone knew of his arrival.
Ushijima barely reacted, his focus still on the textbook in front of him, but a faint sigh escaped his lips. You, on the other hand, jumped slightly in your seat, your eyes widening at the sudden intrusion.
Tendou stopped just inside the doorway, leaning against the frame with a casual, almost theatrical air. Semi stood beside him, his expression shifting into one of mild entertainment at the sight. “And look who you’re with! [Y/N], right?” Tendou’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he peered over in your direction, taking in the view of the English textbooks and your notes spread across the desk.
You nodded, trying to compose yourself. “Yes, that’s right.”
Tendou grinned wider, not moving from his spot. “Tutoring, huh? Just like we sai—uh, thought so!” He straightened up slightly, trying to awkwardly save himself from the slip-up. His eyes darted everywhere as he looked around, trying to gauge the room’s reaction.
The ash-blonde friend next to him raised an eyebrow in amusement, then let out a small scoff, clearly entertained by Tendou's ridiculous attempt to cover up his mistake.
Ushijima glanced at his teammates, his expression unchanging as he blinked up at the two.
“Yes, that’s right.” he parrots you as he responds to Tendou.
Tendou chuckled, his voice carrying easily across the classroom. “Well, we wouldn’t want our star player struggling with finals, would we?” He shot you a teasing grin before wiggling his eyebrows.
Tendou clapped his hands together, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet room. “Alright! Let’s go and nourish our starving bellies, Semi-pooh,” he cooed, waving a hand towards the sliding door.
Semi’s eye twitched as he muttered a curse word under his breath. “Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, his annoyance clear, but he still followed Tendou out of the classroom.
As they left, Tendou continued to chatter animatedly, his voice fading as they walked down the hallway. Semi’s occasional responses, a mix of chuckles and sighs, echoed faintly back into the room.
You were left there dumbfounded in your chair as you couldn’t help but glance back at Ushijima. He, on the other hand, resumed his notes like nothing had happened.
‘Huh, that was weird.’
You decided not to think anything of it.
𓇢𓆸 Later that day
“I told you to sit across from her, not next to her!” Tendou’s voice echoed out from the locker room, a blend of exasperation and amusement in his tone.
Ushijima glanced up from his phone, intrigued. Tendou’s rants were a familiar occurrence, but this time, there was a sharpness to his words that captured Ushijima’s attention.
“You were practically crowding her! I could feel the awkward tension all the way from the doorway!” Tendou continued, his arms waving dramatically as he paced back and forth. His eyes were wide with mock horror, clearly relishing the chance to tease his stoic friend.
“I thought it would be more efficient,” Ushijima said, his brow knitting slightly.
Tendou snorted, laughter reverberating in the confined space. “Efficient, huh? Sure, let’s go with that.” He gave Ushijima a knowing look, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “Come on, Ushi, we both know why you really wanted to sit next to her.”
Ushijima’s expression remained impassive. “I respect her intelligence.”
Tendou’s grin broadened, his enjoyment evident. “Mhm? And you wanted to be close to her too~”
Ushijima’s gaze dropped back to his phone, his fingers idly tapping the screen as he sat on the dark wooden bench, his posture relaxed.
“That’s why I suggested you ask her for help,” Tendou said, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned against the lockers. “You needed an excuse to spend time with her.”
The room was filled with the familiar silence Tendou was accustomed to.
He clapped Ushijima on the shoulder, his cue that he was taking off. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just remember to give the lady a little space next time.”
Ushijima remained seated on the bench, fingers navigating to his contact list. At least he got one thing right: asking for your number.
