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they love their nympho bunny🤍ྀི ─── toji's side chick, nanami's wife, eren's fuck buddy, jean's soulemate.
to help you climax 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ brat in pink, tinder date, bitter
▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• feel it: jacquees
recent work ── adrenaline {ryomen sukuna}
please note that my art is mostly done for a mature audience, therefore forbidding any minor interaction. i take requests and thirsts however i sometimes take some time to reply.
Synopsis. (!) Two assignments overdue: your law professor and your history professor.
Objective: After teasing them all semester, Professor Higuruma Hiromi and Professor Nanami Kento…snap.
Time: At the same time.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader x Higuruma Hiromi
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, history professor!Nanami, law professor!Higuruma, college AU, you’re such a TEASE, driving them wiId, they’re overworked, they’re older, tutoring, STERN Nanami, fíngering, rings, p sIapping, p talking, chokíng, rídin’ Higuruma’s nose, oraI (m + f), pússydrunk Higuruma, manhandIing, dragging, running from it, bíting, BOTH, fuII neIsons, bIindfolds, guessing, DP, SAME TIME, spítting, DÚMBlFICATlON, cervíx smoochin’, big stretches, they’re FÉRAL, creampíes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, surprise at the end, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 13.2k
A/N. You babygirls said you wanted more law professor!Higuruma so…I said why not have BOTH?!
He had you next hour.
Professor Nanami Kento - head of the History Department, PhD with Distinction - had you in his next class.
And he wasn’t even half as prepared as he should be: the coffee-maker in the staff room had broken down.
Goodness knows how many times the blond-haired man has haunted that very station. Slouched over, sighing, sipping on his seventh coffee of the day.
And although he could blame it all on the higher-ups and their stingy funding, or perhaps the frat boys of Delta Jujutsu Pi that’ve made it a challenge to sneak inside—he blames you. He wouldn’t even have latched onto such a respite had it not been for the way you made his blood pressure rise…in all sorts of ways.
Nanami’s eyes glaze over, and his hand absent-mindedly drifts between his legs. Perhaps if he got his pent-up energy out first…
“Kento.” A knock at his cubicle. And Nanami jolts his hand away as though it burned-
It was Professor Higuruma Hiromi.
The head of the Law Department. Also PhD with Distinction. The man with dark circles and even darker suits, all prim and poised as he waded through the hallways with his stacks of documents—of course, Nanami was one for suits, as well.
They really brought out his broad shoulders- at least, that’s what you told him.
Another reason why he needs the coffee.
Fuck.
Nanami attempts to even out his breathing as he looks up. “Hiromi.”
If Higuruma thought anything of Nanami’s startled reaction, he makes no indication. Instead he holds up a slim file in his hand, “Are you free? Could you help me with looking over this essay?”
“Of course.”
They were the only two in the staff room right now, besides- anything to take his mind off of you.
Nanami adjusts the gold-rimmed glasses on his face before he takes the file from him. Flipping it open to find a jumble of justice and law jargon that his history-inclined brain balks at—“I never thought you’d want a history professor’s opinion on an essay about…” He squints at the title, “-the scope of judicial power and judicial review. Does this have any names of 14th century shoguns that you need me to check?”
“No- no.” Higuruma runs a hand down his face, though Nanami gets the impression that it wasn’t for him. Rather it was for whatever ravaged at the man inside- making him look up at the ceiling with a hollow sigh—“Man, I need some coffee today.”
“Understandable.” Nanami pushes his glasses up.
“The machine’s broken, right?”
“Right.”
Higuruma only lets out another sigh that Nanami relates to well.
“If it helps, Dean Yaga said it’d be fixed by tomorrow.” Nanami attempts- he never was the type of sociable guy some of the other professors were. But he gets the feeling that Higuruma was the same.
He runs a hand down his face one last time- “That’s too late, I have tutoring this evening with…” And how Nanami Kento related to that, as well. Before he seems to shake himself out of it- somewhat. “It’s alright, could you just check the grammatical and citation stuff for me?”
“Of course.” As Higuruma leans against the partition and waits, the other professor skims through the writing. It wasn’t half bad, to be quite honest, and had it been for his own class then he would’ve given it an A—none too many mistakes except for the odd careless error. At least it was human-made.
After a while of silence, Nanami’s partway through the conclusion when he asks. “Did you happen to get tired of looking through so many essays?”
“No, it’s just…” The dark-haired man sighs once more- for about the twelfth time since he came in. “-this student, you know?”
Nanami nods—he did know. “Trouble student?”
“Not quite.” He almost gulps.
Nanami narrows his eyes. “Doesn’t attend?”
“No, she attends every class.”
“Then what?” He leans back in his chair, essay forgotten now. “The legacy kid? The credit-chaser? The class clown that isn’t actually funny?”
Higuruma cuts through them all with a fierce shake of his head. “No, no, and no—” Almost gulping. “It’s just that this student is a little…distracting.”
The tips of his ears were red.
Instantly, Higuruma looks like he regrets it.
“F-forget I said anything-”
He does.
But Nanami looks squarely at the other man.
“I have a student like that, too.”
The law professor looks at him in wary interest. “Oh?”
“My star student, actually.” Pushing his glasses up, he opens up one of his cabinets and pulls out a thick, paper-stuffed file. And though Nanami Kento does collect his students’ work for the semester to review, he never does keep them quite so close - none other than yours.
Higuruma looks through them with slightly widened eyes. “All hers?”
Nanami nods, “So diligent that it’s almost distracting.”
Higuruma pulls out an empty chair beside Nanami and sits. Legs spread. Dark eyes thoughtful. “Mine, too.” He starts—“Never have I had a student ask for so many hours of extra tutoring.”
“Mine’s basically set up a tent in my office.” Nanami chuckles- though he can’t deny the slight pang it sends down to his cock. “Always taking on more assignments for extra credit, always answering questions first-”
“Always first in class and last to leave?”
“Exactly.” Nanami agrees. And he leans a hand on his desk as he watches the other man go through those papers - they were some of his most prized possessions, he feared to admit. Words from your heart. Swooping slashes of ink from your hands.
It was a part of you in those papers that Nanami Kento held dear to him- fuck, it was a part of you that sometimes he’d bring up to his greedy nose and sniff. Almost as if he could feel your skin through these very parchments.
It made him so fuckin’ hard.
But Higuruma didn’t need to know that.
Though the careful manner in which he handled those papers - how he leaned in just a little to drown in the ink - made him wonder…
“Always wearing the skimpiest skirt to class?”
And the other man looks up in shock- as though conveying something in his silence. Oh.
He flips the file over to look at the name typed-out on the cover, and it reads—yours. Ultimately, he continues—“A-always sittin’ in the front row with her legs spread just a bit?”
Nanami nods. “Always leaning over the desk when she has to speak in private.”
There’s a slight hardening within Higuruma’s eyes - though not of any unpleasant kind - it’s almost as if something deep and carnal was stirring awake right now. “Always wearing the prettiest black lace underneath?”
“She wears baby pink for me.” Nanami can’t help but smile.
“Fuck.” Higuruma runs a hand down his face again- and if Nanami didn’t know any better then he would’ve sworn that the other professor looked even more weary than when he first came in here. “And her panties-”
“Matching set.” Nanami responds without missing a beat - and he knows he’s some ol’ pervert for this.
He knows he is.
But he also knows about the smile that’d spread across your face the moment you’d realized he’d seen. “Bent over too low when picking her pen up one class.”
“Fucking—fuck.” Higuruma sounds agonized.
Nanami leans back in his chair, making it bounce a little bit. With a slightly breathless sigh leaving him, and his cock hardening even more in his pants–he’s forced to manspread under the table a little more. “She’s a needy lil’ thing, isn’t she?”
“That’s putting it lightly.” Higuruma’s lips quirk up into a sensual smile - as if he was reminiscing on the memories. “Wanting to fuck her professors? Seriously?”
“Believe she’s thought of both of us at the same time?”
“Don’t even say that-” The law professor looks around, even though there was no one else here. Looking back at the man with somewhat pleading eyes, “I have tutoring with her this evening. If I can’t even fucking grade her essay without getting a hard-on then what d’you think will happen if I’m thinking of that—?”
“Oh…” Nanami hums to himself, hands lacing in front of him. The coffee-machine really was broken. “-maybe that won’t be an issue.”
Higuruma glances at him with furrowed brows, “How so?”
“What time is your tutoring with her?”
“You mean…”
The blond man shrugs coyly- “I’m not implying anything…but which one of us two do you think is her favorite?”
“And people think you’re the gentleman of us two.” Higuruma grumbles but ultimately spits out the time. It seems you’d opted for tuition classes with your law professor in the after-hours—when the offices were snug, and the department was empty. And he feels his cock perk up at the fact- how many times has he raced back home to plunge into a cold bath after your tuition classes? How many times has his shower heard your name whispered? “I’m most definitely the favorite, by the way-”
So lost in his thought, Nanami nearly doesn’t catch the sentence. He looks over at Higuruma. “Does she call you ‘sir’, too?”
“She does.”
“Well, then we’ll find out, won’t we?”
.
.
.
The two hottest professors on campus.
Higuruma Hiromi (38) with his sleek-cut suits, his polished shoes, and those sleepy eyes that seemed to stare into the depths of your soul. The depths of your body - exposed underneath him. He was a stern teacher, not afraid to make you do an assignment over and over and over again…(and you gladly would). Higuruma’s justice classes made you…wet you had to admit, hearing him bark out simulations of court cases. Orders. Commands.
You could practically hear a sigh echo out across the room every time he acted out his attorney days.
Every time he banged his gavel down made your knees weak.
It was no wonder that students in the law department tittered n’ scattered any time the ruggedly handsome professor walked past.
On the other hand was your history professor.
Nanami Kento (31) with his beefier build, his strong arms, his gentle eyes—twinkling down kindly upon you every time he corrected a mistake. Which - you have to confess - you’ve made a few more times than you really had to, just to feel his molten gaze upon you again and again. He often caused your heart (and something else entirely) to flutter at the deep musicality of his voice, managing to make even the most boring of history passages something interesting. Something that swept the class up easily.
Nanami was reputed around campus for being a complete gentleman - never looking down upon someone, never letting them walk in after him, never letting them pay him a compliment without receiving a sweet one back.
The dream husband.
The stern and the nice.
Both of them- frat guys hated them.
It hadn’t been intentional to join both their classes- honest!
But after seeing them on your first day, how could you not commit to maintaining a spotless attendance? You had a sneaking suspicion that the rest of the class behaved in the same manner for much the same reason - though none took it quite as far as you.
The skirts. The extra credit. The bending.
Speaking honestly, you were a teacher’s pet. Through and through.
And the tightness in their pants whenever you left a class told you- they were the best professors. To you, that is.
Which is why you’d been a little less than happy when Professor Higuruma had told you that someone might be joining your weekly tutoring.
Invigilated tutoring?
What the hell was invigilated tutoring?!
You admit that you’d been forced to hold back a groan of disappointment. Picking such late hours had been a conscious decision—right up there with those tight pencil skirts that you knew your law professor loved but would never admit to.
Professor Nanami was more the type to like free, flirty pleats that barely reached your thigh - and you loved the way his eyes would follow them behind those glasses of his. Even though he pretended they didn’t.
And right now you were wearing a mix of both.
Tight on top, flared at the bottom
Seated opposite his desk - thighs shut, skirt pulled down as low as it would go - more concentrated than you’d ever been during one of these tutoring sessions. It’s been about half an hour since the start of today’s tuition. Higuruma’s office was a cosy space, decked out in the most expensive-looking mahogany banisters, and shelves, and a witness box in the far corner.
It gleamed at the light—down knowingly at you, almost as if waiting for you to make a move.
But how could you? If there was a potential visitor, then you didn’t want to risk Higuruma’s job- as much as you loved teasing your two hot professors, it wouldn’t do to get them fired!
So you kept your hands and your skirts to yourself.
And even Higuruma himself had his eyes raised, possibly wondering why you hadn’t leaned over his desk or lingered a touch at his shoulder for help.
But oh, how you wanted to…
The professor looks down at his watch, “He’s late.”
You’re glancing at the closed door, “Maybe the invigilator isn’t coming?”
“Oh, he will.” Higuruma crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Trust me, he won’t miss this.”
A shiver runs down your spine.
You wondered what made him so sure.
And yet, you edge closer over the desk to him anyways.
It’s about forty-five minutes into your tutoring session when the door you’ve been sneaking glimpses of this entire time- clicks! And a looming figure walks into the room, his figure nearly taking up the whole frame.
Your jaw drops as you realize—
It’s Professor Nanami.
“Ah- Kento.” Higuruma beckons him over warmly- and you’re nearly suffering from whiplash from watching the two interact. These two are close?! Professor Nanami had been completely normal during your last class, if just a little more distracted than usual - and what was this? “We’ve been waiting.”
He looks at you as he says this.
“I had to penalize a student for missing a few assignments.” Nanami says smoothly, before bringing up a chair beside you and taking his seat. His movements were fluid and precise - as if he wasn’t questioning for a single moment why you were here so late, why you were dressed like that for him, and why you were so damn close.
You’d been staring into his handsome face for so long that he clears his throat. “Continue.”
“S-sir?” You’re chirping- and in your peripheral vision, Higuruma shuffles in his chair.
“Continue.” Nanami repeats in a stern tone. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound like that—“Just as you are. I would like to take notes for teaching my own classes.”
“You heard what he said.” Higuruma nods- and now you’re looking his way to see the most knowing smile on his face. “Continue, angel.”
Your thighs squeeze at the pet name.
Nanami quirks a blond brow and notes something down.
And so you’re ducking back into your work—
“Your blouse button is undone.”
Slightly gasping, you’re reaching down to fix it-
“No, don’t button it.” He interrupts you with his low tone, gravelly with something you can’t pinpoint. You’re looking up at Nanami to find his gaze unwavering from you already- “I was merely noting it. Nothing to fix.”
“But-”
“You unbutton it for my class, too, don’t you?” He asks, and you’re unsure what to say-
“Answer when your teacher speaks to you.” Higuruma’s humming tone echoes—and from the sound of it, he was thoroughly enjoying this. He cocks his head down at you, “Or haven’t they taught you that yet?”
“Th-they have.” You’re squirming in your seat, a slight heat simmering in your stomach. You turn to Nanami, “And I do.”
“Hm.” With nothing more said- he writes something else down in his notes.
And you think you’re in the clear.
For now.
It’s barely a few sentences later on your work that Nanami speaks up again-
“Your feet are touching his.”
You pull away-
“You’ve been writing the same sentence over and over.”
Your hand pauses-
“Your thighs are parted more so than before.”
Immediately, you’re smacking them back shut again- you hadn’t even realized. And how the hell had Nanami even seen?
And you could practically hear the smug smile in his voice - so unlike everything you know of him - as he continues. “And your bra is peeking out.”
“Never seen one before?” You mutter underneath your breath, just about to fix your collar (that you’d very purposefully left open)—
Before Nanami’s voice cuts through again. “Never seen one of yours in black before, is what.” Even as you’re looking at him in slight sensual shock- he doesn’t look up from his papers. “What happened to the baby pink you show-off in my class?”
And Higuruma merely leans back and smiles. “Black is my favorite color, remember?”
“How could I forget?” The history professor answers.
“Though I myself am curious about this baby pink of yours…”
And you have nothing else to do but gape- they knew.
Oh, how they both knew by now.
And by the looks in their eyes, they’d been dying for this very moment.
To confront how you’d been toying n’ teasing them all semester through now- enough so that they’ve apparently begun trading secrets about their unruly star student. You knew that Higuruma tended to have his ears grow hot and red any time he bumped into you in the hallway, and that Nanami would loosen his tie as if undressing whenever you wore a particularly scandalous thing to class - but you hadn’t known they’d been pushed…to this extent.
And you were glad for it.
So you sigh—slouching back in your chair. “So you both know. What now then? Do I get written up or something?”
But Nanami only looks at you through his glasses. “Sit up straight.”
He’s never uttered a command like that in his entire life during your usual lectures. And when you don’t move - merely looking at the blond man with raised brows - Higuruma pipes up. “You best listen to him now, angel.”
“Oh please.” Fluttering your lashes at them both. “And what’re you gonna do about it?”
Higuruma looks at Nanami.
Nanami calmly puts his notes down on the other’s table, and looks at you.
“Why-” He pushes his glasses up his handsome nosebridge. “-teach you a lesson, of course.”
“Both of you?” You could feel the elated giggles bubbling up in your throat- and you could feel the space between your legs start to grow wetter already. Looking between both of them—“Do it then.”
And then it’s a blur - you don’t know where Higuruma’s lips end and yours begin. He’s reached over the surface of his desk to kiss you like a starved man- and he groooans into that very kiss like you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Hand on your cheek.
The tips of his canines start nibblin’ on your lower lip- and you’re kissing him back even deeper. “Shit-” Higuruma’s husky tone scorches across your face, “Shit, I’ve been wanting to do this for so fucking long.”
“Mmm, you kiss like husband material.” You’re giggling into the kiss. Both of your hands end up on his shoulders, and you could feel the shifting of his muscles through his slim suit.
“Shit- and you talk like trouble.” He echoes out in an almost pained tone- like every second that his lips were away from yours ached.
And those plump, pursed lips press against yours once more—so much sweeter than you would have expected this booming lawyer to kiss. He’s using the hand on your cheek to tilt down your chin- “May I?” Before the short nod you give lets him slither his tongue in wetly, lappin’ at your sweetest taste. “Shit, you’re really like sugar on my tongue.”
And you’re whining into the fervent kiss, letting it go on for a few more minutes before you’re breaking away with the most lecherous plop! And a thoroughly flushed professor chasing after your lips drunkenly-
“And what about you…” You’re kissing down Higuruma’s sharp jawline, looking at the other man who’d been sitting quietly this entire time. “-sir? Haven’t you wanted to kiss me even once this semester?”
Nanami shivers but he hides it well. Uncrossing his legs and revealing the most rock-hard, aching bulge between his legs—“Kiss? Perhaps.”
And you’re gulping at the sight.
Higuruma scoffs out a slight burst of laughter. “Perhaps.”
“But I’m a gentleman, my love.” Nanami continues, leaning back in that luxurious armchair. He takes off his coat to reveal a pale blue button-up, and beneath that was revealed the most chiselled body you’ve ever seen. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and beckons towards you. Manspread. Lap so welcoming. “Which means I’ve thought of far, far worse.”
Higuruma - with a final sloppy kiss plastered across your mouth - lets you walk over to Nanami.
Which you do on wobbly legs- plopping down unceremoniously on his lap. More than enough space there for you. He wastes no time bending you into shape in his strong arms, flipping you around to face the other man, and spreading your legs wiiiiiiide open-
Riiiiiip—!
“Whoops.” Nanami’s thoroughly unapologetic tone gruffs against the shell of your ear. Two of his vein-covered forearms were hooked underneath your elbows, and Nanami looks on boredly at the clean split down your skirt—“I always thought you’d look better without these anyway.”
Before he’s spreading your legs even further across his lap. Tearing it even more.
Exposing you for nothing but your tremblin’ legs and those drenched panties. Pretty black in color.
So lacy that it was practically nothing.
Higuruma’s eyes widen, “Dirty girl.”
Nanami breathes, “No, that’s called being a slut.” And shock runs through your body at his words- at Nanami ‘Gentleman’ Kento’s words. Before it’s suddenly overtaken by the sudden feeling of him smearin’ aside your panties and stuffin’ his fingers inside.
Those thick crowns dooooown to the golden ring on his middle finger.
They were long and thick. Swirling and swirling the tip of his digit right ‘round your clit- and when you’re shuddering and unable to take it any longer—he pulls away and licks off that excess slick with a slurp!
Humming to himself as though it was the greatest delicacy in the world. “One thing you should know about me, darling, is that just because I’m gentleman-” And you’d been so caught up in his ragged tone, you didn’t even realize that he’d snaked his hand back down between your legs. “-doesn’t mean that I’m not depraved.”
And he’s ending off the sentence not with a full stop- no, but with a sudden shove of his fingertips between your folds. So swollen n’ sweet with slick.
You buck and he lurches his hand out to slap you on top of your pussylips.
“Down, darling.”
“Please…” You don’t even know what you’re begging for.
But Nanami’s mouth waters already at the sound of it, and he’s keeping it at bay by pushing n’ pulling on the first ring of muscle at your cunt. “I said down.”
Head throwing back against his collarbone. “Oh.”
Fucking you with just the first inches of his fingers- “It doesn’t mean that m’not desperate.” Continuing as though your eyes weren’t bulging, as though your legs weren’t shaking, as though you weren’t arching off of his muscular chest. “It doesn’t mean that m’not ready to debase this pussy like she deserves.”
“Y-you mean—” You’re hiccuping, eyes starting to water at the sheer raw stretch. It was the type that left your pussy burning in the most delicious way - the feeling of having Nanami Kento’s scourin’ fingertips eager to enter your cunt. “-that whole gentleman thing was just a lie?”
“It’s not.” He responds. Final. His blond strands fall over his forehead as he keeps his eyes locked on your glistening hole, scissoring his fingers at that entrance n’ spreading you even wider. “I’m nice…”
Adding in a third finger before you’re even registering his second.
“-to everyone but this slutty pussy, that is.”
“Sh-shit—” Mewling at the top of your lungs, you’re clawing down Nanami’s strong forearms. They were the perfect thing to hold onto- just about the only thing you could hold onto as he utterly ruined your pussy with short, jerking thrusts.
Bulging the sides of your velvety walls open with his globular tips.
Cold metal ring shocking you.
So thick that he manages to probe into a few of your sensitive spots without even trying. Dragging his flexible fingers across every inch of you.
Scissoring and opening up and scissoring—deep.
Tears track down your cheeks at the sheer stimulation.
“Go easy on her, Kento.” Higuruma can’t help but groan at the sight of your pretty crying face. And soon enough, you’re hearing the metallic clinking of a belt buckle- “Don’t want to break our star student, now, do we?”
Nanami purrs against your temple. “Mmm, I don’t mind.”
“Just remember that she’s tutoring with me.”
The sound of Higuruma’s belt hitting the polished wooden floorboards is enough to make your eyes startle open- and oh, how you’re so glad it did.
Because then you’re greeted with the sight before you: of Higuruma Hiromi in utter ecstasy. All because of you.
He’d taken your seat from prior, chair angled perfectly to face the show taking place in front of him.
Where Nanami had your legs spread aaaaaall the way as far as they would go - until Nanami could hear your joints threatening to pop - and facing the dark-haired man. His dark eyes glinted as they stared down at your glistening hole, swallowing Nanami’s rams easily.
Slurps n’ squelches emanating like music.
Cunt dripping everywhere over the history teacher’s tight trousers. And the larger that puddle you were forming seemed to grow, the harder Nanami’s hammerin’ pace seemed to become.
You could barely keep your eyes open long enough to see Higuruma tug down his black pants- that throbbing erection of his making an appearance. He wraps his hands around his thickened base and starts tugging, soft grunts leaving his mouth at the rapid pull-pull-pull of his cock. “Shit, she’s so fucking wet- be a little nicer with that pussy o’ hers, would you?”
“Hmmm…I don’t think she deserves it.” And with that said, Nanami plants yet another sodden spank on top of your cunt. Ring grazing your front- “She hasn’t learned her lesson yet, has she?”
That stinging sensation zaps throughout your entire body and makes you buck. “I-I have—”
Before yet another thwack! of Nanami’s calloused fingertips follow.
Harder, this time.
“I was talking to this pussy, actually.”
And he doesn’t even wait for the primal sting to pass by before openin’ your cunt up and thrusting his fingers inside again. In and out.
Push after push into your gooey depths.
You’re so sensitive n’ wet by this point that even the slightest movements have you emanating out the loudest sounds. Squelches upon squelches—every time he’s hitting a spot deep inside your hole. “Mhmm…mmmhm.” You could feel Nanami’s head slightly nodding above your own, as if locked deeply in a conversation with your pussy’s sounds. Just one whine of yours and he’s spankin’ on you once more- “Wait your turn, my love. She’s talking t’me.”
And Higuruma- ah, Higuruma has the audacity to snicker at the action. “Now that’s just bullying, Kento.”
“Is it?” He’s slappin’ down on your pussylips once more. Listening for the sound, “She says it isn’t so.”
You’re sending a narrowed glare his way that makes the law professor roll his eyes fondly.
“Oh, alright alright-” And he half-heartedly waves off at his colleague. “Be a little nicer to my dear student, won’t you?”
“Spoiled brat.” Yet another spank. Nanami sinks his canines into the shell of your ear, and he’s tuggin’ and teasing—he’s spreading his legs even further and settling you down. With your back against his rippling chest, he pushes and pushes his greedy fingers inside your pussy. “And why do you think you- hah, deserve that, huh? Haven’t you been fucking torturing us all semester long now?”
Higuruma groans. “Can’t deny that, angel.” His hands fly even faster up and down his cock- ravaged and reddened with need.
“Mhmmmm.” The blond-haired man agrees, “Haven’t you been wearing those slutty skirts expecting to get fucked in them? Haven’t you- fuck, haven’t you been wearing that damn lingerie hoping we’d take a peak? Aren’t I right?”
He waits for your pussy to answer first- and then you’re answering. “I-I mean-” Attempting to.
“Haven’t you been bendin’ over and shit just because you wanted to show up in our wildest dreams? To consume our thoughts and make our cocks twitch?”
“Well-”
“And we did.” Higuruma pipes up next. He was so needy that he was practically bucking off of his chair, making it creak with movement. Short, jerky thrusts.
“Oh, yes we did.” Nanami continues. He leans down to your ear, as if exposing a secret- “I’d look forward to our classes everyday, my love. I’d have to fuck my fist raw before class- just so I wouldn’t fuck you senseless in front of everyone like how you were begging me to.”
Higuruma moans as he thumbs down the line of his flared tip - that pinkish, slippery line. He twitches as though he’s near to cumming already. “Me- me, too…”
“And you still expect me to be a gentleman?”
You’re restless, opening your mouth to defend yourself and—
Nanami only leans down and spits a glittery wad of spit between your pursed lips. “Don’t talk when the teacher’s talking, darling.”
And your ears pop with pressure-
He’s hittin’ the plushness of his palm against your pussy with a loud smack! Smearing the curves n’ divots of his fingers dooooooown and up your walls, down and up.
His crown fingertips reach for your deepest innards- and you swear you can feel him stroking your very cervix. Runnin’ his frigid ring across your walls.
Drawing a few lines and marking his placement right back there, before he tunnels his digits at a frenzied pace - fingers almost nothing but a pale blur between your legs. His speed is so feverish that it leaves your sheen tricklin’ all down your thighs.
Trickling and trickling and—
And then you feel Nanami hook his fingers against your g-spot.
The pleasure shoots up your body like a lightning strike, “O-oh my god—right there, Kento.”
“Kento? Who’s Kento?” Nanami doesn’t even falter his fingering to answer, cooing in that tone that you’d almost mistake for something sweet. “I think you meant sir-”
“S—fuck.”
“Say it.” He huffs against the side of your face. Teeth almost out for blood- “Say it. Call me ‘sir’ or you don’t get to cum.”
“I—”
“Say it.” Higuruma, to your surprise, echoes from his seat. Where he had his gaze burning into your spread-open pussy n’ his mouth drooling at the vision of you—“Say it, angel. I need to see that pretty pussy cum.” Hands rubbing faster and faster-
“She deserves to cum, mhm.” Nanami nods. “But do you, huh?”
“I-I do.” You’re nodding up at your desperate professors. One just barely in your line of vision- but his fingers were working up such a storm. His slightly-tanned arms pinning you down, working your pussy open, hitting that target of your g-spot like a cute button. Again and again—
Blond hair ruffled. Glasses slipping down his sweaty nosebridge.
And then the other one that was just creamin’ his precum down his hands. With his hands on his swollen erection - one of them creating a tunnel for him to fuck his fist, the other flattening over his dribblin’ divot to stop from cumming already.
Sleepy eyes half-lidded. His pale thighs shivering as they bucked n’ rutted.
And the vision itself is enough to make you cum- but then again it just felt so good on Nanami’s hands, and underneath Higuruma’s gaze. So you can’t help but let your lips wobble open—“P-please let me cum-” Stars bursting behind your vision once Nanami presses down on your clit as well. “-sirs.”
The two older men look at each other.
“Sirs?” Higuruma asks, voice breathless with ecstasy.
“She just begged for both of us.” Nanami grumbles out - though not quite unhappily. It made his cock twitch deep in his pants to have you whimperin’ like this, and he continues. “Alright then, you slutty pussy.”
And it takes only a few more strokes - a few more direct thrashes along your g-spot - for you to hurtle straight into your high.
It’s so strong that you’re seeing white behind your eyelids—and your mouth blabbers out an unintelligible combination of both professors’ names. Toes curling. Sweat beading down your temple.
Nanami holds you down as you’re thrown through wave upon wave of your orgasm, your hips bucking up and down desperately. Riding throughout your bliss- and if that wasn’t already enough, he counts underneath his breath to measure how long it takes between your peaks of euphoria. Before hittin’ away at your g-spot just in time with each one.
The sensations that take you over are just incredible.
And your head falls back limply against Nanami’s shoulder.
Shivering. Almost as if you were in heat- and your pretty pussy gushes out honeyed slick as though to give credit to that statement.
Lavishing Nanami’s open thighs with all your sap—Higuruma eyes the mess and gulps. “Kento, give me a taste of that.”
Nanami scoffs. “In due time.”
“Kento, I need her pussy on my face now.”
Slowly but surely, you’re fluttering your eyes open at the feeling of being shuffled around - only seeing the beautiful, brown eyes of Higuruma Hiromi staring down at you. When did he get so close?
“Hiromi?” You’re blubbering out stupidly, still suffering from the aftershocks of your previous high. Those zapping bursts of electricity made your thighs twitch sensitively- “I mean- sir?”
Higuruma shivers, “You trained her well, Kento.”
“Mhmmm—” Nanami noses down the column of your throat proudly.
“Maybe now it’s time for a reward then, huh?”
You’re perking up. “Yes, please.”
Nanami snickers. “You spoil her.”
And in almost no time, you’re finding yourself handed off to the law professor - Nanami stands up and gets off of the armchair. While Higuruma takes his place-
At least, that’s what you think is going to happen.
But what ends up happening instead is that Higuruma seats you down on the chair, letting your barely-clothed pussy rub up against the cushion. Something in his eyes gleams at the way you’re squirming, and he speaks to you in a gentle tone. “Can you turn around and hold the headrest f’me, angel? Be a good girl f’me?”
“A-alright?” Confused, you’re just doing what he says. He meant that you had to turn and climb your knees onto the seat, ass turned towards the professors, back slightly arched.
“Mmm, good.” Higuruma admires the view. “Arch that back just a little more f’me now, alright?”
“Like this?”
And still not sure what he was about to do, you can only follow his commands. It almost feels like a doggy position- and you hold onto the wooden headrest for dear life.
“Mhmmm.”
And Nanami’s the first to mutter to himself, “Don’t tell me you’re…” He takes in the sight of you - with your front resting against the backrest of the chair. You have your spine bent, your ass cheeks displayed for them, your cunt not quite on the seat—“Hiromi, you dirty dog.”
“Couldn’t help myself.” Steadily, Higuruma’s kneeling on the floor.
There’s no warning before he then shoves his face nose-deep into your cunt- straight from behind.
Higuruma grabs onto either side of your ass cheeks, his prominent nose curvin’ up the slit of your pussy. He’s using his grip on you to draaaag you further down onto his face—“Mhmmm—spread those legs.”
He’s muttering.
He’s spitting- stern lips pursing and letting out a rivulet of saliva.
It strikes vertically down your cunt before Higuruma’s running his fat tongue over it. Smearing around the mess he’s made- but most importantly, smearing around the mess that you’ve made.
You’re whining as Higuruma’s textured tastebuds seem to take over your pussy. All the way from the plumpness of your folds, and then dipping between them to tease your hole- you’re still so sensitive from the massage that Nanami’s fingers had simmered into you. And you’re trembling your thighs further open, “P-please- fuck-”
“I’m a lawyer so I’m really good with my tongue, y’know?” Higuruma pants out, scorching hot against your needy pussy. “But that means my fees are high, too-”
“A-and what are your fees?” You’re sobbing out.
“Mmmm…” He takes the time to think—and by that, you mean that he rovers his mouth over where your clit was throb-throb-throbbing. The law professor takes his sweet time spreadin’ open your pussylips with his tongue, before letting his tongue flop out n’ draaaaaag down your clit-
And his next words are so lecherously muffled. “Ride my nose raw, sugar.”
You gasp.
In the background, you can hear a gruff bout of laughter that notably doesn’t belong to Higuruma.
You grip onto the headrest of the chair harder than ever- because in a split-second, Higuruma’s thumbin’ your folds open and stuffing your hole all full of his tongue.
So loooong and slick- curving right against the roof of your pussy. It makes you jolt to feel his honed, flexible tip zig-zagging its way down your channel—mazing and mazing inside that it’s as though his wet muscle was never-ending.
Higuruma Hiromi was damn ravenous.
He feels your knees start to slip away from him- and he claws his fingers deep into the globes of your ass cheeks to pull you back. Uncaring if you’re whining for mercy- “A-aren’t you supposed to be the nice one, sir?”
“Spoiled.” Nanami’s voice echoes from the distance.
“Mmm- keep calling me that, yeah?” Groans wrenching from the back of his throat at the mere sound of that title being said in your pretty voice. How nice it was to make you beg. “And no—”
“No?”
“I am being nice by letting you ride my nose, aren’t I?” His head jerks just a little upwards to look at you- and Higuruma can just barely make out the shock on your face. “I know how much you’ve wanted to ride it-”
“Hiromi-”
“Ever since ya fuckin’ met me, huh?” His rough tone vibrates through every vessel of your body- pushed even further by the constant swabbin’ he was doing inside. Swab after swab. “Ever since ya first saw me- don’t think I didn’t see how you stared at me.”
You’re clawing further up the headrest. “B-but how did you know-”
“Oh, angel…” Higuruma almost chuckles. Something dark and depraved- “If I was wrong then you wouldn’t be so fucking wet- I can barely breathe.”
Both of his roughened palms plaster around your thighs. Draaaagging you bodily - as though you were nothing against him - to glue your pussylips to his own lips.
He makes out with your pussy like a man parched.
“And I don’t need to.”
Your vision blurs with pleasure as Higuruma spreads your folds perfectly apart- and starts rammin’ his tongue into you wildly. Thick and thirsty for the taste of your sweet, sweet juices—any time that even a mere droplet of your sap starts to drip down your thighs- you can best believe that Higuruma was whipping his head down to slurp it up. “Harder.”
“I-I am-”
“Faster.”
“Fuck-”
“Raw, I said raw.”
Practically addicted to it.
He’s pussydrunk in with just a few sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. And you yourself can feel your pupils start to circle inside the whites of your eyes.
Spreading yourself even further on the chair to meet his utterly ravenous mouth-
“Didn’t forget about me now, did you?”
Nanami Kento sounds the closest he’s been since he had you on his fingers- which could feel like minutes, hours, days ago by now. It takes you significant effort to blink away the clingy film of tears on your eyes, and you’re opening them to find that he was actually…standing right in front of you.
Nanami had rounded the side of the armchair - and if you looked up, there his handsome face was. So now you have your law professor at your behind, and your history professor’s crotch in front of your face. His pants much too tight.
His cock thick and throbbing underneath there.
Clasping onto the headrest of the chair, if you raised your head juuuuust a little then you’d be able to mouth over the twitching erection he hid underneath there. “K-Kento?”
Nanami looks down at you through his gold-rimmed glasses. Grinning at your teary expression, “Only a few minutes with your nice teacher n’ you’ve already forgotten your manners, my love?” His hand falls to his formal pants, “Guess we have to go back to lesson one.”
“O-oh…”
Nanami had already unbuckled his belt and lets it drop to the floor—clink! Followed right along with the popping of his buttons, it doesn’t take too long before you’re face-to-face with his rock-hard bulge. Achingly hard. Almost painfully hard.
Barely held together by his boxers, he seeps out such volumes of precum that it creates a dark patch on the silken fabric. It glistens just a bit under the dim lighting of the office- something that makes you gulp.
And something that makes Higuruma nudge his tongue even deeper inside of you- shit, you could feel yourself growing more aroused. And he could taste it.
“Did you know she gets sweeter n’ sweeter the wetter she gets?” Higuruma slurs from in-between your legs, latching onto your clit with a loud squelch! “And you won’t believe it…but right now she tastes like the tastiest strawberry candy- heh.”
“Is that so?” Nanami’s nose crinkles as he looks down at you. He’s admiring that drunken expression on your face for a little bit, before reaching his right hand down and clasping at the back of your head. “Filthy girl.”
You shiver. “C-can’t help it-”
“Ah ah—not another word out of you.” The blond-haired man continues. His grip tightens- “I expect you not to speak when your professor is speaking-”
Cocking his head just a little, Nanami takes a glance at the famished way that Higuruma was kissin’ between your legs. Gasping. Gulping.
He had his mouth gaped wide open and was dragging it across every inch of your pussy that he could reach- sticking that long tongue of his between your pussylips. You’re almost sandwiching his tastebuds for a bit before he manages to flicker his tastebuds inside again—then in and out, in and out, in and out.
Faster than before.
Reeling back out to slap! your pussy with the flat surface of his tongue.
Then probin’ back in again.
Higuruma’s just being so loud-
“-and when this pussy is speaking.” The rest of the history professor’s sentence makes you gasp - brain so muddled that you’d almost forgotten what he was saying. Almost forgotten that he has a firm grip on your sweaty scalp—one that he’d now turned into two hands upon your sweaty scalp.
Tugging your head forwards as if you were nothing but a ragdoll to smush your face against his boiling hot erection.
Your jaw falls open and soon enough, you’re salivating all over his clothed cock.
Tongue lavishing across the cotton of his boxers- feeling every ridge n’ vein along his shaft.
He groans at the feeling of your heated mouth, and his fingers dig into your scalp even deeper. Tugging. Needing. One set of your fingers reach upwards to fumble its hem, and you take Nanami’s round, reddened tip into his mouth.
Moaning at the large size of him.
Moaning at the salty taste that floods your mouth-
“Hey now…” Higuruma’s choked-up tone echoes from behind. You’re feeling his tender fingers start to pull your hips back onto his face, “-don’t steal my star student away.”
“Have you forgotten that she’s my star student, too?”
“Her pussy’s on my mouth right now- so who’s in charge?”
“Well, let’s ask how she feels about it…” Nanami’s voice trails off—and only too late are you realizing that he isn’t talking about your pussy this time. He’s talking about you- waiting for your answer.
And you’re attempting to muffle out something, letting the globular edge of his cock swirl around your mouth a few times. Around and around. Just the crown of his mushroom tip prods into your every orifice inside- you’re opening your mouth to answer when Nanami jerks his hips forwards.
Fucking his cock deeeeep into your maw.
And with it, whatever words were in your throat, too.
“I dunno about that-” Nanami hums down at the chokes n’ strangled gasps you’re letting out, just the barest noises of whatever was able to filter past his swollen shaft. “-but it sounded like a ‘you, sir’ to me.”
“Didn’t know you were that depraved.” Higuruma spits out. Dark eyes narrowed as he’s grinding you back to him n’ lapping away at your oversensitive pussylips.
“I’m a gentleman, what can I say?” The other professor responds.
As the slurps n’ sucking continues, Nanami looks at you through half-lidded eyes. He admires the way your mouth leaves a glittering glaze of spit from the tip of his cock and doooown to about halfway down his shaft—so cute how you couldn’t fit it all. “And as Head of your pussy-” Fuck, when did he even assign himself that? Is he pussydrunk already? “-I say you can’t cum until you’re fitting my cock aaaaaall the way…”
The history professor’s left hand lifts off of your scalp. Then dragging down the front of your throat - down, down, down.
“-here.”
He points to a spot way past the back of your throat.
He fucks your mouth like he’s agonized every second he isn’t reaching for it.
Higuruma growls.
And thereafter it’s almost like a tug-of-war - on one end you’re being hauled forwards by Nanami’s grip on the back of your head. His hands strong and unwavering, no matter much you’re gasping for air- fuck, the ever-gentlemanly Nanami Kento was gone for the feeling of your mouth tightening around his hot cock.
Rutting those toned hips up into your velvety cavern like an animal-
“Just a little more.” That left hand of his wraps around your throat now, his thumb markin’ at the spots where he can feel his rounded tip probing inside. “Just a liiiiittle more now- about four inches? Heh.”
“Mmm—” Your eyes go wide in surprise.
And Nanami responds by pushing his hips even further, nearing the tip of your nose to those curls of blond at his base. “C’mon, c’mon.”
And on the other end, Higuruma had his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs. Into the flesh of your ass. His tongue fishing around your insides before he pulls out and starts nibblin’ on your damn clit—
He’s thirsty. Depraved.
“Noooo, angel.” He’s gluing his chin to the front of your pussylips. Head moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as the law professor lashes his tongue across. “Come back to me-”
“Mmm—” You’re being pulled off of Nanami Kento’s reddened, dribblin’ cock with a plop! Just from the sheer pressure of Higuruma manhandling your body from the other side - dragging you all down his handsome face. “Fuh-fuck-!”
“Where’d you think you’re going?” Only for Nanami to barely let you breathe for a split-second before he’s pulling your mouth down his shaft again.
Shovelling a gooooood few inches of his vein-covered cock inside- he marks that spot out on your throat. Even deeper than the last time you had him- “Mmm, not bad. Just a few inches- mmm, more.”
“Ride my nose.” Higuruma begs from the other end. Breath breezing down your gooey core, it makes your thighs shiver- “Ride my nose, I don’t care. Ride my nose, ride my nose—”
And you’re just so overstimulated from all ends.
From the draaagging of Nanami’s thumb down the front of your neck, from the sensual touch of Higuruma’s nose being sandwiched between your pussylips, from the pleasure of them both playing with your body. It’s as if you’re their favorite toy to taste, to fuck - to worship because of the way they were being driven to absolute madness by those carnal sensations.
You can only jolt your body back and forth.
Down Nanami’s cock. Up Higuruma’s ready face.
Riding his nose just like you wanted- “S-so—” Somehow barely managing to gurgle out past the pulsating tip of his cock, “So close-”
“Close?” Higuruma perks up. “Fuh-fuck- I have you, angel.”
“Remember- no cumming until you take it here.” Nanami presses his thumb somewhere near where your voicebox was bulging with the intrusion of his inches. “You’re not there yet, darling…”
“But-”
“Please let her cum.” But to your surprise, it’s your law professor who is pleading your face.
Nanami raises a blond brow, “Oh?”
“Let her-” He slurps away on your swollen nub- sensitive and throbbing. He’s hollowing his cheeks out to get that suctioning sensation, already making your knees feel weak with pleasure. “Need her to- fuck, want her to cum on my tongue. Let her cum already.”
Nanami thrusts even deeper, “Hmm…I dunno.”
“I’m the one asking you.” Higuruma grumbles. “Let her cum-”
“Mmmpf- please.” And your brows furrow as the pit of bliss in your stomach grows stronger.
“Let her-” The law professor continues, “I’m begging you- fuck, she’s becoming so sweet. Let her cum-”
Pale brows furrowing. Sweat lines down his temple- “I don’t…just fit-” And he’s scrapin’ his bulbous tip down the roof of your cunt—all the way along to the back of your throat and targeting even further. “If she takes it until-”
Higuruma’s nose helping your grinds and bounces. “Just let her cum-”
“If she takes it-”
“Fucking let her-”
“G-gonna—” It’s the last thing you’re managing to get out before a sudden slam! of Nanami’s hips shut you up- and before you know it, you’re feeling the carnal scratch of his pubic hair. The feeling of his tawny curls at your skin, the intrusion of his throbbing shaft all the way down your throat.
And his thumb tapping where he’d marked a treasure spot - a spot he was supposed to meet. Nanami doesn’t have to say a single thing for Higuruma to bite his sharp canines down on your clit.
And before you know it, you’re bursting into your nth high of the night.
Not just your second, but your third, perhaps even your fourth.
Stars burst behind your eyelids, and your moans are nothing but soft crackles at the back of your throat. Higuruma draaaaags you all throughout those waves of bliss, elongating them with the thorough lavishing of his tongue.
Probin’ into every sweet spot.
Inside and out.
He digs his fingers into your thighs, now accomplishing his dream of having you ride his nose. Because you’re being made to arch your back n’ bounce your hips lecherously up and across.
Hittin’ those best angles- the peaks of your high absolutely burst through you.
And Nanami? Your history professor was enjoying the view - cocking his head to the side and smiling as you shatter on Higuruma’s face. He watches about half your orgasm bate, before starting to fuck his swollen cock back in and out of you. Thrusting.
“Now now—” Nanami murmurs. “You should be thankful my rubric’s so generous this time.”
You can only look up at him with your teary eyes.
That sight is enough for him to bite down on his lower lip n’ stop himself from cumming. No, he had something more important in his mind…
“Thirty seconds to finish up.” He says meanly. “Before I either drag your pussy off of his face or you have to drag yourself off, m’kay?”
“Tch- stingy.” Higuruma keeps lappin’ at you even after your high has passed.
And once that thirty seconds of more bliss have passed - just like Nanami said - he grips both hands ‘round the back of your scalp and wrenches you off of his cock. Off of Higuruma’s mouth. He’s bending down to spit straight between your lips—
“Now, I’m gonna be nice this one time because you took all of me. Understood?” The history professor states, so firm. “Nod if you understand, my love.”
You nod.
“Good.” He then kisses your lips- tasting you, tasting himself. “Now…do you want it from the back or face-to-face? Because m’fucking you filthy either way.”
“From- from the back.” You pant out.
And Nanami gives a single, stern nod before he lets you go. “Brace yourself.”
You’re collapsing back into the chair—sitting your ass down on it this time. Before the law professor suddenly has you in his arms - he supports you in getting off of the armchair and standing up. Now in the middle of his office, you’re stumbling onto your wobbly feet.
Your arms loop around Higuruma’s neck. “Hiromi…”
“Mmm, I love it when you call me that.” Higuruma kisses you.
“How unruly.” Both of you snap your heads at the sound of buttons popping- only to find that Nanami was taking off his button-up. And you were right- fuck, you were so right. He was so thoroughly chiselled underneath, almost Herculean in nature.
With the most naturally defined ridges n’ curves of his muscles—his firm pectorals, his washboard abs, his meaty thighs that make an appearance.
Nanami sheds of all his clothes before he stares down the two of you- “Addressing your professor by name? Clearly going against objectives to get ready? Making me jealous? What an undisciplined class, no need to be standing around.” He looks at you, “I’ll be fucking you until you can’t stand, anyway.”
A shiver runs down your spine—“Oh.”
“Now, darling.”
Higuruma lets you waddle away to Nanami- who merely swivels you around and bends you over the edge of his colleague’s desk. Papers and ink flying everywhere across the office as he does.
Folding you forwards until your head hits the table. Kneeing your legs apart.
It’s hitting you like a truck - your history professor is about to fuck you against your law professor’s desk.
“Stay still.” He gravels in your ear.
Nanami’s barely letting you take a breath before rubbin’ his bulbous tip down your dripping wet slit from behind. Hand gripping his thick hilt—up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Getting his inches coated in a glaze of your sap, Nanami hums at the feeling of you attempting to contract around him.
“This naughty girl’s reeeeal needy for me, huh?” Scorching breath heating up your skin, he kisses down your arched spine. “She says she can take all of me- can you?”
“Y-yes—” You’re sobbing into the polished mahogany. Bucking your hips up, “I want it, sir.”
You’re jolting as his puckered, pinkish tip smooches at your wet entrance- he’s just so thick that he can plug your hole up easily. Nanami’s tip throbs against your hole, and he reaches a right hand down to feel your pretty stomach - to feel where he’s going to be hittin’ with his hungry cock.
He breathes out airily—“You want it?”
“Yes-”
“Say please.”
“Please-”
“Hmmm?”
“Please, sir.”
Nanami lurches his hips back, back, backwards- “As you wish then, teacher’s pet.”
And then you’re being stuffed with an inch or two of him.
And by stuffed—you were seriously stuffed.
Thick and thorough. Almost too big to even fit in - Nanami fills out the orifice of your cunt without even trying. His ruby-red tip just manages to squeeze between your pussylips, before the first ring of muscle at your entrance makes him falter.
And he’s gritting his teeth at the sheer tightness, voice coming out as nothing but a hiss. “Fuck- didn’t you say that you can take it?” He’s pressing his left hand down at the base of your spine, leaning his weight in to keep you still. “Come back, my love- class isn’t over yet.”
You hadn’t even realized you’d been clawing at the desk until now. “S-sir—”
Just that is enough to make Nanami’s ravaged tip twitch inside of you- spurting out a few more dollops of pre. “Yes, darling?”
“I d-don’t—” Fuck- you swear you could feel him grow even harder inside of you at the sight of your teary expression. Staring at your history professor over your shoulder, “I don’t know if it even can fit.”
“Awww, my poor baby.” And you should know better than to let Nanami Kento hush your cries, you should know better than to let him lull you.
But you can’t help but get pulled into his big, strong arms anyway.
“My poor, poor baby.” And from one corner of the room, you could hear Higuruma’s distant laugh. Although you don’t have the time to wonder what it means, because Nanami’s continuing- “None of those boys ever taught you how to take a real cock, hm?”
And you can only nod.
“None of those boys have ever fucked you right, hm?”
Nodding once more.
“Don’t you worry, darling. If you can’t take this one…”
He presses a chaste peck against your hairline. Letting his soft breath waft over the crown of your head, and his chest ripple with his words, soft.
“-m’gonna make it fit.”
And that’s the last thing you’re hearing before Nanami’s rammin’ his swollen, aching cock into you like an animal- his furious cockhead burrowing in deep.
He manages to shovel just a few more inches inside, before the snugness of your channel acts up once more. Leaving him barely even able to reel his hips backwards—just that much of a tight fit that’s making his eyes roll to the back of his skull.
He shakes.
His groan cracks at the back of his throat. “O-oh.” Both of Nanami’s hands fly to the sides of your hips, and his fingers fucking shake where he holds you. “Oh, yeah.”
“Shit-” You’re flinching at the scalding sensation of his breath. Gusting.
And even that mere shiver- Nanami catches onto it. And it’s only making him clasp your body even tighter, pulling you into him—“You’re really not getting away until we make it fit, my love. Good luck.”
No matter how much his ravenous hips are rutting n’ bucking and trying oh-so-desperately to hammer even more of his inches inside- he can only fuck you in short, needy half-thrusts. The rest of him left to throb wildly behind you, he keeps on stretching and stretching your insides just to fit inside.
Each one of his bucks so desperate. So greedy.
The pointed tip of Nanami’s cockhead prods away at your innards as though he’s trying to claim every single ounce of space inside you-
“Have you forgotten that this is a joint class, Kento?”
Higuruma’s voice is enough to send pulses of adrenaline flowing through your body - and you’re just managing to look around Nanami’s toned frame. The law professor stands behind the two of you with his arms crossed, clothes mostly on except for his trousers being tugged down.
He held his blushin’ cock in one hand, pumping furiously at the sight of his star student.
Nanami himself sighs—though he doesn’t stop his sloppy scouring of your innards for a single second. He looks straight at the other man as he asks- “Oh yes…would you like her now or after me, Hiromi?”
“Now.” Higuruma narrows his heady eyes at the two of you. And the blond-haired man slightly growls at his answer, seemingly grappling with the thought of leaving your pretty pussy right about now- “But don’t pull out.”
You feel like you’re experiencing whiplash. “What?”
Nanami only raises a sharp brow.
And Higuruma himself can’t help but crack a sleazy smirk-
Before you know it, he’s rounding the two of you. Coat off. White button-up flapping open.
He tugs on the smooth, black tie that was hanging haphazardly from his neck- and gestures something indiscernible at the other man.
Though, clearly both professors understood.
Because one second you’re slouched on top of Higuruma’s desk, droolin’ stupidly over some important documents as Nanami Kento pounds you into oblivion - and in the next second, he’s lifting you off of it.
Cleanly off the desk.
One hand wrapped around your waist, the other putting you in a headlock.
He pulls you up as though you’re nothing- and you’re ogling the way his biceps bulge around your throat. Feeling the cushy firmness of his strength—“W-what are you-”
“D’you know what a standing full nelson is?” Higuruma asks. And for a second you think he’s asking you - maybe this was some strange sort of quiz - but then Nanami nods.
“Thought that only happens in fiction? Don’t tell me you’re a secret freak, Hiromi?” He scoffs, though he pulls out either way.
“And look who’s talking…” Then Higuruma looks at you and taps his shoulders. “Hold on, angel, he’s going to lift you.”
“Shit…”
As expected, you’re holding onto Higuruma’s broad shoulders for leverage- whilst Nanami bends and loops his hands around your legs. His strong forearms where your knees were.
Scooping you up into his arms.
Holding them up.
Holding you up.
Hoverin’ well over six feet in the air.
Yelping, you’re digging your nails into the law professor’s shoulders - but if it hurt, then he doesn’t’ react to the pain. Honestly, you don’t even think he could feel it right now—because Higuruma was holding out his tie.
Measuring it against your face-
Tying it around your face like a blindfold.
He knots it at the back of your head, and suddenly the room is curtained in nothing but pure black. You could only hear the gruffness of both men’s chuckles, and Higuruma asking. “Everything alright, angel?”
“Of course, it is.” Nanami mutters- almost to himself. Though he does stretch your legs a little wider, presumably to show to the other man—“Look how fucking drenched she is.”
“Good girl.”
“Naughty, you mean.”
“I must beg to differ.”
And you’re arching against Nanami’s toned front, the plushness of his abs digging against your back. It was the most sensual massage you’ve felt in your entire life- “Please- ngh, what’s with the blindfold?”
“Oh, that…” Higuruma starts. “Guess.”
“What?”
“Guess.”
Brains wracking- “You aren’t going to leave me hanging, are you?”
“No.”
“Is this a roleplay?”
“No.”
“A kink thing?”
“Well…”
“A BDSM thing?”
“Guess.”
You’re feeling helplessness wash over you—“B-but, I already did-”
“No, my love.” Nanami’s the one to speak up this time. He leans down so that he’s pressing an innocent kiss to the edge of your hairline, “We’re going to make this slutty pussy guess which one of us she’s being fucked by.”
Your jaw drops.
And your cunt grows even wetter.
An occasion that the two professors are watching with awe-
Higuruma in particular finds himself breathing out—“And your time starts…now.”
And then you’re hearing the shuffling of his trousers- right before a sudden proddin’ intrusion starts up at your entrance. It was hot and throbbing—so needy that your teeth are set on edge by the sheer volume of precum that he was emptying out.
You’re feeling his thick tip start to eeeease in- squeezing in past the tightness of your channel for a bit before pulling back and fucking you ruthlessly in semi-thrusts.
“H-Hiromi?” You guess. Surely, with him being the one that was removing his trousers it must be…
“Wrong.” Nanami grins.
And then you’re feeling his cock give you a few vicious pumps before he’s pulling away - leaving you all empty and yearning for more. Your glistening hole clenches a few times around nothing, before a sudden globular tip starts kissin’ your entrance once more.
You’re bucking back in Nanami’s arms in an attempt to figure out just who it might be- but the history professor holds onto you firmly. Not a single inch.
Not a single inch less.
Whoever was fucking you takes no more time before swabbin’ his swollen erection inside once more- biting back a groooan at the feeling of your tightening walls.
It’s the same short, jerky thrusts from before just to fit in.
“Sir?” You’re gasping out. But surely, it can’t be twice in a row…“No wait- is it Hiromi this time?”
The cadence of his hips stops abruptly. “Can’t get enough of the law, can you?”
Nanami.
And you don’t know whether it’s the fact that you’re just feeling your brain melt at the sheer stimulation between your legs, you don’t know whether it’s the fact that both handsome men had you sandwiched between their muscular bodies—it was just driving you wild. Making you stupid.
A line of drool slicks down the side of your mouth, and Nanami doesn’t hesitate before leaning in and lickin’ it off. “I should punish you for this.”
“I-I—oh, fuck.” Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue get swallowed up by the feeling of yet another round, ruddied cockhead pushing inwards. Pulsing. Prying apart your walls. And you’re noticing that this one is slightly slimmer than the last, more pointed, more honed, more of its curvaceous tip that tilts to the left.
It makes you shiver at the feeling of his bawling divot dragging across your walls so perfectly. “Is this- sir-”
“Try again, angel.”
It was a struggle to piece your thoughts together, and Higuruma’s voice is the only thing that makes you realize-
“Hiromi.”
“Mhmmm—” Before you know it, the other man has one hand dipping between your jittery legs. His fingers easily locate your clit to tug n’ pry like the cutest gummy - how sweet. And he’s timing it to the constant probes of his looooong, smooth cock. “Good girl. A++ for that.”
“You’re quite the generous grader.” Nanami scoffs. “I would have given that a B.”
“What can I say? I do have a soft spot for her…” Higuruma’s cock was slightly lengthier than Nanami’s, you’re noticing - though not quite as thick. And with less veins that didn’t massage your inner orifices as much, but made it soooo much easier for him to slip even deeper.
Especially with this position, he manages to probe his cockhead further past where Nanami’s thicker one was able to fit.
Reaching almost for your throat with his blushing, frenzied tip- Higuruma gives a final roll over your clit before he’s pulling out. Letting a few ribbons of sap gush down your legs after him-
Ones that are being fucked right back up with a second length.
Thicker. Harder.
Throbbing so much that you swear you can count them all the way at the top of your head- Nanami’s shaft was next. And he’s lavishing your entrance with so much attention—draaaaagging his vein-decorated shaft in and out. In and out. In and out.
“S-so?” He rasps out from behind. Higuruma’s cockhead had mazed open your insides just a bit more, and Nanami struggles not to let his voice tremble. “Which one of us, darling?”
“Y-you—”
That earns you a bite on the shell of your ear. “No.”
Before he’s pulling back out.
And your breath catches- “Wait- I meant sir. It’s you, sir—”
“Too late for that now.”
“Awww, come now.” Higuruma coos as well. “How are we supposed to make an example out of our star student if she just keeps makin’ mistakes?”
“I think she’s gettin’ lazy now, huh?” The other man responds. And now both of their ruddied cockheads were droolin’ all over your entrance- mixing with the sweetened syrup that was already dripping out of you and creating such a mess. “Maybe she doesn’t deserve our cocks at all?”
“Don’t say that—” You could feel your law professor’s eyes turn to you. “You deserve it- hah, don’t you, angel?”
Shivering at the feeling of both cocks sandwiching between your pussylips. Now that they’d both pulled out- it’s as if they were fighting over who can be next. Rubbin’ and teasing. “I do—” Your voice cracks on that last note, “P-please, I do-”
“I’m still not convinced.”
Higuruma continues, “Promise us you’ll be a good girl? That you’ll listen to what your professors have to say?”
“I will I will-”
“Promise us that no more of that teasin’ stuff in class?” His prominent nose slides down the column of your throat, breathing in your essence. “None of that bending over?”
“Yes—” But you could already hear the question in your throat - and it seems that they could, too.
And it makes Nanami gruffs out. “Because - forgive us - but you do realize that it’s not just us seeing your little…display, darling?” He spreads open your legs even wider, and Higuruma’s ministrations grow even more frenzied on your clit. Squeezing. Pinching. Flicking.
And you’re restless- “Wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean to say that there are others more…undeserving that see those legs of yours, those panties, those tits.” There’s a sharp edge to his words—“Those boys in class can’t take their eyes off of you.”
“We can’t either, of course.” Higuruma responds. Squeezing his cock inside- “But at least that little performance of yours is meant for us, right?”
“Don’t like the way they look at you.” Nanami’s also squeezing his cock inside now - both of them bullying your hole at once. Creating a stretch that makes your vision go white- so much carnal stimulation that your entire body wracks with shakes. “Don’t like the way they turn to look. Don’t like the way they have to mysteriously…disappear into the bathrooms any time you do your little show.”
“Given…we do the same.” The law professor continues—“Because fuck- how fuckin’ pretty you look all dressed up in silk. Makes it hard not to cream my pants everytime I see you- but none of those boys have the balls to back that admiration up.”
Giving you a thorough slam—both of them.
Higuruma’s the one to continue, “But we do.”
“Because I rub my cock raw to you, my love.” Nanami ends off, holding you close to him. “N’ none of those boys could ever fuck you like we do.”
“Yes, p-please—” And you’re pushed between both of their sculptured fronts. Unable to see them- but you could feel the ridges and curves of their muscles, the way they were both leaning in as though they couldn’t get enough of you. “I only want…ngh.”
One of your arms wrap around Higuruma’s neck, and the other reaches behind you to attempt to clasp onto Nanami’s.
“Just want the two of you…”
“Hmmm…” Nanami’s cock twitches at your gooey entrance- “A+”
And then they’re alternating between fucking you—
“Hiromi.” You’re gasping at the intrusion of his smoothened tip, the velvety texture of him reaching for so many spots inside you but most importantly- that g-spot.
And then he’s pulling back out.
“Sir- fuck, Professor Kento.” Nanami swabs his thickened tip inside and hits that precise spot. Although he decides to take it a few steps further this time and dig his rounded tip into the very back of your pussy, bottoming-out. “Shit shit shit—”
Thrust after thrust.
Pulling out. Shovelling back in.
Making you guess just which one of your two older professors were takin’ over your pussy right now- it made your head dizzy just trying to keep track. Bounced up and down in their arms.
“Hiromi.”
“Professor Kento.”
“Hiromi.”
“Hiromi.”
“Professor Kento.”
“Hiromi.”
“Professor Kento.”
“Professor Kento.”
“Hiromi—” Before your voice shatters at the feeling of…two thickened lengths attempting to fit inside. Fighting against the resistance for a few sloppy strokes before they’re siiiiiiiiiiiinking in- “And Professor K-Kento, sir…” The feeling of their large, slick-glazed cocks were just incredible - rubbin’ against your walls and one another. Like nothing earlier.
It was a stretch like you’ve never felt before, hittin’ spots that you didn’t even know you had.
And both professors held onto your shaking body tight- they shovelled their lengths in and out of you. Two blushin’ cockheads heading for your g-spot, before their slide-slide-sliiiiiding all the way down to end up at your cervix.
Stretching apart your walls.
Making your channel bulge.
Letting the curves of their mushroomy tips drag apart your walls, n’ press into the sweetest spots of your nerves. Both of their heavy ballsacks smack-smack the front of your cunt right on time with their thrusts. Thrust after thrust.
Again and again.
Nanami grunts at the sensation of Higuruma deep inside you, “F-fuck…”
“You can say that again.” Higuruma himself replies.
By now, the jostlin’ about had meant that your blindfold was falling off- and you could see the two men upon either side of you. Shovelling their hot cocks deep inside your pussy, positively ravaging you.
The law professor’s fingers weren’t letting up on your clit just yet, either.
He quirks his digits just a bit to draw a little heart upon it—and soon enough you find yourself throwing your head back with a moan. “G-gonna-”
“Shhhh—” Nanami grins. His ears keenly listen to the noises from between your legs - they were just so much louder now that you had two thickened shafts ramming into you. “This pussy says she’s gonna cum soon, darling.”
“Y-you little-”
A harsh hammerin’ on your spongy cervix. “Pardon, my love?”
“Nothing—oh.” Even their thrusting styles were different - Nanami Kento with his thorough, solid slashes as though he was trying to reach your womb every single time. And Higuruma Hiromi with slightly slower, smoother glides of his cock - soothing through the nooks n’ crannies that Nanami had activated first.
It was the perfect combination.
Naughty and nice.
Though not exactly in the way you’d initially thought.
And perhaps this manner was what was making you so desperate to cum again- “Please-” Gasping. “Let me cum—”
You’re looking between a grinning Nanami and Higuruma. Dazedly.
“Please may I-” Choking out in-between the moans and droplets of saliva that were gushing out of you- falling onto Higuruma’s puffed-out chest. “-cum, sirs?”
Both of their rock-hard cocks twitch deep inside of you.
And you’re briefly seeing a silent conversation pass between them-
“Go ahead, angel.”
“Cum all over my cock, darling.”
And it might have been minutes, it might have been seconds, it might have been split-seconds later once you’re crashing into your high. The waves of white-hot pleasure taking over you until it felt like your body was burning up.
Feverish.
You’re crying out as you attempt to bounce your lewd hips back into both their shovelling shafts- but they’ve already got you. They’re holding onto your perspired body - so limp now with pleasure - and lettin’ their pointed cockheads hit each and every nerve bundle inside.
Pinpointing your g-spot with their lengths.
Targeting it especially through peak after peak.
After peak.
Your cunt trickles with honeyed slick- and it slips between your three bodies to drench Higuruma and Nanami’s cocks. Their thighs. Their bodies.
Making it even louder to thrust into your cunt—you’re forced to raise your voice just a little just so that they can hear. “Sh-shit…” Until eventually you’re feeling so raw on their relentless cocks that you’re unsure whether you want them to elongate those waves of bliss or whether you want to fucking run away—“It feels so- oh, it feels…”
“And what do we say?” Nanami’s deep baritone croons out. He doesn’t slow down for a single second as he speaks- even though he himself was feeling a little sensitive by this point.
He hits his full ballsack against the front of your cunt and hisses- “Can I have it all inside…” You’re looking between them with wide, heart-shaped pupils. “-sirs?”
And you should’ve known what that would do.
You should’ve known how much that would break them.
Because with only a few final thrusts, both Higuruma and Nanami cum inside you with loud slurps! of your greedy cunt. Gobblin’ up all those white ropes of seed that they were emptying out - sheer volumes that they’d been holding onto for hours, days, this entire semester.
Nanami furrows his golden brows and presses his face into the crook of your neck. Groaning as he fucks you through his orgasm, “A-and here I was just expecting a thank you…”
“Our girl always was the sweetest.” Higuruma coos.
Your history professor rides through his high with his teeth grit, jaw working overtime to keep his noises to a minimum - he wanted to hear your soft gasps and groans even more. Though his body shakes as it keeps on thrummin’ with pleasure.
Visceral.
Meanwhile, your law professor let out such husky grunts after each splat! of cum that he emptied out against your womb. He couldn’t even handle fucking you properly anymore and his hips kept on stutterin’ through his waves.
Cheeks flushed. Gaze locked on you.
He didn’t want to tear it away.
Both of them are cumming so much that you nearly can’t tell who’s who - with their dollops of heated, syrupy sap. Each divot bawling them out messily—you can feel them stick against the end of your pussy, right where your cervix was, before being stirred about by the motions of their cylindrical shafts.
Their prominent veins massagin’ your sweetest spots. Their globular cockheads pumping every single droplet inside you.
Every single droplet.
Not a single bead of that ivory cum escapes—but they’re both still looking at each other with the same idea.
And you’re seeing yet another silent conversation pass between them that you miss. “Oh?”
In almost no time, Higuruma and Nanami have you splayed out on the polished desk - back against its flat surface, legs held high in the air. This time, however, both their faces were between your pussylips and attempting to beat the other—
They were lappin’ their dual tongues over your leaking cunt like they were starved.
Nanami’s hand pressing down on your stomach to make a few more droplets spray out of your hole- Higuruma’s hand flicking over your clit still.
You lean back on your elbows and watch them.
And what a sight it was: both their handsome faces between your legs.
They nudge their noses against the creamy layers on top of your cunt, and swivel the mess around like mad. You could see through your tears the exact moment - the exact moment - that their pinkish tongues meet in the middle.
Where Higuruma’s tastebuds overlap with Nanami’s as they’re suckling on your clit- and they both flinch at the sensation before moaning—
And that’s before the door clicks.
“Oi, why are the lights still on? Don’t you know that campus has closed a long time ag-”
You pause.
Nanami pauses.
Higuruma pauses.
And so does Professor Shiu Kong - Head of the Mathematics Department, also PhD with Distinction.
His jaw drops as his eyes drift over from the mess of clothes on the floor, to the mess that’d been made of you. Bite marks all over your throat. The blindfold still around your neck. And even more - you could see the way his hands tighten on his files as his gaze probes deeper, taking in your leaking, lecherous cunt.
No one moves.
Except for Shiu, who steps inside.
Your heart was in your throat.
Getting ready for a berating of some kind- or potentially even worse. Perhaps a suspension, perhaps Nanami and Higuruma would be fired at once-
“So…” Shiu’s husky voice interrupts your thoughts. “-got room for mathematics?”
A/N. Heheheheh ofc we got room for youuuuuuuuu Shiu <33
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 18+ mdni.. p in v.. Dirty talk.. geto is sweet but nasty.. Size diff.. Horribly written
“Shh– shhh, shut up, shut up, quiet ok? Quiet down for me, doll.” Suguru grunted. Feeling your pussy clench around his thick fingers. They weren’t lacking in length either. The more reason to yell his name, but you couldn’t. Not when your big brother was next door.
Suguru asked to take a quick break, saying he’s going to head off to the bathroom.
The walk to the bathroom was rerouted to your room, and now he has his achingly hard cock in one hand and your pussy wrapped around the other.
“Gotta stay real quiet for me, doll. Can you do that, hm? Can you stay quiet for me?” you stared up at him with big, watery eyes, tentatively nodding. The way he’s talking to you was enough to have you squirting all over the place. Mentally, of course. His clothes getting ruined by your extreme orgasm wouldn’t be fun to explain to your brother.
“C’mon, sweet girl. You need to give me something better than that. If you can’t be quiet, I won’t be able to give you my cock.” Fuck, he spoke so damn sweet. You nodded more confidently this time, being rewarded with praise.
The way he could fuck your face into the mattress to keep you quiet, but you weren’t going to suggest that. Obviously, he was in a rush. Hence why he had you pressed against the back of your bedroom door.
“Sugu—” you pouted, whining at the loss of movement from his fingers. He pulled out, shoving them into your mouth, down to the third knuckle, making you gasp and gag around the sudden intrusion.
“Gag reflex needs work, we’ll work on that next time, ok?” You nodded around his fingers. This was a new way of shutting you up. Not that you were complaining. You swirled your tongue amateurishly around his fingers, making him huff out a laugh.
He lifted your shirt above your hips, hooking one leg over his waist. The fat head of his cock was already nudging at your entrance. You were too scared to size check him, so you didn’t, but now you regret it. What if he’s too big or thick or or— fuck.
His cock made way inside of you. A few inches slipping in. Thick. Veiny. Long. You couldn’t help but let out a strangled moan around his fingers, making him shove them deeper, wide eyeing you. “Doll, are you trying to get me killed?” he hissed, not sure if it was from your tight cunt or the fear of your brother catching you both. Your eyes rounded in apology. The more he pushed, the more you wanted to cry out. He was too big. Too hard.
Your eyes stung with tears and pleasure. When will he bottom out? It was too much already.
“No mo–”
“I know, sweet girl. She’s a bit tight, but I’ll make it fit, ok? Just endure with me,” he cooed, saying the nastiest words with the softest voice, making you feel all fuzzy inside. The thought of him making it fit did something to you. Him being too big for you, so he has to force it inside just so your cunt can accomdate for that size. He’s so cruel. So hot. You could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head already.
Everything was so sloppy and wet. Especially your pussy. Suguru knew how to use his words and hands.
He removed his fingers from your mouth, now using his palm to cover the entire lower half of your face.
“Fuck– doll, this little pussy is going to be the death of me. Relax it for me, yeah?” he adjusted the position, hoisting you up into his arms, making you wrap both legs around his waist.
His lips landed on yours, leaving enough space to talk but also enough to feel your soft lips on his.
His cock finally slipped all the way inside. When he felt your moans would get too loud, like right now, he would lean in and capture your lips with his. Not letting you breathe until you settle down.
He slowly started thrusting up into you, testing the waters on your noise level. Just small, pretty whimpers. He felt his cock twitch inside of you. Awkwardly clearing his throat. If he finished in less than a minute, then he would never show up in front of you again.
He tried controlling himself, but your face was so damn adorable.
He sped up, throwing his head back, the fat tip of his cock abusing your cervix. You got needier. Messier. Holding onto Suguru’s shoulders. Brushing his long hair out of his face.
You chewed on your bottom lip, doing anything to keep yourself from moaning.
“Fuck, hear that? So damn wet for me, baby.”
He kept at it. Working up his pace. Pussy swallowing him whole, a near-perfect fit. Such a perfect, pretty little cunt. Take cock like a hobby. His cock. Only his.
He licked up your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder blades.
“Su-suguru–” you whined, dropping your head on his shoulder. He was ramming into you now. A little breathless, a little sweaty, but it only brings you closer.
The sound of skin slapping was loud. Not only was this position making you feel everything, but you could fear every detail of his cock from here. The veins sliding against your walls, the ridges, the bumps. The.. everything.
“Close, doll? Is my sweet girl close?”
“Mhm, so.. So close, sugu,” you pouted, nails digging into him. He nodded, giving you the go-ahead to finish.
Your body lurched forward, biting down on Geto, clawing at his clothed back. Your pussy tightened around his fat length, only reminding you of how full you really are. He followed suit, pulling out right before he could finish. Suguru didn’t even need to jerk himself off to finish, just the sight of your ruined face did the job for him.
His cock spurting white cum over your drenched pussy and your ass and the door you were held up against.
What a mess.
He finally let you stand, but not without help. Your legs were boneless, and you felt empty down there.
You stared up at him, knowing he had to leave now or your brother would get suspicious.
“Clean up the mess, pretty girl, you did so good for me,” he muttered, kissing your forehead before leaving to hopefully fix himself up.
A/N: kill me, my main fic didn't finish on time so i wrote this instead, finally wrote about geto tho
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
Higuruma who’s the nice one in bed—and Nanami who’s surprisingly the mean one. The one that edges you until you’re crying, and the attorney that negotiates overstimuIating you instead. Higuruma who coos and whispers soft whispers into your ear- meanwhile Nanami speaks the fiIthiest things because he knows that no one would ever believe you if you said that Nanami Kento said such heinous sentences. That gentleman? Never. Higuruma who finishes first- and Nanami who teases him for it. Before they’re both fighting to see who makes you finish first.
just the way you keep bending over to pick up toys the kids left scattered, skirt riding up just enough to flash the lace of your panties.
the way you brush against him in the kitchen while he’s washing dishes, hip bumping his, ass pressing back for a split second longer than necessary.
toji notices. of course he does.
he’s been half-hard since dinner, jaw tight with his green eyes tracking you like prey.
the kids are finally asleep upstairs. the house is quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the distant tick of the clock.
you’re in the living room now, pretending to scroll on your phone on the couch. he comes up behind you, big hands sliding over your shoulders. innocent enough.
until he leans down with his mouth at your ear.
“you’ve been a little fuckin’ brat tonight, huh?”
his voice is gravel and smoke. you shiver and don’t answer.
you just arch your back a fraction, pushing your ass back against the front of his sweats.
he groans low. one hand slides down your spine, slow, possessive and then grips your hip hard enough to bruise tomorrow.
“c’mere.”
he pulls you up, spins you around, and drops onto the couch. spreads his thick thighs wide. yanks you down to straddle him in one smooth motion. your knees sink into the cushions on either side of his hips. skirt bunches up around your waist. thin cotton panties against the heavy, thick outline of his cock through his sweats.
“toji- ”
“shut up and grind on me, baby.”
no kissing yet. no stripping. just this - raw, desperate friction.
you roll your hips experimentally. feel the thick ridge of him drag right along your slit through the layers. your clit catches perfectly on the head of his cock, even through the fabric, and you gasp.
he smirks. hands clamp on your ass, spreading you wider, guiding you down harder.
“yeah. like that. fuck - look at you already soakin’ through your little panties.”
you can feel it. the wet spot spreading. his sweats darkening where you’re grinding. the heat of him seeping through. every slow drag makes your folds part around the shape of him, clit throbbing with each pass.
he’s leaking too. his precome soaking through his sweats, mixing with your slick. slippery now. obscene.
“faster,” he growls, voice wrecked. one hand slides up under your shirt, palming your tit, thumb flicking your nipple hard. the other stays on your ass, helping you rock. controlling the pace. making sure every grind drags your clit right over that fat tip.
you’re whimpering now. soft, needy sounds you can’t hold back. hips moving on their own - circling, grinding down, chasing that perfect pressure.
“toji- feels so- ”
“i know, baby. i fuckin’ know.”
he thrusts up to meet you. shallow, insistent rolls of his hips that make his cock jump against you. the head nudges your entrance through the soaked cotton - almost pushing the fabric inside. you moan louder than you mean to.
he slaps your ass once, a warning .
“quiet. don’t wake the kids. or i stop.”
you bite your lip. nod frantically. keep moving. faster now. slick sounds filling the dim room. wet fabric sliding, his low grunts and your stifled moans.
he’s close. you can tell by the way his abs tense under your palms, the way his grip turns bruising, the way his cock twitches hard against you every time you grind down.
“gonna come in my sweats like a goddamn teenager,” he mutters, voice strained. “all because my girl can’t keep her needy little pussy off me.”
the words tip you over.
you grind down hard - one last, desperate circle - and come with a choked sob. thighs shaking. clit pulsing against him. fresh slick soaking through everything. your whole body locks up, trembling on top of him.
he follows right after.
hips jerking up. low, guttural groan rumbling in his chest. you feel it - hot pulses of come flooding his sweats, seeping through to smear against your soaked panties. marking you. claiming you in the messiest way.
for a long minute you just pant against each other. foreheads pressed. his hands still gripping your ass like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
then he chuckles - dark, satisfied.
“look at the mess you made.”
you glance down. his grey sweats are wrecked; there is a dark patch spreading from his cock all the way down his thigh. your panties are transparent now, clinging obscenely. strings of your combined slick connecting you when you finally lift a little.
he drags a finger through the mess on his sweats, brings it to your lips.
“clean it up, baby.”
you suck without hesitation. taste salt and him and you.
he kisses you then - slow, filthy, tongue sliding in to chase the taste.
pulls back just enough to murmur against your mouth:
“shower. then bed. and next time you tease me like that? i’m fuckin’ you raw on the kitchen counter while the kids nap.”
you clench around nothing at the thought.
he feels it. grins.
“yeah. that’s what i thought.”
he lifts you off him like you weigh nothing, sets you on your feet. smacks your ass again. lighter this time, playful.
“go on. i’ll clean the couch.”
you stumble toward the stairs on shaky legs, feeling his come and your slick still dripping down your thighs.
and you know, deep down, you’re gonna tease him again tomorrow.
cw: explicit smut, toji eats you out on the phone w/ shiu.
Toji’s got you spread out on the living room couch, one leg hooked over the backrest, the other pushed up and out by the iron grip of his forearm. Your shorts and panties are long gone—crumpled somewhere on the floor—and his broad shoulders keep you pinned open.
His phone buzzed on the coffee table. He didn’t even pause—just reached over with one lazy hand, thumbed it to speaker, and answered without lifting his head. “Yeah?” Voice rough, muffled against your pussy.
Shiu’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Yo, you busy? Got a job lead, need to talk details. You free to call?”
Toji dragged his tongue up slow circling your clit with the tip before sucking it into his mouth hard enough to make your back arch off the couch. You slapped a hand over your own mouth to muffle the whimper.
He pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny with you, breath hot against your throbbing cunt. “Yeah,” he drawled casually, “I’m free. Just eatin’. What’s up?”
Shiu snorted on the other end. “Eatin’? This late? You order takeout or somethin’?” Toji’s tongue flicked out again lapping at your entrance before plunging inside, fucking you with slow, deep strokes. Your thighs trembled around his head, pussy soaking his face. “Somethin’ like that,” Toji muttered, voice thick, lips brushing your clit with every word. “Tastes perfect. Real fuckin’ good.”
You whined and despite your best efforts the sound carried. Shiu paused. “…You good, man? Sounds like you’re multitasking.”
Toji laughed as he sucked your clit again, hard, popping off with a wet sound that was obscene even over the phone. “Yeah,” he rasped, dragging his tongue flat up your slit one more time, slow enough to make your eyes roll back. “Just… enjoying my meal. Keep talkin’.”
Shiu sighed, clearly suspicious but too used to Toji’s bullshit to push. “Alright, whatever. So the job’s in Shibuya—client wants it quiet, double the pay if we wrap by Friday—”
Toji hummed like he was listening, but his mouth never stopped. One thick finger slid inside you—then two making your thighs squeeze around him harder. You were dripping down his chin, soaking the collar of his shirt. He didn’t care. Just kept eating like your pussy was the only thing on his mind while Shiu droned on about payout and timelines. “—you in or what?” Shiu finished.
Toji pulled back just long enough to answer, lips swollen, “Mhm,” he finally grunts into the phone, voice lazy. “Double’s good. Send me the location.”
He dives back in without missing a beat—tongue fucking into you deep while his thumb circles your clit in tight, relentless little strokes. Shiu keeps talking logistics—times, entry points, cleanup—none the wiser. Toji responds in short, gruff sentences, each one punctuated by another long lick or a slow suck that makes your hips buck against his face.
Then Shiu pauses. “Yo… what the hell are you eating over there? Sounds like it tastes fuckin’ good. You got some gourmet shit or what?”
Toji laughs against your pussy, “Yeah. Real fuckin’ good. Best meal I’ve had in a while.” You’re mortified and soaked and you feel like you about to fucking cum with Shiu on the phone. Shiu laughs. “Man, save some for me next time. Sounds like you’re enjoying the hell outta that.” He laughs slurping louder, “Nah, I ain’t sharing’.”
Toji’s thumb presses harder on your clit—once, twice—and you can’t hold it back anymore. A muffled moan slips past your fingers. Toji’s grip on your hip tightens in warning, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets meaner—tongue plunging deeper, lips sealing around your clit and sucking hard. “Gotta go,” he mutters into the phone, voice rough. “Food’s gettin’ cold.”
He hangs up before Shiu can say another word, tossing the phone onto the couch like it’s nothing. Then both hands are on you—gripping your ass, spreading you wider, burying his face so deep you feel his nose pressed against you.
Tongue and fingers work in tandem—curling inside you while his mouth devours your clit. You come hard, screaming his name, thighs clamping around his head as you shake and gush against his tongue.
Toji doesn’t let up even after you come, thighs clamped around his ears and your whole body twitching. He cleans up every drop, long, dragging licks from your oversensitive entrance back up to your swollen bud. You can barely form words. Your hand’s still clamped over your mouth even though the call’s long dead, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat.
He crawls up your body, caging you in, lips brushing yours so you could taste yourself on him. “Shiu’s right,” he murmurs, “You do taste fuckin’ good.”
a/n: bro I’m actually becoming too obsessed w toji
In which you have bad luck and always break something around the house. Good thing, your husband, Toji, is skilled with his cock hands ;)
“I broke it again, Toji…I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened!”
“I’ll handle it, doll,” he says, rustling up your hair to show you he’s not mad. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
Toji hates when you even suggest calling someone in to fix anything in your home. He scoffs and says things like: “We don’t need a fucking plumber for the shower; I got it,” “their call-out fees are daylight robbery. What are we, some shmucks?”, and “If I see another man in our home, sniffing around, you’re gonna find yourself tied up and with a sore ass.”
So, it’s hardly a surprise to find him lying on his back in the kitchen, head stuffed under the sink you somehow broke that morning, as he fixes the leak himself. Afraid to get his clothes wet and dirty, he’s foregone a shirt — broad chest and shoulders begging to have your nails leaving a mark, rideable abs on display, and a happy trail disappearing under the band of his Calvin Klein boxers with his washed-out jeans riding low.
Just one glance and you’re positively soaked.
When he feels your hands running up and down his body as a greeting, he grunts in surprise. “How was brunch with the girls? Sharon leave her bum ass boyfriend yet?”
You hum, unzipping him to hurriedly free his semi out of the tight confines; he always reacts so quickly to you. “No, but she promises she will soon though.”
Toji snorts, still tinkering and doing absolutely nothing to stop you from rubbing his fat cock to full mast — he’s a firm believer in letting his gorgeous wife use him whenever she wants. A real man’s always ready, he says. Sinking down on his entire, jaw-dropping length is easy when you were sent off to brunch freshly fucked and hadn’t stopped thinking about having more since. “She’s hopeless —ngh fuck, doll, go slow, ‘m doing something here.”
“Sorry Toji…you just looked so good being so helpful. Couldn’t -hah- help myself.”
He bucks his hips up, bulbous cockhead pressing on your g-spot on its way to kiss your cervix. You nearly scream, having to steady yourself on his tense abdomen. “Don’t gotta -mm shit, always so fucking tight- a-apologise. Ever. D’ya hear me, woman? Love your needy fucking pussy. Go on, ride me. Show me how much you missed me.”
“Yes, yes, fuck! Oh god, I’m sorry Toji — ‘m always -hic- breaking things.” No cock has ever made you tear up and drool and cream so disgustingly. Only his. It's fucking magical.
Tools set down, he slides out, intent on watching that lewd expression overtake your face. Toji runs his tongue over his scar, staring right at where you’re obscenely connected to him, nothing short of obsessed with the way your pussy stretches to take him.
Chuckling, he grabs your hips and drags you up and down his cock like you’re nothing more than a squelching pocket pussy and says with a smirk,
“Go ahead and break the whole damn house, ma — your husband’s got it sorted.”
you wake up at the feeling of tiny, sticky hands pulling at your cheeks. letting out a soft hum, opening your eyes slowly to find the cutest little face in front of you, smiling brightly
“morning’, mommy!” he chirps, flashing you his baby teeth.
“mmm, good morning, baby” you murmur sleepily, hand going to his face, brushing his messy bed hair off his forehead, “you are up early today,”
“yeah! i dreamed about you!” he excitedly tells you as you slowly sit on the bed, pulling your son into your lap
“yeah? about what?”
before your son can even open his mouth, a low grunt made both of you turn your heads to the other side of the bed to see a tuft of pink hair buried face down on the pillows, a muscular, tattoed arm emerging from the covers to settle heavily around your stomach.
“s’too fucking early for this,” your husband mutters under his breath, eyes still squeezed shut.
you swat at his arm, a smile tugging at your lips the moment yuuji starts giggling at his dad’s bad word. “ryo! language,” you scold softly and your husband finally opens his eyes slowly, squinting against the morning light.
“brat’s old enough, don’t you think?” sukuna asks, looking at his son, who only nods enthusiastically.
“yeah, mommy! i’m a big kid, i got 'munity to bad words!” your son puffs his chest proudly, tilting his chin up
sukuna flashes you a sleepy, loopsided smirk before closing his eyes again. this time, his arm raise from your stomach to tug at yuuji, making the little boy fall between the two of you.
“go back to sleep, brat. it’s saturday and too early to be up,” he says, his big hand covers his son’s face to force him to close his eyes and yuuji giggles, moving his face back and forth to escape his father’s grip.
“dad! i was going to tell mommy about my dream!” he whines, pouting but the little yawn that leaves his lips tells you he was ready for another hour or so of sleep.
“later, let your mom rest,” sukuna opens an eye to look at you, gesturing with his head for you to lie back down, “come here, ma. cuddle your husband and son,”
you let out soft laugh, lying on your side, soon feeling the weight of your husband’s arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and the now sleepy yuuji tucked against his chest.
closing your eyes, you let out a dreamy sigh, falling back to sleep enveloped by the warmth of your two favorite boys.
[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students, with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else.
[ TAGS ] — [18+]. MDNI. nsfw. LOTS OF ANGST. family drama. plot. piv. fwb. rough. spitting. degradation. DUMBIFICATION. sukuna’s happy trail. dacryphilia. toxic frat culture. fingering. scent kink. sukuna has anger issues. OVERSTIMULATION. oral fem!recieving. sukuna’s a MUNCH. violence. slut shaming. insane SQURITING!! crying. toxic co-dependency — wc: 21.5k
series masterlist ✮ previous chp ✮ next chp (coming soon)
“jesus fuck,” he spits in annoyance, shoving yorozu off his mouth. “i wasn’t even playing,” he barks in anger, standing up with his drink.
yorozu bats her lashes up, “you were sitting in the circle,” she coos, as if the sound of her voice is anything but irritating. “and you kissed me back.”
sukuna tsks, stepping over the crowd of his junior teammates. he was initially talking with them when more people sat around and started playing spin the bottle, and before he could blink he felt a girls lips on him.
his mind was moving slower than he’d like to admit. the lack of sleep, and stress from the rolling events of the last few weeks. all of it had his movements delayed, so when he felt the first touch of someone’s lips on his, he couldn’t help, but sink.
his lips moved against hers, eyes closed briefly until he felt the unfamiliar force of someone’s tongue pushing into his lips. this isn’t the same type of a kiss that always had him reeling. that’s when he’s suddenly pushing the the sorority president off.
his jaw clenches at the interaction, shoving through the crowd, to get some fresh air. this better not get that psycho attached to him again, he curses.
sukuna presses his fingers to his eyes, rubbing them aggressively before finally looking up. chest suddenly tugging.
you were a few feet away by the benches. head thrown back laughing. the weird fuzzy lighting from the fairy lights strewn above the backyard illuminated your face like a halo. pretty. you probably just arrived, he thinks, pushing past a few more men to head to you.
however, his stomach twists the moment the whole group comes to view.
there you were smiling, as gojo leans close to you, laughing at something shoko had said, his hand casually feeding you smarties that you’re both sharing. your lips part with ease, touching his fingers as you take the candies into your mouth, before he’s retracting his hand and dumping a handful of smarties into his mouth, and licking the same fingers after.
you don’t seem bothered in the slightest, even as your eyes close laughing a little louder, slapping gojo’s chest lightly leaning against him, and gojo has an arm wrapped around the bench behind you. the entire thing left a bad taste in the vp’s mouth.
“move.”
sukuna suddenly appears beside gojo, hand coming to the white haired man’s head, shoving it lightly.
“woah, where’d you come from?!” gojo’s still laughing as he easily moves to the bench beside geto. your eyes flick up briefly, before turning your attention back to nanami.
“keep going, kento,” you say, unbothered as sukuna plops himself beside you, legs spreading on instinct and arm taking gojo’s spot on the back of the bench.
sukuna sips his drink, “what’re we talkin’ about?”
gojo laughs, “oh this girl is hitting on ken hardcore at his work study and he basically—“
“you don’t have to explain the whole thing again. just let him finish,” your cold words cut the conversation, silencing everyone. satoru pauses awkwardly glancing between you and sukuna. everyone feels a sudden shift in the air as sukuna’s brows pinch in mild confusion.
nanami clears his throat, “yeah, uh so after I went back to my desk and—“ his story trails on, sukuna does his best to focus, but it was difficult when he’s glancing over at you and sees how tight your shoulders are, arms and legs crossed, back resting against the bench, but avoiding his arm. you also weren’t laughing as loud as he’d seen before.
did something happen? sukuna leans over, voice low so only you can hear.
“when’d you get here?”
you take a deep breath, itching your chin, “dunno probably over an hour now,” you don’t meet his eye, so you miss the annoyance that crosses his face.
“you should’ve texted me, so you didn’t have to wait here—“
“I wasn’t waiting,” you cut immediately, eyes sharp. sukuna pauses, even more confused at the expression itched on your face. “I’m talking with my friends, it’s not like I’m sitting around waiting for you all the time.”
“did i say all the time?” he snaps back in quick irritation at your targeted attitude.
you huff out a sigh, turning back to nanami just for shoko to have noticed the tense interaction between you both and interrupt with your name. “you didn’t finish telling me what happened with your meeting.”
utahime clasps her hands, “oh my god yeah! you haven’t told me yet!”
that’s when your stomach drops.
“what meeting?” geto glances up from his phone.
“she had a meeting this morning with her screenwriting professor who really really likes her and invited her out for brunch,” utahime gushes on your behalf.
“oh yeah, I forget you minor in film,” geto hums. all the attention now on you, including sukuna’s, body turning slightly to listen.
“yeah,” you smile, “it was fine. she was really nice, complimented all the stuff I did this semester, said she really sees me having a good future if I wanna pursue film, and told me to keep in touch.”
“and the internship?” utahime leans forward, eyes bright, you almost hate yourself for cursing her out in your mind. specifically coming here as to not think about this morning.
“it’s like whatever.”
“what d’ya mean?” shoko presses.
you laugh, embarrassment coursing through your veins as you feel all their eyes on you. “like she didn’t fully bring it up and the conversation was going pretty well so I didn’t wanna ruin it.”
“but—“
“it’s fine,” you laugh, “film isn’t even my major so let’s just talk about something else. it went well so that’s the good thing,” you stop them from asking anymore questions, and both utahime and shoko give you sympathetic looks understanding immediately; while the boys don’t fully grasp what’s happening and easily change the subject.
sukuna however, similar to his friends, didn’t fully understand what the meeting with your professor meant, but he does notice how you went from laughing, to tense and short, to not speaking at all now. your eyes distant as you disassociate completely. mind wandering back to the morning brunch.
“anyone want more drinks?” he stands, counting geto, shoko, and nanami. then he calls your name, “come help me.”
“oh i can help,” nanami moves to stand, but sukuna shoots him a glare, hand wrapping around your wrist tugging you up before anyone could protest, ignoring the way shoko’s lips part.
you don’t have time to argue, when this large man is suddenly dragging you towards the house. “I can walk myself,” you twist your hand free, “jeez,” you mutter, glancing up when he halts with you. your breath catches, cheeks flushing at the expression on his face. “what?”
“are you mad at me?” his tone is clipped, irritated. your lips part. “did something happen?”
“what,” you’re baffled by how forward he is, glancing away in annoyance. “nothing happened, I’m fine, clearly.”
“yeah, you’re very convincing,” he scoffs, getting closer, seeing if he can read your thoughts.
you put your hand up to keep him from getting in your space, “well I’m tired from studying, and the meeting…” you grumble the last part, making his brows pinch.
“thought you said it went well,” he says, you roll your eyes.
the nerve. seriously, you should make interrogations a goddamn condition…then again, you’ve done plenty of that with him.
“no it didn’t go well, that was a lie. I was lying. she’s not responsible for awarding the internship, even if its part of her department, so she really just wanted brunch because she liked me or whatever,” you ramble, head falling back, as exhaustion seeps from your pores. sukuna frowns, stepping forward to touch your waist, just for you to step back oat the mere contact. “don’t.”
“don’t what,” he follows, but you take another step back, sharp glare targeting him.
“I’m not in the mood for you to touch me is what,” you huff, cheeks flushing at the confusion on his face. god, he’s so annoying. you swallow a thick lump in your throat, lips parting, tight pounding in your temple, “so don’t.”
sukuna stops, brows pinching, knot twisting in his chest.
a loud commotion breaks your conversation, both of you glancing in the direction with annoyance, expressions unnervingly identical. a couple of guys from another frat were picking up girls and tossing them into the pool. one of which was the pearl’s president who is making a show now of stripping her pink skirt and white top after coming out of the pool.
she manages to hold everyone’s attention, men and women alike catching their breaths as she glides her hands down her curves soaking up all the wandering envious glared like a fuel, almost as if the humiliation sukuna had targeted to her was being wiped clean. her eyes cut through the crowd in seconds, landing on the one person that she begs to look at her, sukuna.
you notice immediately, and the ugly bubble of disgust crawls up your spine, causing you to dramatically roll your eyes, brushing past the soccer captain.
sukuna immediately turns, the half-second he spent glancing at the commotion was enough time for him to grow sick of the sight and follow after you. you try to head back to your friends, but he catches your bicep again, easily tugging you to his broad chest.
“we’re still talking,” he meets your eyes, noticing your gaze locked on the sorority president who seems to be watching you both closely. her eyes are livid, you can see it from here, she whispers something to one of her friends pointing at you.
sukuna’s brows pinch, and the stupid unfiltered part of him decides to shove itself out as follows your line of sight, then glancing at you again, “did you see?”
your body goes rigid.
party falling silent,
you feels sick and annoyed all at once, and it only gets worse when sukuna’s starts talking, “she kissed me, we didn’t fuck,” he’s defending himself before you get the chance to say anything. your throat constricting as you sigh.
“I’m not—“
“so you are mad at me,” he snaps aggressively, grip tightening around your bicep, making you squirm slightly. “you could’ve said something if that’s what you’re thinking about.”
“dude, chill,” you huff, shoving his hand making him let go immediately. “god, you’re so dramatic,” you mutter, brushing your arm as you glare up at him. “I’m not mad at you jeez. I’m just fucking frustrated with my own stuff — again not everything’s about you,” you scoff, finding it amusing how you don’t even believe your own words to fullest. “or are you the only one that’s allowed to be upset about things?”
his jaw clenches.
you glance between his dark crimson eyes. he’s not saying anything.
but you don’t want him touching you. why?
you can’t even admit to yourself why! so now you’re glancing at his lips, cheeks flushing and vision turning a sick red knowing who’s lips had just been on his.
it wasn’t yours from this morning…it was some other girl…some girl that’s glaring daggers across the yard, scrambling to figure out who the fuck you are.
someone that forced herself onto him.
so why is it getting harder for you to breathe? why are you seeing red when you glance down at his pretty lips.
why are you getting more angry when he easily bends down to your height, exhaling heavily like he’s holding himself back because you told him not to touch you. all of it was causing your heart to beat faster than usual, noticing the way he looks over your features. grip clenching, tempting to crawl up to touch your waist—
“kuna!!”
a cold sticky splash hits sukuna straight in the face. you jerk back in shock.
“what the fuck!” he barks, hand coming down on his face, wiping the beer off his face.
yorozu, only wearing her pink lingerie, stands with the evidence in her hand, an empty solo cup, her chest heaves dramatically, eyes bloodshot and crazy, whipping her head to you now.
your eyes widen when the girl suddenly steps towards you. “who the fuck even are you?” she snaps with such judgement, looking you up and down like some rat from the subway. you seriously can’t help the way you step back in absolute cringe. face twisting like you smelled something atrocious,
“oh my god, this is unreal,” you scoff, brushing past her and getting away from the entire crowd of people that seem to be stuck in some cringey ass high school drama movie.
by the time you find your friends again, gojo and utahime are standing on their tippy toes trying to see what the commotion was all about on the other side of the yard.
“what’s goin’ on?” gojo asks when you appear out of the crowd.
you glance over your shoulder, face in a perpetual state of disgust and cringe, “that president that sukuna supposedly ‘hates’, threw a drink at him.”
“what?!” gojo and geto both get on their feet. “what’s he doing now?” geto asks.
“dunno, I left when she got up in my face,” you sit back on the bench with a loud huff. geto and gojo glance at each other again, and in seconds they’re pushing through the crowd stumbling through to find their friend, praying things haven’t escalated.
your remaining friends look back at you, clearly for some explanation. but instead, your fingers pinch your nose, head falling back.
“you okay?” utahime quietly comforts sitting beside you. she presses her hand over the one on your lap, and you feel a damn crack inside you. throat running dry in moments.
god, this is so exhausting.
you can feel the familiar hot stinging behind your eyelids, afraid to even respond not knowing what’s stirring inside you. your thoughts and feelings all a mess, and now all you can feel is the sinking in your stomach and the overstimulation of what was supposed to be a small mixer. you just wanted him…
“is she okay?” you can hear gojo’s distant voice as shoko answers. the attention feels like you’re being some sensitive baby that can’t take someone getting up in their face. you can! but that doesn’t mean you want any of the drama. that’s quite literally the main fucking reason you had this agreement! it was all too much, too much for someone who already had a pretty shit way of organizing her thoughts!
“here, i got you some water,” gojo sits on the other side of you, but your unable to take your hand off your face now, knowing exactly what’ll happen if you do.
you swallow thickly, before muttering a short. “thanks.”
“what happened?” shoko attempts to take the attention off of you as geto returns a few moments later, with a very angry sukuna huffing right behind him.
“the last time we’re ever fucking inviting that fucking psychotic ass sorority!” sukuna is swearing up and down as he pulls his beer drenched shirt off, tossing it aside and airing his baseball cap before putting it back on backwards.
geto glances over his shoulder, spotting most of the main kappa phi pearl members huddled around their deranged president. “yeah…just stay away from her or we’re gonna be caught in another problem.”
“I have been!” sukuna throws his hands up in exasperation. “I’ve been keeping my distance from that bitch all fucking night—“
“but you kissed her.”
the group goes silent.
everyone turns to you. shoko’s brows pinch in concern as utahime looks absolutely baffled at the reveal. however, the boys look even more shell shocked, as they stand still, including nanami.
sukuna’s jaw is taunt. red irises gleaming under the fairy lights, gaze locked on you.
“when did you kiss her??” gojo’s eyes snap to the man, who’s eyes haven’t left yours, noticing the slight gloss that shines over them.
“I didn’t kiss her,” he snaps coldly.
your brows pinch in irritation, “shoko.”
“we both saw you,” she agrees.
sukuna’s eyes are livid, adrenaline and sleep deprivation pumping through his veins as he glares at you in disbelief, and you reciprocate it with an annoyed shrug and a look that basically screams what?
“I told you I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me— doesn’t mean I asked her to go insane like she always fucking does,” he defends, words aggressive and heated.
you roll your eyes, “you kissed her back though.”
“are you fucking kidding me?!”
“dude we literally saw, right shoko!” the more defensive he became, the more heated you got.
shoko hums nodding her head, and as calm as she looks right now, shoko can’t help glancing at utahime as they both look between you and sukuna in worry. same for the other three men who are frozen in place.
“so you’re saying I asked for it!” he snaps.
your eyes widen, throwing your hands up towards him, “who’s the one putting words in my mouth now! if you don’t want drama, don’t kiss a million fucking people.”
“so kissing you and her is a million people?” he barks.
“you’re unbelievable—“
“what! I’m just repeating exactly what you’re saying. you forgot to add the part that we’re not dating, we fuck. fucking and kissing are two different fucking things!” his aggression only adds more punch to his words making you catch your breath in shock. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend, so I don’t know what the fuck you’re getting pissed about.”
you look around the group, putting one hand up, “raise your hand if you heard me say anything about him being my boyfriend?” no one raises their hand. “no one? yeah, that’s because that wasn’t even my point, dumbass,” you huff. “what i was saying is if you don’t want drama, don’t make any.”
“I wasn’t!”
“so did you or did you not kiss her back?”
sukuna groans loudly, “she threw herself at me!” he hits his chest, “are you not hearing that fucking part? do you have selective hearing or some shit?” sukuna aggressively taps his temple like you’re some simpleton.
you roll your eyes, “for someone supposedly smart, you’re really fucking dumb.”
“says you! jesusfuckingchrist!”
suddenly gojo and utahime are stepping in, getting between the both of you as she loops her arms with yours getting you to stand. “let’s go breathe.”
“yeah, take a break,” gojo pushes his friend to sit in your spot as utahime drags you further into the dancing crowd beside the pool.
“oh my god he’s such a dick,” you huff, face hot with anger and mind still pounding. utahime fans your face with her hands as she nods.
“it’s okay, it’s okay, everything that you said made sense, he’s just an idiot,” she agrees, body moving to the beat to get you to loosen up. luckily no one can hear your conversation over the music.
you help fan your face with your hands, inhaling sharply as your head tilts back, “never said he was my boyfriend,” you mutter.
“she’s pulling shit from her ass and I’m the dumb one!” sukuna continues to curse, grip so tight on the bottle, no one would be surprised if it shatters in seconds. “you all know how fucking insane that twisted bitch is — why the fuck would I get involved with her again??”
they all agree with him, nodding along, and humming and union, except for shoko, frowning. she quietly smokes her cigarette, eyes narrowing at the shirtless soccer captain.
it’s been a couple weeks since you started this deal with sukuna, and unbeknownst to you, your two closest friends are unsure how to feel about the relationship. shoko knows how stressed you are, you’re both bio majors on pre-med tracks, and while she takes her stress out by smoking cigarettes or weed — she knows you have a different source of relief, one that she vaguely knows about from freshman year.
the memories of freshman year when you first met by being paired for a group project in the fall. as much as you smiled and laughed, you were closed off, more than shoko was. it was to the point where shoko who had assumed you’d grown close and would be considered close friends, had no idea what you were struggling with until winter break.
she swallows thickly remembering you laughing the next day and vaguely explaining to her that you were on antidepressants, but you were trying to slowly wear them off, since you weren’t heavily reliant on them. but you accidentally miscalculated which caused the dark episode you had when she came by.
shoko was hesitant to leave you after that, but you reassured her over and over. nevertheless, the uneasiness she felt towards that moment left a lasting impact, even years later.
by the time your first year ended and the next year began, you were moving differently. you were still you, but there was a heaviness on your shoulders, something that utahime thought she could make better by telling you these speed dates she’s doing.
while shoko doesn’t like to think everything is so linear, or black and white. there were just so many blind spots to you, but what she knows is your stress, and your adamant refusal to have any drama or external problems weigh you down more than you already are.
which leads her to hating, but subtly relying on the man in front of her. the same one that had taken your stress away ten-folds for blocks at a time. but now it’s looking like he’s just going to add to it now.
shoko holds the nicotine in her lungs, letting it simmer inside before exhaling your name, “she doesn’t like drama.” she starts, turning the mens attention to her. “that’s really almost everything to it. you denying it and just stirring the pot is drama in it of itself.”
sukuna scoffs, “she was stirring the fucking pot by getting me to admit to something she already fuckin’ believes!”
shoko rolls her eyes in disbelief. men.
“she wasn’t trying too—“ shoko starts, but the man cuts in.
“I need a fucking drink,” sukuna stands back up, shoving through the crowd.
shoko shakes her head, even she can admit that your stress is being targeted towards the frat boy, and maybe seeing utahime trying to get you to dance instead of cool down didn’t look like the best idea.
utahime isn’t a party girl, but she’s also the best person to go to a party with. especially when she’s having you jumping up and down to house music with no alcohol in your system.
the music is too loud, the bass vibrating straight through your ribs, bodies pressing in on all sides, sweat-slick and carelessness.
you let your eyes close. just for a second.
the image of sukuna kissing yorozu resurfaced behind your eyes making your jaw clench. your stomach churns thinking about exams in a few days. all of it was making your feet feel lighter , your heart pounding faster trying to escape, and your senses start to lose ground.
you sway, weight shifting back as someone bumps your shoulder, and you’re not fully realizing the slight slip of your heel until you’re tilting back without thinking. body weightless for a moment, and gravity hanging you midair.
and the music cuts out in a single, ugly splash.
the water swallows you whole.
the shock steals the breath from your chest. as you sink, blowing bubbles at the loss of air in surprise.
after a moment, you break the surface with a sharp inhale. heaving as your shirt clings to your chest uncomfortably, heavy against your skin. you blink the water from your lashes, dragging a hand down your face. perfect, you think. catching your breath.
“are you okay?!” utahime pushes the crowd to get to the edge of the pool while your head is tilting back, staring up at the night sky in complete boredom. great, really this is great.
across the patio, sukuna just cracked open a beer when he hears the splash sharp enough to cut through the music. he glances up in annoyance, someone better not be fighting, or jumping off the fucking roof, but then he sees the ripple, and then spots you.
his brows pinch, stepping forward, glancing to see if it was any of those dipshits that tossed you in. but you were standing still in the pool like you chose to be there.
something tight and ugly coiled in his chest.
a few people crowded the edge asking if you were okay. some guys still in the pool swam over to check on you, since you scared a few with the sudden fall and splash. you don’t answer right away. your eyes half-lidded, completely unconcerned, like the world didn’t just knock you off your feet, literally this time.
sukuna doesn’t remember setting the beer down.
but by the time he gets to the pool, his jaw is clenched, and his shoulders are rigid. you’re brushing wet hair out of your face with annoying calm. bringing obvious attention your chest. your shirt clings to you like a second skin, the collar wet and sticking low on your chest revealing most of your cleavage. the hickey he marked your skin with last night prominent, but it wasn’t enough to keep almost all the men around you from checking you out. especially the pebbling of your nipples through your sheer shirt, your thin bra doing absolutely nothing.
you don’t even notice, you’re entirely somewhere else, staring at the reflection of the lights wobbling on the surface.
but sukuna notices.
his jaw tightens so hard it aches. he steps in fast. his broad shoulders cut through the half-circle of bodies like he’s clearing a path on instinct alone. he opens his mouth, already halfway to saying something stupid and vague—some bullshit or anything that will get you out of the water and away from these perverts eyes—
then two hands slams into his shoulder blades. hard and rough.
he stumbles, more from surprise than force. his boots skid on the wet concrete as someone shouts his name. but once he turns, it’s too late. the shove sends him backwards. and there’s a split second where his eyes meet yours.
then he hits the water.
the splash is loud. bigger than yours. the cold shock drags the breath out of him as he goes under. the crowd oh’s all turning in disbelief, everyone looking to see the perpetrator.
sukuna suddenly breaks the surface. hot steam was leaving his ears as he swears loudly, water streaming down his face, finally snapping you out of your disillusion.
you blink.
“oh,” you say flatly, like he just walked into a room instead of being shoved into a pool.
sukuna glares at the edge of the pool, cap floating in the water and hair plastered to his forehead. he looks feral, like a wet tiger. furious and somehow still very aware of the fact that you’re standing a few feet away, wet shirt clinging, eyes finally focused on him.
the laughter around you grows, the party rolling on, but sukuna doesn’t hear any of it.
he only sees you.
and the fact that now everyone else does too.
“did you get thrown in?” he barks in your direction.
you shrug.
he mimics your shrug in irritation, “fuck is that supposed to mean? yeah or no?”
you roll your eyes, “no I wasn’t shoved,” you tsked, moving to the edge. sukuna watches you closely, eyes following every moment, along with all the men staring you down. you carefully climb out, water falling from you as utahime helps you.
“did you fall in?” she mutters in confusion, because one second you were dancing beside her, the next she heard a splash and you were gasping out.
you flush, head hitting her shoulder, “can we leave?”
she nods frantically, arm wrapping around yours as she leads you away. both of you ignoring the fuming man still in the pool.
shoko and the rest had came to the pool after the commotion, the boys gravitated to their overly pissed vice president, while shoko met you and utahime half-way.
“it’s over,” sukuna starts, easily hoisting himself out of the pool, abs clenching and beefy arms flexing as water cascades down his toned chest, “end the mixer, we got what we want.”
gojo frowns, “but the nights still young.”
“I did see a couple people start puking,” geto grits in annoyance.
“and more people have been coming since the videos of the apology were posted,” nanami adds, causing both geto and gojo’s eyes to bulge, both feeling sukuna’s eyes close in controlled anger.
“pull the plug,” he utters through clenched teeth. gojo groans in annoyance, dragging his feet towards the dj as geto glances back at his wet friend. the man was standing completely still, strong arms crossed, reeking of chlorine and alcohol and face pulled into a permanent scowl. he quietly observed shoko and utahime across the yard as they squeezed your drenched shirt, while you tried to brush them off. a weak attempt when he sees you give up in seconds and just close your eyes in exhaustion.
geto glances silently between sukuna and you, brows pinching in thought. everybody in the frat was beginning to get a hint at your relationship with sukuna. many of them had a list of go-to girls they’d call up for a quick fuck. however, geto and gojo were beginning to realize how you’re starting to become the exception for most of sukuna’s rules.
it was odd in a way, seeing sukuna staring daggers at you across the yard, deaf to the complaints that echo through the crowd.
gojo had taken the mic to conclude the hectic mixer, people moaned and groaned, dragging their feet as he cut the music. sukuna watches you closely, eyes narrowing when he sees a few guys stop by you, unable to make out a word, but he can see them eyeing your chest.
“I’m gonna cut the music in the house, do you wanna round the people upstairs and in the basement?” geto pats sukuna’s shoulder, but the man shrugs him off, ignoring what he said to head in the opposite direction of the house.
you’re completely worn out from the day, shoko was checking her phone to call an uber for you guys, while utahime did her best to airdry you.
“s’ whatever, we’ll just take the subway if the uber guy won’t let us in,” you mutter in defeat. however, utahime just whines lowly, brows furrowed.
“I wish I brought a jacket. we’re not getting on the subway when you’re basically see through,” utahime huffs, lips parting before catching something behind you, her face going dead still.
“what?” your brows furrow, following her line of vision over your shoulder.
sukuna stands directly behind you, brooding aura towering over the three of you, hair damp and water still dripping from his jeans as he eyes your chest. you frown, hands coming up to your collar, pulling the sticky shirt from your skin to shake it out. “you need something bud?”
his frown deepens, “parties over.”
shoko and utahime roll their eyes, “yeah we’re leaving,” utahime tsks. sukuna, however, pays the girls no mind, keeping his gaze locked on you and the annoyance itched in your face.
fuck, you’re so goddamn irritating! his mind screams, veins straining in his arms. it was almost impressive how you could get under his skin with just a look. he can practically read what your face was saying. you won’t believe a word he says.
his hand moves on its own, touching your wet cheek with his thumb—
“uber’s here,” shoko interrupts. you barely bat an eye as you brush past the fratboy, heading around the house with utahime beside you and shoko behind, both girls rolling their eyes at the man.
while the only good thing that happened today was the uber letting you ride soaked, sukuna had a longer night kicking people out of the frat. luckily nanami stayed for a bit to help, along with yuno, as members started dragging people passed out in the basement and the yard. geto kept dragging gojo by the ear because he kept flirting with girls.
nonetheless, today is really the gift that keeps on giving. a handful of pledges are cleaning up the kitchen as the older members start shoving people out. sukuna had just thrown some guy slamming the front door shut just when a familiar figure descends the stairs, dawned in one of his sweats and tshirt.
“fucking christ,” sukuna inhales sharply, walking away. “get the fuck out.” he doesn’t even care to point out his clothes on the sorority president.
“sukuna,” she cooes wickedly. “i forgive you.”sukuna’s vein twitches. “i know you’re angry at me, but i just wanted to say sorry. I can make it up to you, I didn’t wanna throw that drink on you but people were whispering about you and that girl, and I just couldn’t help it,” her small arms reach for the man’s bicep, just for the cord inside him to snap.
he shoves her arm off, her small frame stumbles back.
“don’t fucking touch me!” his dark orbs cut through her instantly, goosebumps breaking out across her skin. “if you touch me one more time, I’ll snap y’er fucking neck.”
the air between them goes quiet. a few stragglers glance as they make their way to the exit followed by a couple pledges shooing them with brooms.
yorozu swallows a lump, eyes shining with quick tears that further annoy the frat boy. she takes a cautious step forward, “but I said I’m sorry—“
sukuna clicks his tongue, loud and heartless. “when I told ya I never wanted anything to do with you, I wasn’t fucking joking. it’s not my fault you got y’er brain fried because i fucked you twice, and ya think I want anything to do with you after. but if you need me to say again, here it is. I. hate. your. fucking. guts,” he spits with shameless cruelty.
her lip trembles, “y-you don’t have to like me. we can just have sex.”
“sex?” he scoffs, “I’d rather fuck a brick wall then stick my dick anywhere near your loose ass cunt again. we only fucked when i was piss drunk,” the girl is already in tears. wet lips parting. “and I didn’t even like it then, and I like anything drunk.”
“you don’t mean that!” she sobs.
“I do,” sukuna tsks in disgust, walking past the sorority president, but the second her fingers make contact with his passing bicep, he snaps. “fuck off!” sukuna’s shout had her flinching, and the entire house stilling.
he side steps yorozu, looking straight at two members “someone get her out of this house.”
—
utahime and shoko both crashed at your place for the night. the two girls deciding on it themselves, unfortunately, you didn’t have the guts to reject them. so instead you silently stood under the hot water, mind desperately trying to forget the events of the night as you closed your eyes. the water slowly cascades down your body, washing off the all the chlorine and stench from the party.
you could barely keep your eyes open in the uber, but now your mind won’t stay quiet. instead it felt like you were being punished as thoughts of yorozu making a scene at the party, a drink getting thrown at sukuna, your meeting this morning—
a sudden knock interrupts your thoughts. “sorry, I really needa pee,” utahime pokes her head in.
“yeah ‘s fine,” you reply behind the curtain.
the night — as long, loud, and chaotic as it was — ended abruptly with your body hitting the bed like a dropped sandbag. you grumbled to shoko and utahime that you couldn’t keep your eyes open, even though the truth was the opposite: you were exhausted everywhere except your mind, which refused to shut up.
now the apartment is silent, save for the soft, uneven breathing of your friends. shoko is folded awkwardly on the air mattress in the living room. utahime is half-buried in a throw blanket on the couch, both dead to the world. meanwhile, you’re lying awake in your room still, eyes open, body heavy, and brain still sparking like a live wire.
you wanted the silence of sleep to take over, to quiet everything. but it wasn’t coming easy. the meeting earlier today replaying in your mind…your exams…that annoying drama filled kiss.
your throat tightens as you glance at the antidepressants on your nightstand. you don’t crave them. you resent them. you’ve been successfully wearing them off for the last few weeks. you’ve been sleeping much better since another relief has taken it’s place, one that fills your mind and body with a shot of dopamine. but as three am ticks by, the silence grows teeth, and you finally let a finger nudge the lid.
the trazodone bottle makes the smallest click when it opens, obscenely loud in the quiet. you swallow thickly, dry-mouthed, pulse still humming from long day, and the absence of a certain tattooed frat boy as a distraction you’re trying very hard not to think about.
you shake out a single pill and glare at it like it personally wronged you before chasing it down with a lukewarm sip of water. it doesn’t knock you out. it doesn’t save you. it simply smooths the jagged edge of awareness, dulling the quiet just enough for you to stop wanting to crawl out of your own skin.
not a cure, or a setback…just a pill for the night.
and even that feels like defeat.
unfortunately, sukuna didn’t have a pill to quiet the demons. instead his shower consisted of a growing fire inside him. annoyance and irritation scratching at his insides as he replayed the moments that have lead him into punching his shower wall until it cracked, and his knuckles bled.
“fuck!”
his back heaved with each breath, eyes bloodshot as he eyed his bruised hand. none of it able to snap his mind from spiraling.
his heavy footsteps rattled his room, mind pounding and thoughts like daggers. how could he be so worked up after he’s so close to the end of the semester? but after the stunt yorozu pulled, and now you’re throwing it back in his face, every path he takes feels like battle. and of all the things currently unraveling in his life, his fucking sex buddy wasn’t supposed to be an added problem. that was the whole point of the fucking agreement!
sukuna groans face buried in the mattress, pillow over his head.
a kiss? was it the action that set you off? or was it because it was yorozu? if it was the latter than he wouldn’t blame you. either way, you didn’t even know her like he did, how could you get so worked up over that. and from what he could tell, the sunken look on your face, the exhaustion you were desperate trying to hide — you should’ve just stayed and let him fuck you. that’s why he’s here.
nonetheless, it didn’t matter how many circles sukuna thought himself into. his mind kept him awake for a majority of the night, unaware of your own thoughts that snuck into your dreams.
starting from this point on, it was a waiting game.
sunday morning arrives too quickly. the pill never fully pulled you under, but it softened the night enough for you to function, like applying a blur filter to a scene you didn’t want to watch in high definition.
shoko and utahime kept a close eye on you when you all went out for coffee. your movements were slightly sluggish, your reactions a bit delayed, and your emotions dulled. neither of them questioned it at first, considering how utahime was slightly hungover from last night, and shoko was chugging her coffee like it would quiet her nicotine addiction.
now, the three of you are camped out at the library long before noon, claiming your usual corner table with your notebooks, ipads and laptops out. the half-finished coffees surrounding you. the atmosphere is studious, but restless.
the calm before a week that’s about to devour all of you.
your eyes stay glued to the page, but your mind keeps cutting elsewhere…the argument, the pool, the drink spilled, the confrontation with the sorority president, her voice like ice against your spine.
you groan internally, despising how often the memory resurfaces, but you hate even more how sukuna is distracting you. you drag your pen across your notebook, trying to rewrite what you’d just been thinking before.
shoko yawns, mumbling something about regretting the drinks she had towards the end of the night. your pen freeze on the page. utahime’s eyes widen, noticing your sunken expression.
“hey,” she nudges you with her foot under the table, her expression sharper than her tone. “do you wanna talk about…you know?” she tries to soften her voice for you. shoko finally realizing what she’d said, her cheeks flushing, why’d she bring up the party!?
you glance between your friends, smiling, “i was just thinking about the meeting I had.” you notice both your friends fall quiet. eyes filled with pity. you laugh quietly, tone laced with rejection, tapping your pen on the table, “kinda embarrassing how I thought I’d actually get an internship—“
shoko’s brows pinch tight, “don’t say that. this happens to everyone. I didn’t get a thousand internships either. that shouldn’t be a direct reflection of your abilities,” shoko huffs, her mind still pounding from her hangover. but utahime nods along, just as serious.
“yeah, remember I told you, it could still be beneficial in the long run. everything happens for a reason,” her hand squeezes your forearm.
the sudden confidence in you pouring from your friends was…suffocating.
you swallow thickly, nodding your head. “yeah,” you mutter, the slight dejection in your voice completely going over your friends heads as they smile. neither of them realizing the amount of rejection you’re nursing. how their belief in whatever you wanna do in the future is making you feel even more insecure. why are you even trying to pursue something so hard? you should just keep your attention focused on your exams, and medical school….
utahime tries to read your distant expression, nibbling on her cheek. shoko and utahime exchange glances wondering if this was a good time. it was the selfish part of them that wanted to know.
“have you heard anything…?” utahime cuts the study session again. you glance up with a raised brow. “from him?”
your heart skips a beat, palms clammy and the instinctual eye roll was hard to control as you scoff. “that’s the furthest thing from my mind right now.”
“that’s good, what he did gave me the biggest ick ever,” shoko adds, with utahime nodding erratically.
“yeah you don’t need that type of energy around you. you definitely deserve someone better,” utahime’s firm words seem to hit you the wrong way as you sigh.
your eyes cut up to your friends, half lidded with a hint of irritation, “he was never my boyfriend. I don’t wanna explain this again.”
“we know we know, we’re just saying he’s just so ugh—“ utahime going into further detail about last nights events wasn’t helping your pounding headache and growing nausea.
meanwhile, across campus, sukuna wakes up like he’s been resurrected by bad decisions. his head splits first, then the world slowly loads around it.
he’s completely overslept. the frat house is unnervingly quiet, sunlight slicing through his blinds like a punishment. then he registers his phone’s nonstop vibration — notifications, tags, blurry photos, videos, comments he’ll never read.
a disgruntled groan leaves the beast as he lazily swipes through the notification on his lock-screen, then drops the phone on his chest with another groan. hundreds of messages. a thousand shitty reminders of last night.
but not a single notification from you.
the absence hits harder than the hangover. not dramatic, or poetic. just… noticeable.
you flip a page. sukuna rubs his temples. both of you brace yourselves without saying it out loud: exams start tomorrow, summer is close enough to smell, and the next week is going to feel a lot longer without the other to drown in.
a week of hell.
sunday was spent a majority in the library. utahime left towards the late afternoon after finishing her essays. she only has two finals this week — unlike you and shoko — I guess that’s the perks of being a fashion major, and business minor.
you, on the other hand, felt like every passing second studying was like you were crawling your way out of hell. your body was sinking and your mind was wandering. the food truck food between you and shoko was only keeping you alive, not satisfying your hunger.
either way, the next day is when things slowly began to fall apart. specifically after your first exam.
the monday sun hits the courtyard like a spotlight. everyone looks exhausted, a little dehydrated, and stressed as hell. you, shoko, and utahime are halfway through lunch when utahime freezes mid-scroll, eyebrows shooting up.
“what?” shoko sips her iced coffee.
uathime is almost pale, turning the phone to shoko. you glance up, noticing both their frozen reactions.
“woah, i wanna see,” you say, crawling before they can react. and of course—
the biggest sorority on campus — kappa phi pearl — posted multiple different party recap photos/videos of saturday’s mixer at delta alpha stride. except the recap is basically exposing everything in pink glitter.
“what the…” you lean over, eyes narrowing at the first slide of their third post.
front and center: a photo of their president, yorozu, drunk-grinning, breasts pushing out of her top, hands gripping sukuna’s collar, and mouth pressed to his in the kiss he clearly did not initiate that night.
a wave of nauseous crawls up your throat. his crimson eyes are half-lidded in the photo, one brow raised, hand already mid-motion pushing her off-frame, irritated. but seeing him kiss her again, had an unwelcome feeling twisting in your gut for the second time.
“why would they even post that?” utahime scoffs in shock.
your finger just swipes to the next slide: the fight.
sukuna is on the patio, wild hair damp under his backwards baseball cap, shirt drenched from yorozu’s spilled drink, veins sharp with anger, jaw tight like it was carved specifically to ruin lives. and his finger was pointing at someone off-screen.
“when was this?” shoko questions.
you lick your bottom lip, breath-controlled. “I think after she threw her drink at him and I walked back to you guys.”
the comments however were eating that slide up:
‘not him fighting the air again 😭’
‘anger issues from our captain!! moreee🫦🫦’
‘red flag but… like… smashhh😍’
‘what’s his @…for b-blocking purposes ofc🙈’
‘when was this?? i always miss the drama!’
shoko cringes at the comments, while you swipe to the next slide…and of course it’s a video of the pool, and you just happen to be falling into it at the same moment.
“you’re not even part of the sorority??” utahime exclaims in disgust. “why would they choose this video??”
“I guess because those sorority girls are dancing on the side,” shoko tsks. your brows furrow as you watch yourself. your soaked shirt clinging to your chest for all their followers to see. however the camera pans back to the sorority girls on the side, and they start….laughing.
“what the fuck?!” shoko and utahime’s shout, jaws slack in shock, including yours.
“wait guys…” you turn to them in disbelief. “are we in high school again?”
“that’s literally insane,” shoko’s dumbfounded. “why’re you catching strays?”
“no for real, what the hell??”
this can’t be real? you’ve never been apart of any drama in college because it was so easy not to be apart of it, unlike high school. but after one night, it seems like your luck has run out.
“I’m gonna report them,” utahime starts, shoko hums as your head drops back.
“they don’t even know my name, why would they even include that in their recap?” your voice is laced with annoyance.
utahime tsks, “forget about them, I’ll handle it, especially because I can say some shit about your shirt literally showing everyt—“ utahime stops herself. “and we’re definitely skipping suguru’s shitty pool party this week too.”
“and we still have so many exams,” shoko whines, immediately letting reality set as you lean back into the sun.
“this sucks,” you mutter, fingers picking at the grass. your eyes drift towards the library you’ll inevitably end up in later. there was nothing distracting you from the overwhelming doom of finals week…and now this drama, and you don’t have a buffer. no sukuna.
‘wait who is the pool girl???’
‘the chlorine knew what it was doing😩’
‘she fell in and still looked hotter than everyone’
‘surprised no one jumped in after her🥵’
sukuna’s blood boils with every comment he scrolls through.
the boys had sent pearl’s recap posts to the groupchat, and after gojo came crashing into the vp after his final. sukuna was forcefully shoved their instagram page in his face, to see the multiple recap posts. gojo is swearing up and down about the first recap post they uploaded, where it was multiple different videos of his humiliating apology, minus sukuna’s part, he was livid. all the while sukuna is immediately recognizing himself on the cover of the next recap post.
“what the fuck?”
sukuna stops in the middle of the sidewalk. grip tightening around gojo’s phone.
“yeah man, there’s a thousand fucking angles of this goddamn apology and—“
sukuna quickly pulls out his own phone, finally checking the notifications he’s been avoiding since yesterday.
“not that—why the fuck would they post this shit?” sukuna grits, jaw tense as he sees the photo of yorozu kissing him. the comments are a mess, different people wondering if their favorite tiktok influencer/ sorority president is dating this guy. people tagged him a million times in their now deleted stories. a couple other fraternities and sororities that were there that night, posting their own recap posts with the apology, the fight he had on the patio, or him falling in the pool.
the worst one was their were just as many random comments about you. even though many girls had jumped in the pool, it was seeing your nipples through your shirt that sent many into orbit. or that bored expression you had that had so many commenting about how nonchalant you looked completely drenched.
“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” sukuna swears, quickly swiping through all the photos. there were more of him randomly, and gojo. it was normal for a recap post, but their captions were beyond misleading.
“tell me about it,” gojo swears, arm crossed as he glares at his phone. his speech playing from the speaker. “why wouldn’t they add your part.”
sukuna scrolls through the group chat briefly.
“a lot of the sororities unblocked us though. but I can’t stand this humiliation,” gojo grits, ruffling his white hair as he glances around, then stops… “did you get any texts from,” gojo mutters your name cautiously.
sukuna freezes.
“haven’t checked. been studying since yesterday,” he mutters sharply, cutting any further discussion. gojo hums, rocking on his heels catching the vp’s attention. his brow cocks in irritation at his friend. “what?”
silence followed the one word question, but sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he noticed gojo glancing over his shoulder. nodding subtly in the direction.
it had been less than forty-eight hours since the night. however, the ugly pit that sank deep in his gut was immediately triggered by your presence on the courtyard.
you were laying on the grass beside shoko and utahime. eyes closed under the spring sun. your lips parting still talking to your friends.
the unexpected twist in sukuna’s chest left a bad taste in the back of his throat. the memories resurfacing in seconds as his jaw locks. you hadn’t texted him, or called, but he also hadn’t reached out either. why would he? you were accusing him of everything!
“i was gonna say hi,” gojo treads carefully, eyeing his friend for any reaction.
sukuna shrugs his backpack higher on his shoulder. his gaze sweeps over you again. the wind gently brushes your hair as you sit up on your arm. you’re pointing at utahime as you say something.
“I’m gonna gooo nooow….” gojo drags each syllable, taking slow steps onto the grass of the courtyard. his hands in his pockets as he looks back at his grumpy friend.
sukuna shoots him an unamused expression, lip curled in a scowl at the white haired man’s antics. “then go.”
gojo frowns, “you don’t wanna say hi to your girlfriend?”
the word immediately triggers the tatted man, the vein in his temple snaps. he shoots a sharp glare at gojo as he turns on his heel. “fucking dick.”
gojo laughs, running after his friend. “I’m kidding I’m kidding! you’re so sensitive!” he throws his arm over sukuna’s shoulder, just to be shoved off by said man.
unbeknownst to either of them, your eyes had drifted from utahime to the commotion a couple feet behind her. your expression dulled at the sight of the six foot so athlete. he looked offensively good for someone just walking out of a final. his jeans sit low on his hips, a clean black t-shirt stretched slightly over a frame built from a strict schedule and diet, and a backwards baseball cap that only makes him look more like a hot fratboy. the familiar plain backpack hangs off one shoulder, and his headphones are looped around his neck.
of course, you recognize the familiar white haired man walking beside him, oversized hoodie half-zipped, sunglasses on, grinning like he’s just said the most diabolical thing ever. he nudges sukuna’s shoulder while talking, but sukuna barely reacts, hands stuffed in his pockets, posture loose, steps slow and sure, like the courtyard parts a little just for him without him noticing.
you wonder if other people see him the way you do? wait—
“you wanna head to library now?” shoko cuts your thoughts, ripping your attention away from the retreating men.
“yeah let’s go,” you stand, ignoring the slight flush that dusts your cheeks when you notice shoko and utahime glancing back. both catching sight of the men you were looking at.
“oh,” utahime slips, eyes trying to meet yours, but you’re already walking in the opposite direction.
as stressful and chaotic the week has been, sukuna still attempts to let off some steam with a run after his exam.
spring is melting into summer, humid and merciless, and it shows on him: sweat-drenched shirt clinging to a torso carved by D1 soccer conditioning, athletic shorts riding high on his muscular thighs showing off the bands of ink that wrap around each thigh, calves glistening from the pump, and headphones peeling off his ears as he crosses the yard. his backwards cap never moves, casual, and infuriatingly attractive, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat running down his face— even cardio couldn’t shake the arrogance out of his silhouette.
he’s breathing hard, body and temper still calibrating back to baseline when he returns to the house like a quiet storm cloud. the door slams harder than intended, rattling the crooked banner the new pledge-turned-members half-hung for friday’s pool party.
the frat is anything but quiet as sukuna crosses the house stepping onto the patio to see a majority of the members hanging out in the hot weather studying, or fooling around.
“oh! captain how was your run?” a younger member, also apart of the soccer team comes up to the sukuna as he grabs an energy drink from the cooler.
“fine,” sukuna dryly replies, still lost in his mind when he notices one of the new members. the first-year is sitting on the outdoor couch, legs kicked up, sorting through the week’s mail like it’s arts and crafts. folders, packages, envelopes, junk flyers from ads… and one sleek black folder stamped with a foreign crest that makes sukuna freeze mid-sip.
the first-year doesn’t notice the silence curdling behind him. his fingers flip the folder open, careless and nosy, like a guy who’s forgotten he was a pledge just a week ago. sukuna knows that folder. the same way a wolf knows its territory. his name is printed on the front, bold, clean, important. the first-year squints at it like he’s trying to solve some puzzle sukuna never gave him.
“hey…you guys get folders like this often?” the kid says, voice a little too loud for someone who’s inches away from committing a crime.
sukuna moves before anyone can blink.
one second he’s across the patio, the next his shadow is towering over the first-year, swallowing the afternoon sun whole.
he suddenly rips the folder from the kid’s hands. it was primal. the paper crackles in his grip. a few of the frat brothers look up from their beer-less studying circles, from the pool cleaning equipment, from their phones, and immediately feel the air shift.
“the hell do you think you’re doing?” sukuna speaks, low and molten. no tremor or shout, but simmering control.
the first-year feels his stomach drop to his ass, heart racing as sweat builds on his forehead. “i didn’t—i was just— it thought it was an a-ad—“ he sputters excuses, but sukuna doesn’t hear a single syllable. the air around him sharpens as the members exchange glances. because sukuna snapping is normal. but sukuna grabbing a folder like it contains someone’s soul? that’s new.
they feel the warning signs lighting up one by one.
“don’t fucking open the mail,” sukuna spits, just as gojo is stepping out onto the patio, decked in his usual sunglasses,completely shirtless, and swim shorts hanging low on his hips, unashamed of the fresh hickey decorating his sharp v-line, or the scratches down his back, or the girl disappearing out the front door.
“what’s going on—“ gojo reaches for a juice box, then stops. his eyes catch the folder in sukuna’s hand, the air grows thicker. “oh shit.”
sukuna frowns, cutting the punishment he was about to inflict on the first-year short. he crosses the patio, passing gojo with a silent threat not to speak as he enters the house. but gojo isn’t one to listen to threats, as he follows the vp.
“yo, when’d they email you?”
sukuna ignores him, heading towards the stairs to his room.
“dude?! i thought you weren’t—“ gojo huffs when sukuna continues up the stairs, completely ignoring him. geto is stepping out of the bathroom freshly showered, towel held by one hand when he hears gojo shouting. “well i’m happy for you, asshole!”
geto raises a brow as sukuna passes him— immediately noticing the folder.
“oh shit.”
sukuna grits, jaw tensing.
“when is it—“ geto starts, just for sukuna’s door to slam in his face. geto looks down the stairs, making eye contact with gojo as the two exchange irritated looks due to their hot headed friend. “fuck is his problem?”
gojo throws his hands up in an exasperated shrug. “don’t know. he was the one giving me shit over winter break for getting in one.”
geto hums, brows furrowed, “he’s been a dick all week.”
“stop talkin’ shit outside my door!” sukuna snaps from his room.
back inside, sukuna drops the folder on his bed, his breathing is still, eyes sharp as if he can read the contents through the black concealment. his beefy arms cross in thought, his mind spiraling as he stares holes into the folder.
this is both the best outcome, and the worst possible timing ever.
sukuna snatches the folder ripping it open.
the days felt like centuries. every final felt like a part of your lifespan being sucked away. each moment spent studying something you know you’ll definitely forget, felt like absolute torture and humiliation. reading the same question on the exam, and remember studying that exact topic, but forgetting how to solve it, was just god laughing at you.
but the cherry on top was returning home wednesday night with most of your finals under your belt, only two left, but you were so lost in your mind that you couldn’t recognize the man standing beside a parked car, hand in his pocket talking on the phone.
your headphones blasted music that’ll definitely be the cause of your hearing loss in a few years. you unlock your apartment, shoulder dropping, letting your bag hit the ground, already feeling the exhaustion of the day building up behind your eyes, ready to cry in the shower—
“you’re here!” a loud squeal sends you flying ten feet in the air, just as a little four year-old comes crashing into you.
“what the—“ you stumble back, holding the little girl, keeping your balance as you glance up, wide-eyed. “when did you get here??”
standing just a few feet away was jennie, your older sister, aka. the person you trust the most in life, and your biggest op.
“we’re in the city for sami’s meetings, our flight leaves friday, did you not see him downstairs by the car?” jennie asks, crossing the tiny living room to reach you, her arms wrapping over your shoulders for a tight hug. “i tried calling you, but i guess you were still in class.”
“finals actually,” you mutter, arms loose around her frame, forehead dropping on her shoulder. “I’m so tired.”
your sister coos, squeezing you tighter before pulling away. “well i bought you some pastries.”
“i want some!” your niece, yazzy, huffs by your leg.
“you had some,” jennie picks her up as she steps further into the apartment. you quietly glance at the suitcase by the couch, along with nice dress your sister was wearing, a couple of yazzy’s toys were also lying around. “did you have dinner yet?”
you shake your head, following her to the kitchen.
“mommy got you spaghetti and chicken!” yazzy claps, as your sister laughs lightly, you smile.
“we got dinner for yazzy, i asked them to box some pasta for you too,” your sister pulls the box of food from the microwave to keep it warm. “i put the pastries over the fridge, to keep ‘em away from this one,” she pumps yazzy up on her hip for emphasis.
you sit at the small kitchen table, grabbing the box of pasta. “thanks, you didn’t have to get me so much food,” you cautiously glance at her as she sets yazzy back down. “are you guys gonna stay the night?” a small part of you twists at the thought, but you shove it down. “I have the air mattress too, so i can take the couch and you and sami can sleep in the room with yazzy since i need the lights on to study.
you sister picks at the table, still standing across from you avoiding your eyes, “favor?”
your frown.
she smiles, full of semi-guilt, “sami has another fundraiser, it started an hour ago…and i was wondering if you could watch yazzy for the night so i can go with him.”
“jen.”
“I’m sorry, i tried calling you all day, but you weren’t answering!”
“i had finals—“
“all day?”
“I was studying, I wasn’t checking my phone,” you huff, glaring at your sister. your throat constricts as yazzy makes noises a few feet away with her toys. the tv playing some cartoon. “you couldn’t get a nanny for the night?”
jennie glares back at you, the type that makes you roll your eyes, “you know I don’t like that.”
“but you can get a personal driver in a city you don’t even live in,” you bite back coldly.
her tongue clicks, “that’s completely different.”
“whatever,” you grumble, neither of you breaking eye contact, until she glances over your face again.
“you look dead.”
you frown, “it’s almost like it’s not finals week, exactly why I can’t watch yazzy.”
“I’m asking for one thing idiot. it’s her bed time anyways, let her sleep the night and I’ll pick her in the morning before your class—“
“final.”
“yeah, whatever,” jennie always has a way of getting under your skin in seconds, and the easiest possible way is making you feel like shit for saying no, especially to her. “dad was also telling me to check on you.”
your frown deepens, finally glancing away.
“asked me if I knew you weren’t taking your mcats this summer,” she drawls, you briefly glance for her reaction. “I told him I knew.”
“what the hell??”
she sighs, sitting in front of you, her arms cross, “I wasn’t going to lie if he directly asks. I just wanted to check on my baby sister—“
“don’t say that,” you cringe.
she laughs, “well I wanted to make sure you’re okay—“
“and dump your kid on me—“
“your niece, who you haven’t seen in awhile,” she cuts in coolly, because when is she not?
you gasp, “I literally saw you guys in the summer. sorry you didn’t feel like visiting over winter break.”
your sister waves you off, “well are you doing okay?”
“yeah, I’m fine,” you lie through your teeth, and your sister immediately narrows her eyes.
“I thought you were getting off the antidepressants?”
your jaw tenses, eyes narrowing harshly, “why’re you going through my stuff?”
“technically this is still my apartment—“
“your husbands,” you correct.
she brushes your comment, again, “the bottles are like empty.”
“dramatic much? there’s still a few left. I’m just taking them this week, literally not your problem,” you huff, regretting the fact that she knows about this part of you. she has a cruel way of throwing any secret you tell her, back in your face.
“well when you act like a snappy bitch then I’m not dramatic since you have such an attitude,” she coldly claps back.
your blood freezes, annoyance boiling up inside, “you’re so annoying,” you mutter, standing up, completely over this interrogation.
jennie’s eyes narrow as you grab your bag from the front door. “why do you always get so defensive? I’m just talking to you, and you always get so butt-hurt?”
“I’m not butt-hurt, I just hate the way you talk to me like I’m an idiot,” you roll your eyes, already feeling the face your sister makes when she’s irritated and ready to rip you apart. it was a face that you felt deep in your soul, you knew and hated it so much.
“more like sensitive,” she points. your eyes roll into the back of your skull. “ignoring me?”
“whatever, go. I’ll watch yazzy,” you snap, “you’re so annnoying,” you mutter, not low enough for jennie to miss it though. you toss your bag into your room, making the four year old glance back at you and her mom from the couch.
“maybe take another pill too cool the flip down then,” jennie says as she crosses the small apartment to yazzy, kissing her forehead. “be good to auntie.”
your arms are crossed, weight leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom, beaded curtain resting on your back as you watch your sister grab her purse, fixing her heels on. she glances up at you, matching your harsh expression with her own. “call dad. him nagging me is annoying as hell.”
“almost like that’s not my life every freakin’ week,” you snap coldly.
“alMosT liKe tHat’s nOt mY liFe evERy weeK,” she mimics. your blood pressure spikes in seconds, successfully rage baiting you like the perfect older sister. “night.” she disappears with an eye roll, door shutting behind her.
your head drops, mind pounding as you hear your four-year old niece singing in the living room.
your sister brought up dad in the worst possible time, because now you’re spiraling as you pull up your phone, tapping your dad’s contact to read the multiple messages he’s sent you since the last time you spoke to him at the library. not only was he sending you forms to fill out for the hospital, he was sending you other doctors contacts, and their kids contacts who are in med school now. fuck!
“can we watch a movie together?” yazzy cuts in from the living room. you glance over, the girl is smiling so brightly it was blinding, and quite exhausting, it was nearing nine at night and she was not looking close to being tired.
“yup, lemme shower real quick and we can watch.”
one movie led to another, then another, until the soundtrack of kpop demon hunters was playing on repeat in your head, especially because your niece keeps rewinding every song.
the overwhelming pit in your stomach grew larger. it was amusing to think you could study while also sitting with her. the music and her four year old voice singing along felt like pure torture. the headache grew into a twisting sensation in your temples, head dropping back on the couch.
you love her to death…but seriously…
“again, again!” she jumps in front of the tv as she rewinds the song to golden.
the looming shadow of tomorrow’s exam made you feel worse. your stomach began hurting with the anxiety of failure…
as the night grew, you had to forcefully shut the tv after the clock struck eleven. the four year old would not stay still unless you laid beside her until she fell asleep. but the second you left her on your bed to go back to the living room to study, she’d suddenly appear beside you again.
“yazzy,” you sigh, exhaustion seeping through your bones as you stand up carrying her back to bed.
“don’t leave,” she mutters under her breath, small hands clutching your shirt. “I can’t sleep alone.” you sigh in defeat, humming. praying this time she’ll actually fall asleep so you can slip away again.
however, your prayers, once again, are not answered.
instead, you feel the moment you close your eyes, they were opening again, but the sun was up.
you wake up disoriented, the kind of heavy confusion that comes from sleep you never meant to have. the bed is warmer than it should be, sunlight harsher than it has any right to be, and your niece is already awake, blasting the same movie from last night.
your heart jolts awake before the rest of you does. you blink once, twice, and then it hits you like a thousand pound brick: you passed out, halfway off your meds, and completely off your shitty schedule.
you launch yourself out of bed, as the world tilts. your eyes quickly look around stumbling out of your room, landing on the floor after tripping on one of yazzy’s toys, scrambling over to grab your phone off the coffee table.
yazzy follows you with her eyes, music blasting from the tv behind her like a soundtrack to your mental breakdown.
the screen lights up. 9:34 AM.
“fuck!”
your exam is at 10. campus is 20 minutes away on a good day. and you still need to walk to the station—maybe the bus is faster—
“that’s a bad word,” yazzy giggles, your brows crease, determined, albeit frazzled as shit. you stand up, senses sharper than they should be as you glance around the apartment like a crazy woman.
“mommy is not here yet?”
she shakes her head, sitting back on the couch, legs swinging as she looks at you standing in front of her.
you swallow thickly, not a single notification from your sister.
“I’ll pick her up in the morning,” you mutter under your breath.
you’re dialing before your lungs fully refill. it rings. rings again. you pace back n forth, glancing around your apartment. “come on, come on,” you mutter. your feet quickly grabbing your bag and shoving your laptop and random notes in, stuffing your keys and id in. you were failing to parent and student at the same time.
yazzy walks over, tugging your shorts. “I’m hungry,” she looks at the kitchen, your eyes folllowing.
fuck it, you quickly grab the box of pastries over the fridge ripping it open and handing her two pastries. “you wanna quickly change?”
you run as fast as you can grabbing some clothes from the suitcase your sister left for her and handing her the clothes to change while you grab socks for yourself, a zip up hoodie and a baseball cap.
“are we going?” yazzy’s confused as she pulls the clean shirt on, her pajamas on the floor.
“yup, mommy’s gonna meet us in front of my school,” you start walking out the door, niece in hand, and bag over your shoulder.
then finally, jennie picks up. music, chatter—of course, she’s at some other event.
“you said morning!” you hiss, whisper-yelling like the walls are judging you, racing down the stairs, “it’s morning so where the hell are you?!” you spit.
“I texted you to tell me when your class was, you didn’t answer,” she says coolly like your entire morning isn’t hell right now.
you can’t breathe, your heart was pumping in your ears, and your blood was on fire.
“I fell asleep,” you spit like it was her fault, which you’re unfairly putting on her, but you could care less. “my exam is at 10, I’m leaving the apartment now—“
“where’s yazzy—“
“she’s with me, I’m not a freaking idiot. so you better be in front of the arts and science building ten minutes before I get there,” you snap.
“okay,” she aggressively snaps back, hanging up on you.
your blood spikes, groan curdling up your throat as you squeeze your nieces hand, holding back a scream.
on the street, the spring heat slaps you again. sweaty toddler beside you, your bed hair hiding under a baseball cap, backpack half-zipped, phone trapped in your hand. you speed-walk like you’re being chased, heart racing, eyes darting. you can’t even tell if people are staring at the college girl dragging a toddler into the bus. but you know you look insane. you feel insane.
yazzy swings your linked hands happily, oblivious, giggling when you jog a little once you arrive at your stop. quickly exiting the bus, you cross the street faster. meanwhile, you’re spiraling — panic, rage, and anxiety.
you can’t think, you check the time on your phone every second a minute passes. yazzy is still blabbing about the movie, humming golden under her breath as you slowly start panicking once it reaches 9:57 and you don’t see jennie anywhere near your building.
you tighten your grip on yazzy’s tiny hand sprinting to the building, whispering a prayer that your sister arrives in the next minute or you might just kill her.
but it’s not until the clock strikes ten, does a slick black car pull up to the curb, your chest is heaving from running and the hot morning sun. while your sister steps out of the backseat, composed as can be.
“mommy!” yazzy smiles, running to her mom the second you take a step towards her.
“hi baby,” jennie easily scoops up the little girl, eyes flicking up to you with guilt as you step back. “thanks, and you didn’t tell me what time last night so you can’t blame me—“
“whatever,” you snap, turning quickly to run into the building, not having a single second to spare as you run up the flight of stairs to your lecture hall.
you’re praying that your professor hasn’t closed the doors yet, and maybe you shouldn’t have, because the moment you step into the lecture, a sheer layer of sweat clinging to your skin, and chest heaving in your pajamas. you’re realizing you’re not ready for this exam at all.
nonetheless, you quickly mutter an apology to your professor, quickly grabbing the first available seat as the exams are being passed throughout the lecture hall.
the quiet shuffles and scribbles of pen on paper fill the lecture hall as the exam commences.
with the morning you’ve had, you have to read each question thrice before you’re able to even attempt at answering the question.
unbeknownst to you, a familiar frat boy is sat three rows back. his pink hair just as unruly as his appearance. however, the second he sees you storming into the lecture hall, along with two other people that were late, he feels completely uneasy.
maybe it’s because there was an empty seat beside him. or that shoko hadn’t greeted him when she took her seat a few rows back, hiding from any TA’s. but seeing you again since the courtyard, left that unfamiliar twist in his gut again. the one that clenched up in concern seeing your flustered state as you came running in.
his mind was internally screaming. forcing every braincell to focus on the exam in front of him. ignoring everything else.
the thudding in your chest doesn’t seize until the last ten minutes are left, and you’re going back to the questions you left blank, quickly scribbling down a guess before standing up and handing your exam to a TA.
the weight of the morning hasn’t fully set in once you step out into the spring heat.
did shoko finish already? in your alert state, you’d completely ignored everything around you, so it’s possible shoko had finished and left or is still in there. either way, your head tilts back, allowing the morning sun to grace your face. the buzzing in your bag suddenly starts again pulling you a frown from your lips.
then you feel a shadow.
your heart skips a beat. your lashes flutter softly, glancing up at the source. and you hate yourself. truly. your stomach twists and churns in confusion, and your throat feels tight and dry at the sight of him.
“what happened to ya?”
there was a softness to his casual tone. his own appearance wasn’t impressive, looking like he’d rolled out of bed too. however, his eyes didn’t look like a damn that was about to burst just from a single touch, like yours. but it did look like he’d melt between your fingers the moment you meet his eyes. he swallows thickly, holding his breath when you glance away, shrugging…then your hand slowly comes up to your face, thankful for your baseball cap now.
“I’m just…” you swallow. “that was hard.”
sukuna hums, fingers cautiously reaching for your wrist. index finger caressing the bracelet around your wrist.
“i guessed on like…all of it,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes to hold back your exhausted tears.
sukuna could feel his heart thudding against his chest. the events and unwelcome fight you’d had last weekend quietly haunts his mind like a silent cloud, unsure if it’ll turn into rain, or get winded away. the bags under his eyes were similar to yours, clearly pulling an all nighter to study for the exam. but the tugging in his chest, wouldn’t stop, even when you brushed a finger in the creases of your eyes.
“how bad do i look?”
he blinks, eyes locked before he looks over, giving you a shrug. “not too bad.” his hand gently tips your cap back to get a look at your face. “you do have some dried drool here,” he lightly taps your cheek, an amused snort leaving his lips.
“seriously?” your hand comes up quickly, face hot as you lick your thumb and rubbing it off. “so embarrassing,” you mutter.
even after the exam, the heaviness that weighs down on your shoulders doesn’t disappear. and sukuna towering in front of you only stirred an unknown feeling inside you that you’re not ready to address. especially when he’s still playing with your bracelet, then your necklace, thumb brushing your collarbone, as he takes a deep breath.
“where’re ya heading now?” he asks, tone gruff, but slightly soft around the edges.
“to shower, then come back and study,” you glance over your shoulder. “don’t know if shoko finished yet—“
“y’still have another exam later?”
you shake your head, “tomorrow morning is my last one.” sukuna quietly nods, gaze still on your chest. “do you have any exams left?”
he nods, “last one is tomorrow too.”
the air quietly shifts, neither of you wanting to address the elephant in the room. his aura is silent, like a resting beast, unsure if you should wake him up or not. your heart picks up at the silence as another beat passes between you, when you hear chatter from a group beside you. your brows scrunch, overhearing a couple sentences.
“is that the captain?”
“I thought he was dating yoro?”
sukuna gaze darkens, the two of you glance at the group of sorority girls, with their similar bright colored outfits. his sharp brows scrunch, the tattoos on his face seem much more intimidating. especially when you feel that ugly twist in your stomach again, along with the prickles of disgust.
your casual step back automatically draws sukuna’s attention back to you. his hand slips from your wrist as you suck in a sharp breath.
sukuna frowns, frustration quickly boiling up like his cup has been steadily rising since the mixer. his temper has never been his best quality. “don’t just—“ he starts, cutting himself short when you start walking away.
sukuna easily follows you, hand brushing your back, before standing in front of you. “just tell me if the deals over.” he stares into you, cornering you. “your fuckin’ choice.”
the sun beats down, heat stinging as sweat trickles down his forehead.
“why am i being put on the spot?” you mutter, embarrassment crawling up your spine as you glance away.
“y’er the one that caught an attitude, ignoring me tellin’ me not to touch you,” he claps back, immediately pushing your buttons as your eyes shoot up to him.
“me?!”
sukuna rolls his crimson eyes, snarl pulling at his lips, “just tell me if ya still want this deal.”
“it sounds like you don’t want it anymore since you think I’m treating you like my boyfriend, which I never ever wanted” you throw his words from the mixer back in his face.
“that’s not what I meant when I said it,” he spits, neither of you addressing your pounding headaches, or the twists in your chests every time the other responds with the same cruelty and lack of empathy.
you shrug sarcastically, “well it’s hard understanding anything since you’re the one that caught the attitude, and just started yelling at people.”
sukuna can hear his brain pounding against his ears. the blood pumping through his strained veins, grip tightening around the strap of his backpack. his eyes narrow, glancing over the flush across your face caused by the heat, the slight rising of your chest, and the gloss that shines across your lips.
“you didn’t answer the fuckin’ question,” he seethes between clenched teeth.
you frown. heart pounding.
do you still want this agreement?
after everything, and the rise in blood pressure he’s been the source of, the added stress from his drama. all of it was just a big. fat. headache.
…but is it bigger than the one you’ve already been nursing. with classes, assignments, medical school, jennie, dad…
was sukuna making it worse…or is he something else?
you swallow thickly, glancing over his features. for a big man, he was radiating exhaustion, like he’d fall over with a small push. the intimidating scowl on his face couldn’t fully mask the uncertainty behind his eyes. something you couldn’t fully read either way, but pray he’s more sure when your lips part, “do you still want it?”
sukuna is a cold man. his walls built up like steel, and reach the sky. you barely see a shift in his expression, if there is any, when you throw his question back.
“seriously?” he grits, low…unsure.
his gaze doesn’t leave you. his eyes quietly track down your figure as his mind rewires. it was difficult to form concrete thoughts about you. his emotions have always been scattered, it was the same reason he avoids relationships. the unpredictability and responsibility it adds, was not something he needed in his life right now.
however, you rarely, if ever, bring that level of stress to him.
you were nosy, but nothing compared to the craziness he’s had the displeasure of being with. you were also gentle when you’re alone, even more gentle when you’re tired. your hands are soft when they touch him, your body is even softer when he’d caress you when he’s deep inside. your stamina is surprisingly impressive, and you can handle him — at least in bed.
the agreement was working.
you were his perfect drug. no responsibility, no guilt. and yet, he’s ignoring the truth in this feeling. the one that physically forms into a twist in his chest.
his tone is stern, “I asked first.”
the perfect outlet was starting to slip through your fingers, but you couldn’t admit it first. not because you didn’t want him at the drop of a hat, but because you couldn’t form a solid opinion on the man. it was a rollercoaster of emotions, and you’re not even sure how to have a conversation about a non-relationship deal—
your thoughts cut, flinching at the loud horn.
sukuna steps back in surprise, arm immediately in front of you, pushing you back with him, away from the crub. a car suddenly pulls up beside you.
“what the fuck—“
the swears are ready to spill from his mouth, cursing off the crazy ass driver and the honking — until you push his arm aside.
“sorry,” you huff, an unfamiliar tone reaching your voice as you quickly walk towards the car, anger stirring behind your eyes. “I have to go.”
sukuna is completely frozen, silently watching you disappear into the SUV, barely catching sight of another woman in the car with you before its speeding away.
“what the fuck?”
sukuna was left completely in the dust, and the worst possible solution to his unaddressed, bubbling anger, is allowing his teammates to drag him out to the bar that same night.
a majority of them have finished their finals, and wanted to finally celebrate the end of the season. they’d invited coach toji, but he declined, something about his son. either way, the division one soccer team packed into the crowded university bar and started a line of shots. a game was playing over the bar, as men and students shout as they drink.
sukuna knocked back the first shot without ceremony, but without resistance either. the liquor scorched a straight line down his throat, a familiar heat he could manage. his teammates hollered around him, already halfway to tipsy after the second round, but sukuna remained unnervingly steady like a rock in a river.
he enjoyed the team like this, uncomplicated, unfiltered, alive. he knew his role without having to explain it.
more of the team poured into the bar, shouting his name from across the bar. sukuna barely juts his chin in acknowledgment, the cold exterior familiar to the soccer players. they knew the type of person their captain was. they’d witnessed him roaring on rainy fields, bleeding for wins, screaming tactics until his voice cracked. they knew the passion burned in their captain. it was the reason he was their captain and not their ace (debatable) gojo, who flaunts his talents almost every match.
speaking of the devil. gojo slides into the booth after his fourth shot, already flushed, already buzzing, and immediately launches into pool-party planning.
“do we seriously have to talk about this now?” The goalie, and also a senior member of the frat, groans.
“yes! it’s tomorrow, and it has to be banger so people will forget that shit I said last weekend!” gojo screeches, pulling at his beautiful snowy locks, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “people,” he hiccups, cheeks flushed, “people have been coming up to me, telling me about my small dick—I don’t have a small dick!”
laughs echo across the table.
“it’s not funny!” gojo snaps.
“like that’s stopped any girls from sleeping with you this week,” geto snorts.
“that’s not the point, it’s about my reputation,” gojo seethes. he then proceeds to dive in full, halfway through the night, assigning tasks to anyone who breathed in his direction. “kegs, ice—someone handle buying the drinks,” he said, waving a hand dramatically, then pointing at sukuna without hesitation. “captain, you’re on beer duty,” gojo assigns with a hiccup.
sukuna exhales through his nose. trying to keep himself neutral, but internally, something twitched. he didn’t mind picking up the liquor. he minded being volunteered without warning. worse, the other members on the team and frat perked up, sensing opportunity, already piling on other drinks onto him like they were offerings to a volcano they didn’t realize was active. this was supposed to be a relaxing night.
geto watched the exchange, swirling the condensation on his glass. he didn’t comment, but he didn’t need to. the tension was already sitting between them like a fourth player at the table—quiet, coiled, inevitable.
sukuna’s gaze drifted upward toward the bar TVs again. A striker missed a penalty on screen, the crowd groaning in collective agony. sukuna felt the moment like a physical blow, fingers tightening around his glass. soccer was the only place his emotions were allowed to be big. everything else had to fit into a smaller container. and you weren’t here to fill the silence between those containers anymore.
that was the real problem.
the argument from earlier kept looping in his head, uninvited. the team celebrated around him, blissfully unaware that his world had narrowed down to one question: did you still want this deal, or was it just him clinging to a distraction that suddenly was biting back?
the bar was loud now. not celebratory loud—chaotic loud. most of the students on campus that finished their exams packed the bar. his team was scattered across tables, sukuna tried to escape gojo’s rambling to the other end of the raised tables, stool screeching the ground only for the president to follow, yapping more as he bought more drinks.
multiple conversations were overlapping. one teammate argued about grades, another about summer tournaments, and gojo, gloriously unbothered by anyone’s internal climate, kept directing traffic like a drunk general who assumed everyone was on the same page.
sukuna’s jaw ticked. a micro-movement. a seismic warning sign the team would’ve noticed on any other day, but they were too drunk, liberated from exams and wanting to celebrate, oblivious to the pressure rising in their captain.
sukuna was growing more irritated by the second, people behind him brushing his back occasionally to get through the crowded bar. his grip tightens around his glass, his forearms flexed. still no outburst yet, but he could feel the air slowly bend around him.
then someone bumped into him. hard.
it wasn’t a brush. not accidental shoulder contact. it was a full-body collision.
the drink in sukuna’s hand lurched outward, sticky liquid splashing across his shirt, jeans, and lap before he could blink. the table shook on impact.
the bar was still in full motion, unaware of the beast they just woke, except for a few teammates who went dead silent.
the liquid soaked into fabric of his clothes. ice cubes skittered off the table.
then he stood up.
the scrape of the stool against the wooden floor was like a gunshot.
and the cord on his temper snapped.
without a second thought, or warning. sukuna lunged at the perpetrator, a completely shitfaced grown man, but sukuna just saw red. his fist connected with a violent crack that made the entire bar collectively flinch.
“woah!” one person yelled, multiple people stepping back causing a few chairs to topple.
“sukuna, chill—” but the sentence never finished. the team surged up, not to join the fight, but to contain the scene. but sukuna was already grabbing the man’s collar, sending another punch straight to his face.
the guy he hit, staggers back into another table. glasses shattering as more people scramble, cursing sukuna out. but a circle formed instantly, the universal draw that a fight brings.
“fuck is your problem?!” the man shouts at sukuna, wiping blood from his lip.
“watch where the fuck you’re going pig,” sukuna bites, chuckling darkly the second the man lunges at him. his core tightens maintaining a little ground before he’s raising his elbow, driving it down onto the man’s shoulder making him cry out in pain. “fucking piece of shit!” sukuna aggressively shoves him off, knee driving into the man’s rib, just in time for geto to grab sukuna
it didn’t fully stop him, but it shifted his balance enough for the rest of the team to wedge themselves between him and the other man crying in pain.
“get the fuck off me!” sukuna tried to shrug geto off, but two other teammates are holding him back alongside the black haired man.
sukuna’s vision is narrowed on the guy who made the mistake of bumping into him when everything thing around him was already picking at his nerves. his temper, way past his control, was now sparking due to his drunken stupidity.
the bar staff rushed in. “out. all of you! NOW!” a bartender barked, pointing at the door like some referee.
sukuna wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing heavier now.
“fucking kick these pricks out, they started it!” the man shouts, pointing at sukuna and his teammates.
sukuna waves his arm in front of him like a mad man reeling for another go. “you’re fuckin’ bitchass is slamming into everyone and can’t fuckin’ take a punch when you’re asking for it!” sukuna barks like a rabid dog.
“dude, you’re gonna get us banned!” yuno tries to cut, but sukuna isn’t hearing it.
“If ya want us kicked out, come kick us out y’rself!” sukuna baits him.
but the bartender is already grabbing the phone dialing the cops. that’s when gojo seems to blink at geto and the other drunk members quickly step in like a team.
“we’re out,” geto and the team shove sukuna further away, dragging him out of the bar before the cops arrived.
the bar door slams behind them.
it was difficult for sukuna to cool down afterwards. the adrenaline of the bar fight pumping his veins alive, chest heaving as they all continued the celebration/planning at the frat. but sukuna was busy drinking, the stinging down his throat numbing his thoughts.
“dude, you wanna be hungover for your exam?” yuno cuts in, watching his captain reach for another beer.
“nothing new,” sukuna mutters, slightly off balance as he stands, heading up stairs. his knuckles were cut from the few punches he’d thrown at the bar, but he could barely feel it with the amount of alcohol in his system.
the events of the week all accumulated to friday.
the end of the year pool party.
everybody off from exams. well in a few hours. sukuna was beyond hungover, pounding headache waking him up in time to review a couple notes before heading to his exam. his eyes silently glance at the black envelope on his desk, the familiar crest sending chills down his spine.
“don’t forget to buy the drinks for tonight!” gojo shouts from the kitchen, pouring a very sugary flavored cereal into a bowl.
sukuna mutters in acknowledgment.
summer was right around the corner, and the quiet anxiety building inside him was a clear sign that something was going to happen.
his mind was in the clouds as he went through the motions of the day. his eyes read each question, memory luckily intact as he answered the open ended questions. his legs carried him to the TA like a robot, eyes cold as he handed his last blue book exam of the year.
even as he stuffed his face with a turkey sandwich, chugged an energy drink before hitting the gym, showered in the locker-rooms like he was scrubbing a layer of skin, all of it felt like he was on autopilot.
and the only thing that managed to snap him back to reality was spotting you across campus hopping on the bus.
he’d just stepped out of the gym, when he saw you. it was another hour until the party. his jaw clenched reaching for his phone as he quickly pulled up your messages, the bus is pulling off the curb as he taps your number.
waiting for you to pick up felt like hell.
but once you did, the weight on his shoulders felt just a pound lighter.
“hello?”
sukuna scratched his jaw, he hadn’t thought about what he was going to say when he called. it was all just a domino affect now. “hey.”
you’re silent for a moment. “you need something?”
he clears his throat, walking towards the liquor store off campus. “was thinking about our convo yesterday…”
you shift on the bus seat, “what about it?” you don’t mean to sound dry, but you can’t help it, not when he’s being so vague.
“can we continue it?”
your throat feels dry, clearing it as you glance out the window, nail picking at your jeans. “you finished your exams?”
“yeah. i’m grabbing drinks for the party righ’ now. can we talk when you get here later—“
“I’m not going to the party.”
sukuna’s face twists, “why? you get free entrance, and free drinks—“
“and free drama?” you quickly retort, inhaling sharply. “yeah, i’ll pass on the end of the year bitch fits.”
“there won’t be any drama,” sukuna grimaces with annoyance, stepping into the liquor store. “everyone is celebrating.”
“have you not been on social media?” you accuse, “i don’t even use insta that much, so it’s weird as hell getting posted on some influencer’s sorority page.”
sukuna’s jaw ticks, “she’s fucking crazy. that shouldn’t be surprising—”
“ryo.”
the warning in your tone just sets the man off. “what? y’er acting like it’s my fault,” sukuna aggressively shoves the drinks into the cart, “I’ve had her blocked for a year—“
“dude, relax, we’re just talking,” you huff on the other line, his aggression quickly dissipating.
he tsks, rolling his eyes, “whatever, I can’t fuckin’ ditch the party so if y’er not gonna come then—“ beep
you hung up.
“what the—“ WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!
everything was red from that point onwards.
his knuckles cracked in pain as he stormed out of the liquor store. blood pumping in his ears when he tossed the drinks into the uber. anger clouding his vision as he stood at the entrance of the frat. and full blown aggression when he’d kick men out of the party for trying to bypass the entrance fee.
but even with him as a rabid guard dog running security at the front, the party was alive in under thirty minutes. music blasting off the walls, lights flashing inside and outside the house, and people already jumping off the roof flipping into the pool. it was five times bigger than the mixer the previous week, almost everyone on campus knew which frat party they were heading too.
it was the perks of being an infamous athletic fraternity, everybody knew who they were— they were either fans of the athletes on the field or court, or wanted to fuck them. or they would rather be at a party with the biggest fraternity and most exclusive house on campus.
either way, half the campus is packed into the house.
gojo was trying not to get drunk, avoiding every single drink that’ll immediately have him flushed and slurring, all so he can clean up his reputation.
“is utahime not coming?” yuno asks, the central midfielder, and non-frat member, glancing at gojo and geto for an answer.
geto shrugs, “shoko ain’t ‘ere either,” he looks over the crowd, spotting sukuna at the front, sharp brows pulled tight as three sorority girls surround him, manicured fingers pointing at him with anger. “ya think that’s why he’s all pissed and not because someone isn’t here?”
gojo and yuno look over at their captain. it was clear the sorority girls are hounding the short-tempered frat boy.
“uh-oh,” gojo steps down. “should we—“
suddenly a loud thud shakes the house. everyone sharply turns at the source, which came from their vp slamming his palm into the doorframe, smoke coming from his ears.
“he’s not—“ yuno quickly runs after gojo and geto as they push through the forming crowd.
“I’m not dating y’r fuckass friend, so none of you are getting in here without paying the fee!” sukuna barks, blocking the kappa phi pearl girls from entering, a line beginning to form behind them.
“so you kiss her and try to ride off her fame then?”
“yall posted that shit not me!“ sukuna snaps, just as his friends reach him. “I don’t need shit from your psycho president—“
“woah ladies!” gojo laughs, stepping between his friend and the girls. “what’s going on here?”
sukuna tsks, glaring at the girls, knowing exactly who sent them here. “sororities are supposed to go in for free, but your dog isn’t letting us in,” one girl huffs.
sukuna’s glare cuts through them, their eyes quickly darting away from his face. gojo laughs, pushing sukuna further into the house, “yes well,” gojo licks his teeth, his own anger bubbling remembering their recap posts. “that’s with the sororities we have good faith with,” he shrugs dramatically, “and well…yours isn’t one of em.”
geto snorts beside his friend, as yuno takes a step away. definitely not wanting to get mixed up in his teammates fraternity drama.
“but our president is dating your vp—“
“for fucks sake,” sukuna shoves gojo, storming out of the party.
the anger of an entire week curdled in his gut like something spoiled and fermenting. even though finals are over, the relief never came. instead rumors are starting to flood across campus and now these parties only seem to be a big headache, especially because it finally marks the end of the semester and now summer looms. which means facing everything he’s been putting off….his step-mom. choso’s attitude. family ghosts. and conversations he’d rather swallow glass than have.
the warmth in the air feels mocking, like the world was laughing at him as he unravels.
the subway ride is torture in motion. every stop gives him another second to think, and every second sharpens the anger instead of dulling it. the kappa phi pearl recap posts flash in his mind, that unbearable smirk of the sorority president pressed against his mouth in pixels, already pushing the rumors around him like poison. like comments he’s been checking everyday just to see more and more people sexualize your fall, as if he isn’t staring and screen-recording the video.
then the black folder that sits in the back of his brain, heavy. something that could crack his life in half and he hates that it exists. hates that it’s something that’s come now, forcing him to decide.
by the time he emerges from the station, the city feels alive. city lights still humming, late-night cars passing, and people walking in and out of restaurants and bars.
he walks fast, face stern, eyes sharp, his hair is damp from the heat, shirt sticking to him, the picture of masculine calm to anyone who doesn’t know better. but he was burning inside.
his phone is already in hand when he turns the corner. there’s no greeting, no softness, just a single text sent to you reading:
I’m five minutes away.
he wasn’t asking a question, or for a request. he was deciding. you were the one thing that worked, the one thing he could crash into, the only place the anger ever went and came back quieter. and now he needs it again.
needs you again.
even if he’d rather twist it around and torture himself than admit what that churning in his chest really means.
he has tunnel vision. he pays no mind to the couple strapping their daughter in the suv outside your building, or the glances they give him as he buzzes your apartment repeatedly, until the door finally clicks, and he’s whisking himself inside, door slamming behind him.
“did that man buzz her apartment?” jennie looks at her husband, brow raised. sami glances back at the door, sukuna’s figure disappearing further into the building.
he shakes his head, “don’t think so.”
jennie frowns, eyes narrowed, “you sure?”
“yes, cmon we have to get to the airport,” sami ushers his wife into the back of the car, “you were talking to her for awhile,” he adds, a bit agitated at the rushing.
jennie shrugs, door closing behind her husband as she looks out the window. “I don’t think she’s coming home for the break now,” she mutters as sami signals the driver to go.
sukuna doesn’t wait for the elevator. he heads up the stairs. six flights between him and the one place he’s already decided he’s going. his lungs burn from the run, his legs ache from the week, but anger is his only fuel. halfway up, he’s practically jumping steps, taking them two, three at a time, hands barely grazing the rail. and by the sixth floor, he shoves the stairwell door open.
your apartment door appears at the end of the hall like a finish line. he doesn’t stop to breathe. or think. knuckles connect with wood rapid and heavy. the hallway is quiet except for the ringing impact in his ears, until your door finally clicks open.
he sucks in sharp breath once you come into sight. and a sight you were. heat crawls up his chest in seconds.
“thanks for the warning,” you sarcastically huff, unaware of the night he’s had, or him yours.
but he doesn’t care, shoving your bratty attitude aside, “can we talk now?”
“you couldn’t have texted me earlier?” your brows pinch, glancing over him. he was completely out of breath, broad chest heaving under his shirt.
“I texted you,” he cuts, not processing his mistakes at all. you swallow a thick lump, allowing him inside, with a sigh. the door shuts behind him. sukuna kicks his shoes off, following you inside as you pick the toys still on the ground. the tv paused on some cartoon. “did you have someone over?” he picks up a princess sippy cup off the counter.
“yeah. they also came uninvited, like you,” you mutter coldly, tossing the sippy cup into the sink. his jaw ticks, eyes tracking down your figure, eyeing your ass as you bend down to pick up a few more toys. your shorts ride up, hugging that ass of yours so deliciously.
“you said you didn’t wanna talk at the party,” sukuna grumbles, glancing away once you stand again.
“true,” you toss the toys into a bin in the closet.
you clear your throat, chest hot as you glance at the big man. his hard exterior was beyond intimidating, especially when you can see he’s clearly wound up. “you go first,” you say kicking the blankets off the couch allowing him to sit. but you sit on the coffee table in front of him, his eyes briefly glancing at your plush thighs as they push against the surface.
“I asked you a question yesterday and you ditched me, then you fucking hang up on me today,” he huffs, arms crossed and thick thighs spreading.
damn he’s so hot, you avert your gaze, “the first one wasn’t my fault, and the second one was because you were getting angry—“
“of course I’m angry, we were talkin—“
“dude, seriously stop yelling!” you huff, sharp breath escaping your lungs in exasperation.
sukuna couldn’t handle any of it. his emotions are raging inside him like a typhoon, and you were right in front of him. “what do you want?” he cuts, coldly, sitting up. “do you want the sex still? because I do. it’s been pissing me off all week that we’re not fucking.” your cheeks flush, heart thudding quicker. “but you’re the one that’s pissed so do you wanna add another condition or cut the whole thing?”
your jaw tightens, glancing between his crimson eyes. “no kissing other people,” you say, taking a breath to clarify. “like you can, I don’t care about that. It’s more the person. I don’t want any drama with your sororities, especially with some influencer and if you still wanna have sex or whatever with them, then yeah, I wanna end it.”
sukuna nods, jaw ticking, “I didn’t ask her to kiss me, by the way.”
“seriously,” your eyes narrow in annoyance. sukuna tsks, sitting on the edge of the couch, coming closer to you. “I don’t care.”
“you do,” he pokes, “just say it. i know you think i kissed her back—“
“because you did,” you snap, standing up in anger, but, his hand clutches your wrist pulling you back down with a cute yelp.
“it was an accident,” he spits like venom, but his jaw ticks, and he continues. “but yeah, no kissing other people—“
“that’s not—“
“so deal is still on?”
your jaw ticks, eyes flicking over his face, blood flowing loudly in your ears, as you glance at his wet lips, the crease between his thick brows, his narrowed eyes, his face so close to yours—
“yes.”
your lips crash onto his.
his surprised hum easily morphs into a hungry growl. his legs push up to stand, hands immediately pulling your shirt off. your hands quickly shove your pants and panties down as he unbuckles his belt unzipping his jeans. he groans as you distract him, hands peeling his shirt off, shoving him back on the couch climbing on top.
you were fully naked, while he was still half dressed. his calloused palms easily gravitating down your waist to grab your ass squeezing. he swallows your moan as you start rocking on his bulge sticking out of his unzipped jeans.
“fuck, you’re so good,” he husks, voice dropping an octave as he grabs your ass, kneading the flesh, before he sinks a finger inside you from behind. “y’er fuckin’ soaked baby,” his laugh is hoarse against your lips, the carnal sound sends shivers down your spine and another wave of hot arousal pools between your legs. “gonna stretch this pussy out?”
“yeaah,” you moan, the soft sound he’s been yearning to hear for days. “need you so bad, ryo,” you coo into his lips, panting softly as you kiss him. your mind slowly begins to quiet. your only thoughts are of him. his lips, his hands, his touch, his voice—
shit. his jaw slacks, hips bucking as his mouth opens wider for you, tongues messy as they collide.
your vision grows hazy in seconds. choking on whines as he pumps two fingers into your sopping cunt, unbothered by the wetness that stains his pants as you tremble above him. your nails rake through his pink locks, the other flat on his chest panting into his mouth.
“need me so bad?” he repeats, tongue hanging out as you start lapping it like a needy touch-starved puppy. you’re perfect. he curls his fingers inside you, pressing against your gummy walls, arm keeping you firmly against his chest as you arch into him. the aggressive pump of his fingers earns a pitched whimper from your pretty lips. “you’re fallin’ apart and we just got started, ya shouldve texted me first,” there’s a slight clip in his tone, one that has you grabbing his jaw aggressively.
your lips hover over his, brows pressed tight, all the while he’s got his middle and ring finger shoved up your pussy, stretching you open. your quiet aggression pours onto your tongue, “i didn’t wanna kiss you after that bitch shoved her tongue down your throat.” your fingers squeeze his sharp jaw, manicured nails digging into his skin leaving crescent marks. “didn’t want her sloppy seconds.”
his eyes are lidded, pupils dilating as he looks between your heated orbs. you were fully unclothed and completely vulnerable on top of him, and his cock is twitching violently at your attitude. especially one that so easily gets under his skin in the most allusive way imaginable.
“what’re you doin’ now then?” sukuna bounces his thighs making you jump on his lap, tits bouncing at the movement. “lickin’ up her sloppy seconds?”
your spit collects in your mouth as you lean further up. your manicured thumb gently caressing his bitten lips, tugging the bottom lip down. his jaw slacks with ease, a glint in his eyes as he watches you closely.
“I’m cleaning you.”
was all you say then a glob of spit falls directly into his mouth.
fhhuuck…..a throaty groan escapes the man’s chest, fingers sliding out of your pussy. grabbing your ass as he feels your spit slide down his tongue. his hips buck up violently, throat bopping as he swallows.
“more,” he rasps.
your lips curl, smashing your lips again. this time he lets you take control, lets your tongue invade his mouth, lets you rinse him of whatever residue you imagined that bitch left on him.
you were the best drug. some anomaly on his lap, bare skin warm against his, and sukuna is unraveling with a hunger that feels humiliating in how total it is. his hands are everywhere at once, your waist, your spine, the back of your neck. chest hot with how you’re consuming him. he’s gripping you like he’s memorizing your touch again, like you might evaporate if he doesn’t keep contact. his kisses meet yours with just as much fever, teeth grazing your lip just enough to make you inhale sharply against his mouth. the sound goes straight to his cock, bucking up as you hump him quicker, syrupy pussy soaking his boxers through his open fly.
you’re addictive, and now he can’t put you down.
your scent should be calming, but it just felt intoxicating in its gentleness and warmth. he buries his face in the curve of your shoulder for half a second, breathing you in like he’s stealing air as you catch your breath. “you smell so good,” he leaves open mouthed kisses along your neck, dragging his mouth back to yours.
every wet, hungry kiss leaves him more gone than the last, more irritated at himself for the lack of resistance. even when he’s losing it, you’re sitting there completely naked on him like you know exactly what you’re doing.
but you don’t.
the worst part is, you feel the same way.
you hate how easily you fit against him. how right he feels. how little effort it takes for you to want more of him, not realizing how little resistance he’s giving you in return.
the week has shredded both your nerves, but right now none of that exists. not finals, step-moms, futures, grudges, or pride. there’s only your mouth on his. your body pressed into him like a solution he doesn’t deserve, and his restraint finally snapping.
“haah fhuck, keep rocking y’er hips,” he husks kissing you harder, deeper, like he’s drowning and you’re the tide. his palm slides down your spine to hold you flush against him. perky tits pressing into his firm pecs, hips rolling harder up as you hump his bulge, whimper slipping out.
there was no softness from him, no sweetness, just pure masculine desperation. consumption that says more than any confession ever could, and your body was speaking the same language.
your hands drag up and down his arms, hands squeezing his bulging biceps, threading through his hair tugging, until you’re panting erratically, lips parting in an silent moan as you unravel softly from the aggressive humping. sukuna hums in satisfaction, lip curling into a devilish smirk as he cracks a hard spank on your ass as you desperately grind on the wet spot you left until you’re shivering.
you pant directly into his lips, like you’d just run a hundred meters. but really it was just him.
“ryo,” you call, lashes fluttering against your flushed cheeks meeting his eyes.
his arms squeeze your torso, palm splayed on your back and ass, lips hovering over yours, gently kissing the corner of your mouth, “hmm?”
“I really…” your words are breathless, like it takes so much willpower to speak, “really,” you lean up, hand rubbing his shoulder, and neck, “wanna fuck you righ’ now.”
sukuna’s cock shots a small pathetic amount of cum into his boxers. “you—“ he chokes, lips back on yours to mask the humiliating moan that escapes his throat.
you whine, climbing off his lap, just for him to instinctively reach for you as you stand between his legs. his hands grabbing your hips leaning on the edge of the couch, to keep you close, hands grabbing your ass, lips connecting to your lower stomach, kissing up your belly button, licking your skin.
your nails tangle in his hair before you’re pulling his arm from around you, lightly tugging him to stand.
the silence in the apartment would be deafening if neither of your hearts were beating erratically. but he couldn’t help how worked up he was getting when you’re leading him to your bedroom. your hips swaying naturally as you hold his wrist, walking across the apartment completely naked. his eyes rack down every dip and curve. his hand falling to grab his crotch, hand cupping himself through the open fly, squeezing some relief behind your back.
by the time you enter the bedroom, beaded curtains clanking behind you, his lips are back to attacking yours. his thumbs easily hook under his boxers and pants, pushing them down kicking it aside, heavy cock bopping into view. your fingers brush the painfully hard girth, tip flushed a hot red, veins protruding on every inch, and globs pushing out of his slit as he grabs your face, deepening the kiss.
“do i needa prep ya some more?” he husks against your lips, kneeling onto the bed and crawling between your legs. you shake your head, arms locked around his neck pulling him down, hips bucking up and back arching.
“no s’ fine, jus’ want it inside me,” you mutter against his lips, humming as he reaches for the box of condoms, quickly tearing one open.
“whatever ya say, babe,” he doesn’t even look as he rolls the condom on, your arms already grabbing the roots of his hair dragging his lips back down to yours. you couldn’t last a second without his tongue on yours, like every kiss was brining a part of your soul back.
neither of you have fully recovered from the week you’ve had. instead, you’re drowning your shortcomings in sukuna’s body, and his yours.
his cock nudges your entrance, catching your clit before teasing your clenching hole. your lips part as a pitched moan escapes.
“y’er gonna let me in?” he teases, chest heating at the sight of your blown eyes meeting his. “gotta loosen up down there.”
“It is,” you huff, nails scratching his overgrown undercut, “put it in.”
he smirks, pushing his hips down, slipping inside with a stretch. you hum at the first inch filled, and when he’s grinding the rest of his impressive size into your small hole, you’re back to your pathetically hot gasps and moans.
sukuna was a selfish man. of course, he’s good in bed because he satisfies his partners, but he knows exactly when to break them in, using the little strength they have to his full advantage. but it was never as fulfilling as it is when he’s with you.
you’re already in tears, arched back on your hands and knees, your arms stretched out in front of you as he thrusts into you from behind like a wild animal. grunts and swears spewing from his mouth, hand cracking down on your ass like a punishment, spanking each cheek until you’re moaning at the after burn.
“fuckin’ slut, clenching up every time I spank this ass,” he chuckles hoarsely. “everyone lookin’ at that video of you,” he seethes, remembering your soaked shirt with over a thousand likes from the sororities instagram. yes, he was checking the count every day. “flashing these slutty tits to everyone—“ his hand reaches under to grab your breast, cruel fingers pinching your nipples.
you cry out, slamming your hips back into his, hand falling over his on your breast. “i was wearing a bra—ngh ah!” your lips part with another broken moan.
his bulbous tip drags out, before he’s slamming back into, hitting your cervix.
“those comments were fuckin’ disgustin,— pigs haah jerkin off to you—“ he seethes, pushing your lower back into the mattress, hands grabbing at your hips as he picks up the pace.
“mmph—ryo— keep ngh—wanna cu—uh-cum!” you were babbling like a dumb little slut. your brain was mush by the time he’s pressing you into a deeper arch.
“there we go, baby, ya’ missed me handling your little body like this? hmm—fuckin’ ya how i want ngh—better than any of those sh-shit-heads,” he groans, thrusts brutal, carnal grin and glint in his eyes, slamming in knowing you feel every inch, every vein, every pulse.
“y-you missed me, ryo,” you babble, lips covered in drool as you turn your head on the mattress, vision blurry with tears.
fuck you were mess, sukuna cracks a viscous smile, cheeks hot and red from the sight.
“I’m so haah good,” you praise yourself, something that elects a physical reaction from the man as he feels his cock twitch violently inside your clamping hole. “my pussy can h-handle a-all of ryo—ahh!” you cry out as he shoves his entire weight behind one thrust without warning again.
“fuck—you talk too much,” he growls, fucking you fast and hard, just the way you like, his hand covers yours, interlacing it on the mattress, using it as balance. “ya think this pussy can handle me all night?”
“mhmm,” your eyes roll back after another mind numbing thrust, your body shivering as you clench up, creaming around him for the third time that night.
“let’s see about that,” he snorts, already flipping you into another position, taking full advantage of your pliant body and dumb bratty attitude.
you’re in tears by the fifth round, he’d only came twice, condoms tied and tossed on the ground, his face now buried between your legs as you cry out. your hips arch up, lifting off the mattress as you tug his hair, eyes clenching closed as you let out hiccuped moans.
sukuna groans into your pussy, tongue shoved deep into your pussy, swallowing your sweet syrup straight from the source. your arousal bursts on his tastebuds, his hand locking under your hips keeping you arched high as he eats you out like a starved man.
“ryo—haah please— too much!” you’re gasping as he sucks your clit, tongue circling the puffed bud like you aren’t on the brink of passing out.
“thought you said y’can handle this?” he snorts, spitting on your pussy aggressively, hand replacing his mouth with vicious rubs to your clit. you whine loud and hot, hand stretching out to his wrist, but he’s moving quicker than you can process. his condom covered cock is piercing your pussy again, the stretch lethal as your moan pierces the walls of your bedroom. “there we go! haah ah fuck! even tighter than before,” he groans, quick, sharp thrusts hitting your sweet spot. your vision blurs with tears as he pulls out again, mouth shoved back to your pussy, drinking you up. he was filthy….possessed.
“ryo!” you’re sobbing, choked hiccups making his cock throb, shoving his girth back into your pussy. his hips erratically forcing you into another orgasm as your hips raise off the bed. your arm stretches out to him, weakly pushing at his pelvis, while the other grips the sheets beside your head.
“c’mon, gotta let me cum too, brat— pussy still wants more,” he groans, the squelching has grown much more lewd, filling his ears as his thumb falls on your clit.
“I can’t—I can’t—“ tears fill your eyes as your legs start to shake, gasping as he leans down capturing your lips, subtly trying to distract you from the overstimulation, mind guessing when you’ll tap out, begging internally you won’t.
“s’ okay, I got ya baby, fhuck—“ he groans, kisses messy, tongues and teeth clashing as he pulls away. his large palms push your thighs further apart, abs tensing as he drives his cock deeper.
tears cling to your lashes as your hand extends out again, strength weak as you try to push him away. however his hand only pushes your hand down, biting his lip as you scratch his sweaty happy trail, his thumb easily falling on your clit, rubbing tight circles again.
“haah ah—“
his thrusts are so deep the squelching more obscene. “shiit—this pussy is loud as fuck,” he smiles devilishly, face flushed.
you were impressed how well you keep up with sukuna, truly. but i guess there has to be a moment where his athletic capabilities will exceed your own libido, like tonight.
his forehead and chest are covered in a sheer layer of sweat, accentuating the tattoos that mark his skin like sin. his god-like defined abs flex, biceps bulging as he keeps your legs spread for him like some toy, thumb still working your clit like second nature, unbothered by how overstimulated you’re getting. he keeps his ears peeled for the safe word which hasn’t left your lips yet.
your sopping hole sloshes and squelches, embarrassing sounds leaving it with every thrust.
“y’ want the neighbors to hear this pussy don’t ya?” he snorts, thrust sharp. “want em hearing their neighbor getting fucked hard by sum’ guy, right?” his thrusts grow erratic, talking himself into his nearing climax, groaning deep when you cry out, hips raising off the bed trying to squirm away, nails scratching his pelvis. “answer me,” he bites, thick thighs spreading, thrusting up.
you’ve lost practically all words, shaking your head with tears watering your eyes, lips glossy and looking absolutely dumb on cock.
“liar.”
at this point, he’s lost all sanity, chasing his relief as you try to push him away, whining and moaning his name like it’s the only word blasting your mind. chanting a spew of babbled curses as your legs start to shake uncontrollably.
“r-ryo—i—“ your lips part, eyes fluttering as tears slide down the corners.
“m’ fuckin close—ngh—you’re getting so tight righ’ now—fuck, gettin’ so wet you’re sucking me in,” sukuna never realizes how much he talks in bed especially when he’s nearing an orgasm, because he’s always fucked the other person into oblivion.
“b-but this is—haah—“ your incoherent response was the only warning he gets until he’s feeling a gush splash his abdomen. your cry pitches higher as another wave of squirt pulses out of your pussy.
“shiit,” sukuna hisses, pupils are black, hips stilling for a second as he processes what just drenched his abs and pecs. “squirting?” he groans moving inside you, keeping himself lodged inside, even while you’re practically crying arms weak as he pushes his thumb over your overstimulated clit. “didn’t know this fuckin’ pussy can squirt. that’s a new one,” he swears, keeping his thumb on you, rubbing quicker, in pace with his thrusts, getting you to squirm even more, foot managing to press to his pec.
“ryo!”
he growls, pushing your legs back around his torso, and pinning your wrists to the mattress. he’s leaning over you, keeping your legs trapped around his large body, driving his veiny girth into your sopping pussy. he groans into your nape, sharp teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck, marking the soft skin. his hips roll into yours, grinding against your sweet spot, coarse pubes rubbing against your clit.
“p-pleasee!” you gasp, choked squeak escaping your throat and ultimately pushing the selfish man over the edge. the cord snaps just as you squirt again, pushing him out.
“fuck—don’t push me out—“ he groans, peeling the condom off, rubbing his cock head through your gushing hole just as he shoots ropes of hot thick cum all over your pussy and tummy, painting you in his white load.
that was the chance you needed to close your legs, trapping his cock between them, completely out of breath as you gasp.
sukuna groans, head tilting back, throat bopping as he holds your knee, feeling you squeeze his sensitive cock between your plush thighs. he can’t stop himself from bucking into the soft flesh, groaning once more as another load shoots out of his tip, reaching your tits and abdomen.
you whine, hand reaching down touching the cum lazily, legs parting just for him to attack your lips again.
“could y’ always squirt, or was that a first for ya?” he husks against your lips, hands on your hips, clutching you tightly, wanting to go back inside you reaching for a condom—
“ryo, i can’t—“ you exhale, shaking your head, heaving breathlessly. “give me a second, please.”
he stills, mind slowly recalibrating.
“yeah,” he nods, kissing your lips again as he moves beside you, his cock half-hard as he spreads his cum all over your belly, marking his territory. he’s kissing your neck and shoulder as you catch your breath, legs still shaking.
even with your head in cloud nine, and sukuna beside. it was all confusing. his scent filled your head, warmth spreading to you. your body carefully turns to him, arm moving across his shoulders to hug him, lips finding his.
don’t think about it.
everything with him is physical. even with your body telling you it was enough, even with your mind trying to push real thoughts to the forefront of your head, you still lick his bottom lip, slower and lazier than before. “you’re still hard after that?” you say softly.
his hand squeezes your ass, “first time ya squirted one me, course m’ gonna be hard as shit,” his tongue finds yours, humming as you carefully sit up.
you sigh, leg moving across his lap, “i told you…” you lick your lip, “i can take you…and you stupid cock….one more round.”
sukuna’s grin widens, sharp teeth on display as his arm stretches over, “slide on top, princess,” he nudges your hip, as the other hand grabs a condom, tearing it open by the time you’re straddling his lap, lips finding his again.
he lazily kisses you back, tongues caressing as he slides the condom on. he easily slips himself into your hole with a drawn moan. “theeere we go,” he coos, thrusts starting slow, humming against your lips. he slowly and surely builds up his pace, beefy arms holding your ass up. you whine against his lips, squeaking when he has his feet planted flat on the mattress, now using your gushing hole like his personal pocket pussy.
sukuna couldn’t function anymore.
your moans directly flow from your lips to his ear, face buried in his neck as he abuses your limp body feeling you unravel again. his mind completely getting consumed by you, shoving any other thought or uncomfortable twist in his gut, deep deep down.
and as sukuna bathes in the bliss of being in your bed for the first night in days, he was also blissfully unaware of what was unfolding miles away with his fifteen year-old brother.
“are you sure about this, man? didn’t you say your brother didn’t want you talking to her?” ino says, turning in the passenger seat to look at choso in the backseat fixing his hair in the front mirror.
his other friend, mechamaru who’s a few months older and has his license, also glances at his friend from the drivers seat. “yeah—like you can’t tell your brother that we drove you here, o-or mr. toji, so you can’t tell yuuji, he can never keep a secret—“
“i’m not tellin’ em shit,” choso huffs, swallowing the lump in his throat as he glances at the lit diner. “jus’ wait for me here, ‘kay?” mechamaru and ino exchange looks, irritating the boy, a scowl pulling at his lips, “what?”
“well,” mechamura starts, turning to face choso, “you don’t want us going in with you? like we can sit at another table, make sure nothing happens, keep an eye on things.”
ino nods, “for sure for sure— like you don’t know her, like what if…”
“what if what?” choso frowns at his friends, clicking the backdoor open. “she’s just a lady, I’ll be fine.”
mechamura and ino nod, biting back anymore concerned words towards their friend and his decision to do this. choso fixes his backpack on his shoulder, hands shoved in his pockets as he quickly walks up the sidewalk. he can hear his heart pounding against his chest, hands clammy as he grasps the diner’s handle, swinging the door open.
the bell rings overhead.
only a few customers sat around. it was getting late, so there was only one waiter working the tables. choso steps further in, glancing over the booths. his amber eyes scan each table, biting his cheek when he turns to check the other side of the diner— suddenly a woman stands beside a booth.
choso’s breath catches.
her short black hair was the same color as his.
her eyes the same as his.
the shape of her face too…
choso swallows again, glancing over the woman, taking her in for the first time in years. it wasn’t a picture, or video….he barely remembers her, did she look better then or now…he can’t remember.
“choso, honey. come have a seat,” her voice though….that sounded different.
choso quietly walks up to his mom, kaori.
a/n: holy hell— that took an eternity. there was a bunch of plot in this one, so thank u guys for reading through it!! I know u guys had so many guesses on what was going to happen after sukuna and yorozu’s kiss, I def went in a more logical direction since this is a series instead of a one shot, so I feel it’s better to be grounded in reality for more hurt and angst in the future — esp since neither of them take full accountability of their actions & reactions, it’ll cause more issues when their putting bandaids over open wounds, inevitably making them more prone to infections. i hope u guys who wanted reader to kiss gojo/geto/toji/nanami understand tho LOLLL.
anyways, no promises on quicker updates, my job schedule is super random and pretty much changes every week so I don’t have a fixed schedule. but thank u again for sticking w the series and sending ur thoughts/critiques/guesses to me, I love love loveeee hearing how much u guys r thinking ab the series bc sameeee !!
dunno what to title this but it's sukuna just read it k? k.
he’s sitting on the mat with his back to the mirror, head tipped back, sweat clinging to the edge of his jaw. your name’s still pinned to the top of his messages—nail appointment at 2, be done by 4, don’t forget my pinky charm this time. you made him triple check the screenshot before you left, told him he wasn’t allowed to call until your set was finished, said “just go to the gym or something so you don’t get antsy.” and he did. you were right. he gets restless when he’s waiting on you.
he’s scrolling through his camera roll now—half resting, half looking for a decent picture of the two of you to throw on his story for your birthday. something cute. something low-effort but still sweet enough to pass. he knows you don’t care about public posts the way most girls do, but he also knows you’ll pout if he forgets. says it’s not about the post. says it’s about him thinking about you. about remembering.
he scrolls past everything. mirror selfies. old screenshots. a blurry pic of you chewing on a straw, looking at him like you’re about to say something mean. he smirks. pauses on it. maybe.
and then his thumb freezes. it’s not a picture.
it’s a video. fifteen minutes long.
recorded months ago, timestamped just past 3 a.m., saved somewhere between a blurry street photo and a dark bar clip of you trying to shotgun a drink in heels. he frowns. he doesn’t remember this one. presses it out of instinct. he’s wearing headphones. doesn’t think twice about it.
the screen stays black at first. camera must’ve been face-down or wedged into something. just sound. just breath. and then—your voice.
“wait—wait, wait, put it back, i liked that—”
his cock twitches immediately. his head lifts.
he doesn’t remember filming this. doesn’t remember you filming this. the audio is unfiltered, loud, the kind of raw intimacy you don’t get when you’re trying to be cute. and it hits him fast—he remembers the night now. not the tape, but the way you climbed into his lap in the kitchen. the tequila. the way you whispered “i feel so good, it’s annoying,” into his mouth. how he pulled your panties off somewhere in the living room and neither of you made it to the bedroom right away.
the camera shifts at some point. lands on skin. motion. the curve of your back, the way your hips roll forward, the bounce of your thighs as you ride him without rhythm, drunk and sloppy and so fucking needy. and his voice—god, he hates hearing it back, all low and desperate, full of slurred praise and broken groans. “you hear how wet you are? shit, baby, you’re so loud—”
he swipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. stares down at the screen like he isn’t sitting in public. like his cock isn’t already pressing heavy against the inside of his shorts.
you moan his name in the video and he twitches hard, jaw clenching. you sound high. wrecked. like you’ve already cum once and can’t stop now. you’re slurring something—he has to turn the volume up, leans forward, presses the speaker harder into his ear.
“feel so full, baby, i love your cock, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—”
he curses under his breath. shifts his thighs. someone drops a dumbbell a few feet away and he doesn’t even blink. the camera’s crooked now but it’s enough. it’s enough to see your hand reaching back to grab at his thigh, the way you bounce faster, messier, losing yourself in it.
you were the one who set the phone up. it hits him now. you were the one who pressed record. you’d whispered “just for me,” while grinding against his lap, legs shaking, mascara already smeared. and he let you. he always lets you. lets you do whatever you want when you get like that.
in the video, he flips you over at some point. presses you flat to the couch and fucks you so deep it knocks the breath out of you. your face isn’t even visible. just your hips. the wet sound of him slamming into you. your voice, cracked and breathless, crying “please, please—feels too good, i can’t—” and he knows you came again. he remembers now. you shook like you couldn’t stop. he’d pulled out and came all over your ass and whispered “you’re so fucking perfect” like he was in love with you or something. he is, obviously.
he’s hard now. throbbing. the band of his shorts tight against his stomach. headphones still on. sweat drying sticky across his chest while his phone glows bright in his palm and your voice plays over and over in his ear, moaning, gasping, begging.
it’s your birthday. you’re getting your nails done.
he should be picking out a cute photo to post. should be writing some stupid caption with a heart and your name and a throwback to that rooftop picture you like so much.
instead he’s staring at a video of you drunk and riding his cock, eyes rolled back, whispering how good it feels while his cum runs down the inside of your thighs.
he locks the screen. leans his head back against the mirror. and thinks about how fucking fast he’s going to make you watch it with him when you get home.
𝜗𝜚 toji who makes his shy, quiet gf curse like a sailor in bed . . .
( mdni. cw: size kink, corruption kink, degradation/praise, spit kink, overstim, dumbification, creampie ) — not a repost lol i just love this idea
“say it again.”
“fuck- fuck, toji, p-please, i c-can’t—!”
“no, not that. what was that filthy shit you just called your own pussy, huh? say it again, baby.” he’s panting as he bullies his cock into you for what has to be the fourth time tonight, your body twitching beneath him, drool smeared down your chin from how long you’ve been a useless little fuckdoll on your back, legs trembling and cunt gushing around him with every stroke.
you’re not sure what’s more humiliating. how loud your moans have gotten or the things you’ve been saying, completely out of character, out of your goddamn mind, reduced to nothing but a babbling, slutty mess for his cock.
you hadn’t meant to say it. hadn’t even known the words were coming out of your mouth until they did— “fuck me, ruin my tight little fucking cunt, toji, please!” —and then your entire body had gone still, eyes wide, lips parted in disbelief as he stopped moving, just staring down at you with a feral glint in his eye.
and now he won’t let it go.
“what was it? huh? my what?” he coos, hand sliding down to slap your clit so harshly you jolt with a squeal. “aw, cat got your tongue? that’s not what you said earlier.”
“i-i didn’t mean to—”
slap.
you gasp, eyes rolling back as he grinds into you slow and deep.
“nah. don’t get shy on me now, baby. you were talkin’ like such a filthy little whore just a second ago.” he leans down, pressing his sweaty forehead to yours, grinning as you sniffle through your moans. “c’mon, say it. say what this pretty little pussy is.”
you bite your lip, shake your head. your body’s overly sensitive and your brain has turned to mush, but he just won’t stop.
“say it,” he growls, biting down against the shell of your ear, one massive hand gripping your thigh while the other presses your wrist into the sheets.
“f-fuck- my p-pussy,” you whimper, tears welling as he thrusts harder, angling his hips just right to make your toes curl. “my pussy’s so f-fucking tight, it’s s-so fucking tight, nngh toji!”
he groans, cock twitching deep inside you, and you swear he gets even rougher, like your cursing flipped some depraved little switch in his brain. the bed rocks beneath you, your moans get louder, and your voice is unrecognizable to your own ears— cracked and breathless and foul.
“good girl,” he grunts, spitting in your mouth before you can even process it. “knew you were nasty deep down.”
your brain is melting. your thighs are shaking. you can feel the outline of his cock in your belly when you reach down with a trembling hand and sob. “t-toji, your dick’s so fucking big, s-splitting me open, oh my fucking goddd!”
“jesus christ,” he hisses, grabbing your face so your lips part again and he spits in your mouth a second time. “who taught you to talk like that, huh?”
“y-you did—!”
he laughs, deep and dark and mean. “that’s right. corrupted my sweet little girl, didn’t i?” he slaps your cheek lightly, smirking when your head lolls to the side. “say thank you.”
“t-thank you, thank you, toji- fucking love your cock, holy shit—!”
“again.”
“t-thank you- thank you f-for ruining me—!”
“good fucking girl.”
he shifts his weight, grabs your ankles, folds you nearly in half and starts fucking into you like he wants to break you in two. you’re screaming, cursing up a storm, sobbing through another orgasm and begging him to fill you up, to make it messy, to keep going even when you’re too dumb to speak.
and he does.
he doesn’t stop.
he keeps you there, whimpering “fuckfuckfuck” like it’s the only word you know, biting your lip raw, hips twitching, tongue lolling out while he uses you, built perfectly to take him.
“look at you,” he purrs, voice smug and low as he wipes your tears with the back of his hand. “not so innocent anymore, huh?”
you hiccup, dizzy and overwhelmed, brain full of static and cock and spit.
“f-fuck,” you mumble, hips grinding up on their own.
“mmm ma stop squirming..” your boyfriend grunted behind you, muscular arms wrapped around your torso, brining you closer to him.
your folds were dripping with the umpteenth orgasm he’s had in the past hour.
“can’t.. need to move..” you whined.
he was buried deep in you. not moving an inch. he came back from work all exhausted and the only thing he wanted was to stuff you with his cock. without doing any work.
“just go to sleep baby. i’ll fuck you stupid in the morning.”
but you know you won’t make it till’ morning.
you tested your luck again, grinding back into his lap, feeling his happy trail tickle the small of your back.
“doll. im serious.”
you frowned at his stern voice.
“fine.” you closed your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek angrily.
but your face morphed into one of pleasure once he slipped almost all the way out just to plummet back in.
･ ⟢ ⋮ synopsis . . . you go over to your best friend yuji’s house for dinner… only to find his older brother sukuna is home from college for the first time in a few years. taller, tattooed, pierced, and annoyingly unreadable, he looks nothing like the boy you grew up with—and he won’t stop staring at you like you’ve changed too.
tags .ᐟ 7.1k. reader & sukuna are both in college. nsfw. best friend's other brother. oral m & f. dry hump lol. unprotected sex. creampie. missionary. size kink. dirty talk. light dom. praise kink. teasing. arm pinning. post sex teasing. kinda possessive behavior? unedited per usual, cause we don't believe in that over here !!
you’ve been in their house since you were old enough to walk. same backyard. same childhood summers. same loud dinners where yuji talked with his mouth full and sukuna pretended he wasn’t listening even though he always was.
yuji was your best friend before you even understood what best friends were. sukuna was the older one—a few grades ahead, always taller, always heavier-footed, always lurking on the edges of things like he’d been born allergic to attention.
the three of you were tangled together in that inevitable, you-grew-up-next-door kind of way. not siblings, not cousins, not childhood sweethearts. just that messy, familiar constellation of people you simply belonged to.
and then sukuna left.
not dramatically. not with some sentimental goodbye. he just packed up after graduation and went off to college out of state—far, far away—leaving you and yuji to finish growing up without him.
you didn’t think about him much after that. or at least you told yourself you didn’t.
until today.
you walk into yuji’s house the same way you always do—kicking off your shoes, calling out that you brought notes for the class he skipped again—and then you freeze.
because someone else is standing at the end of the hallway.
sukuna's home.
and looking at you like the past few years didn’t exist at all—like he just stepped out for a minute instead of vanishing into adulthood and coming back built like a warning sign.
you freeze.
because he isn’t the same person who left. not even close.
he’s taller now—like he grew an extra inch or two just to spite you. broad shoulders filling out the doorway, chest built in the intimidating way that says hours in the gym, not a single selfie to prove it. his hoodie clings to his arms in a way it never used to, sleeves shoved up to reveal thick forearms covered in black ink that wasn’t there before. sharp lines trailing up his veins and disappearing beneath cotton.
and his face—god.
there’s a new weight to it. a grown-man kind of sharpness. jawline hard enough to cut your breath in half. cheekbones more defined. his mouth softer than it should be on someone who looks like this.
plus the metal.
an eyebrow piercing splits the dark line above his left eye—subtle, but impossible to ignore. a thin silver hoop sits snug on his bottom lip, glinting every time he shifts his expression. a couple more studs line his ear, climbing the curve of cartilage in a way that draws your eyes before you can stop yourself.
he went from “yuji’s older brother who never talks” to “the man you’d cross the street for, just to look at again.”
he doesn’t say hi. doesn’t smile.
he just tilts his head a fraction, eyes dragging over you in one slow pass that feels too intimate to be accidental—like he’s comparing you to old versions in his head and finding the differences one by one.
“you got taller,” he mutters, voice deeper now, rougher around the edges.
your pulse spikes. “no i didn’t,” you say too quickly, heat crawling up your throat.
his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, right behind the silver hoop in his lip, and the faint sound he makes could be a laugh or a warning. you can’t tell which.
he steps closer. slowly.
the hallway shrinks around him like the walls are trying to pull away first. he’s buffer now—thick chest, defined arms, long legs moving with that confidence he never had when he was younger. his presence alone makes the air feel heavier.
“sure you didn’t,” he says, voice dropping into something low enough to curl at the base of your spine. “go on and lie to me.”
you swallow hard. “is... yuji inside?”
his eyes don’t leave yours—not even for a second. “kitchen. he’s been whining that you’re late.”
you try to step past him, but sukuna doesn’t move.
not an inch.
he stands there like a wall you’re meant to run into. like he’s doing it on purpose. like he wants to feel you brush against him, just to see what you’d do.
he’s always been like this—annoyingly still, annoyingly composed, annoyingly aware of how much space he takes up.
but now?
he’s all that, plus the tattoos, plus the muscle, plus the piercings, plus the kind of grown-man weight that makes your breath hitch.
you barely manage to slip past sukuna—your shoulder brushing his chest as you squeeze through the hallway. he doesn’t move, doesn’t step aside, doesn’t even pretend to give you space. he just watches you go, silent and heavy-eyed, like he’s cataloguing the way your breath stutters when you pass him.
you pretend you don’t notice. you pretend a lot of things. you step into the kitchen with a too-bright smile, dropping your bag onto the counter.
“ok,” you exhale, forcing lightness into your voice, “lecture notes time.”
yuji lights up like you just handed him free money. “finally! dude, this professor hates me, i swear.”
you snort. “he doesn’t hate you, he just knows you don’t shut up in class.”
yuji splutters, offended, and launches into a rant about how the classroom was “way too quiet” without him and how he’s basically “providing a public service.” you roll your eyes. you’ve missed this.
you spread out your notebooks on the table, walking him through everything he missed—slides, examples, the weird tangent your professor went on about life choices and statistics. yuji listens, nodding furiously, asking questions in the loudest voice anyone has ever used in a kitchen.
it’s normal. comfortable. easy.
but your head?
not easy. not comfortable.
because you can’t stop thinking about the man standing in the hallway.
the way sukuna looked at you like he was trying to match this version of you to the one he left behind.
the way he took up the entire hallway without trying. the way the metal in his lip caught the light. the tattoos. the build. the voice.
you try focusing on the material. you really do.
but yuji is halfway through copying something when you completely lose your train of thought, brain short-circuiting at the memory of sukuna stepping closer, the hallway shrinking around him, his arm brushing yours.
“uh… hello?” yuji waves a hand in front of your face. “earth to braincell.”
you blink. “sorry, i—just tired.”
“you should be! bro, you’ve been explaining this for like an hour.” yuji glances at the clock. “holy crap, it’s actually been an hour.”
you laugh, rubbing your eyes. it has gotten later than you thought. the sun’s gone down, the kitchen’s dimmer, warmer. the house feels too quiet.
yuji scratches his cheek and looks sheepish. “hey… uh… you wanna stay for dinner? i was gonna make something anyway, and it’s already late.”
stay.
the word sinks in. you open your mouth out of habit to decline—because you always do, because you have homework, because you’re busy—but you don’t say no.
because you know who else is here. who else you’ll end up near. who else is still lingering somewhere in this house with a pierced lip and a stare that won’t get out of your head.
you nod, biting back a smile as he rummages through the fridge.
you tell yourself it’s just dinner. just catching up. just a normal night. but your pulse tells a different story.
you don’t know what game sukuna’s playing now that he’s home…
…but you’re pretty sure he expects you to play it too.
yuji is humming to himself as he cooks—off-key, loud, cheerful in the way only he can be. pans clatter, spices get overused, something sizzles a little too aggressively, but it’s comforting.
you sit at the kitchen table, chin resting on your hand, pretending to scroll your phone. pretending to be normal.
but your ears are tuned to the hallway.
and when you hear slow, heavy footsteps approaching, your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it.
you don’t need to look to know who it is.
sukuna enters the kitchen like he owns the space—tall, broad, tattooed arms visible where he shoved his sleeves up again. his lip ring catches the warm kitchen light as he presses his tongue against it, like he’s distracting himself from saying something.
or from staring.
he doesn’t say anything right away. he just pulls out a chair. right across from you, of course.
your heartbeat jumps. you’re grateful yuji is too busy murdering whatever’s in the frying pan to notice anything weird.
sukuna sits slowly, legs spread under the table like he’s claiming territory. his posture is relaxed—leaned back, arms loose—but his eyes?
fixed on you.
not soft nor nostalgic—but assessing and curious in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your arms.
you try to look away first. you don’t succeed.
he breaks the silence with a low, too-casual, “he’s really makin’ you do his classwork for him?”
you blink. “i’m not—i’m just helping him catch up.”
he hums under his breath, that amusement back in his voice, coating every syllable in something mocking. “helpin’ him, huh. you always were too nice.”
“am not,” you mutter.
“yeah,” he says, leaning forward just a little. “you are.”
your stomach flips in a way you refuse to acknowledge.
before you can snap back, yuji turns around with triumph in his eyes and a plate in each hand.
“dinner is SERVED,” he declares proudly.
you and sukuna both watch the plate hit the table with a little too much force.
“you didn’t burn anything this time,” sukuna notes.
“shut up, bro,” yuji grins.
bro.
right. they’re brothers. the kind with the same house and the same history but completely different worlds carved out inside them.
yuji sits beside you—your usual seating arrangement—leaving sukuna directly across from you.
it’s torture.
you try to focus on dinner, but the food tastes like nothing. you’re too aware of the man in front of you. of the way his hand dwarfs his fork. of the tattoos that crawl up his veins, ink meeting sinew. of the metal on his face catching light every time he shifts. of the quiet way he eats—unlike yuji, who practically inhales his food.
at some point, sukuna leans back, eyes still on you, elbow resting on the back of his chair. he doesn’t speak. doesn’t interrupt yuji’s excited retelling of a stupid class story.
he just watches you. until you squirm.
you hate that he sees it. you drop your gaze to your plate.
but then, under the table—something brushes your ankle. you jolt subtly, knee bumping the underside of the table.
yuji doesn’t notice, but sukuna smiles. a slow smile that feels like it’s meant to unravel you one string at a time.
he doesn’t pull away.
his foot stays there—resting against yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
you try to move your foot back. he follows. pressing gently.
your breath stutters. your fork pauses mid-air.
“you okay?” yuji asks through a mouthful of food.
“fine,” you choke.
sukuna’s eyes drop to your throat, watching it move as you swallow. then he tilts his head and mouths something silently—so only you can see it.
don’t run.
your heart slams. you force yourself to finish your meal, though you don’t taste a damn thing.
yuji finally exhales loudly, rubbing his stomach. “okay, i’m gonna grab the drinks—don’t eat my dessert while i’m gone.”
he gets up and disappears into the fridge.
the moment he’s out of earshot, the tension in the room snaps tight.
sukuna leans forward just slightly, voice low enough that it feels like a touch on your skin.
“you’re real bad at hiding shit,” he murmurs.
you grip your fork. “hiding what?”
he raises a brow. “the way you’ve been lookin’ at me since you walked in.”
your breath falters.
he smiles. “didn’t look at me like that when i left.”
you want to deny it. you want to throw something at him. you want to run.
instead, all you manage is a tiny, pathetic, “…shut up.”
his eyes soften for half a second—amusement, victory, something else you can’t name—and then he drags his foot lightly up your calf under the table.
your pulse jumps.
yuji returns a moment later, completely oblivious, carrying three drinks like he’s hosting a banquet.
“okay! i got—hey, why are you two so quiet?”
you choke. “no reason.”
sukuna doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.
yuji doesn’t even make it to dessert.
one minute he’s talking through a mouthful of food, and the next he’s curled sideways on the couch in the living room, face pressed into a pillow, snoring softly like someone unplugged him mid-sentence.
you stare at him for a second and sigh. “…he lasted longer than usual.”
from behind you, sukuna’s voice is low and way too entertained.
“don’t give him that much credit.”
you ignore the way your stomach flutters and start clearing the plates, stacking yours on top of yuji’s, gathering forks, pushing crumbs into your palm. it feels safer to have your hands busy—something to do besides think about sukuna or how his eyes followed you all dinner.
the kitchen is dimmer now, warm under the stove light. quiet except for the clink of dishes. yuji’s muffled snoring drifts in from the living room. the air feels thick, heavy with end-of-night softness.
you bend over to load the dishwasher, reaching for a plate on the bottom rack…
…and that’s when you hear them.
slow footsteps behind you.
you feel him before he speaks—heat at your back, the faint brush of air as he exhales, the subtle shift of the room around someone as big as him.
“you really doing the dishes?” he says, voice low enough to curl behind your ear. “yuji’s not even awake to witness it.”
you roll your eyes at the plate in your hand. “i’m being nice.”
“you always were.”
your stomach dips.
you reach farther into the dishwasher, bending a little more, muttering, “it’s fine, i don’t mind—”
that’s when it happens.
you feel it—a slow nudge at your backside. a hip bump. not subtle. nowhere near being accidental. you gasp and straighten halfway before you even think about it.
“the fuck—?”
you turn, and sukuna is standing right behind you, way too close, one eyebrow piercing lifting as he drags his hips back a couple inches…
only to roll them forward again—slow, exaggerated, mocking in the rudest possible way.
a fucking air-hump. right into your ass.
you choke on your own breath. “what—what are you doing?” you hiss, eyes wide, hands still gripping a fork like you’re about to duel him with it.
“correcting your form,” he says casually, gesturing at the dishwasher. “you’re bendin’ like you want attention.”
“i was not bending like that,” you whisper harshly.
he steps forward half an inch—just enough to feel the heat of him against your back.
“you kinda were,” he murmurs.
your pulse hits dangerous levels.
you turn to shove him away—at least that’s the plan—but he catches your wrist, grip firm but not tight, eyes dropping to your mouth for a split second before flicking back up like he didn’t mean to.
“relax,” he says, voice dropping into something warm, amused, and infuriatingly soft. “if i wanted to actually fuck with you, sweetheart… you’d know.”
your knees nearly give out. you pretend they don’t.
you rip your hand back. “yuji’s in the next room.”
sukuna lifts a brow. “and?”
you glare. “so don’t be an asshole.”
“can’t help it.” he leans closer, voice brushing your neck. “you bring it outta me.”
you swallow hard, turning back to the dishwasher because looking at him is dangerous.
he watches you for a moment with a silent, heavy gaze, dragging across your back as you finish stacking plates.
then you feel his breath near your ear again. “finish up,” he murmurs, something darker slipping into his tone. “i’m not done with you.”
you grip the dishwasher door until your knuckles ache. and yuji keeps snoring, completely unaware that his older brother is behind you, smirking like he knows exactly how fast your heart is pounding.
you wipe your hands on the dish towel, fingers still slightly trembling from whatever the hell that “airhump” was supposed to be. you tell yourself it was stupid, meaningless, not worth thinking about—and then your stomach twists, proving you wrong immediately.
yuji is passed out on the couch, one arm over his face, snores muffled by the pillow he stole from your house. his soft breathing fills the otherwise quiet house, the kind of nighttime silence that makes everything else feel louder. heavier.
you sling your bag over your shoulder, take a steadying breath, and tell yourself you’re fine. you survived dinner. you survived sukuna staring at you like he was trying to decide whether to devour you or laugh at you. you can survive saying a polite goodnight.
you move down the hallway, footsteps soft on the carpet. you pass the bathroom, the closet, the familiar creak in the floorboard near yuji’s door, and then—you reach sukuna’s room.
you only mean to look in. just a glance. just a “later” or a “bye.”
you don’t even get that far.
a hand wraps around your wrist and yanks—not painfully, but efficiently, like he’s practiced the motion a thousand times. you stumble forward, and before you can catch your balance, he pulls you into his room and shuts the door with a quiet, final click.
your back hits the wall. not hard. just enough that you gasp, the shock traveling all the way to your knees. when you blink up, sukuna is standing inches from you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still loosely around your wrist as if waiting to see if you’ll run.
his room smells like soap and darker elements—cedar, smoke, warm skin. it hits you all at once, settling under your ribs, making it far too hard to breathe normally.
“you were really gonna leave without saying anything to me?” he asks, voice almost amused.
“i—i didn’t wanna wake yuji,” you manage, even though you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you can’t look him in the eyes without feeling too much.
“that so?” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly. “’cause you walked past my door real fast. almost like you were trying to escape.”
you try to step to the side, but he shifts with you, blocking the one direction you might’ve slipped away. his body doesn’t press into you, but it hangs close enough that you feel the heat of him, the quiet intensity that wasn’t there when he was younger. everything about him feels deliberate now. intentional.
“i wasn’t escaping,” you say softly. “i was leaving.”
“mm.” he tilts his head just a little, eyes dragging over your face. “and here i thought you’d at least say bye before running.”
“i wasn’t runni—”
“you were.” the faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he adds, “you still do that.”
you swallow hard. “do what?”
sukuna’s gaze slides from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long. “get shy.”
the breath you take isn’t steady. not even close. he notices—of course he notices—and his fingers release your wrist only to settle at your waist instead, warm and sending a rush of awareness straight through your core.
“i’m not shy,” you whisper, even though your whole body betrays you.
his smile grows—not cocky, but like he just solved some puzzle that only he was working on. “yeah,” he says, voice dropping, lips brushing the edge of your cheekbone as he speaks, “you are.”
his hand slides up your hip, light but purposeful, guiding you just the slightest bit closer until his chest nearly touches yours. only an inch of air separates your bodies, and it’s unbearable.
“you didn’t look at me like that when i left,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your jaw.
“like what?” it comes out barely audible.
“like you want me to kiss you.”
your stomach drops. your face heats. your throat tightens with something impossible to name. you almost deny it—you should deny it—but the words won’t come.
and something in your silence tells him everything.
sukuna’s thumb traces the line of your jaw, slow enough to make your breath catch. “say it,” he whispers.
you shake your head. your heart is pounding too fast to speak.
“didn’t think so,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “good thing i don’t need you to.”
before you can react, he closes the distance—letting you feel every second of it. his mouth brushes yours once, soft, testing. your breath rises sharply. he waits, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away.
you don’t.
your fingers curl into the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer without thinking, and that’s all it takes. sukuna kisses you fully then—deep, warm, devastatingly slow. the kind of kiss that feels like it’s been many years overdue. the kind that steals your breath so quietly you don’t notice until you’re gasping into him.
he hums against your mouth, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, tipping your head the way he wants, his lips moving against yours with ease that makes your knees weak.
when he finally breaks the kiss, he stays close, forehead brushing yours, breaths mingling. “there you go,” he murmurs, voice roughened by restraint. “finally got you to stop pretending.”
your eyes flutter open.
his are already on you, hungry for the next bite.
“you should’ve said goodbye earlier,” he adds softly. “i wouldn’t have let you leave.”
the first kiss is nothing compared to the second.
the moment he hears your breath hitch right against his mouth—sukuna cups the side of your neck, fingers sliding under your jaw, and pulls you back into him. no hesitation this time. no testing. he kisses you like he’s been denying himself the thought of it for years and finally gave in.
your back presses harder into the wall as his mouth moves against yours—slow at first, savoring, learning every tiny sound you make. his lips part just enough to taste you, and when your tongue brushes his, something low and electric shoots through both of you.
he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat. you feel it more than hear it.
his free hand slides to your waist, then your hip, then down to the curve of your thigh, gripping just enough to pull you up into his kiss. your hands rise on instinct, fists curling in the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to him like you’re afraid you’ll fall.
you don’t even realize you’re trembling until he notices.
“easy,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low, impossibly gentle for someone who looks like him. “breathe.”
you try. you fail.
and he clearly likes it.
he catches your wrists when you try to pull him closer, fingers wrapping around both, guiding your hands up over your head and pressing them into the wall above you. the movement is slow, controlled, the kind you could fight if you wanted to… but you don’t.
you let him pin you there, wrists held in one of his hands, bodies flush, heat rolling between you in waves.
“that’s better,” he whispers, lips brushing your cheekbone as he drags a kiss down to your jaw. “keep ’em there.”
your breath stutters again, a soft, pathetic little exhale you can’t swallow down fast enough. he hears it. he smiles against your skin.
“knew you’d be like this,” he whispers. “knew it.”
he kisses your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—then dips lower, to the side of your neck. his lips are warm at first, barely pressure, barely there… and then he sucks.
your knees threaten to buckle. he feels it, and pushes his thigh between yours—not hard, just enough to keep you standing, enough to drag a shaky breath out of you.
“still shy?” he asks against your throat.
you shake your head, even though you definitely are.
he laughs quietly, the sound rumbling into your skin, before kissing lower—along the line of your neck, down your shoulder, back up again like he’s mapping you with his mouth.
your hands flex uselessly against the wall, wrists pinned in his grip. you can’t touch him. can’t pull him closer. can’t do anything except feel him.
and he takes full advantage.
he kisses up the column of your neck, slow and unhurried, until he reaches your ear.
his breath is warm when he speaks. “come here.”
he lets go of your wrists only so he can slip his hands around your waist and lift you—not fully off the ground, just enough that your balance shatters. he turns you easily, guiding you away from the wall and toward the bed behind him.
your back hits the mattress before you fully process the movement. sukuna stands over you for a moment, chest rising and falling, eyes dark, pupils blown.
you’ve never seen him look at anything the way he’s looking at you now. he leans down, bracing one knee on the bed, caging you in with his body.
“been thinkin’ about this all night,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek before kissing you again—deeper this time, slower. “the way you looked at me… the way you kept pretending you weren’t.”
your fingers finally find his hoodie, grabbing it, pulling him down until he’s almost on top of you.
his hand slides up your thigh, over your hip, across your stomach, leaving heat everywhere he touches.
your breath is shaky, your heart out of control.
“just say it,” he whispers against your mouth. “say you want me.”
you don’t say it, but you kiss him like you do. and he takes that as an answer.
his hoodie comes off first.
you don’t even realize you’re tugging at it until he shifts, helping you peel it up over his head, revealing a solid, cut chest inked in black—tattoos wrapping his torso like armor, crawling up his sides and disappearing into the shadows of his collarbone.
he looks unreal in the low light, all sharp lines and sculpted heat, muscle flexing as he braces his hands on either side of you.
your eyes trail down without permission. the slope of his chest, the flex in his abs when he exhales, the deep cut of his hips narrowing into the waistband of his sweats. his lip glints when he smiles—barely there, cocky, knowing.
“that look better than you imagined?”
your breath catches. “shut up.”
his smile widens. “you didn’t say no.”
he leans down again—kisses you slow. your hands map over his chest now, feeling the warmth of him, the weight, the way he moves under your palms. he groans low when your nails scrape lightly across his abs.
“you tryna kill me, sweetheart?”
you grin against his mouth. “maybe.”
he chuckles. he kisses you again, this time harder, his tongue sliding against yours until you’re gasping. then his mouth moves down—neck, collarbone, sternum—lips dragging over skin like he’s starving for every inch.
his hands find the hem of your shirt. “this comes off,” he says, already tugging it up.
you arch slightly to help him. the shirt lands somewhere behind you. his eyes rake over your chest, and you swear he breathes deeper just looking at you.
“fuck,” he murmurs, mouth already lowering. “i missed a lot.”
he wraps his lips around the swell of your breast, tongue flicking once before he sucks. you jolt, hips twitching, a gasp spilling out of you before you can stop it. his teeth graze, soft but suggestive, before he switches sides—mouth worshiping, hands roaming your waist and hips like he’s trying to memorize you by touch alone.
“kuna—” your voice cracks. “s-stop teasing.”
he laughs against your skin. “thought you were shy.”
you shove at his shoulder. “not that shy.”
his eyes flash. “good.”
his hand slips down—under your waistband, fingers pressing between your thighs through your underwear. his touch is warm, rough, perfect.
you jolt. “oh my—”
“that’s more like it,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours again as he starts to rub slow circles over the damp fabric. “been wondering how you’d sound.”
your fingers dig into his arm, your hips lifting instinctively, chasing the rhythm of his hand. he watches you—fascinated, like he’s trying to sear the image into memory.
he drags the fabric aside and sinks a finger in. your mouth drops open, a soft, choked sound escaping. he groans low in his chest, eyes darkening.
“fuck, you’re soaked.”
you can’t answer. can’t think. can barely breathe.
he pumps his finger slow, then adds another—stretching you just enough to burn, just enough to make you whimper and clutch the sheets.
“that’s it,” he murmurs. “take it. knew you could.”
your hips stutter. he curls his fingers, and your whole body lights up.
“kuna—please—”
“what do you want, baby?” his mouth is at your ear again, tongue flicking the shell before he nips at it. “want me to keep playing with you? want more?”
you nod frantically. “yes—yes, more, i want—”
“say it.”
you whine, breathless. “i want you.”
he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, eyes locked on yours. “good girl.”
he shifts lower like he’s been waiting all night to get between your thighs.
your breath catches when he drags your pants down alongside your underwear, slow enough to make you feel every inch of the fabric leaving your skin. he tosses them somewhere behind him without looking—eyes locked, laser-focused, hungry in a way that makes your whole body throb.
he spreads your knees with two fingers hooked behind them, guiding you open until you feel exposed in a way that isn’t embarrassing—just intimate. like he’s letting you know he wants all of you, every inch, every tremble, every breath.
“look at you,” he whispers, voice dark with awe that he’d never say out loud. “fuck.”
his thumb drags up your inner thigh, slow, reverent, as if he’s got all the time in the world and he’s choosing to spend every second right here.
you feel the heat of his breath first—right where you want him—before you feel his mouth.
he kisses the inside of your thigh, once, twice, lips warm, breath shaky like he’s the one barely holding it together. his fingers press into your skin like he’s steadying himself.
“been thinking about this,” he murmurs, kissing closer, “since dinner.”
your toes curl. “k-kuna…”
“shh.” he smiles against your skin. “i’m getting there.”
he moves in slowly, purposefully, hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. the motion is smooth, easy—he’s strong enough that he barely has to try. your breath skips.
his thumbs spread you open. his eyes drop.
he groans. audibly. “fuck… you’re perfect.”
and then he lowers his head.
his tongue slides through your folds in a slow, deliberate lick that makes your whole body jolt off the bed. your hand flies to his hair without permission, fingers threading through the soft strands as you gasp.
he groans again, deeper this time, like the taste of you just punched the air out of his lungs.
“shit, sweetheart,” he mumbles against you, voice muffled. “no wonder you were actin’ shy.”
he licks again—long, slow, savoring every inch—and you swear your vision fades at the edges.
you’re shaking. your thighs tense around his head instinctively, but he just smirks against you and presses them wider.
“keep ‘em open,” he murmurs, tongue dipping lower. “lemme eat.”
and then—then he really gets into it.
his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking gently, tongue flicking in a rhythm that feels too good too fast—your back arches, hands flying to the sheets.
“kuna—fuck—”
he moans like your voice is feeding him. the vibration makes your hips jerk.
he slides two fingers back inside you at the same time his tongue circles your clit—slow, curling right against that spot that makes your stomach twist.
your gasp turns into a broken whine.
“yeah,” he grunts softly, pumping his fingers deeper, “right there, huh? that’s where you start shaking?”
you whimper. that’s all it takes. he chuckles into you—a hot, smug, god of a sound—and curls his fingers harder.
your thighs tremble. “i’m—i’m gonna—”
“good,” he growls, dragging his tongue up before sucking your clit into his mouth again. “give it to me.”
your hand clamps around his hair. your whole body goes tight, and then you break.
your orgasm crashes through you so violently you cry out, thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head. sukuna doesn’t pull away. he holds you there, mouth working you through every wave, swallowing every sound you make.
“that’s it,” he whispers when you finally slump back, breathless, shaky. “good fuckin’ girl.”
you’re panting, still trembling as he kisses the inside of your thigh again, slow and soft now, letting you come down.
but he doesn’t move away. he crawls up your body, mouth warm, breath hot, chest brushing yours as he hovers above you.
he grabs your jaw gently, thumb rubbing your lower lip as he leans in, lips ghosting yours but not kissing yet.
“think you’re done?” he murmurs.
you stare at him, flushed, breath shallow. “i—i don’t know—”
his mouth curls into a slow grin. “you’re nowhere fuckin’ close.”
he kisses you finally—letting you taste yourself on his tongue, letting you feel exactly what he plans to do to you next. his hand wraps around your thigh, dragging it up around his hip.
you feel him—hard and heavy against you through his sweats. your skin burns with it. he doesn’t even have to move and you’re already clenching around nothing.
“‘m not stopping,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low enough to vibrate in your chest. “til you beg.”
he catches your stare, eyes narrowing slightly like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. then he shifts back onto his heels and leans against the wall beside the bed, thighs spread wide, hand dragging down the front of his sweats.
your breath catches. he palms himself slow, watching you.
“c’mere,” he says, nodding down. “if you’re gonna be a brat about it, least you can do is put that mouth to use.”
your stomach flips.
you slide down to the floor, onto your knees between his legs, palms resting on his thighs. he watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide, jaw tense like he’s holding himself back from saying something filthy.
you hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats and pull them down just enough to free him.
your mouth parts.
he’s thick. flushed and heavy at the tip, veins trailing up the length, a glisten of precum already beading at the head. He wraps a hand around the base and gives it one lazy stroke before tapping it against your lips.
“open up.”
you do. immediately.
you wrap your lips around the tip and suck—slow, dragging your tongue over the underside. his groan is immediate,.
“fuck, that’s it,” he grits. “take it slow—lemme feel that tongue.”
you do.
you move down, inch by inch, working him deeper. spit pools at the corner of your mouth, his cock stretching your lips, pressing hot against your tongue. your hand wraps around what you can’t fit, stroking in time with your mouth.
his hand slides into your hair, not forcing—just holding, thumb brushing your cheekbone every time you take him a little deeper.
“you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mutters, voice ragged. “mouth full of cock, eyes all glassy—shit.”
you moan around him, and he bucks, hips twitching.
“you like that, huh?” he pants. “like suckin’ me while your pussy’s still throbbing from bein’ teased?”
you nod, tongue flicking over the tip when you come up for air. your lips are swollen, your chin wet, your breath shallow.
he grunts, tightening his fist in your hair. “shit—gonna cum if you keep that up—” and then he pulls you off, panting.
you blink, confused, lips parted.
“no,” he rasps. “not yet.”
he drags you up by your arms, effortlessly. his mouth already finding yours again as he pushes you back onto the bed. his cock, still slick with your spit, presses against your inner thigh.
“wanna cum inside you,” he murmurs between kisses, “wanna watch your face when i do.”
your breath stutters.
he parts your thighs with both hands, wide and greedy, and settles between them, cock dragging over your entrance—just once, just enough to make you gasp.
then he pushes in. stretching you open inch by inch until he bottoms out, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged in your ear.
your back arches off the bed. your nails dig into his biceps. he’s so deep.
“fuck,” he groans. “this pussy—always meant to be mine.”
you gasp, hands scrambling to hold him closer.
his hand catches your jaw, tilting your head just slightly so he can see every shift in your expression.
“eyes on me,” he whispers. “wanna see you fall apart.”
and then he starts to move. his hips roll into yours with control that makes your toes curl—his cock dragging against every spot inside you, his mouth brushing yours every time he thrusts in.
“look at you,” he pants, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your mouth. “already fucked out and i haven’t even gotten started.”
you whimper, thighs shaking around his hips. “kuna—”
he hushes you with a kiss, and keeps fucking you through it, one hand curling around your waist, the other tangling in your hair.
“wanna see you cum like this,” he breathes. “right here, lookin’ at me. fallin’ apart on my cock.”
you’re already close. he knows.
his hips drag back just enough to make you whimper, then roll forward again, deep and heavy, grinding the base of his cock against your clit each time.
“you feel that?” he murmurs against your mouth. “feel how deep i am?”
you can’t answer. your eyes flutter. your thighs twitch. your breath keeps catching somewhere between your ribs and your throat.
he dips his head lower—kisses along your jaw, down your neck, tongue dragging lazily over your pulse.
“don’t go quiet now,” he growls. “wasn’t so shy with my cock in your mouth.”
your cheeks flush hotter. your hips buck up instinctively, chasing friction. he groans at the way you clench around him, hips stuttering.
“goddamn,” he mutters, pulling back to look at you. “you’re gonna cum just from this, huh? from me fuckin’ you slow and talkin’ to you?”
you nod, frantic, desperate, gasping when he changes the angle just slightly—grinding deeper, bottoming out again, your walls fluttering around him.
his hand slides down your side, firm and possessive. he grabs your thigh and pushes it up, folding you open even more, cock slipping in deeper than before.
your moan breaks right against his mouth.
“there,” he says—almost to himself. “that’s it. that’s where you like it.”
your hands clutch at his back, fingers sliding over warm skin, over shifting muscle, nails digging in when he thrusts just right again.
you feel it building. it coils low and hot, right behind your navel, pulsing with every drag of his cock, every filthy sound he makes in your ear.
he sees it too. his eyes lock on yours, dark and full of something you’ve never seen from him before—raw.
“close?” he asks, breathless.
you nod. “kuna—please—don’t stop—”
his forehead presses to yours, and he fucks you harder—still deep, but less controlled now, pace picking up.
“you gonna cum for me, baby?” he pants. “cum on my cock like a good girl?”
you nod again—choked, messy, right on the edge.
“look at me,” he growls. “when you cum, look at me.”
you do. and when he slams in one last time, angle perfect, pressure perfect—your whole body locks up.
the orgasm hits hard. your mouth falls open, breath shattering, eyes wide and glassy as you squeeze around him, wet and pulsing and uncontrollable.
“fuck—fuck,” he groans, losing rhythm. “that’s it—fuckin’ perfect—look at you—”
you cry out again, grabbing at him, trying to breathe, trying to stay conscious. he doesn’t stop moving—not until he’s right there with you.
“gonna cum inside you,” he mutters against your mouth. “want you full, dripping—”
you whimper, too far gone to answer. he thrusts once, twice—then buries himself deep and groans, low and animal, as he spills inside you.
he stays there, deep and still—chest heaving, arms shaking with the effort to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. your hands trail up his back, shaky and slow, fingertips ghosting over the ink there.
you’re both silent for a moment. just breathing. just existing. and then— “you really weren’t gonna say hi to me?” he whispers, nose brushing yours.
you blink up at him, lips swollen, voice nearly gone. “you didn’t say hi either.”
his mouth twitches. he kisses you again—softer now, longer. like he wants to keep tasting what he missed.
then he pulls out slowly, careful—and groans at the mess you’ve both made. his cum spills out of you, sticky and warm against your thighs.
he watches it. a little too long.
you shift beneath him, flushed and spent, and mumble, “you’re being weird.”
he doesn’t even look up. “you’re leaking. my work here is done.”
you slap his chest. weakly. “stop staring.”
“stop leaking.”
“kuna.”
he finally lifts his head, grinning—messy hair, flushed cheeks, smug as all hell. “don’t look at me like it’s my fault you can’t hold it in.”
you gape at him, mouth falling open. “i just got rearranged like damn ikea furniture—maybe give me five minutes?”
he laughs, head dropping to your shoulder. “you’re so dramatic,” he murmurs into your neck. “you loved it.”
you try to smack him again, but your arm flops back down instead. “shut up. i’m sore.”
“you’re gonna be more sore tomorrow.” he sounds pleased about it.
you groan, tossing your head back into the pillow. “you’re the worst.”
he hums. “mm. you came so hard you forgot your name. i think i’m the best.”
you glance down at him, raising a brow. “i did not forget my name.”
“you whimpered,” he says, kissing your collarbone. “like five times.”
“not the same thing.”
he snorts. “sounded like you were glitching.”
“i hate you.”
“you sucked my soul out through my dick twenty minutes ago.”
“okay first of all—”
“it was an honor,” he says, hand rubbing slow circles into your hip. “salute.”
you burst into laughter, and so does he.
he collapses beside you, both of you a mess—sweaty, flushed, glowing in the aftershocks and still tangled in the sheets. the room smells like sex and sweat.
his hand finds yours between the blankets.
you go quiet for a moment. breathing. existing. then—
“…so do we tell yuji or just make it weird forever?”
he groans and throws a pillow over his face. “my god, just kill me now.”
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓙.𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𓂃 ⭒ gets a pretty nerd to ride him :: college au :: size difference :: cervix stuff :: f. nerd reader
“so the pretty nerd can ride dick, huh?”
smugness dripped from sukuna like his cologne. like that effortless, calloused charm that both infuriated and enraptured you.
the dorm's a mess. a haphazard tangle of his jacket, your shoes, his belt, your panties. the couch springs bounce with your hips. swivelling, spurring. clapping down against his balls in a lewdly wet rhythm. a plaplaplap to accentuate your whorish moans.
“sh-shut— shut up—” you drooled, nails clawing at his broad shoulders as you scrambled on his lap. his thick cock snuggled oh so suffocatingly within your hugging walls. pulsing heavy into your nerves. throbbing just right on a sweetspot. “just shut up 'nd— hah - feel my pussy.”
oh he was feeling it. every sob. every quiver. every pitiful little shimmer of your tears at the corners of your eyes as you dragged your soaking walls all the way to his hot tip— then sunk back down. wedging him so deep. so tight within your clenching gumminess that you're fluttering around him on every bounce.
cute, really. that the nerd's perfect pussy was both so insatiable and oh so pathetic.
“oh I'm feeling her.” clap! he leaned back after his palm thwacked a sting on your ass. a deep groan rumbled as you clenched. already staining him in a creamy ring huh?
“feeling her try to ride a cock too fuckin' big for her.”
he grinned. rough like his hands that roved over your legs, up your thighs and engulfed your waist. he bucked once. twice. rolled his hips in a sinful grind that rutted his pubic bone on your puffy clit. you crumbled into a sob. "there you go, dollface. that's how you take me.”
his sharp tongue licked his lips as he drank in your quivering slit suffocating round his girth. her creamy pearls slicked him messy. he returned the favour by smearing his dripping precum all over your cervix.
one hump. two. until you're struggling to bounce in time with his ramming thrusts. pulling out halfway then stuffing you full until the sting feels warm.
“k-kuna—” you hiccuped, hands clawing at his shoulders as his grip on your waist effortlessly compensated for your messy bounces.
“c'mon doll. where's that smart lil' brain of yours? all mush? dripping out here now?” your slit's tapped with a chuckle. “don't you wanna— ngh, gimme a quick lesson?”
he withdrew. stringy slick strung all over. webbing between your flushed flesh. an open-mouthed kiss harassed you below your jaw. right on your bobbing throat. “tell me. where am I right now?”
you're stuttering. struggling. mouth dropping to answer— before you're broken into a cry and your spine's thrown into an arch as he plunged back in. spraying stickiness all over. your cervix was fucked into quivers and squirms.
“m-my— my— ah!”
“answers, brat.”
sukuna flicked your clit. pinched and pulled as he fucked into that tight ring until your eyes burst into hearts. every grind demanded an answer. "where. am. I?"
“cervix— my cervix!”
you squeaked. then sobbed. his thrusts erupted into a frantic frenzy. squirts spraying. pussy pulsing. squeezing. as he fisted the fat of your ass and shoved you down to the hilt. reminding you just how inexperienced your nerdy self was. too busy stuffing your nose in textbooks than actually being stuffed full of cock.
"atta girl.” another spank to your ass. you're jerked closer. flushed into his smoked scent as he accentuates his cruelty with louder slapping balls on your plush flesh. “and what's this pretty, nerdy pussy gonna do for me? huh?”
with his thumb swirled on your clit. his cock surging up. his lips sucking hickies all over your throat— you shattered. a clenching, creaming mess that floods him messy and bucks so desperately into a cock already stretching you full.
your release spurred a dizzying heat onto him. hot, and heavy, and wet as he snatched your waist and ground you into a filthy hump on every throbbing, thick vein. a large hand squished your face and jerked you in. lips brushing his as he ragged a grunt.
“mm, fuck yeah baby, and what am I gonna do to this pretty pussy?”
every time you’re ovulating, everything about toji feels amplified. he comes out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel through his damp hair, and you notice it first. the sharp line of his jaw is softened by a dark shadow. "you stopped shaving," you murmur, more an observation than a question. he just grunts, a low sound that rumbles right through you, and you feel a distinct pull low in your belly.
later, when he stretches on the couch, his shirt rides up. your eyes catch on that dark, happy trail leading from his navel down into his sweatpants. it’s not a jungle, just a perfect, masculine line that makes your mouth water. "like what you see?" he asks, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. you just nod, unable to form words, your body humming with a need that feels primal.
in bed, his scent is everywhere. he hasn’t shaved anywhere, and when he moves over you, the musk from his pits hits you like a drug. it’s pure toji, sweat and skin and something uniquely him. you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. "you smell so good," you whisper, and he lets out a low chuckle, his stubble scratching your temple. "ovulating again, huh?" he knows. of course he knows.
your face is buried between his legs, and the musky scent of his cock is overwhelming. the coarse hair at the base tickles your nose, and you don’t mind one bit. it’s animalistic and raw. "fuck, you’re really into this," he groans, his hands tangling in your hair. you can only hum in response, too lost in the sensation and the smell to care about anything else.
kissing your way up his stomach, your lips brush over the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. it’s not thick, just enough to feel like a man. you linger there, listening to his heartbeat quicken. "tickles," he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep or arousal, maybe both. you love that you can affect him like this, that your obsession is a two-way street.
he pins you down, his body a heavy, welcome weight. the rough texture of his stubble scratches your inner thighs as he moves lower, and you gasp. "so sensitive," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. you can only writhe, every nerve ending on fire, your ovulation making every touch feel like a live wire. "please, toji," is all you can manage.
afterwards, you’re draped over him, your head on his chest. your fingers idly trace the happy trail you love so much. he’s sticky and sweaty and completely unashamed. "you’re gonna be like this all week, aren’t you?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement. you just smile against his skin. "probably," you admit. "you’re just… really hot like this."
he turns to face you, his dark eyes glinting in the low light. the stubble, the scent, the sheer masculinity of him makes you want to go again already. "my little beast," he teases, pulling you closer. you sink into his embrace, surrounded by his hair, his musk, him. it’s nasty and perfect, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
