▷ Oly Writes
↳ Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toge Inumaki, Yuta Okkotsu, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuji Itadori, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo
▷ Rules
↳ No incest, No racism, No homophobia, No Transphobia, No Rape/SA, etc
↳ Ask for requests with certain topics, I reserve the right to say no and delete your request, if your ask is kinda bland, I will take creative control
▷ About Me
↳ She/They, Bisexual, Writer, anyone can interact, if I don’t like you, I’ll block you, so yeahh have fun gangggg…
A game you and your dear husband started the moment your baby started babbling. Little excited gurgles, slobbery cheers and incomprehensible babblings, and you started to repeat the word 'mama' around your child more often, in hopes of it becoming their first word.
Then your husband started doing it.
Oh, it's on.
"Ma-ma." You enunciate it with a grin, bouncing your baby on your hip as you stir the food in the pan. "Ma-ma!"
Your little girl just squeals, babbling things you couldn't make out but you continue on. "C'mon, sweetheart! Say it with mama! Ma-Ma!"
Her attention is somewhere else, little eyes flickering around the place as her hands curl open then close over your shirt.. You sigh, and give up for the time being.
A few days later,"Pa-pa!"
Baby hands grip at your husband's larger fingers, and she squeals. "Wabababa!!!"
"That's great, honey, but let's try it again, this time with a little more pop."
"Pa-Pa!"
Wide eyes stare at him. Pretty cerulean eyes like his, and he sighs. "Can you do it for papa?"
She starts mimicking the way his mouth moves, and he nearly jumps up from joy at the little sounds of "pa.... ap ma?"
Then—
"Mama!"
His heart drops.
His little girl is smiling, babbling "Mama!" over and over again like her papa's heart isn't on the ground right now. Crushed, stomped into little pieces by the babblings of his baby girl chanting for her mother.
The front door creaks open. He freezes." ... 'Toru, did I just hear her say mama?" He can already hear the wide, victorious smile on your face, and he turns to see you at the front door. There's a glint in your eyes and he slowly goes, "...no."
Unfortunately for him, your little girl ends up squealing the moment she spots you.
"MAMA!"
You see him deflate like a balloon. You bite back your laugh, reaching out for your little girl as she toddles over to mama.
Later, you soothe your pouting husband.
"Next time." Satoru grumbles. "The next baby will have papa as their first word."
You giggle, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "Sure, honey."
he'd offered the finger as a formality. a courtesy. something for the baby to grip while he assessed whether her reflexes were developing at an marginal rate.
"watch," he said, lowering one enormous finger toward the baby's hands. "she has my grip. even now she—"
the baby grabbed his finger, yanked it toward her face, and bit down.
"—she," sukuna continued, a half-second too late to maintain any dignity, "is biting me."
sukuna's expression did not change. internally however, several alarms went off.
"...woman."
you didn't even look up from refolding the laundry. "yes?"
"your daughter is eating me."
"she's not eating you. she's gumming on you. it's a teething thing."
"she has applied her entire jaw to my finger."
"babies don't have much jaw strength, 'kuna."
"clearly," he said, "you have never had this jaw applied to you," and then immediately looked like he regretted phrasing it that way, because you finally looked up, eyebrows raised, and he had the distinct displeasure of watching you decide whether to comment.
you decided to comment.
"is the king of curses," you enunciated slowly, abandoning your folding "being overpowered by an infant with no teeth."
"she has some teeth."
"two." you quirked helpfully.
"two is sufficient," sukuna seethed, with the air of a man defending a strategic position that had already fallen 7 seconds ago "tell her to release me."
"she's your daughter. you tell her." a mischievous tilt on your lips as you suddenly found the laundry interesting again.
he looked down. the baby looked back up at him—entirely unbothered, delighted, his finger still firmly between her gums—and made a small happy noise around it, like she was settling in for the long haul.
"release," sukuna told her, in the same flat tone he used to order executions.
she did not release. red eyes much like her fathers staring right back at him.
"i said release, spawn."
she gnawed with feeling.
sukuna sat with this for a long moment. you watched him have, visibly, an entire internal negotiation with himself, the outcome of which was never actually in doubt.
"fine," he said at last, to no one. "fine—she may continue, briefly, as a — as a developmental exercise."
"sure."
"for her jaw."
"mhm."
"i'm doing this for her." he could sense the sarcasm in your tone.
"no totally, i get you."
he settled back, finger still very much occupied, four eyes fixed on the baby with an expression that — on anyone else — you would have called soft. on him you didn't say it out loud, because the one time you had, years ago, he'd denied it so aggressively he'd nearly set something on fire.
the baby drooled happily onto the king of curses' hand and made no further comment.
part 2 of suguru and satoru accidentally finding your sex tapes ˖᯽ ݁˖ part 1 here
mdni ❀ smut
wc 1004
a/n: yeah this is just smut lol. enjoy!
You should’ve known that when Suguru and Satoru didn’t bring up the tapes again, it was because they were plotting something.
You just didn’t think that something would be getting spitroasted by both of them on camera.
In hindsight, it really should have been more obvious to you.
When you had gone back to the garage after dinner that evening a few nights ago, you had only found two tapes, and you remembered Suguru telling you there were quite a few. You realize now that Satoru probably stole a couple. You’d have to get those back.
And then there was last night, after Suguru had fucked you into the mattress, when he’d murmured something along the lines of “wish I could see this every night.”
Even when Satoru initially posed the idea the first time at dinner, Suguru didn’t explicitly turn the idea down.
No, and thinking back on it, you didn’t catch the look they shared the first time. It was hard to forget now that you were seeing it in real time.
“This ‘s so much better than the tapes,” Satoru said between pants, drilling into you from behind. “Can’t believe you kept this to yourself.”
Suguru, who was fucking the back of your throat, scoffed at him. “She’s my fiancee.”
God, even when they were both balls deep inside you, they just had to start bickering.
“Sharing is caring,” replied Satoru, who was going to leave bruises with how hard he was gripping onto your hips. And thank goodness for that, because your legs were so shaky at this point that you fully believed they were going to give out at any second.
“Mmph,” you whined around Suguru’s cock, your way of telling them to shut the fuck up.
“Fuck,” Suguru hissed, fingers digging in your hair as he took in the feeling of the vibrations from your voice.
You had one hand fisting in the sheets of the bed and another gripping on to Suguru’s thigh for balance. With how hard they were both fucking you, you definitely needed it.
Kind of clumsily, one of Satoru’s strong hands left your hip in favor of sliding down to your stomach, pressing against where he felt his bulge inside you.
“Fuck, I’m so deep,” he groaned. “Can you see that?”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to figure out who he was asking, and then you realized he was talking to the camera. Fuck, you forgot about it.
Your eyes drifted over to where it was set up on the dresser, but you must have accidentally turned part of your head as well, because you felt Suguru’s hand grab your jaw and move you back where he wanted.
“Eyes on me, baby,” he said, his voice lower than usual as you forced your eyes back up on him.
You matched his thrusts with bobs of your head, drool pooling down your chin.
You started to feel yourself reaching your…third? Fourth orgasm, and you realize you weren’t the only one as Satoru’s thrusts start getting sloppy.
Your legs quivered with every thrust, eyes shutting despite Suguru's quiet protest as you felt tears beginning to pool. All three of you were moaning and grunting now, just loud enough to get picked up by the camera, but not loud enough to cover up the obscene noises of their cocks thrusting into you.
“Fuck, she’s..” Satoru whined, cutting himself off with a moan when he felt you clenching around him. He brought the hand on your stomach down to your clit, pressing and rubbing the sensitive bud to help you get there.
“Come for us, baby,” Suguru told you, his thrusts getting just as sloppy and fast as Satoru’s.
With the overwhelming feeling of getting fucked from both ends, plus the added pressure on your clit, you don’t think you could have held out any longer if you wanted to.
You moaned around Suguru once again, this time much louder as you felt your orgasm rack through you in waves, white hot and burning. You felt like you were exploding, nerves on fire as both men kept fucking you through it.
They didn’t stop, not until you felt them both stutter and fill you up with their release. You felt it impossibly deep in your pussy, looking up at Suguru as you swallowed easily, your throat bobbing with the motion.
You hear your name hissed out from behind you, not breaking eye contact with Suguru as they both emptied themselves completely with a few last thrusts. Suguru finally pulled out, chest heaving as he let you catch your breath.
“You did so good, sweetheart,” he praised, and Satoru soon pulled out, too.
Suguru wiped your chin with the back of his hand. Satoru finally let go of you, and you almost collapsed without the hands holding your hips up.
“Shit, sorry,” he apologized breathlessly and watched Suguru lift you under your arms to prop you against the pillows facing the camera.
“‘S okay,” you responded, your voice scratchy.
Your fiance spread your legs so the camera could pick up just how much cum was dripping out of your hole and onto the sheets beneath you.
“You’re making a mess,” he scolded quietly with a small smile, and you were too tired to do anything but look up at him. “But that’s not really your fault, is it?”
Your gaze drifted over to Satoru who had collapsed on his back, still trying to catch his breath.
“Satoru,” Suguru calls, maneuvering behind you, having you sit between his legs as his arms held you against his chest by wrapping around your upper torso. Satoru tiredly lifted his head up. “Yeah?”
Suguru nodded towards the mess in between your legs. “Clean up your mess.”
Not needing to be told twice, Satoru pushed himself up and crawled over to kneel in between your legs. He lifted your thighs up over his shoulders and leaned down.
Suguru pressed a kiss to your jaw and leaned down to murmur,
class president yuta x troublemaker reader pretty pleaseee 🥺🥺
· · ─ · ◈ Spice Up Your Life ◈ · ─ · ·
↳ Features: Class President!Y. Okkotsu X Class Deliquent!Fem!Reader
▷ College AU, Fem!Reader, Masturbation (F), Fantasizing, Caught, Guided Masturbation (F), Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism (?), Humping, Bried Nipple Play, Public-Sex, Slight Edging, Small Power Imbalance, Stress Relief Sex (I suppose), Stoned Sex, Implied Blunt Lacing (not from Yuta), Choking on Smoke, Yuta has a Praise Kink, Kissing, Giving Yuta Lovebites, Dacryphilia, Virginity Loss (Yuta), Inexperience, Slight Hair Pulling (Yuta receives), Clit Rubbing, Poorly Writen Weed Smoking (I have no experience), Shotgunning, Slight Dumbification of Yuta, Yuta Eating his Cum lwk, Petnames (Pretty Boy towards Yuta), P in V, Cockwarming, Switch(Mostly Dom)!Reader + Switch(Mostly Sub)!Yuta, Porn with Little Plot
WC || 2.7k
-- ◈°◈ --
College life was tough; anybody could tell you that. The only way to get through college is to live stress free. Pretty contradictory but you know. Stress relievers are a must if you don’t want to wase away into dust within the first semester. Luckily, your college campus is infested with top tier plugs.
Your dormmate, Nobara, already called dibs on keeping the dorm for her slumber party with Maki tonight, and you really don’t want to be caught third wheeling when you’re trying to get geeked. So, clearly, the next best option is an empty classroom. One of the old literature classes that only get used for clubs that shut down after a week. I mean, what are the chances of someone coming in at 6pm anyways.
The door slides open on your first attempt, the lazy staff never bothering to lock the room. A quick glance around lets you see that, surprise surprise, the classroom is empty. Like muscle memory, you bee line for the back of the classroom, letting your bag slide off your shoulders and onto the floor beside you. You pull the chair out and sit in it, slouching and manspreading slightly.
For once, you don’t have Yuta breathing down your neck, telling you how slouching will cause permanent damage. That’s the last of your problems right now. Digging through your bag, you pull out a little pak of pre-rolled weed blunts. It’s basic but all the other stuff the plugs carry around look sketchy to all hell.
The opposite end of the blunt lights up as you use your mini lighter that you stole from Mr. Kusakube before he quit smoking. A deep breath of the blunt and your shoulders relax like you’re high already. You exhale, feeling the faint buzz of the weed starting to do something, if only faint. You go back nearly straight away for another breath.
One of your favorite things about this plug is how his blunts always give you this tingly feeling all over your body. At this point, you couldn’t even care if he’s lacing it with something, it makes you feel great and hasn’t had any negative outcomes so far. If you were to be completely honest, it kind of turns you on a little bit.
Probably laced.
It’s not too long until you’re almost in the clouds, even with your constant use of these specific blunts. Subconsciously, your thighs start to squeeze together to ease the throb down there. You mutter a swear under your breath. You almost wish Yuta was actually breathing down your neck right now.
You wish he was telling you off for how nasty it is when your fingers start to sneak under your skirt. He’d scold you on how this is supposed to be a private activity, yet you’re here, somewhat hoping someone catches you circling your clit before dipping your finger into your soaked hole.
Your breath stutters as you imagine him calling you irresponsible, curling your fingers in just right, to hit that gooey spot that you would swear Yuta could get better.
Yuta volunteered to do a final check of the classrooms, like the oh so stand-up guy he is. He wanders down the corridors, making sure the doors and windows are locked, lights are off, whatever else he could think of to avoid going back to his dorm this early. He had biology homework to do, and honestly, he wasn’t quite in the mood to do it yet.
He’s only got a few more rooms left when he happens to stumble upon what feels like a dream come true to him. The door was already slightly open, so he peers inside. In the back of the room is that annoying student he has to tell off constantly. He sees you, hunched over the desk, an unlit blunt next to you. Your face is flushed; you’re panting and whimpering as your hands move under the desk.
He stops right in his tracks, no idea how he’s supposed to respond to the sight. He just found his downlow crush, getting herself off with 100% illicit drugs next to her. Reasonably, he should call her out, report her to Principal Yaga, but he’s already procrastinating, why not indulge a bit.
He watches as your hips meet your fingers, growing needier and more rushed by the second. You’ve been on the edge for so long, you just can’t let go. It’s starting to frustrate you, so much so that you don’t notice the class president standing in the doorway, intensely palming at his half hard on.
Your thighs are so sticky, and you’re completely disregarding how your slick is getting on the chair and down to your knees. Similarly, Yuta can feel fats globs of his precum beginning to stain his boxers. He swallows hard, standing there like a pervert, he’s pathetic. So, he steps inside, abandoning his dick.
His voice breaks your concentration. You freeze in your spot, but you don’t look up. You hope that it’s just that blunt fucking with your hearing. Until you hear the soft footsteps coming in your direction. You pull your skirt back down, ready to play the whole thing off like it wasn’t exactly what he saw.
“Did I say to stop?”
Silence. And for a moment he starts to regret saying that. Was that overstepping? Did he sound disgusting??
You swallow, “…no.”
Your fingers go back under your skirt, plunging right back in. You start to thrust your first finger in and out at a steady pace. Your breath grows heavy again. Your compliance surprises Yuta. His eyes widen and his fingers itch to go back to stroking his dick.
Your own eyes flicker up to his boner. Jeez those jeans aren’t helping hide shit, especially not the stain forming on the front of the blue fabric.
“Please Yuta,” a shaky whine breaks from your throat as you eye his hidden cock.
“Shit…” He groans before fumbling with his belt.
It drops to the floor, quickly followed by his jeans and then his boxers as well. His slightly curved dick leaks at the harsh new air, the tip angry and flushed already. Your own rhythm stops for a moment.
“Keep going.” He commands an octave higher than his usual voice.
You nod and keep fingering yourself, watching him start to jerk himself off to you. He licks his palm briefly, his cheeks heating up as he hopes you don’t find it weird. His thumbs swirls around his tip, collecting and spreading his precum.
Yuta whimpers at the sensation of his own hand as he starts to slowly stroke his full length. His slender fingers naturally graze the vein on the underside.
“Go faster… please go faster,” He pleads, speeding his own hand.
Both of you start to feel that delicious pressure building in the bottom of your stomachs. Both of you are alone in this classroom, panting, whimpering, trying to bring yourself closer to orgasms. Your eyebrows furrow when an idea pops into your fuzzy brain.
You pull your hand away from the mess between your legs and you grab Yuta’s wrist. He damn well mewls at his hand being forced to a stop, right before he was about to bust his load all over his pants, floor and your face.
“I didn’t say to stop—”
But his weak demand is stopped when you stand up, fixing your skirt. Underneath, you pull down your panties, dropping them to the floor and kicking them to the side. Yuta stumbles, but quickly kicks his shoes, boxers and pants all off to the side, piling on top of your blue panties. He stares at you, the commanding tone evaporating immediately, waiting for you to tell him what to do now.
Your hands reach out, grabbing onto his shoulders and his face lights up red like a Christmas tree. You slowly guide him to your chair, before pushing him down onto it, taking your place. His breath hitches before he mentally reminds himself to breath.
“We shouldn’t—We should stop…” It’s a weak argument, but anything to hold his self-image.
“Actually?” You challenge his wavering tone.
“Please don’t.” You’re almost addicted to the way he says please now.
“Thought so.”
Now you have that shit eating grin on your face, the one that he always saw whenever you argued with the professors or pushed in front of the timid guy in the food line. Never would he have ever expected to feel his dick throb at it. His eyes follow your movements as you perch yourself on his lap, adjusted your skirt so you can rub your wet pussy against his aching cock.
He whimpers, actually whimpers, as you start to glide yourself along his length at an agonizing pace. His hands quickly find your hips, not making you go faster, just needing to grab onto something.
His head drops to your shoulder, hiding his bright red face, breathing heavily onto your shirt, feeling his breath fan over your clothed nipples.
As you slowly wet his length, one of your hand runs through his hair. You slowly push his face down towards a breast. Instantaneously, he starts licking at one over your shirt, causing him to lose focus, and his hip ruts up into you. His tip slightly dips into your hole and both of you moan. Yuta cusses before pulling the neckline of your shirt down.
Underneath, to his surprise, you have no bra. Of course you didn’t, you hadn’t expected to encounter anyone in this room. He takes a nipple into his mouth, and you have to muffle yourself in his neck, returning the favor but leaving a few hickeys just above where his short usually sits. The sensation of his tongue swirl around your now perked tit causes you to move your hips faster.
You pull away from his neck, tugging on his hair to pull him up from your breast. Looking into his eyes for a moment, you decide something. Reaching over his shoulder, grabbing the second, unlit blunt, and the small lighter next to it.
“You ever smoked before, Yuu?” You whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Yuta quickly shakes his head and your eyes nearly light up.
“I’ll teach you something for once then, okay?”
An immediate switch in action has him rapidly nodding his head now.
You lean back from him, putting the blunt between your lips. You flick on the lighter and hold it to the end. The blunt lights up, and Yuta can instantly smell it, he hasn’t smelt it this strong before. Occasionally he’d come back to his dorm occasionally smelling like weed because of Toge, but never enough to remember or describe it.
You take a deep hit of it before blowing it into the air around the two of you. Poor Yuta is already coughing from the secondhand smoke. You watch him regain his breath, before placing a hand on his cheek. You move his head to make him look right into your eyes. Blunt in the other hand, you take a second hit.
Instead of letting it billow into the classroom, you lean forward. The hand on his cheek taps him, demanding he open his mouth. He swallows before opening his mouth slightly, a shy action. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. Yuta’s eyes widen as he feels the weed smoke transfer into his own mouth.
You pull away, but push his jaw shut, “Hold it for me, pretty boy.”
He tries, he really does, but it’s only 3 seconds before he’s coughing out the gas. You pout dramatically, feigning disappointment at him.
“Again. I wanna try again. Please, please I can do it.”
So, you do. You take another hit from the blunt and kiss it into his mouth. His hands come up to cup your face, holding you in a kiss with him. When he finally let’s go, he only half coughs once.
“Good job, Yuu. Did so well.”
“Yeah? I did?”
“Mhm. I think you deserve something else.”
You make the movement to shotgun him again, capturing him in a kiss. Except this time, you move your hand from his cheek and cup his boner and line it up with your hole. He chokes on a moan. All the smoke spills out of his mouth as you lower yourself down inch by inch. His head tilts back, muttering under his breath.
“Holy shiiit, hah, oh my god,” repeating small phrases even after your clit is pressed against his pelvis.
He tries to lift his hips up to encourage you to ride him, but you take your empty hand and press it onto his lower stomach, silently telling him to behave. He whimpers, so needy and desperate, all his previous focus and confidence gone again.
You breath in more of the blunt, leaning forward to continue blowing it into his mouth. Yuta’s eyes lock onto yours, his are glossy, from both tears and his first high. While swapping the smoke over to his mouth, you clench around him.
“Ah--!” And all the smoke leaves his mouth before it can get into his system.
You shake your head, “Until you can keep this in your mouth, I’m not moving. Got it pretty boy?”
“Y-yeah. I can do it I promise.”
One of his hands grabs your wrist, encouraging you to try again. So, you do. You repeat the inhaling, breathing into his mouth and clenching. It takes 2 tries for him to successfully breathe it out when told to.
He breathes heavily, catching his breath. When it finally processes in his fuzzy mind, his eyes practically light up. You take a final hit from the blunt before putting it out in your makeshift ashtray on the desk. Both your hands are free now, one braces behind you, on his thigh, and the other locks onto his shoulder.
You lift off of him, just until his tip is the only thing left inside, before you drop back down. Yuta’s whole-body jolts and his mouth opens without a sound. You start to move again, at a sloppy pace. You feel his dick slide in and out of your soft walls, pulling some of your slick out and onto his lap and your thighs.
Yuta himself holds onto your hips for dear life. His chest is heaving, his whole body overwhelmed with the sensation. He probably should’ve mentioned his virginity before he agreed to getting high, because he can feel his balls start to grow tight. Tears fall down his cheeks as he gazes up at you.
“I’m—I’m gonna—”
“I know, Yuu. Just a little longer, okay? Can you do that?”
He shakes his head, “Can’t. Please.”
With a huff, the hand on his thigh moves to bring one of his hands down to rub your clit. You guide him into circle motions, he learns quick enough to make your rhythm falter again. You only start to get louder, if someone were to pass, they’d easily hear both of you though the open door.
The tension in you builds, and builds right until Yuta thrusts up into you, the warmth of his cum flooding your pussy. Your back arches into him as you clench around him in your own orgasm. You slowly ease your movements to a stop. Both of you don’t move, his eyes look anywhere but at you.
As you start to move off of him, he hisses from losing the warmth. A fat glob of his cum slides down your leg. Quicker than a thought forming your head, Yuta leans forward and licks a line from where his cum had reached. He swallows it and licks the trail it had left down your thigh.
Your whole-body tenses in shock, watching him lap at the fat of your thigh. Even after your skin is visibly clean, he continues. His eyes flicker to look up at you. He looks so pretty. A light layer of sweat on his skin, his lashes still wet with his tears from before.
“Shit…” is muttered under your breath as he tries to trail up back to the mess between your thighs. Unfortunately for him, you grab his face and pull him up for a kiss, basically eating his face. Nobara can definitely keep the dorm for the night.
A/N: I took a LOT of freedom with this req so I hope you like it （；´д｀）ゞ
class president yuta x troublemaker reader pretty pleaseee 🥺🥺
· · ─ · ◈ Spice Up Your Life ◈ · ─ · ·
↳ Features: Class President!Y. Okkotsu X Class Deliquent!Fem!Reader
▷ College AU, Fem!Reader, Masturbation (F), Fantasizing, Caught, Guided Masturbation (F), Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism (?), Humping, Bried Nipple Play, Public-Sex, Slight Edging, Small Power Imbalance, Stress Relief Sex (I suppose), Stoned Sex, Implied Blunt Lacing (not from Yuta), Choking on Smoke, Yuta has a Praise Kink, Kissing, Giving Yuta Lovebites, Dacryphilia, Virginity Loss (Yuta), Inexperience, Slight Hair Pulling (Yuta receives), Clit Rubbing, Poorly Writen Weed Smoking (I have no experience), Shotgunning, Slight Dumbification of Yuta, Yuta Eating his Cum lwk, Petnames (Pretty Boy towards Yuta), P in V, Cockwarming, Switch(Mostly Dom)!Reader + Switch(Mostly Sub)!Yuta, Porn with Little Plot
WC || 2.7k
-- ◈°◈ --
College life was tough; anybody could tell you that. The only way to get through college is to live stress free. Pretty contradictory but you know. Stress relievers are a must if you don’t want to wase away into dust within the first semester. Luckily, your college campus is infested with top tier plugs.
Your dormmate, Nobara, already called dibs on keeping the dorm for her slumber party with Maki tonight, and you really don’t want to be caught third wheeling when you’re trying to get geeked. So, clearly, the next best option is an empty classroom. One of the old literature classes that only get used for clubs that shut down after a week. I mean, what are the chances of someone coming in at 6pm anyways.
The door slides open on your first attempt, the lazy staff never bothering to lock the room. A quick glance around lets you see that, surprise surprise, the classroom is empty. Like muscle memory, you bee line for the back of the classroom, letting your bag slide off your shoulders and onto the floor beside you. You pull the chair out and sit in it, slouching and manspreading slightly.
For once, you don’t have Yuta breathing down your neck, telling you how slouching will cause permanent damage. That’s the last of your problems right now. Digging through your bag, you pull out a little pak of pre-rolled weed blunts. It’s basic but all the other stuff the plugs carry around look sketchy to all hell.
The opposite end of the blunt lights up as you use your mini lighter that you stole from Mr. Kusakube before he quit smoking. A deep breath of the blunt and your shoulders relax like you’re high already. You exhale, feeling the faint buzz of the weed starting to do something, if only faint. You go back nearly straight away for another breath.
One of your favorite things about this plug is how his blunts always give you this tingly feeling all over your body. At this point, you couldn’t even care if he’s lacing it with something, it makes you feel great and hasn’t had any negative outcomes so far. If you were to be completely honest, it kind of turns you on a little bit.
Probably laced.
It’s not too long until you’re almost in the clouds, even with your constant use of these specific blunts. Subconsciously, your thighs start to squeeze together to ease the throb down there. You mutter a swear under your breath. You almost wish Yuta was actually breathing down your neck right now.
You wish he was telling you off for how nasty it is when your fingers start to sneak under your skirt. He’d scold you on how this is supposed to be a private activity, yet you’re here, somewhat hoping someone catches you circling your clit before dipping your finger into your soaked hole.
Your breath stutters as you imagine him calling you irresponsible, curling your fingers in just right, to hit that gooey spot that you would swear Yuta could get better.
Yuta volunteered to do a final check of the classrooms, like the oh so stand-up guy he is. He wanders down the corridors, making sure the doors and windows are locked, lights are off, whatever else he could think of to avoid going back to his dorm this early. He had biology homework to do, and honestly, he wasn’t quite in the mood to do it yet.
He’s only got a few more rooms left when he happens to stumble upon what feels like a dream come true to him. The door was already slightly open, so he peers inside. In the back of the room is that annoying student he has to tell off constantly. He sees you, hunched over the desk, an unlit blunt next to you. Your face is flushed; you’re panting and whimpering as your hands move under the desk.
He stops right in his tracks, no idea how he’s supposed to respond to the sight. He just found his downlow crush, getting herself off with 100% illicit drugs next to her. Reasonably, he should call her out, report her to Principal Yaga, but he’s already procrastinating, why not indulge a bit.
He watches as your hips meet your fingers, growing needier and more rushed by the second. You’ve been on the edge for so long, you just can’t let go. It’s starting to frustrate you, so much so that you don’t notice the class president standing in the doorway, intensely palming at his half hard on.
Your thighs are so sticky, and you’re completely disregarding how your slick is getting on the chair and down to your knees. Similarly, Yuta can feel fats globs of his precum beginning to stain his boxers. He swallows hard, standing there like a pervert, he’s pathetic. So, he steps inside, abandoning his dick.
His voice breaks your concentration. You freeze in your spot, but you don’t look up. You hope that it’s just that blunt fucking with your hearing. Until you hear the soft footsteps coming in your direction. You pull your skirt back down, ready to play the whole thing off like it wasn’t exactly what he saw.
“Did I say to stop?”
Silence. And for a moment he starts to regret saying that. Was that overstepping? Did he sound disgusting??
You swallow, “…no.”
Your fingers go back under your skirt, plunging right back in. You start to thrust your first finger in and out at a steady pace. Your breath grows heavy again. Your compliance surprises Yuta. His eyes widen and his fingers itch to go back to stroking his dick.
Your own eyes flicker up to his boner. Jeez those jeans aren’t helping hide shit, especially not the stain forming on the front of the blue fabric.
“Please Yuta,” a shaky whine breaks from your throat as you eye his hidden cock.
“Shit…” He groans before fumbling with his belt.
It drops to the floor, quickly followed by his jeans and then his boxers as well. His slightly curved dick leaks at the harsh new air, the tip angry and flushed already. Your own rhythm stops for a moment.
“Keep going.” He commands an octave higher than his usual voice.
You nod and keep fingering yourself, watching him start to jerk himself off to you. He licks his palm briefly, his cheeks heating up as he hopes you don’t find it weird. His thumbs swirls around his tip, collecting and spreading his precum.
Yuta whimpers at the sensation of his own hand as he starts to slowly stroke his full length. His slender fingers naturally graze the vein on the underside.
“Go faster… please go faster,” He pleads, speeding his own hand.
Both of you start to feel that delicious pressure building in the bottom of your stomachs. Both of you are alone in this classroom, panting, whimpering, trying to bring yourself closer to orgasms. Your eyebrows furrow when an idea pops into your fuzzy brain.
You pull your hand away from the mess between your legs and you grab Yuta’s wrist. He damn well mewls at his hand being forced to a stop, right before he was about to bust his load all over his pants, floor and your face.
“I didn’t say to stop—”
But his weak demand is stopped when you stand up, fixing your skirt. Underneath, you pull down your panties, dropping them to the floor and kicking them to the side. Yuta stumbles, but quickly kicks his shoes, boxers and pants all off to the side, piling on top of your blue panties. He stares at you, the commanding tone evaporating immediately, waiting for you to tell him what to do now.
Your hands reach out, grabbing onto his shoulders and his face lights up red like a Christmas tree. You slowly guide him to your chair, before pushing him down onto it, taking your place. His breath hitches before he mentally reminds himself to breath.
“We shouldn’t—We should stop…” It’s a weak argument, but anything to hold his self-image.
“Actually?” You challenge his wavering tone.
“Please don’t.” You’re almost addicted to the way he says please now.
“Thought so.”
Now you have that shit eating grin on your face, the one that he always saw whenever you argued with the professors or pushed in front of the timid guy in the food line. Never would he have ever expected to feel his dick throb at it. His eyes follow your movements as you perch yourself on his lap, adjusted your skirt so you can rub your wet pussy against his aching cock.
He whimpers, actually whimpers, as you start to glide yourself along his length at an agonizing pace. His hands quickly find your hips, not making you go faster, just needing to grab onto something.
His head drops to your shoulder, hiding his bright red face, breathing heavily onto your shirt, feeling his breath fan over your clothed nipples.
As you slowly wet his length, one of your hand runs through his hair. You slowly push his face down towards a breast. Instantaneously, he starts licking at one over your shirt, causing him to lose focus, and his hip ruts up into you. His tip slightly dips into your hole and both of you moan. Yuta cusses before pulling the neckline of your shirt down.
Underneath, to his surprise, you have no bra. Of course you didn’t, you hadn’t expected to encounter anyone in this room. He takes a nipple into his mouth, and you have to muffle yourself in his neck, returning the favor but leaving a few hickeys just above where his short usually sits. The sensation of his tongue swirl around your now perked tit causes you to move your hips faster.
You pull away from his neck, tugging on his hair to pull him up from your breast. Looking into his eyes for a moment, you decide something. Reaching over his shoulder, grabbing the second, unlit blunt, and the small lighter next to it.
“You ever smoked before, Yuu?” You whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Yuta quickly shakes his head and your eyes nearly light up.
“I’ll teach you something for once then, okay?”
An immediate switch in action has him rapidly nodding his head now.
You lean back from him, putting the blunt between your lips. You flick on the lighter and hold it to the end. The blunt lights up, and Yuta can instantly smell it, he hasn’t smelt it this strong before. Occasionally he’d come back to his dorm occasionally smelling like weed because of Toge, but never enough to remember or describe it.
You take a deep hit of it before blowing it into the air around the two of you. Poor Yuta is already coughing from the secondhand smoke. You watch him regain his breath, before placing a hand on his cheek. You move his head to make him look right into your eyes. Blunt in the other hand, you take a second hit.
Instead of letting it billow into the classroom, you lean forward. The hand on his cheek taps him, demanding he open his mouth. He swallows before opening his mouth slightly, a shy action. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. Yuta’s eyes widen as he feels the weed smoke transfer into his own mouth.
You pull away, but push his jaw shut, “Hold it for me, pretty boy.”
He tries, he really does, but it’s only 3 seconds before he’s coughing out the gas. You pout dramatically, feigning disappointment at him.
“Again. I wanna try again. Please, please I can do it.”
So, you do. You take another hit from the blunt and kiss it into his mouth. His hands come up to cup your face, holding you in a kiss with him. When he finally let’s go, he only half coughs once.
“Good job, Yuu. Did so well.”
“Yeah? I did?”
“Mhm. I think you deserve something else.”
You make the movement to shotgun him again, capturing him in a kiss. Except this time, you move your hand from his cheek and cup his boner and line it up with your hole. He chokes on a moan. All the smoke spills out of his mouth as you lower yourself down inch by inch. His head tilts back, muttering under his breath.
“Holy shiiit, hah, oh my god,” repeating small phrases even after your clit is pressed against his pelvis.
He tries to lift his hips up to encourage you to ride him, but you take your empty hand and press it onto his lower stomach, silently telling him to behave. He whimpers, so needy and desperate, all his previous focus and confidence gone again.
You breath in more of the blunt, leaning forward to continue blowing it into his mouth. Yuta’s eyes lock onto yours, his are glossy, from both tears and his first high. While swapping the smoke over to his mouth, you clench around him.
“Ah--!” And all the smoke leaves his mouth before it can get into his system.
You shake your head, “Until you can keep this in your mouth, I’m not moving. Got it pretty boy?”
“Y-yeah. I can do it I promise.”
One of his hands grabs your wrist, encouraging you to try again. So, you do. You repeat the inhaling, breathing into his mouth and clenching. It takes 2 tries for him to successfully breathe it out when told to.
He breathes heavily, catching his breath. When it finally processes in his fuzzy mind, his eyes practically light up. You take a final hit from the blunt before putting it out in your makeshift ashtray on the desk. Both your hands are free now, one braces behind you, on his thigh, and the other locks onto his shoulder.
You lift off of him, just until his tip is the only thing left inside, before you drop back down. Yuta’s whole-body jolts and his mouth opens without a sound. You start to move again, at a sloppy pace. You feel his dick slide in and out of your soft walls, pulling some of your slick out and onto his lap and your thighs.
Yuta himself holds onto your hips for dear life. His chest is heaving, his whole body overwhelmed with the sensation. He probably should’ve mentioned his virginity before he agreed to getting high, because he can feel his balls start to grow tight. Tears fall down his cheeks as he gazes up at you.
“I’m—I’m gonna—”
“I know, Yuu. Just a little longer, okay? Can you do that?”
He shakes his head, “Can’t. Please.”
With a huff, the hand on his thigh moves to bring one of his hands down to rub your clit. You guide him into circle motions, he learns quick enough to make your rhythm falter again. You only start to get louder, if someone were to pass, they’d easily hear both of you though the open door.
The tension in you builds, and builds right until Yuta thrusts up into you, the warmth of his cum flooding your pussy. Your back arches into him as you clench around him in your own orgasm. You slowly ease your movements to a stop. Both of you don’t move, his eyes look anywhere but at you.
As you start to move off of him, he hisses from losing the warmth. A fat glob of his cum slides down your leg. Quicker than a thought forming your head, Yuta leans forward and licks a line from where his cum had reached. He swallows it and licks the trail it had left down your thigh.
Your whole-body tenses in shock, watching him lap at the fat of your thigh. Even after your skin is visibly clean, he continues. His eyes flicker to look up at you. He looks so pretty. A light layer of sweat on his skin, his lashes still wet with his tears from before.
“Shit…” is muttered under your breath as he tries to trail up back to the mess between your thighs. Unfortunately for him, you grab his face and pull him up for a kiss, basically eating his face. Nobara can definitely keep the dorm for the night.
A/N: I took a LOT of freedom with this req so I hope you like it （；´д｀）ゞ
Summary: Dating a women’s studies major has turned Sukuna into the frat house’s most feared feminist. Now the frat boys can’t make a sexist comment without getting a lecture, while you sit back and watch.
A/n: just fun lil thing i thought of :)
The frat house was unusually quiet, no music, no party, no sports discussions.
This was because Ryomen Sukuna was standing in the living room with his arms crossed, looking genuinely disappointed.
“Did you just call her a bitch?”
Satoru Gojo, halfway through stealing someone’s energy drink from the fridge, blinked. “What?”
“You called that girl a bitch.”
“She literally stole my hoodie after our hookup,” he shrugged him off.
Sukuna pointed at him. “And? Speak like a man. Have some respect.”
“No, seriously.” Sukuna continued. “You don’t get to call women bitches because you’re annoyed.”
Satoru stared. “Who are you?”
“My girlfriend says that’s misogynistic.”
“Your girlfriend also made you stop saying ‘females.’”
“And she was right, it’s disrespectful. Some shit incels say.”
The entire frat house collectively recoiled.
Across the room, you sat on the couch, sipping an iced coffee and watching the chaos unfold. A smile on your face, because god were you enjoying this.
This was better than reality TV.
Satoru pointed at you. “YOU DID THIS.”
You raised your coffee in acknowledgment.“Damn right.”
———————————————————————————————
The frat party was loud enough to shake the walls. Music blasted through the speakers.
Drinking games to your left, a fist fight to your right; and you were just observing from the kitchen.
And in the middle of it all, Toji was sprawled across the couch with a beer in hand.
His girlfriend was standing nearby talking to some friends when Toji waved his empty can in the air. “Hey.”
She glanced over. “Yeah?”
“Grab me another beer.”
A few people looked over.
She frowned. “What?”
“You heard me.” Toji pointed toward the kitchen. “Get me another beer.”
Before she could argue, another voice cut through the room.
“No.”
Toji closed his eyes. “…God.”
Across the room, Sukuna was already walking over.
You perked up immediately, ready for your boyfriend to set Toji straight.
Sukuna stopped directly in front of Toji. “Hell no.”
Toji looked exhausted. “No what?”
“No disrespecting your girl in front of me.”
A few people turned their attention to the potential altercation.
Toji rubbed his forehead. “I asked her to get me a beer.”
“You ordered her.”
“It’s not that serious, right baby?” He said, trying to save his ass.
Sukuna crossed his arms. “If you want a beer, use your legs, or ask nicely.”
Toji stared, “You cannot be real.”
His girlfriend was already trying not to laugh.
Sukuna pointed toward the kitchen, “Go get your own drink.”
“Or what?”
The entire room collectively leaned forward.
Sukuna grinned. “Or I’ll disrespect your face by punching it.”
You giggled. Only Sukuna could point out misogyny while trying to solve the issue with violence.
A guy standing nearby immediately whispered, “That’s the most Sukuna version of feminism I’ve ever heard.”
Toji looked around the room. Nobody was helping him. Not even a little, most probably in fear of Sukuna.
Finally, Toji sighed. “Fine.”
Sukuna nodded. “Good choice.”
Toji turned toward his girlfriend. “Sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly she had more confidence than before. “Sorry for what?”
Toji was clearly embarrassed now, “Sorry for talking to you like that.”
“Thank you.”
Sukuna gave an approving nod. “There. Growth.”
“Shut it,” he said staring down Sukuna. “You know what? I’m getting my own beer.”
As Toji disappeared into the kitchen, the room broke into applause.
His girlfriend laughed and shook her head.
Then she turned to Sukuna. “Thanks.”
Sukuna shrugged. “Don’t thank me.”
He pointed across the room toward you. “Thank her.”
Everyone looked.
You were sitting comfortably on a stool in the kitchen; chin in hand, eating chips like you’d been watching a sporting event.
You gave a little wave.
“Kuna’s a women’s studies soldier ,” she said proudly. “I teach him everything I know.”
———————————————————————————————
The fraternity and sorority had gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas for a charity fundraiser. People were throwing out suggestions.
Raffles. Bake sales. Auctions.
Then Satoru snapped his fingers. “I got it.”
Immediately, you looked concerned, because he never had good ideas.
“We do a joint event with the sorority.” Satoru grinned. “The girls wear maid outfits and serve drinks.”
The room erupted into approval.
“That’s genius.”
“People would love that.”
“Easy money.”
Across the room, Sukuna slowly lowered the energy drink from his hand.
“Interesting.”
“NO,” Gojo yelled. “Let me have this one good idea,” he groans.
Sukuna stood. “Let me understand… the women wear maid costumes.”
“Yeah.”
“And serve drinks.”
“Yeah.”
“And what are the men doing?”
Toji shrugged. “We could do some strength challenge.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Lifting something heavy.” Several people nodded.
“Classic.” Sukuna stared. Then looked at you, looking for approval to go on a rant.
Sukuna turned back to the room. “The women get assigned a service role. The men get assigned a strength role.”
More silence.
“Based on gender.”
The room collectively sighed.
Sukuna pointed dramatically. “Why.”
Satoru finally spoke. “Because that’s what people want.”
Sukuna gasped.
You smiled proudly at your boyfriend, waiting for him to call out their blatant sexism.
“PEOPLE EXPECT IT?”
“Yeah?”
“So we’re just reinforcing traditional gender roles for profit now?”
The room erupted.
“IT’S A CHARITY EVENT.”
“YOU’RE MAKING IT SOUND EVIL.”
Sukuna ignored them. “Misogyny is evil.” He pointed toward the sorority members.
“Why are they the ones serving drinks?”
One of the sorority girls raised her hand. “Honestly, I don’t want to wear a maid costume.”
“THANK YOU.” Sukuna was fully activated.
You were delighted to see how this was playing out.
“Explain to me,” Sukuna continued, “why the men can’t wear maid costumes and serve drinks.”
The room went dead silent, and you almost spit out your drink.
Toji blinked.
Satoru blinked.
The sorority sisters were stunned. “What?”
“The men.” Sukuna spread his arms.
“No.”
“Why not?”
The room burst into laughter.
“If serving drinks is easy money, then congratulations.” He slapped the table.
“The fraternity is serving drinks.”
The sorority girls immediately started cheering.
“YES.”
“MAKE THEM DO IT.”
Toji looked horrified. “Absolutely not, I’m not wearing a maid outfit.”
Sukuna leaned forward. “Fragile, typical response from men. Toxic masculinity, machismo, societal expectations.” He says pointing a finger at different men around the room.
You had your face in your hands, trying to hide your laughter. You had to show support for your boyfriend, but couldn’t handle him naming every term he could think of.
Sukuna pointed around the room. “If the costumes aren’t degrading, wear them.”
Silence.
The sorority girls were having the time of their lives. One of them pulled out her phone. “I’m ordering maid costumes right now.”
The fraternity erupted in panic.
“STOP HER.”
“WE CAN STILL NEGOTIATE.”
——-
Two weeks later, the fundraiser ended up being the most successful event in frat history.
Mostly because nobody could resist paying money to watch a group of deeply embarrassed frat bros serve spiked lemonade in maid outfits.
Toji looked dead inside.
Satoru refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Meanwhile Sukuna carried a tray through the crowd completely unbothered.
His maid outfit fit surprisingly well, as he served you a drink.
Across the lawn, Satoru was being forced to say “Welcome home, master” for a twenty-dollar donation.
The sorority was making a fortune.
Sukuna took one look at the donation total and smiled. “Look how good we’ve done so far,” he said enthusiastically.
“I’m so proud of you,” you said before leaning in for a kiss.
“By the way, I think you should bring home this costume when you’re done here,” you said; snapping the thigh high sock on Sukuna’s thigh.
The King of Curses sat upon his throne, and yet you had no issue glaring up at him. As if it were your stare that could cleave. Your hands that could ignite his shrine into blitz and ember.
Bundled in a silk blanket and babbling up at you with eyes as ruby as her father's, your daughter chewed on her thumb. Blissfully oblivious to the tyrant from which she came.
Sukuna refused to hold her.
It was subtle, at first. When she was born, he claimed that it was vital for a baby to stay close to its mother. For warmth, food and comfort.
It had been four weeks, and your husband hadn't so much as grazed her tiny pinkie.
"Why?" You asked, anger blooming in your throat like the flowers he had planted in the gardens for you. He would sully his knees in the soil and his hands in the mud for your benefit, but couldn't bear to hold the life that he had created?
Sukuna's face was hard in a scowl. Each maroon eye glaring into your soul.
A beat of silence.
"I do not want to."
You flared, clinging your baby closer. "Are you ashamed? Ashamed of the life we created?"
"No, damnit woman—"
"Then why!?"
"Because I will mar her!"
The shrine shook as he shoved himself out of his throne. Standing now. It was at his full height that you recognised the being thousands feared. Four arms, two faces, and a stature that rose from hell.
His glare burned, but it wasn't anger. Face twisted in an emotion you hadn't seen enough from him.
"I will— hurt her. Is that what you want?"
Vulnerability.
Your daughter startled. Sniffling at the booming voice that rattled the floors. You watched her face squish and her lip quiver, before a broken, hiccuped sob filled the air.
His shoulders sunk. The fight seeping out of him. You watched his eyes swell with many things you'd never seen before.
Guilt, sadness.
Fear.
Rocking your startled baby, you held her close with soft shushes, but her sniffles soon turned into wails. Sukuna's stood frozen, sullen.
You understood, now.
Cradling the small girl, you stepped forward. Up the stairs to the platform of his throne. Even as he took a step back, you persisted.
"Sukuna. . ." You called to him. Soft in the way that only you were capable of being with him.
He almost flinched.
"This child, she's ours. Our daughter, made with love."
You stood right in front of him now. Taking in his wound up muscles and squared shoulders. Looking more like a deer ready to sprint than a father.
A father who feared that his hands were too rough, too evil, to nurture his own child.
"You won't hurt her. Because she's ours." Reaching forward, you held out the sobbing bundle. Watching his face and the several shades of uncertainty it turned.
You had never seen him so. . . frightened.
You pushed past his hesitancy, carefully placing your daughter into a set of his hulking arms. She was tiny compared to him. Seemed he was processing that too.
Aiding his position, you slipped one of your hands to tenderly hold him by the bicep as he, for the first time ever, held his daughter.
His breath was hitched. All of his eyes gaping at the small bundle in his arms. Watching her as if she were the most delicate piece of porcelain.
Your daughter's sobs stirred into sniffles, then hiccups, until. . . silence.
As big, ruby eyes stared up at her father. Taking him in. His face, his warmth.
And then, she beamed a toothless smile.
Sukuna tensed. A shaky breath hitching.
"She's— she's smiling. Why is she smiling?"
He quickly looked to you. Brows pinched. Looking lost, looking scared.
You offered him a smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Because she knows that her father loves her." Tickling her neck, you hummed as she squirmed a bit and giggled, pressing more into him.
He instinctively held her closer. Eyes unblinking.
You watched as Ryomen Sukuna, The King of Curses, melted. His heart swelling as he stared at his daughter. Even bringing one of his fingers closer to her, so that she could grab at it. Hugging around it with that big, bring smile.
His mouth quirked at the corner. Faint, but tender.
"Yeah. . ." He whispered, voice thick with emotion. Centuries worth of affection for his child, his daughter.
"Your father loves you. More than anything. More than life."
[ SYNOPSIS ] — yuuta really wants you to help him exercise :( w.c: 1.4k
[ PAIRING ] — okkotsu yuuta x reader
[ TAGS ] — gn!reader, pure fluff, established relationship, sorcerer au or not (you pick), yuuta and reader are so very cute.
[ A/N ] — I MISS MY BABY SO BAD 🥹 i tried sth new w the layout but it's so ass and I'm too lazy to change it. I wrote this today while doing my internship so it's not proofread AT ALL.
If you liked this consider joining my taglist!
The afternoon light slants through the gym windows, golden and slow, painting long rectangles of warmth across the padded floor. The air smells faintly of clean sweat and the lavender spray you’d used to wipe down the mats earlier. It’s quiet, save for the soft rhythm of Yuuta’s breathing and the occasional thump of his back meeting the ground.
He’d come to you twenty minutes ago, all fidgeting hands and averted eyes, and asked—so quietly you barely caught it—if maybe you’d sit with him while he exercised. “It’s just... it’s more fun when you’re here,” he’d mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red. “I’ll work harder. I promise.” And then, after a pause so fragile it could have shattered, “Maybe... maybe I could get a reward? For each one?”
You’d raised an eyebrow, already smiling. “What kind of reward?”
Yuuta had looked at the floor, then at the ceiling, then finally—bravely—at your lips. “A kiss? Please?”
So now here you are, stationed at his feet, counting kisses under your breath and watching him fall apart in the sweetest way possible.
His back hits the mat again with a breathless little oof. His chest rises and falls beneath his soaked shirt, the fabric clinging to the lean lines of his body. Dark strands of hair are plastered to his forehead, and a pink flush spills from his cheeks all the way down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. His arms lie limp at his sides, trembling faintly, and his legs feel like jelly under your gentle hold. But the moment his glassy eyes find your face, he smiles. Soft. Hopeful. Almost unbearably shy.
“Again?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
He swallows, throat bobbing. His voice comes out a little wrecked, a little pleading. “Please. One more. Just one more.”
You’ve lost count of how many times he’s said that. Every time you think it’s the last, he looks up at you with those impossibly tender puppy eyes and asks—never demands, always asks—and you are left helpless to refuse.
“Alright,” you murmur, giving his ankle an encouraging squeeze. “But this really is the last one, okay? You’re shaking.”
“I’m not,” he protests weakly, even as his stomach muscles visibly quiver.
“You are.”
“Then it’s... it’s happy shaking. Excited shaking.” His lips twitch into a sheepish grin. “Because I get another kiss.”
Your heart performs a pirouette in your chest.
Yuuta curls upward again, a strained groan escaping his lips. His abdominal muscles contract visibly beneath his shirt, and his face scrunches with the effort—but as he draws closer, his expression transforms. The furrow between his brows softens. His lashes flutter. His lips part ever so slightly, forming that unconscious little pout he always makes when he’s waiting for affection.
You lean in and press your lips to his. It’s soft and fleeting, a gentle brush that tastes of salt and the strawberry chapstick you’d smoothed over his mouth a little while ago. He exhales a shaky sigh into the kiss, a sound of such contentment that it wraps around your heart and squeezes.
He drops back down, limbs sprawling out like a starfish. His grin stretches so wide it bunches his cheeks, and his eyes stay closed, savoring the ghost of your lips.
“That was twenty-four,” you tell him, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
Yuuta’s eyes flutter open. He blinks at the ceiling, dazed and dreamy. “Twenty-four,” he repeats, as though tasting the number. Then, quieter, almost reverent, “Twenty-four kisses.”
There’s a long pause. His fingers drum absently against the mat. You watch the gears turn in his head, watch the way his bottom lip tucks itself between his teeth, watch the fresh bloom of pink spread across his cheekbones.
“So...” he starts, voice going all tentative and hopeful, the way it does when he’s about to ask for something he desperately wants but feels shy about wanting. “Technically... twenty-four isn’t a round number.” He peeks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Twenty-five is a round number. Sort of. It ends in five. That’s satisfying.”
“You said one more,” you remind him, though your smile completely undermines any pretense of sternness.
“I know what I said,” he admits, suddenly fascinated by a loose thread on the mat. He picks at it, avoiding your gaze. “But I’m saying something different now. I’m saying... please?” He lifts his eyes, wide and beseeching, and there’s a faint wobble to his lower lip that he is absolutely not doing on purpose. Yuuta could never be manipulative on purpose. (Or so you think) “Please, angel? One more kiss? Just one? I’ll be so good.”
You laugh, a breathless and giddy sound that makes poor Yuuta so so hopeful. “You’re already good, Yuuta.”
He shakes his head, flustered but persistent. “Then one more because I asked nicely? I did say please. I’ll say it again if you want: Please. Please, please, please, please—”
“Okay, okay!” You’re laughing fully now, and he’s grinning up at you like you just handed him the moon. “One more. But after this, you are resting. Actual resting. On the couch. With water.”
“And you?” he asks quickly. “Will you be on the couch too?”
“Obviously.”
His whole face softens. “Okay.”
He settles back into starting position, chest still heaving, muscles still trembling, but that tiny determined furrow between his brows is back. He takes a breath. Curls upward. The movement is slower than all the ones before, a true labor of love, his body screaming for rest but his heart screaming louder for one more kiss.
And when he rises, you meet him halfway.
This kiss is longer. You let your lips rest against his, let the warmth bloom between you, let yourself feel the way his mouth curves into a smile against your own. He exhales through his nose, a soft and shuddering sound, like you’ve just given him something precious.
Then his hands move.
They slip from his sides to your calves, fingers curling gently around them. Warm even through your leggings. You barely have time to gasp before they slide higher, skimming your knees, then your waist, then settling at the small of your back. He tugs—not hard, never hard, just insistent enough to coax you forward. And you go, helplessly, tumbling onto his chest with a startled squeak.
His back meets the mat. Your heart meets his.
“There,” Yuuta breathes, voice a little wobbly, a little triumphant. His arms wrap around you, locking you against him as though you might dissolve into the golden afternoon light if he doesn’t hold tight enough. His chin tucks over your shoulder, and you feel his smile against your temple. “Now I don’t have to stop kissing you. Now I can just... have you whenever I want.”
“Yuuta...” you murmur into the curve of his neck, your own smile pressed against his heated skin.
“Mhm.” He tilts your chin up with one gentle finger and presses his lips to yours again. Slow this time. Languid and sweet, like he has all the time in the world and intends to spend every second of it kissing you. His lips move with aching gentleness, and his fingers trace aimless little patterns on your spine—circles and swirls and what might be tiny hearts. You can feel his heartbeat hammering beneath your palm, fast and flustered.
When you finally break apart, you’re both giggling, noses bumping, breath mingling in the small space between you. His cheeks are flushed a brilliant pink, his hair is a mess, and his eyes hold so much adoration it makes you want him even more than you already do.
“Twenty-five,” he whispers, counting it like it’s the most precious number in the universe. His thumb strokes along your spine. A pause. His voice goes impossibly soft. “...Can I have twenty-six?”
“Yuuta!”
He laughs—a real laugh, bright and breathless—and pulls you even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Okay, okay,” he relents, his voice honey-warm and content. “ I'm tired though..I don't wanna do more sit-ups. I just want you here.”
His arms tighten around you. His breath slows. The golden light shifts across the floor, and outside, a bird sings.
“I love you,” he murmurs into your skin, so quietly you almost miss it. “So much. More than twenty-five kisses.”
You press a kiss to the top of his head, right where his hair is softest. “I love you too. More than twenty-six kisses!”
He giggles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “That’s not fair. I said it first.”
“Then I’ll say it more.”
His arms tighten. His smile presses into your shoulder. And the two of you stay there, tangled together on the gym mat, wrapped in warmth and love and the fading scent of strawberry chapstick, while the afternoon stretches on.
