hi!

needed a place to collect my thoughts ab all the anime men that I wish were real 💔

[sinkuna]

୨୧ ― Sukuna's tatted hand is tangled in your hair, fingers fisted tight enough to make your scalp burn, wrenching your head back at an angle that has your spine curved like a bow. Your face is smushed into his rumpled dorm bedsheets- drool pooling beneath your slack mouth, mascara smeared across the cotton, tears and snot mixing into a pathetic mess.

“HHNNGGHH-! NNGHH-! AH, AH, AHHHN-“

Your moans are muffled by the mattress, garbled and broken, punctuated by the sound of Sukuna's hips slamming against your upturned ass. He's fucking you like he hates you -or maybe like he owns you- each stroke punching deep enough to kiss your cervix, his heavy balls swinging forward to smack your swollen clit with every impact.

“Louder,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his brow onto your arched back, “Want the whole floor to hear how pathetically desperate you are.”

“MMMPHH-! S'KUNA-! S'KUNAAAA-!!”

His free hand cracks down on your ass, the SMACK echoing through the room, leaving a perfect red handprint blooming across your jiggling cheek. You wail, cunt clenching involuntarily around his thick shaft, and he laughs- a beautifully dark and cruel laugh.

“Squeezing me already? We're just getting started.”

Neither of you hear the door open.

There, framed in the doorway, stands Gojo Satoru -Sukuna's unfortunate roommate-frozen mid step with a physics textbook clutched to his chest like a shield.

“Sukuna have you seen my-“

His beautiful blue eyes -stunning even behind those thick rimmed glasses- go wide as he processes the scene before him. Sukuna. On the bed. Balls deep in some girl, fucking her so hard the cheap bedframe is creaking against the wall. The wet schlck of her soaked pussy getting absolutely ruined filling the room, followed by broken, sobbing moans…

Oh my god. Oh my GOD.

Gojo's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No sound comes out.

And then you lift your head.

Just slightly -Sukuna's grip loosening for a fraction of a second as he adjusts his angle- and your tear streaked, fucked stupid face turns toward the door. Tongue lolling out. Eyes rolled back so far the whites show. Drool connecting your lips to the sheets in shiny strings.

Gojo's heart stops.

That's-

He knows you.

He's seen you. Curled up on the common room couch with Toji, sharing a blanket, stealing bites of his ramen while he pretended to be annoyed. Laughing at Toji’s terrible jokes. Wearing his oversized hoodies.

That's Toji’s girlfriend.

“The door” Sukuna grunts, hips never faltering, “was locked for a reason, four eyes.”

“S-Sukuna-“ Gojo's voice cracks, strangled.

Sukuna doesn't stop. Doesn't even slow down. He just turns his head- slowly, lazily, like a predator acknowledging prey that poses zero threat and grins.

“Like what you see?” Sukuna's smirk is practically audible as he pulls out slowly -you whimper at the loss- giving Gojo a full, glistening view of his cock, veins pulsing, slick with your arousal. Then he slams back in, punching another scream from your lungs.

“I-I-“ Gojo stammers, textbook slipping from nerveless fingers.... He should leave. He should definitely leave. But his feet are rooted to the floor, and his cock is hardening traitorously in his sweatpants, tenting the fabric in a way that's impossible to hide. Fuck fuck fuck-

“I- you- she's-“ Gojo's brain is short circuiting, glasses fogging from the sudden heat of the room. His eyes dart between Sukuna's sweat slicked torso, your arched back, the obscene gape of your pussy every time Sukuna pulls out to the tip before slamming back in, “That's Toji’s girlfriend!”

“Is she?” Sukuna's voice drips with mock innocence. His tatted up hand tightening in your hair, yanking your head up so Gojo can see your face clearly. Can see the way your eyes have glazed over, pupils blown wide with need, any trace of shame long since fucked out of you, “Could've fooled me. She's been my personal cocksleeve for months now.”

“Wha- months?!”

You moan- high, desperate, shameless and push your hips back against Sukuna, chasing his cock like your life depends on it, “AAAHHHH-! OH GOD-! S-Sukuna, he's- he's watching-“

Gojo makes a choked sound. She's- she's not even trying to-

“I know.” Sukuna's red eyes lock onto Gojo's frozen form, “Isn't that the point?” He yanks your hips up higher, so Gojo can see everything -the way your puffy lips stretch around his girth, the creamy ring of arousal at his base, the way your clit throbs with every impact. “Come closer, Satoru. Get a real look at how a pussy should be fucked.”

I should leave, Gojo thinks frantically, even as his feet carry him two steps closer. I should definitely leave. This is insane. This is- I should turn around and walk out and pretend I never saw this. I should tell Toji. I should- His hand drifts unconsciously toward his straining erection-

“Don't touch yourself,” Sukuna snaps, and Gojo's hand freezes mid air, “You don't get to cum. You get to watch. Learn something, virgin.”

Gojo doesn't move.

“I can see your dick twitching from here. Poor pathetic virgin, watching his roommate ruin another man’s girl. Getting off on it. Tragic.”

Gojo's face flames scarlet. His hand shoots down to cover the obvious tent in his sweatpants, humiliation burning through him- but he still doesn't leave.

Toji’s going to kill him, Gojo thinks wildly. Toji’s going to find out and literally murder him on campus.

Sukuna slams back into you so hard the bed screeches across the floor, “-pay attention, looser.”

What follows is the most deviant lesson of Gojo Satoru's life.

He watches the entire time- glasses steamed, cock throbbing, shame weighing heavy in his chest as Sukuna fucks you through orgasm after orgasm. Sukuna even flips you over and makes you ride him reverse cowgirl so Gojo can see everything- the way his thick cock splits your pussy open, the way your creamy slick drools down his shaft, the way your stomach bulges slightly every time he bottoms out.

“Look at him,” Sukuna commands, gripping your jaw and turning your head toward Gojo, “Look at the pathetic little nerd jerking off to you getting bred.”

Gojo's hand is in his pants now... He doesn't remember putting it there…

You look at him -eyes glazed, mouth hanging open, utterly fucked stupid and smile, D-Does it feel good... Gojo-kun?”

He cums in his pants like a goddamn teenager after hearing your sweet voice… shit…

Sukuna laughs until he's breathless, then flips you onto your back again and fucks his own orgasm out of himself, painting your insides white while Gojo watches with a hand still wrapped around his softening cock.

“Haaaahhh… hahhhh…” You twitch and moan through the aftershocks, feeling his seed pump into your womb in thick, pulsing ropes. It's so much. Too much. It starts leaking out around his cock immediately, dripping in a creamy river onto his ruined bedsheets.

Sukuna pulls out slowly, a thick pearlescent strand of cum connecting his softening cock to your ruined, gaping hole. Your pussy clencheson nothing, pushing out more of his seed in a slow, obscene drool that patters onto the floor.

He turns to his roommate, not even bothering to wipe himself off, “clean ups on the bed.” Sukuna nods toward where you're still slumped, trembling, cunt exposed and dripping, “And Satoru?” He tucks himself back into his sweats, utterly unbothered, magnificently bored, “Next time, knock.”

He saunters out, and the door clicks shut.

Silence.

Just your ragged breathing and Gojo's sharp, pants filling the room.

Gojo doesn't move. Still stuck where he’s at admiring your glistening body- damp hair plastered to your face… the way your legs tremble…

Leave, he screams at himself. Fucking LEAVE. But… what if she needs help…?

His feet carry him forward, right to where you’re at.

One step. Two. Three.

You lift your head weakly from the bed, still trembling, mascara smeared down your cheeks, lips swollen and slick with drool. Your eyes -glazed, fucked out- find his.

You don't tell him to stop, don’t tell him to get out… you just wait and see what happens.

“He said...” Gojo's voice cracks, barely a whisper. His cock stirs to life again painfully in his soaked sweatpants, the wet patch at the front growing. He's so hard it hurts, harder than he's ever been in his pathetic virgin life, “He said clean up was on the bed…”

What the fuck am I saying, he thinks wildly, what the FUCK am I- she’s Toji’s- Sukuna’s? She isn’t my responsibility-

You shift on the bed, spreading your shaky thighs wider until more of Sukuna's cum oozes from your gaping cunt. Your swollen clit pulses visibly, still engorged, still needy.

“Then clean me,” you breathe.

Gojo drops to his knees so fast his bones crack against the floor next to the bed.

Oh god oh god oh god- His hands shake as they grip your thighs, pushing them further apart and bringing you closer to the edge until he's eye level with your pussy now, close enough that the musk of sex and Sukuna's cum fills his nostrils… until it makes his head spin. She's so- it's so- I can see inside her- she's still clenching- there's so much cum-

“I've never-“ he chokes out, face burning, “I don't know how to-“

“Lick.”

He licks.

His tongue drags a hot, wet stripe from your dripping hole to your throbbing clit, and the taste of you, mixed with him, salt and musk and sweet- explodes across his tongue. You keen, hips bucking against his face, and Gojo moans like he's the one being touched.

“Nnghh- f-fuck- more- G-Gojo- get it all- please-“

He buries his face in your cunt.

Lapping at your folds, sucking Sukuna's cum from your twitching hole, tongue fucking into you to chase every drop. His nose grinds against your oversensitive clit and you cry out so prettily, fingers fisting in his white hair, shoving his face harder against you.

“J-just like- oh god- just like that-“

She tastes so good, Gojo thinks deliriously, even with his cum- especially with- I'm eating his cum out of her- I'm- His hips rut pathetically against nothing, I'm so fucked. I'm so fucking fucked.

“Ahhhn- right there- suck my clit- s-suck it-“

He obeys. Like the good boy he is.

Wrapping his lips around your swollen bud, sucking hard, tongue flicking rapidly- sloppy and inexperienced and desperate to please. Your thighs clamp around his head, muffling his whimpers, and his hands grip your ass to pull you tighter against his mouth.

“Good boy,” you gasp, and Gojo sobs against your pussy, hips jerking, “Such a good- nnghhh- good little clean up boy- eating his cum right out of me-“

“Mmmph- mmhhnn-“ He can't respond, mouth too full of your cunt, but his cock leaks in his sweats, another spurt of precum joining the mess.

The door opens.

“Shit I forgot my wallet-“

Sukuna stops.

Gojo freezes, face still buried between your thighs, Sukuna's cum smeared across his lips and chin.

Sukuna's eyes take in the scene- his roommate on his knees, face deep in the pussy he just bred, glasses askew, sweatpants tented once more and soaked…

“Well, well.” He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking, “Maybe you're not completely useless after all, four eyes.”

I'm going to die, Gojo thinks, He's going to kill me. I'm going to-

“Did I say you could stop?”

Gojo's tongue resumes its work against your sloppy cunt until you throw your head back and moan.

Sukuna watches, pulling out his phone.

Click.

…

That night, Toji texts Gojo: Hey man, have you seen my girlfriend around? She's not answering her phone.

Gojo stares at the message for a long, long time.

He doesn't respond

[indiewritesxoxo]

true love waits

seeing spectres? got a ghost problem? it seems Satoru Gojo has one of his own - one he doesn't want to get rid of

synopsis: full-time nerd turned part-time amateur ghost hunter, you've become Gojo's favorite occupation! living with a roommate is hard enough - let alone falling in love with your (un?)dead one!

pairing: nerdjo x ghost!Reader

content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, roommates-to-lovers but one of them is dead lol, paranormal aspects ofc, fem reader, discussions of death, some darker themes but plenty of goofy gojo to go around, idiots falling in love, petty reader, gojo being a DORK, she falls first + he falls harder, this one's gonna be freaky guys, unprotected piv sex, oral (m! receiving), more tags to be added!

art by @chu-cho + divider by @petalpxl

gojo's ghost hunting guide

one | two | three | four

five | six | seven | eight

a/n: the amazing @madamechrissy inspired this <3

taglist: @fati27ma @soraairo @s-guru @shokosbunny @ssetsuka @deathofacupid @kayskow @pillkits @inoluvrr @baepsays @imm0rtalbutterfly @heartcam @littlenutmaestro @mia-can-yap-too @bbatzvil @sugarcoatedsoul @designerpvssy @gravity-valley @stellasloth @dostoevskyzz @aldebrana @lashaemorow @monstersholygrail @mai-505 @itsinherited @gojosprettyprincess @mimiluvzu2 @poopooindamouf @emochosoluvr @nina-from-317 @beautiful--macabre @gris3o @petalshxwer @oneirataxiaa @onixsky @flowerpot113 @ryuvies @anyx404 @herefor-tojis-tits @takethechai

[indiewritesxoxo]

one of me is cute, but two though?

six | previous chapter... | falling snow chapter index

synopsis: fresh from a breakup, you fucked your ex-something's ex-best friend and it looks like he left you with more than hickies to remember him by. now you're navigating coparenting with Suguru Geto - and struggling not to fall headfirst into handing him your heart.

relationships: baby daddy!Geto x f!Reader

content: mdni, angst and smut, unplanned pregnancy, one-night-stand to coparents, soft domestic Geto, insecurities, emotional hurt, reader is very avoidant and having a hard time lmfao, choso cameo, uncomfortable conversations, kissing, unprotected piv sex, shower sex, fingering, creampie, tension

a/n: this is part of a larger fic (falling snow found here, branches off of pt. 10 of gojo's ending, picking up a couple months after her and geto's hookup), however it can be read as a standalone <3 divider is by @/koosuvi

Dinner wasn't the only thing Suguru ate that night. 

You hadn't slept together since. 

Four days felt like longer when you barely saw him living in the same apartment. He'd gotten home late again, apologizing before disappearing in his office.

All you could do was knock. 

He didn't reply. 

Still, you peeked through the crack. Sitting at his desk, reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose, lost in whatever he was looking at on his laptop. A deep crease between his brows as he clicked a few times, sighing to himself. 

"Suguru?" You murmured. 

He glanced up, closing it in a swift movement. Still, his features hardly relaxed, barely offering you more than half a smile. 

"Sorry, did you say something?" He apologized, as honeyed as ever, shuffling through a few of the scattered documents strewn next to him, sorting them into a neat stack. 

"Just wanted to check on you," You stepped in, leaning against the wall, struggling not to feel awkward. 

"I'm fine," He shrugged, looking over at the clock on the wall then back to the papers in front of him. "If you give me an hour, I'll start cooking dinner."

You shook your head. 

"You don't have to rush, I just had a snack anyway," You informed him, talking quietly. As much as you wanted to tell him you missed him, just wanted to see him, you didn't want to make him feel guilty or obligated to spend time with you when he was clearly busy. 

"Okay," He nodded, still distracted. 

It felt like a dismissal. Even if he didn't intend it as one. 

"Is, um, everything alright?" You hesitantly approached, stopping by the edge of his desk. It wasn't like you really even expected him to tell you. But you hoped he'd at least know that you cared. 

"Just have a lot on my plate right now," He murmured, flicking to a different paper. 

You wish you knew what weighed the most on him. After Friday, you couldn't help but think you were the item at the top of the list of stressors. 

"Can I help?" You bit your lip, taking the smallest of steps closer to his chair. He hadn't noticed, too absorbed in what he was reading. 

"Hm?" 

You kneeled down next to him, palms sliding up his muscled thighs to reach for his zipper. 

"What are you doing?" You couldn't tell if it was amusement or not in his tone. 

"What?" You feigned innocence, peering up at him with wide eyes as you slowly tugged his zipper down. 

"Not right now," He pushed his chair back, just barely, giving your left hand a small squeeze as he brushed it off. 

Bottling up your hurt, swallowing the jagged shards of it stuck in your throat as you grabbed the side of the desk to pull yourself up. He glanced over your stomach, starting to reach over to help you the rest of the way, but you brushed him off the same. 

"Oh, okay," You mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks. Even if he was legally your husband, he didn't owe you sex. He didn't owe you love. 

Wasn't that right?

“Maybe later.” He said that two nights ago. 

“Sure,” You felt like a fool for nodding.

He had only proposed marriage as a transaction. You were giving him a baby, and he was covering the costs. Rejection was still rejection, though, and it stung like a bitch. 

The fear that had been creeping around corners for weeks had finally shown its face. Sneering that he really didn't want you anymore. 

"I'll be out soon," He went to pat your hand, but it didn't feel as soothing as it had before.

"Don't worry about it," You pulled away, turning your head back towards the door before he could catch your expression. "I'll be fine on my own."

You had been all weekend. 

"Are you upset?" He said it almost offhandedly, like he was a parent asking a child if they were mad at them over something petty like candy or toys. 

"No," You shrugged. "I just don't want to bother you.”

“It’s not that. But between work and you and the ba-” He had opened the laptop again though, clicking something while he talked and just further confirmed your fears. You were part of the problem.

“I get it,” You were turning around and shutting the door behind you before he said anything else. 

You knew he cared about you. 

If he didn't, he wouldn't worry or stress. 

But he sort of had to. You were having his baby. 

It was you who developed deeper feelings for him that you needed to keep in check.

Padding softly back to the bedroom, quietly tugging open drawers to ruffle through a few days worth of necessities. Filling up an old tote bag hanging in your half of the closet as you racked through your brain not to forget anything. You shoved your work laptop in with the rest of your stuff, relieved you had left it in the bedroom instead of the office for once. The ache of being unwanted pushing you forward, throwing another shirt in and snagging your phone charger still plugged into the outlet. 

You weren't sure yet where you even wanted to go. Even though the lease was about to be up and there wasn't much furniture left, you technically did still have your old apartment, even if it was a long drive. Nobara or Yuji would probably let you stay with them if you didn't want to make it. Either way, you couldn't stay. Not if your presence would just push him further away. 

Feeling like a burglar in what had been your home, you cleaned the bathroom counter top off of all your toiletries, throwing in your hairbrush and face wash, resigning yourself to just stopping by whatever store was closest for shampoo and conditioner. You knew deep down Suguru probably wasn't going to step out of his office for at least another hour, but you were still in a rush to leave.

Rummaging through the contents of your bag, you sighed, exiting to the living room to snag your phone and purse from the kitchen counter, pausing by a stack of sticky notes left by the unopened spam mail. You had to dig through your purse for a pen, clicking it open with a frown.

You didn't bother addressing it to him, scribbling a few lines that you didn't want to stress him out more and you'd just go back to your own place for a few days. You paused, then added 'please get some rest!' at the bottom, as if he'd actually listen. Pulling it off the pad, you walked back over to the fridge and stuck it front and center where he couldn't miss it. Maybe your head would be clearer by the time you returned, your heart not so heavy.

You'd come back to drop off his gifts on his birthday in a few days, see how you felt then. 

Recollecting your stuff, you grabbed your keys and slipped your shoes on, the door creaking open as you creeped out into the hall. You pulled out your keys to lock it behind you, the bitter portion of you wondering if he'd even miss you when you were gone. 

The last few months were great. For you, at least. But you had him to lean on, to comfort you when you were stressed or sad or scared. He had never leaned on you. He didn't want to. 

You couldn't make him. 

If he wanted space, you could give it to him.

The walk out to your car was cold. You forgot your coat, the sun already dipping below the horizon, the sky a dark blue. Driving all the way to the apartment your name was actually on in the dark sounded extraordinarily shitty. Shivering, you hurried to turn the ignition on and turn up the warm air before pulling out your phone and opening up your contacts.

Nobara answered before the phone had even rang twice. 

"Hello?" 

"Could I stay with you for a few days?" You mumbled into the speaker, adjusting the vents so the warm air was blowing directly on you.

"Duh. What'd he do?" She was already getting irritated on your behalf. You couldn't exactly say “He didn't want me to give him a blow job.”

"I'll, uh, just tell you about it when I get there," You sighed. That would give you at least ten minutes to figure out a way to explain it without including that sordid little detail. "I'm fine, I just think we could use a couple days not being around each other."

"Okay," She drawled dramatically, suspicious still. "I'll withhold my judgment for now."

"Thanks. I'll be there soon," You hung up, dropping the phone in your cup holder as you buckled up. 

You had already spent most of your life without him. A few days without Suguru couldn't be that hard.

Come home. 

You stared at the message. 

"Want me to make you a bowl?" Yuji shouted from the kitchen, holding up the still-steaming bag of microwave popcorn. You nodded, mumbling a sure while you readjusted the pillow under your back for the hundredth time. This couch hadn't been kind to it even when you weren't pregnant. 

Nobara was giving you a look from the other end of the couch, some sort of sixth sense kicking in like she already knew what was on your screen. 

"What'd he say?" She frowned.

You flipped the phone around to show her.

"That's it?" She rolled her eyes, kicking her feet up on the already scratched coffee table. You hadn't heard from him since you left yesterday. "Don't reply."

"You think I shouldn't?" 

"He should be begging for you to come back," She huffed, right as Yuji came back in the living room, balancing three bowls in his arms. 

"Anything you guys want to watch?" He excitedly asked, passing them out before plopping in between the two of you. 

“I'll pick,” Nobarra had snagged the remote while he was in the kitchen, tucking it between her side and the armrest so he couldn't steal it back. 

Your phone buzzed again, the sound almost lost under them arguing. 

Are you and the baby okay? 

Nobara caught you looking, reaching over Yuji to snatch your phone, rolling her eyes when she saw the new message.

“I’m confiscating this,” She huffed, turning a little like it'd shield her typing something back from view. “You're supposed to be relaxing.”

Easy for her to say when you were currently second-guessing every moment you shared with him over the past few months. 

“Isn't worrying like bad for the baby or something?” Yuji chimed in, gently poking your stomach while you swatted his hand away. 

“If it doesn't work out with him, we can always help you raise the baby,” Nobara sounded way too confident, tucking your phone back in her pocket and offering you a big thumbs-up, although you knew if Yuji had been the one to say it, she probably would've hit him for being so uncouth. 

“Yeah, if he looks like Geto, we could probably even pass him off as Megumi's,” Yuji suggested, overexcited at his own idea. You laughed out loud picturing your dark-haired friend's reaction when he found out what Yuji had just volunteered him for. 

“Okay, maybe not that,” Nobarra sighed, picking at her manicure as she flipped through the movies on the screen. “But-”

“You know, we hardly ever use the office, I bet if we moved my desk back in my room, we could fit a crib in there,” Yuji kept yapping, head tilted thoughtfully while he made plans you sincerely hoped you wouldn't end up needing. 

“Thanks, guys,” You still smiled, plucking out the burnt pieces of popcorn and tossing them onto the coffee table. "But I still want my phone back."

Nobara groaned as she handed it over, muttering under her breath that you should scare him more, only for you to end up the one startled when Choso strolled in through the front door, carrying grocery bags he nearly dropped when he saw you on his couch. Frozen at the entryway while you offered a small wave, a forced smile.

Maybe you could just pretend it wasn't painful.

But then Yuji invited him to come watch, getting up and taking the bags from his brother's hands and hurrying to put them up, insisting there was enough room since Megumi couldn't make it.

So you were stuck in the same room as your ex when you weren't even speaking to your baby daddy, staring at the tv while you sorted out your complicated feelings, most of them centering around the man that knocked you up.

Eventually you had to push up off the cushions to go pee, your back aching as you stood up and started towards their bathroom, thinking about all the old times you'd used it before, how fucking different everything had been, how far from your old life you were now.

You didn't know why you were surprised when you opened the door afterwards and found a slice of the person you were before waiting for you.

"Um, how are you?" Choso awkwardly cleared his throat, doing his best not to look at your stomach and failing miserably, his eyes flitting down at the swell underneath your loose t-shirt every few seconds. 

"Tired," You yawned, offering a small smile. "How have you been?"

You hadn't seen him since the one awkward encounter where he found out you were pregnant in the first place. Yuji gave little updates here and there, offhand remarks about how his brother was doing, and what was new. It wasn't quite as weird as you anticipated when he was actually right here, no lingering discomfort or wistful what-ifs hanging over you. 

"Good, just, uh, busy," He replied, fiddling with the ends of his hair. 

“Yeah?” You searched his face, his nervousness as endearing as always. 

“Yuji says the baby is, uh, a boy,” Choso was doing his best attempt at a normal conversation, foot tapping the floor anxiously. 

“Yeah, he is,” You nodded, glancing back towards the living room. “You wanna go finish that movie?”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” His brows furrowed, like he thought you were just being polite.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” You laughed, relaxing more as you remembered that despite the drama, despite how messy your life got, these were the people that would be here for you regardless.

The baby kicked hard, a flicker of surprise crossing your face when you glanced down automatically. Choso's attention followed yours. 

Maybe he wasn't yours anymore. Would never fit into your world the same way he had before.

But being friends wouldn't be so bad.

You kinda needed as many as you could get right now.

"You wanna feel?"

"C-can I?" He stammered, face flushing and completely caught off-guard. His cheeks only got pinker when you nodded to confirm it, fingers trembling out to slowly press against your stomach as your son kicked again.

The moment was sweet, some closure you hadn't realized you wanted or needed setting in before your phone vibrated in your palm. Suguru's call went to voicemail. But his messages popped up next anyway.

Please.

Come back to me.

It took you almost a week to work up the courage.

Not completely giving him the cold shoulder, just clipped replies that the baby was fine. Insisting it was probably for the best if you stayed somewhere else for a while.

Let him sort his own shit out while you reminded yourself you didn't need him to do any of this.

Of course, your luck had never been anything other than rotten so the gray clouds loitering in the sky just had to start pouring once you got out of your car, soaking your clothes to your skin as you reluctantly used your jacket to cover up the birthday gifts you'd bought back when things were supposed to be pretty and peachy.

You didn't think things could get worse. That you could feel worse.

And still, you were outdone once you walked inside.

Three strangers were in your living room. His living room. 

You blinked, your throat far dryer than the rest of you as they blankly stared back. 

"Is Geto expecting you?" The one girl of the trio asked, arching a plucked eyebrow up and glancing over at her companions on the couch. They had their laptops out, a few papers on the table. Coworkers, maybe?

Either way, none of them seemed to know who you were either. 

He rounded the corner then, the easy, relaxed look on his face immediately switching to concern the moment he saw you looking like a drowned rat by the doorway. 

You never expected him to miss you. But it still hurt that he hadn't. 

Your name coming out of his mouth, but you cut him off before he could finish. 

"I'm, uh, just here to drop this stuff off and change clothes," You mumbled to him. 

"We're done for the day. Go home," Suguru barely looked at his guests, dismissing them as you started to slip past him in the hall. You could hear them whispering to each other about items still needing to be reviewed, business left unfinished. He was ignoring them, following you instead. 

"They don't have to go," You commented, keeping your voice neutral as your fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the doorknob to the bedroom. "Just give me two minutes and I'll leave.”

“You're going to get sick, at least take a warm shower first,” He was firm, his capacity to care only hurting you more. 

“Fine,” You yielded. 

No need for him to like you any less anyway, picking a fight with him while his guests were in the other room. 

All the feelings you tried so hard to shut down the past week just shoved back in your face the second you saw him. How much you wanted to fall apart at his feet, to cling onto the affection he devoted to his baby and just keep lying to yourself that it was all for you too. 

But you tugged your arm back, turning your head back down as you opened the door to his bedroom. His nightstand was empty, save for his reading glasses perched on the edge. You carefully stacked his presents next to them, wondering if there was even any point in putting in all that effort for him. Ignoring the ache in your chest while you pulled out a thick sweatshirt and leggings from your closet, grabbing the first pair of clean underwear you saw from your dresser so you wouldn't have to walk back out in a towel after your shower in case his guests, coworkers, whatever they were, were still hanging around.

He was saying your name again when you turned back in the hallway, but you ignored it, shutting the bathroom door behind you and flipping the lock. 

Shutting off your thoughts as you stripped out of your soaked clothes, discarding them in a sopping wet pile on the floor. Leaning over to fiddle with the shower handle, letting it warm up first before you stepped over the side of the tub. It was your first taste of comfort all day, the heat slowly returning to your body as you twisted around to soak your hair. You hadn't realized you were shivering until you saw how badly your fingers were shaking when you went to grab the shampoo bottle. 

It somehow slipped through your grasp, hitting the tub with a loud thud, ending up by the drain. 

You had just started to bend over to pick it up, preoccupied by how what used to be an easy movement made your body ache so much now, when Suguru knocked hard on the bathroom door. 

“Are you okay?” You'd never heard him sound panicked before. 

“I'm fine,” You called back out, finally reaching the slippery bottle and successfully grabbing it this time. Popping open the lid and about to squeeze some on your hand when the door fast enough it hit the wall behind it, your heart jumping when you peeked out from behind the curtain. 

Didn't you just lock it?

“What the fuck?” You stared hard at him. 

He exhaled when he saw you were, indeed, completely fine. But you could make out the traces of worry in his eyes, his chest rising and falling too fast.

“Did you fall?” He hadn't moved, the door wide open behind him.

“No, I just dropped the shampoo bottle,” You muttered, closing the curtain so you could go back to finishing what you started. “Can you get out now? Don't you have stuff to do?”

He was quiet. 

You pretended he wasn't there, did your best to act like you were showering anywhere else, returning the bottle to its place before massaging the shampoo in.

“They went home,” He said, like that would change anything. 

You didn't reply.

“Can we talk?” He eventually asked. 

“About what?” You curtly answered, fingers working to detangle the knots from your hair as you washed the last of it out, suds circling the drain. 

The shower curtain was tugged back, and you blinked back surprise when you realized he stripped down too, forcing yourself to look up, down, anywhere else when he got in too. 

“You left,” He was speaking so softly, but his eyes gave away how little control he had right now, the pupils too big, his eyes narrowing to thin slits focusing in on you. You turned around so you didn't have to face him, but it didn't make you feel any less like a mouse caught under his paw. 

“So?” You mumbled, steam wafting up in the air. 

One of his hands grazed against your hips and you flinched. 

“I’m fine. The baby's fine,” You said under your breath. 

Why did he care anyway? His son was okay, so what was left for him to worry about?

“What about me?” He murmured in your ear, and even without touching you, you could feel the weight of him ghosting across your skin, smothered in his presence. Threatening to suffocate you if you let it.

“I think I should just get out,” You swallowed hard, strengthening your resolve as you reached for the shower curtain. He might indulge you, maybe even fuck you so you'd feel better for now, but what came later? Who was to say you wouldn't just end up where you were a few days ago?

You'd rather spare yourself the heartbreak.

He grabbed your wrist, gently tugging you back. 

“Baby.”

It sounded like a purr coming out of his mouth, all tender and low. How easily it made you melt inside, the turmoil written all over your face for him to assess. 

“Come here,” He added, not letting go, but not pulling you into him either. 

“Why?” You looked down at the tub, wishing you weren't having this conversation naked. 

“I missed you,” He did pull you closer now, the water hitting your back as he tilted your chin up to face him. You wanted to believe him more than anything else. When you didn't say it back, hesitating while you chewed your cheek, his thumb drifted up to your bottom lip, tracing its outline. “Did you not miss me?”

“Did I say that?” You turned your head, but he dragged your attention back to him, the pad of his thumb pulling your lip down enough to slip between the edges of your teeth, daring you to bite him.

“It’s fine if you’re mad at me,” He hummed softly, serious despite the corner of his lips curving up. “Just be mad at me here.”

You couldn't exactly argue with his thumb in your mouth. Letting your teeth sink into his knuckle, his other hand finally pulled you into him. 

“Did I not give my girl enough attention?” He released your arm to brush your hair back from your face, tucking the wet strands behind your ear. 

You bit down harder, but he just chuckled. 

“Is that a yes?” He taunted, tugging his thumb free, letting his hand trace down your body until he was cupping your heat, rubbing tender half-circles against your clit. 

“What are you doing?” You managed a whisper, but he just increased the pressure, your knees pressing together on instinct.

“Showing you how much I missed you,” He murmured. You weakly shook your head, your scoff escaping before you could stop it. He could say it, but you saw his expression before he realized you were there. It wasn't exactly one of someone who'd spent the past few days hurting over your absence. He dipped a finger inside, but even the water rolling over your body didn't offer a shield to hide how wet you were just from his proximity. Suguru made a small noise, annoyingly pleased. “How much I need you.”

More sweet nothings. 

Need? What were you to him, really, other than an incubator? A warm body next to him? 

“Yeah?” Your sarcasm didn't go unnoticed. 

“I'm hurt,” He was pouting now, adding another finger. “You don't believe me?”

“You, ah, seem pretty okay to me,” You commented, spine going stiff when he slowly pushed in deeper. His broad chest pressing against you, and you couldn't help but feel insecure when he grazed against your stomach, blanching at the touch.

“I’m not.”

You didn't want an empty promise. 

Suguru always knew the right thing to say, what you needed to feel better. Discerning the damage control from the truth didn't come so naturally to you.

But it was hard to find an argument when he was knuckle-deep inside you, drawing out weak moans, making you lean against him for support. 

He kissed you, and you could almost buy it. If you shut your eyes, dropped all the shields you put back up, you might believe him. A hot lump formed in your throat, and it was only then that you realized you had started crying, sniffling as you tried to press a hand to his chest.

“You trust me, baby?” He hm-ed, breaking away from the kiss to brush away what was probably makeup-streaked tears from your cheeks as his other set of fingers slipped back out of you.

“Yeah,” You quietly replied. Even if you wished you didn't. One of those truths you hated yourself for.

He picked you up easily, his hands cupping your ass as he flipped you around until your back was pressed against the cold wall of the shower, a sharp gasp falling from your lips. Your body instinctively pressing itself against him, tits squished up, his half-lidded as they flitted down. Tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, his cock hard as it dug into your leg. 

“You're gonna drop me,” You managed a small pout, already knowing your resistance was futile. 

“I would never,” His voice tilted up at the end, teasing you.

Your fingers settled in his hair, easily getting tangled in the wet strands, wrists crossed behind his neck. You couldn't really make out what he was thinking, sort out what was going on inside his head. 

“You scared me,” He muttered. 

“I didn't mean to drop the sham-” You gasped when he suddenly kissed your neck, making a hot, hungry path down the side of your throat until he reached your chest. If he wasn't holding you up, you were pretty sure he wouldn't have stopped until he made it to your clit. 

“That's not what I meant,” He chuckled, having to readjust you so he could slowly inch past your entrance, eyes shutting as he forced a short inhale out of his nose. You expected him to hold himself back the same way he always did, but he bullied his way in until he was pressed against your womb, everything clenching around him. 

“Oh fuck,” You yelped, thighs squeezing against his sides. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered in your ear, sliding in soft and slow, his hands on your hips to hold you up. Knees automatically started to press together just for him to nudge them further apart, a needy whimper rolling off your tongue. 

“Mm, Suguru,” You gasped, too full to think when he snugly held you there, his fingers digging into your skin to keep you in place. 

Fucking into you at a steady pace, his hips rolling up, his feet firmly planted, refusing to let either of you slip.

"Don't leave me," he murmured, kiss after kiss pressing against your throat as he started repeating it over and over again into your skin. Teeth skimming dangerously across your tendons, sharp canines making you shudder while your walls greedily sucked him in, reassuring him when the rest of you wouldn't. You supposed it sorta made sense.

This had started with sex.

Your relationship had revolved around it in some shape or another.

You took what you could.

Let him rut into you, telling yourself his desire was desperation, that you had actually accomplished something when he tried to devote extra time to making you cum. Thumb dragging over your clit in tantalizing circles while you let whatever thin thread that held you together snap with your climax.

"Missed you so much," he murmured, saying it like a promise, kissing you while he came inside you, his cock throbbing and your thighs trembling and your heart aching.

You didn't reply.

Moaned instead of offering him something of substance, shutting your eyes until he pulled out. He kissed the corner of your mouth. The tip of your nose. Your forehead. Started washing you up properly after the cum started leaking down your thighs.

Devoting himself to each inch of you. Trying to prove something you didn't want to let yourself get tricked by.

Sure, some piece of him felt bad right now.

But you'd seen how relaxed he looked before he saw you.

What if all you did was make life harder for each other?

"Are we okay?" He asked, his own hair hanging wet and loose as the shower pelted his shoulders.

"Yeah," You paused to recollect yourself, the hole in your chest still empty and aching, his attempt at patching it up failing without him even noticing. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"I'll start on dinner," He softly said, pressing a gentle kiss against your hair. In the corner of your vision, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the shower curtain, pulling it back enough that he could step out. Stuck watching his shadow pull down a towel from the rack to dry himself off, tying his damp hair off his neck. 

You didn't have it in you to offer to dry it for him, spend half an hour brushing it out. 

“Thank you,” His voice was hardly audible over the exhaust and running water. 

“For what?”

“Coming home.”

You didn't think he should thank you yet. 

It was harder being with him than without him. What you couldn't have just dangling in front of your face, constantly reminding you of what you'd rather forget. 

The bathroom door shut, but it didn't click in the hinges, probably broken from where Suguru burst in earlier. You snuck another peek out of the curtain once you thought he was really gone just to confirm. 

Shutting the shower off with a sigh, grabbing the towel through the curtain and wrapping yourself up before you stepped out. You picked your clothing up off the floor, hoping the loose fabric would help conceal the tremble still lingering in your limbs, fingers shaking as you slid your underwear up your still damp legs, the band catching as you dragged it up your skin. 

By the time you were pulling the clean sweatshirt over your head, the baby had stirred, fluttery kicks brushing against the surface. A week ago, you would've rushed to show him. Now, you just felt the faint movements under your fingertips, tracing over the spot. 

As much as you already loved his baby, it would be stupid to let yourself fall in love with Suguru.

After the baby was, y'know, actually here, you could manage the first year with him at least. But eventually, he would meet someone he wasn't obligated to take care of, and if he fell for them, you'd be okay with that. Let him divorce you and play co-parents.

It was a possibility you accepted when you choose to keep the baby. 

You weren't really that scared to be a single mom, or even divorced. You were scared that you'd always miss him and he'd never miss you. 

Music was drifting down the hall when you walked out, something playing in the kitchen. Your towel was wrapped around your wet clothes, shielding you from getting soaked again as you padded over to the laundry room, pulling open the door and propping open the lid to toss everything in. Suguru was saying something, maybe to you, or maybe on his phone, but you were choosing not to listen, walking back to the bedroom to check the laundry basket. 

His gifts were no longer on the nightstand, his glasses now moved on top of his pillow. You supposed he could do whatever he wanted with them now, they were his to keep or toss. You balled up the few shirts and jeans at the bottom of the basket left by the open closet, wincing at the pain in your side from leaning over, taking your time walking back to start the load of laundry. 

Suguru was saying your name. 

It would've been easy to respond, but you couldn't force yourself to. Pretending not to hear him, adding the detergent and flipping through the settings before pressing start. 

"You alright?" Suguru was leaning against the door frame, dark eyes settling over to where you were still half-draped over the hood of the machine. 

"Hm?" You only let yourself look at him for a few seconds, turning your attention past him as you slipped by, careful not to brush against him. "What are you making?"

"I wanted to see what you were in the mood for," His hand landed on your back, palm flat against your spine, but it was hard not to stiffen, not to pull away from his touch even now. 

"Whatever you want is fine," You shrugged apathetically, a far cry from the dumpster fire of emotions currently burning you alive inside. 

He didn't say anything for a moment, but his hand didn't move. 

"Okay," He was yielding, you knew that, accepting your answer even if he didn't believe it. 

The presents were now stacked on the coffee table, the cushions still sunk in on the couch from this afternoon's company. It felt like you weren't really supposed to be here, like the previous occupants were about to knock on the door any second, reclaim their spots and kick you back out in the rain. 

"Were those for me?" Suguru spoke up behind you, his voice too close, too deep. 

"Your birthday's tomorrow," You stated, like he didn't already know. 

"Did Nanako tell you?" 

You grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, tugging it up to your chest while you curled up in the farthest corner of the couch, pressing yourself into the armrest. He tossed over the tv remote, watching it land with a soft thud next to you.

“Maybe,” You shrugged again. 

“You didn't have to-”

“I wanted to.” You turned the tv on, hoping it'd effectively end the conversation. Maybe he was the one lying to himself now, letting it go as he went back into the kitchen. 

Pretending everything was the same as before, answering his questions about the past few days when he returned with your favorite dinner half an hour later, returning to your little corner of the couch afterwards. He pulled your legs into his lap, rubbing along your shins while you curled up on your side. 

“If you're tired, we can go to bed,” He offered, the sky already dark outside the window while traced lines up-and-down through the thin fleece, pausing when his fingers grazed against your knee. 

“I’m fine,” You lied. 

You were tired, but you were nervous to share the bed, not sure if your heart could handle it. Even if you might regret it in the morning, you'd rather sleep on his couch. 

But your eyes must've fluttered shut at some point, drifting off without realizing it, waking up just to find yourself snuggled against him in bed. The blankets all tangled between your legs as he cradled you closer, a firm arm wrapped around your back. His chest rising and falling with steady breaths, his fingers splayed across your waist underneath your sweatshirt. 

You tried to roll over, slip away while he was asleep, but he didn't budge. You probably would've had better luck with a statue. 

Everything about him just enticed you to stay.

tags: @inthedarkshadows000 @universal-s1ut @theonlyhonoredone @sugurusfavemonkey @chsuguru @ravester @unikornboop @ivyvenus333 @nylve @shibataimu @20kglex @cuntphoric @starriesworlds @cryingoverpixelsetc @psychoartiste @saurondriell @simplyraeblue @deftoneslut004 @theclassbookworm @grapelover2000 @sugu81 @just-lilita @stefbroo @akiii143 @shibataimu @arabellasolstice @t4naiis @dovenu @getofanclub @iwannaseeyoucry777 @yemmuisworld @getosshampoo @tellria @juliarchiv3s @riseoftheblossom-ff @candy-s72 @l1lypads @senaqsstuff @fairytalefarts

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 ! ❞

❝ THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! ❞

✧ pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader

✧ summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)

✧ w/c: 8,939

You were a pretty little thing. 

That’s what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was — how could he have you? 

You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room. 

The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him. 

“Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?” He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, “g’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

“Are the cookies almost done?” Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, “sure you’re not burning them?” 

“I know how to bake cookies, Yu,” you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, “why are you so impatient anyway?” 

“He wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,” Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, “she doesn’t know?” 

Yuji shakes his head, “I thought Dad was—” 

Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, “You know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much less—” 

You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, “Can you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?” 

Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, “My dad’s brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,” 

“Your uncle?” and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, “Your dad’s great — I can’t imagine your uncle being any different,” you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yuji’s hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, “you’ll burn yourself, just wait,” 

Your own family was scattered here and there now — and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up — Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didn’t say much but he did a lot, and you couldn’t imagine his brother being much different. 

And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged — pinned under his mere presence. 

“Looks like you’ve done nothing to change the place, did you?” He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view — tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human — as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself — black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, “tch, brat, take my things up—“ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, “and he’s still here?” 

“Don’t be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,” Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, “Choso is welcome, and don’t forget you’re a guest here,” he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead. 

And Sukuna’s gaze finally falls on you. It’s heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points — his eyes lingers on the curves of your body — and perhaps the points he liked too. 

“And who’s this?” he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldn’t answer yourself. 

You say your name, “I’m their neighbor,” and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You can’t help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but it’s gone soon enough. 

You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, “sweet,” he devours it, “not bad, brat,” and he leans close again to grab another, “but probably not as sweet as you.” 

And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, “You better not be fucking around in my things,” 

You don’t hear Jin’s reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened. 

“You okay? He’s just like that,” Choso murmurs, “he won’t bother you, I promise,” 

“No, no, I’m okay,” your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but you’re sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs. 

And that was your first time meeting Sukuna. 

But far from your last.  

The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yuji’s ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.

You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night — and then you hear the creak of the back door open. 

“You want another drink, Choso?” 

“I’d love a drink, girl,” and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small. 

“Sure,” you say, slipping from your chair, “but we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,” and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips. 

“Sounds perfect if it’s from you, sweetheart,” and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes — he may be nice to look at, but he isn’t smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat. 

“Uh—“ 

“Just wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what you’re doing, with, what’s the drink called again?” And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence. 

“Sex on the beach,” you offer it to him, and fuck, you don’t like it — don’t like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes can’t pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face. 

“Good girl,” he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, “want to have one with me?” 

And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head — and you can’t help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neck—

“No, no, I probably should head home. It’s late—“ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, “Choso, where’s Yu?” 

“I got him to bed. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you don’t catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna. 

And you don’t see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either. 

The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later — and it wasn’t for lack of trying to avoid him. 

“Can I have some popcorn?” you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, “Choso?” you glance over at him, but he’s staring off into space, “hello?” you nudge him, and he finally comes to. 

“Sorry, what?” And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, “sorry I was just—“ he shakes his head, “nothing,” 

“You’re so convincing,” and you see a flush crawl up his neck, “C‘mon, what’s bothering you?” 

You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, “Cho, you’ve been brooding all night — did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?” 

He scoffs, “I only got upset about that once,” or twice or maybe ten times, “it’s Sukuna. He’s been really grating on my nerves,” and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down. 

“What has he done?” and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, “you can tell me—“ 

There’s a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, “Hey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,” and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves. 

You sigh, “I should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,” you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, “you okay?” He moves to get up, but you shake your head, “just chill, I’ll walk back.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it,  “I’m fine, just get home safe okay?”

You snort, “think I’ll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,” you grab your things, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone. 

A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, “You should watch where you’re going, brat,” and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, “don’t know what you’ll find wandering these halls,” 

You pull your arm away, “I’m pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,” 

“Not all of them,” the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, “what were you doing here so late anyway?” You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing. 

“Have you seen my shoes?” and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort. 

“Maybe answer my question and I’ll tell you,” and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, “was he really that bad?” And his question makes you pause, “the cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?” 

You haul yourself to your feet, “What is your problem?” 

And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, “You don’t have to be fucking sensitive, it’s just a question,” he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, “unless it was that bad,” 

“Fuck off,” you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, “what?” 

“Maybe I’ll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,” and you cross your arms. 

“Did you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, I’m surprised you weren’t caught sooner,” and he’s leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you. 

“Didn’t take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, I’m just your neighbors’ uncle aren’t I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, “but I don’t see you pulling away, do I?” 

And you aren’t. But why aren’t you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by him—

The creak of the door has you jumping back, “hey, you forgot your shoes—“ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna. 

“Thanks, Cho,” you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, “i was wondering what I did with them,” you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you can’t quite meet your best friend’s eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

And you’re gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns he’s met with a glare from Choso. 

Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Choso’s, “What are you fucking looking at?” 

And now he had visited you in your dreams too. 

“S’fucking wet,” Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, “fucking slut, you were begging for this, weren’t you?” 

And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, “fuck off,” you manage, between pants. 

“I know, brat, that’s what I’m trying to do,” he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, “like I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all I’ve done is open you up,” and to punctuate his point, he’s scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. 

“A-ah, please—“ and he’s grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, “Sukuna, please—“ 

“Knew you’d be a good girl f’me, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,” and his other hand spanks your clit, “now cum,” 

And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles. 

“Now you’re getting it, baby.” 

And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream — your very wet dream. 

“Fuck,” you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldn’t. Not after the last time — you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over — and not after that. 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Yes, you have done a good job. Until now. 

You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in? 

And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out. 

“Had” being the operative word. 

It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna — waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didn’t help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep. 

And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you). 

“What are you talking about?” 

And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasn’t around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked. 

Your head was spinning — you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door. 

You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And that’s when he spoke. 

“And here you are,” and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, “no need to jump, brat, I’m not a monster or a shadow,”

No, but he’s so much worse, he’s real. 

“I was just getting something to drink,” you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer. 

“Just water?’ That’s not the kind of drink you still owe me,” and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed. 

No, it was more of a curse. 

“I don’t remember owing you anything,” and he’s tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until you’re utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass. 

“Do I need to give you a reason?” And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, “didn’t think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,” 

“I wasn’t the one begging for me to be there,” and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his. 

“Tch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?” he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, “imagine how good you’d feel if you gave in,” and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcome—

SLAM! 

You’re sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,” he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, “and I thought you had plans,” 

“Plans can change, brat,” Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you — a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, “shouldn’t you go back to bed?” 

“I could ask you two the same,” he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” your only exit opportunity and you’d take it — there had been enough mistakes made, and you didn’t need another to add to the list, and you’re slipping back into your room without another word. 

You don’t see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, “What? Ow!”

And you’re only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning. 

But you knew you couldn’t avoid Sukuna forever — and you couldn’t avoid how you felt either.

Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted — space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of “rooming with a bunch of brats,” and had found himself another place to stay for a while. 

Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, but we’ll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefecture—” 

“And that’s already far too close,” Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, “so we don’t even know if he’ll be back huh?” 

Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, “I don’t know — your uncle isn’t one to stay in one place — unless there’s something that he wants,” 

“I’ll take any amount of time that he’s not here,” Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, “and this way you can stay over in the guest room now,” 

“Yeah, true,” you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate — why did your chest ache so much? 

“Yuck, do people’s heads really explode like that?” Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful. 

“How would we know that?” you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, “why did you even choose this movie anyway?” 

“He heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,” and Yuji’s cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?” And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle. 

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers. 

You shrug, “we’ll see,” your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts. 

“You don’t have been avoiding staying over, even though it’s just us,” Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words — even though Sukuna is not here, “are you sure we’re good?” 

And you couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him that was bothering you. It wasn’t him keeping you up at night, it wasn’t him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasn’t him that you wanted to see — no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself. 

So you don’t.  

You smile as best you can, “Everything’s fine, Choso,” and he frowns, still unsure, and you know there’s only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, “I’ll stay over,” 

And so you end up in the guest room — far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here. 

And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much. 

Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before it’s consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh. 

“S’fucking wet,” he huffs a chuckle out, “such a little slut, been wanting this for far too long haven’t you?” And he’s undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, “haven’t even laid a finger on you and look at the mess you’ve made,” he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, “already whining like a bitch?” 

He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, “Sukuna—please,” 

“Silly girl,” he murmurs in your ear, “I’m not even the one touching you now,” and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, “but I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,” 

Wait. What? 

And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body can’t move, but it’s not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still. 

Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind. 

And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own. 

Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, “Is this real?” you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close. 

“Want me to pinch you? Can’t say it’ll be the cheek you’re thinking of,” he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, “don’t go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. You’re the one having wet dreams about me,” 

“No, I-I, it wasn’t—“ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you he’s enjoying this far too much, “what are you doing here? I thought you left,” the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,” and a grin pulls at his lips, “why? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why you’re dreaming of me?” 

You’re squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, “I’m not, it wasn’t—“ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until he’s reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts. 

“That why you’re soaked through your fucking shorts?” And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, “least your body’s honest — so eager to get fucked,” and he’s teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits. 

“Sukuna, please—“ and his lips curl. 

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll go,” a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you — unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together. 

But you couldn’t. Not without him. 

“Sukuna—“ 

“I didn’t ask you to whine, are you going to answer my question—-“ 

“Fuck me,” the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you can’t find it in you to regret them. 

And he smiles all the same. 

“About fucking time,” and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, “didn’t even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didn’t want me fuck you open,” and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, “did you get this wet from dreaming about me?” And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, “better use your words, woman,” 

“Fuck, please, I need—“ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets. 

“Need me to fuck you that bad? G’nna beg this criminal to fuck you open?” And he’s toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, “after all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighbor’s uncle’s,” and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, “fuck yourself for me,” 

You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, “what? But—“ 

“Fuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what you’ve been doing when you’re fucking me in your sleep,” the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, “c’mon girl, gotta open yourself up for me — think I’ll fit if you just rub yourself like that?” And he’s pressing his clothed erection against your thigh — and he’s fucking big — rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants. 

And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, “Good girl,” and the praise makes your walls clench, and he’s chuckling, “want to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,” 

You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better — and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue. 

“Gotta be rougher than that,” and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didn’t think were possible with your fingers, “that’s it, you’re close aren’t you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, don’t you, you slut?” And you’re shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt. 

“Sukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I can’t—“ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb. 

“Yes you can,” he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, “cum on your fingers like you have every night for me,” and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, “say my name,” 

And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek. 

He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers. 

“Shit, that was a nice moan,” and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, “Still so fucking tight,” he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? G’nna have to fix that,” as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough.” 

he hums, taking in your ruined state — tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, “so fucking pretty like this,” and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open. 

“No, fuck, no don’t—“ and he’s turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, “please—“ 

“It’s a little too late for that, can’t have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?” he’s grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, “don’t move,” 

His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit. 

“Fuck, are you a virgin though? You’re still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,” and he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, “either way, you won’t be one soon,” and he’s burying his mouth in your pussy. 

You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears — and you wonder how the whole house isn’t awake yet. 

You can’t stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, “I told you not to move,” and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, “tell me when you’re about to cum,” and you whimper, “or I can open this door and let the house hear us,” 

You nod, but he doesn’t miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, “such a fucking slut, maybe I will,” and he’s plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But it’s all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open. 

And it doesn’t take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, “gonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,” he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, “you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and you’re nodding, and his fingers slip from inside. 

You’re whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, “Please, fuck, wanna cum,” the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting — “please, Sukuna—“ 

“So you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you can’t cum until I tell you,” and he’s sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but he’s fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, “wait,” he grunts, and it’s as if your warmth is made for him — or now it was, because he’s made it his, “wait,” and you’re sure he’s reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places you’ve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, “now, cum,” 

And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit. 

He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess you’ve made,” he sneers, but he’s licking his lips clean all the same, “should make you clean up the mess you made, shouldn’t I?” And he’s pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, you’re too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, “suck,” and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt. 

He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth. 

“Better than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?” he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he can’t fucking wait a minute longer, “turn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,” but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if he’d not only split you open, but break you all together. 

Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt — and you wanted him to.  

Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. “have to fuckin’ do everything myself for this whore’s pussy,”

You’re gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you don’t recognize as your own, “Sukuna, please, I can’t—“ 

“You can, you’ll take whatever I give you, brat,” and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, “and you’ll take this cock too,” and he doesn’t spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass — as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasn’t — before finally sliding in. 

God, fuck. 

Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you — he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt. 

He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again — because this was far from the last time he would take you. 

It was only the first. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight — am I the first to fuck this pussy?” he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick — he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy. 

“H-hngh, Sukuna, s’big,” you’re nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, “can’t fit—” and he’s scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning. 

“I’ll make it fit, girl,” he growls — like fuck he was stopping now that’s gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending — and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, “c’mon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?” and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, “so fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what we’re doing at this rate,” 

he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he won’t, not yet, “fuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe I’d let him watch me fuck you, only way he’ll ever see you like this,” and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, “to think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?”

You’re whining, “Please, fuck, slow down—” but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear. 

“You’re saying that, but we both know that’s not what you want — slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,” the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, “y’’know he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,” he’s forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, “he wants you, but he’ll never have you, because this pussy is mine,” and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, “but he’d never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want — like a whore,” his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, “say you’re mine,” 

You can’t find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly — the only words remaining his name and “please,” but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.

“If you’re not mine, guess I don’t need to let you finish, do I?” and you’re shaking your head, frantic and repentant. 

“I’m yours, i’m yours, Sukuna, please—” and he’s sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it — and he just knows you’re close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy — and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit,  “I’m—” 

And he ruts into you, hard and deep that you’re sure his length brushes against your womb — and you’re cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesn’t relent — but had he ever? He didn’t relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldn’t now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your hole—

You’re slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets — his balls tense with his release, “Fuck—” and that’s all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load. 

His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until he’s finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you — you’re boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in. 

“Kuna, fuck, I can’t—” and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before he’s deftly flipping you onto your back, “too sensitive,” you whine as his fingers work their way back into you. 

“Did you think I was done, woman?” and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and you’re almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, “we’re far from done.” 

The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, “what?” 

“Are you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, “you look tired,” It was another morning like always, but 

You shake your head, “I just didn’t sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie — yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick. 

And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you. 

“Should clean up and I should head to Jin’s room,” he murmurs, “I have a feeling I won’t have a place to live if he finds me in here,” and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, “we’ll have to get used to sneaking around. 

“Oh will we?” you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips. 

Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, “Is that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,” and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasn’t evident on your face, stabbing your egg. 

“Yeah, I had a couple last night,” you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Choso’s gaze still on you — your cheeks burning as Sukuna’s words about him still rung in your ears — along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, “I’m fine, I’m just going to need a nap,” 

“You’re not the only one, girl,” Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence. 

Choso’s eyes narrow, “What are you doing here?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sukuna’s eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, “what’s for breakfast?” and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna. 

“When did you even get in?” Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions — knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night. 

“And where did you sleep?” Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line,  “you didn’t bother our guest, did you?” and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukuna’s features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.

“He got in early this morning. He slept in my room,” Jin says with a sigh, “Don’t you two have to get ready? You’re going to your mom’s this morning,” 

“She’s not my mom,” Choso grumbles under his breath, “more like a leech,” but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brother’s shoulder. 

“I should get to work,” Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, “behave,” and he turns to you, “feel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,” 

And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you. 

“I’ll be back soon — you can hang out in my room if you want,” Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, “let me know if you need anything,” and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all. 

Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukuna’s hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place. 

“Are you done?” and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, “with eating?” 

“I am,” you raise an eyebrow, “And you?” 

“My appetite wants something else, sweetheart,” he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh. 

“And what’s that?” and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you weren’t careful. 

“I’m done playing coy, woman,” he’s lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and he’s gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, “there’s only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and it’s between your fucking thighs.” 

“Not sick of it yet?” you chuckle. 

“Think I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,” and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, “it is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.” 

“Really?” and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt. 

“Want me to prove it?” 

And oh, he would. Again and again. 

✧ a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?

✧ taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial

[kamoswrld]

on the house

content: 18+ mdni! nanami x fem reader, dilf nanami, divorcee nanami, bartender reader, titty bar scene, ft takuma ino hehe! smut with a little plot, bit angsty, soft dom nanami, he can get a little rough, smirk smirk. car sex, bj, face sitting, squirting, unprotected p in v, doggy style, cum shot

eli’s notes: whewww i saw @/aransmind post this fanart and my mind got to workkk, LMAO this is 2.3k words, i hope you enjoy! i love fulfilling the nanami agenda <3

“oh come on, mr nanami!” you hear one of your usuals ino whine. “that wasn’t a scratch!”

you glance over from behind the bar, wiping down a sticky counter with a rag that’s seen better days. the bar hums with low chatter, clinking glasses, and the sharp crack of pool balls colliding. ino’s got his hands thrown up, face twisted in mock defeat as nanami straightens up from the table, cue stick resting easy in his grip.

that man—kento nanami—moves with a quiet confidence that pulls eyes without trying. he’s been coming in here for weeks now, always with ino trailing behind like a eager pup, and sometimes a couple other guys who bet small and lose big against him.

he’s a pro pool player—you’ve heard the whispers, the half-drunken claims from your other regulars who swear they’ve seen him win tournaments without letting the other players even get a turn—but it’s the way he handles the cue that confirms it. smooth, precise and calculated. every movement deliberate like he’s already mapped the shot in his head before the tip ever touches the ball. every stroke is clean, confident. every sink in each pocket feels inevitable.

your eyes linger longer than they should. it’s hard not to. his forearms flex as he lines up a shot, thick muscle shifting beneath skin dusted with fine golden hair. the sleeves of his blue button-up are rolled just past his elbows, fabric creased where it strains around him, veins standing out—prominent, roped, alive—as his grip tightens and releases with practiced ease.

there’s something mesmerizing about the repetition of it: line up, breathe, strike, win.

you’ve overheard things too. the real stuff. late nights, when the bar gets quiet, when ino’s nursing his third beer, slouched against the counter and nanami’s staring into his whiskey like it might offer answers if he looks hard enough.

“it’s final,” he’d said once, his voice low, steady in a way that makes it sound like he’s already accepted it, even if his eyes hadn’t caught up yet. “the divorce papers are signed.”

a pause then a swallow.

“she didn’t fight for custody at all. left me with full rights to our girl.”

ino had clapped him on the back then, trying to soften the blow with some dumb joke about single dad life, about being a dilf, about women lining up. you remember how forced his laugh sounded in response—barely there, gone too fast.

because nanami’s eyes had looked…hollow. not broken. not messy. just tired in a way that felt heavier than exhaustion like he was carrying the entire world of a three-year-old on his shoulders now and refusing to set it down, even for a moment.

it’s sad, really. a cruel twist for a man who seems so solid. so reliable. the kind of man who shows up. the kind who doesn’t cut corners, who probably memorizes bedtime routines and doctor appointments and never once complains about the weight of it all. a man who would do anything for the people he loves—and do it with no hesitation.

and yet—fuck.

he’s gorgeous, his broad shoulders filling out his button-down like it was tailored just for him. that sharp jaw catching the dim bar lights when he tilts his head, hazel eyes steady and observant beneath lashes that always seem unfairly long. there’s a seriousness to him but not coldness—depth, the kind you want to sink into just to see how far it goes.

tonight, the bar’s thinning out. the neon signs hum softly, casting colored halos over sticky floors. the dancers sway on the small stage in the corner, topless and unbothered, moving to music that bleeds into the background like white noise. it’s a familiar scene—tipsy stares, wandering hands, loud laughter—but nanami never joins in. never ogles. never makes it weird.

he plays the game, tips well, thanks you every time you slide his drink over with that calm, polite murmur. a gentleman in a place that rarely rewards it.

and something in you finally snaps into place.

you decide it’s time.

screw waiting for him to see you as more than the bartender who knows his order and keeps his glass full. screw pretending your pulse doesn’t jump every time his eyes flick your way.

you pour him a fresh whiskey on the rocks but you don’t slide it across the counter like usual. instead, you hold onto it.

you step out from behind the bar, your tight top clinging to your tits just right, shorts hugging your hips so perfectly that you know damn well it's doing the job. you cross the room, heels clicking softly against the floor. nanami’s at the pool table, racking up for another round, his posture relaxed but focused.

you stop beside him and set the glass down on the edge of the felt. the ice clinks softly, a sharp sound in the quiet moment you’ve carved out just for the two of you.

“hey, winner,” you say, keeping your tone casual even if your heart’s not cooperating.

he looks up. those eyes meet yours, attentive and curious.

“on the house,” you add, lips curving just a little. “you’ve been cleaning up tonight.”

nanami turns toward you, hazel eyes locking onto yours, surprise flickering there before it softens into something warmer. he snuffs out his cigarette, sets the cue aside, and accepts the drink with a brief nod.

“i appreciate it,” he murmurs, his voice deep and even, gravel wrapped in silk.

you can almost see the gears turning as his gaze drags over you, slow and certainly sensual. it’s not like he’s never looked at you before—but tonight, something’s different.

maybe it’s tonight is the anniversary he’s supposed to be forgetting.

maybe it’s the fact that his ex-wife has finally moved on.

or maybe he’s just tired—of coming here every night after work, of playing pool until his fingers ache, of getting drunk enough to leave in a taxi with a couple hundred in his pocket and no one waiting at home but the nanny and his little girl already tucked in bed.

maybe he’s just lonely.

he takes a sip, then tilts his head slightly. “you know, i was thinking…” his eyes flick back to yours. “you got anything better than whiskey on the rocks? i need something a lot stronger.”

a faint smirk curves his mouth—just enough to show you a side of him you haven’t seen before. he steps closer, close enough that his voice drops when he leans in to murmur near your ear.

“maybe something…sweeter, hm?”

your lips curve into a sly smile as he pulls back, your heartbeat kicking up because he’s biting.

“you know what?” you say lightly. “yeah. actually. something a lot smoother.”

you jerk your chin toward the back. “follow me?”

he pauses, glancing at ino who’s already grinning like an idiot, but nanami just sets the glass down and gestures for you to lead. you weave through the back door, out into the cool night air of the parking lot, your car parked in the shadows away from the streetlights. the keys jingle in your hand as you unlock it, sliding into the backseat first, the leather creaking under you. he follows without a word, door shutting behind him with a solid thud, sealing you both in this private bubble.

the space is tight, intimate, and you waste no time, leaning in to capture his mouth in a kiss that starts hungry and turns desperate fast. his lips are firm, tasting like whiskey and that restraint finally snapping. his hands—big, calloused from whatever life he’s led—cup your face gently at first, then slide down to your waist, pulling you closer. your tongues tangle, breaths mingling hot and heavy. you can feel the tension in him uncoil with every kiss, his body pressing into yours with a need that matches the fire building in your core.

you break away just enough to whisper against his jaw, “been wanting this,” before trailing kisses down his neck, fingers working at his belt buckle with eager tugs.

he groans low, head tipping back against the seat as you free him from his slacks—and it's just perfect. his cock springing out, slapping against his abdomen. it's thick and heavy, veins pulsing under your touch.

you immediately shift down, knees hitting the floorboard in the cramped space. you take him in your hand, stroking slow to feel every ridge, every throb, your thumb rubbing over the slit.

“fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, voice rougher now, fingers threading into your hair—not pulling, just guiding. “look at you—being so good for me, sweetheart. taking charge like this.”

you meet his gaze, eyes dark with want, and lean in, tongue flicking over the tip to taste the salty bead there. then you swallow him down, lips stretching around his girth, cheeks hollowing as you bob deep. he’s big, filling your mouth completely, but you work him with messy enthusiasm—slurping, sucking, hand twisting at the base where you can’t reach. his praises spill out like honeyed gravel.

“g-god, just like that—your mouth feels so good, baby. you’re doing so well, don't stop.”

the words send sparks straight to your clit, thighs squeezing together as you hum around him, vibrations making him buck slightly. he cusses under his breath, grip tightening in your hair.

you push further, nose brushing his pelvis, throat relaxing to take him all. tears prick your eyes from the stretch, but it’s worth it for the way he gasps, “god—pl-please, k-keep going, beautiful. you’ve got me right there.”

he swells on your tongue, hips stuttering, and with a guttural moan, he cums—hot ropes flooding your mouth, salty and thick. you swallow every drop, milking him through it until he’s spent, chest heaving.

nanami pulls you up gently, kissing you deep despite the taste of himself on your lips. “now, be a good girl for me,” he says, voice husky, laying back as much as the seat allows. “and sit on my face, sweetheart—let me taste you properly.”

you waste no time and shimmy out of your shorts and panties. your heart racing as you straddle him carefully, knees on either side of his head. he grips your thighs, pulling you down onto his mouth with a hunger that surprises you. his tongue dives in immediately—messy laps through your folds, slurping up your wetness like he’s starved. but it’s precise. much like him playing pool, circling your clit with firm pressure, then dipping inside to fuck you with it.

you grind down, hands braced on the car's roof, soft moans spilling out as he devours you—a bit of a beard stubble scraping your inner thighs, nose bumping your clit while his tongue probes deep.

“oh fuck, k-ken—right there, don’t stop,” you gasp, hips rolling to chase the building heat.

he hums in approval, vibrations buzzing through you, and sucks your clit between his lips, his tongue flicking against it relentlessly. it hits hard—your orgasm crashing over you in waves, juices coating his face as you tremble and cry out.

“come here, sweetheart. come sit on my lap.” he pants out, stroking his semi-hard cock back to life.

breathless, you slide down his body, and he sits up straighter against the backseat, pants shoved all the way down. without another word, you turn, positioning yourself with hands gripping the driver and passenger seats for leverage, body arched between the center console. ass up, you sink back onto him—his cock sliding into your soaked pussy inch by inch, stretching you full. it burns in the best way possible, your wet cunt sucking him in like it never wants to let him go.

“fuck, yes—you feel perfect, baby. so tight, so warm around me,” he groans, hands settling on your waist, thumbs digging in.

for the first time in months, nanami can't think about anything else but you. how pretty you are, the sound of your voice, your soft moans each time the tip of his dick presses up against your cervix. how amazing you feel wrapped around his cock. how soft your skin is against his. how the taste of your sweetness lingers on his tongue. how absolutely perfect you are for him.

how he doesn't know how he's ever going to get enough of you now.

you bounce back, ass slapping against his hips with each thrust, the angle hitting deep.

he’s a little rough but gentle—thrusts powerful yet controlled, one hand sliding up to slap your ass lightly, the sting blooming into heat. “that’s it, fuck me back, sweetheart. show me how much you want it.”

you pick up the pace, velvety walls clenching around his thickness, the car rocking slightly, windows already fogging from your shared breaths. his grip on your hips tightens, guiding your movements, and he leans forward to kiss your shoulder, murmuring,

“you’re doing so good, taking every inch. cum for me again—i want to feel you squeeze me.”

his praise tips you over—another wave of pleasure ripping through you, pussy pulsing around him as you gasp his name.

“g-god, yes. good fucking girl.” he groans, squeezing your ass, feeling your release coat his cock and thighs. his breathing gets heavier as his climax quickly approaches.

only then does he pull out, stroking himself fast until he cums hot across your ass, thick ropes painting your skin.

the windows are fully steamed, the air thick with sex and satisfaction. he pulls you back into his arms with a soft, “come here, sweetheart. let me hold you for a little, yeah?” keeping you close in the afterglow. he brushes hair out of your face, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

he cups your cheek, giving you that soft polite smile you've come to know since he first set foot in your bar.

“i take that was on the house too?”

KAMOSWRLD 2025 ©

masterlist!

tags - @motel6killer @cupidstrace @leiceed @kunababy @1stqueenofhell @whimsic @jjukjus @callsign-honeybeewildfox2

[iamsoclone]

Drop The Ball .ᐟ

pairing ⭑ᝰ tutor!gojo x fem!reader x guitarist!geto

cw ⭑ᝰ MDNI, 18+ NSFW — modern AU, smut & some fluff, fwb dynamics, reader is a lil messy (and very indecisive), drinking, praise, mild degradation, pet names (princess, sweetheart, good boy/girl, pretty boy, all that), lots of dirty talk, threesome (mmf), p -> v, oral (m & f rec.), double stuffed (2 in 1), orgasm denial, overstim, spitting, creampies, cum swapping, dumbification, belly bulges, tongue piercing suguru, these boys are NOT straight, going to Paris hahhh ;P, getting caught and facing the 'consequences' (oh how terrible!!)

summary ⭑ᝰ it's new years eve and despite having two on call, you're boy-free for the night. or so you thought, until at nepo-baby naoya's house party you run into not just one, but both guys you've been fucking—without the others knowledge. the real kicker? you have a hard time saying no to both of them, so who's getting the kiss when the year counts down? w/c ⭑ᝰ 15.5k (fml how does this always happen)

a/n ⭑ᝰ happy new year lovelies!! enjoy my toe dip into some satosugu to start the year off right <3 | gorgeous art by @/nek0zuu_ on twt!!

It was a great idea born from the confidence of stringing two men along for longer than you ever thought possible. 

It's not like you were looking for (very fun) trouble in the form of bouncing between guys during your limited free time. It just kind of… happened.

It wasn't your fault that after a live show at a local bar you bumped into the guitarist and got a little lost in the dragon inked and wrapped around Suguru Geto’s bicep. In how he pulled his dark hair up off his sweaty neck and into a sleek knot, bangs falling over his brow as he cocked his head and didn’t ask but simply stated that you looked like you needed another drink. 

You didn’t object to that, of course you didn’t. 

The man before you was six foot something, sheened with sweat from a two hour long set, broad like a linebacker with a smile that could charm the panties off any girl in that bar. Especially when you caught a glimpse of the metal in his mouth as he laughed.

You put your number in his phone and the next week you were having a drink together along with a real conversation. He somehow looked even better in that dark button down, rolled to the elbow to show off the tail end of that dragon on his left arm. Veins pressed up under the tanned skin of his thick forearms, the top three buttons undone so you could see a little of his muscular chest. 

Suguru had his hair half up for your date, half of it flowed in dark, thick locks down his back and around his shoulders. But later, when his face was buried between your trembling legs, sucking and flicking that metal barbell on your clit until you were damn near screaming his name, he put his hair up for that. 

Not that the knot lasted very long in your hands. 

Suguru was funny in a dry way that showed off his wit, fun to be around and seemed to have a way with most people. It made you feel good, that a guy like him who could draw and command a crowd was so infatuated with you. And it definitely didnt hurt that he knew exactly how to fuck you right off the bat. 

It was like you were a book he’d bore through cover to cover the moment he met you. He just always seemed to know what to say, what to do to have you quivering and spent but somehow still begging for more. 

On more than one occasion you found yourself on your knees in the bathroom at a venue when the band took a break with Suguru's big hands in your hair, guiding your head as you took his thick cock as far down your throat as you could manage. Mascara streaking down your cheeks and strings of saliva dripping down your chin as he fucked your face. Groaning out, “Fuuuck you’re so good baby, such a good girl.” Just to make your eyes roll as your nose buried in the thick patch of dark hair at the base of his cock. 

You weren’t his girlfriend really. It was casual and fun but not without some of those emotional little strings that tended to weave their way in when things were so good with someone.

And what definitely wasn’t your fault was getting assigned the hottest tutor you'd ever laid eyes on when your grades started to slip in some of your analytics classes. You'd seen him before in passing around school but Satoru Gojo seemed like the stereotypical obnoxious nerd you steered clear of. 

But after that first slightly awkward hour in the library, you realized he couldn’t have been further from that. 

A nerd, yes. 

Obnoxious, also yes. 

But he was sincere and could be sweet and genuine and ridiculous just to make you burst out laughing and nearly get kicked out of the library.

Smart and kind of a know it all, but Satoru wasn’t mean or nasty and he didn't rub your face in your mistakes, just teased you a little, then helped you overcome them. Offering slightly backhanded praise that made your stomach do a weird little flutter regardless. 

It didn't hurt that Satoru was about as good looking as human beings could get. That stark light hair he ran a hand through as he looked over your practice test caught your eye and the electricity of that blue in his irises held it. Framed by thick lashes and looking intently at you as you spoke from behind his glasses. He was pretty, seemed ethereal and delicate.

But all it took was a hot afternoon with broken AC and he was stripping out of his usual hoodie and you got a good, long look at what was going on underneath it. Thick, pale biceps and a few defined lines of abs you weren’t expecting and bam, you were hot for tutor. 

You and Suguru weren’t exclusive or anything, so when an afternoon ran late, Satoru asked if you were hungry, you said yes. 

Without mountains of worksheets and textbooks to distract, conversation flowed quick and easy. It was easy talking to Satoru, he was a goof and outgoing and when he looked at you—stared at you as you spoke or laughed, it was like you were the only thing in the room. 

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened, but the air was heavy between you as you walked out of the little ramen joint and just like that, you were texting Shoko to hide in her room or get the hell out because you were inviting Satoru over for… coffee?

Needless to say, not even an hour later you were shoving him down onto your bed and straddling his narrow hips, the flushed tip of his long slender cock notched at your entrance as he kneaded your ass and moaned into your mouth. 

Tutoring wasn’t just about academic achievement after that. It was casual, nothing serious but god damn you were fucking like rabbits. In the bathroom at school when you both had space between classes you’d be sat on the sink with your legs wrapped around his waist. He was desperate when he fucked you, unabashed neediness in the way he drove his cock deep and shuddered, breathing your name out and almost choking on it.

Satoru and Suguru were so different, and maybe that’s why you kept seeing both of them. You got something unique from each of them, and weren’t keen on giving up either. 

You should have felt guilty for calling Suguru when you wanted to have control and power and any semblance of thought stripped from you and to be fucked on his thick, veined cock until you were drooling and crying like a baby. Should’ve felt guilt for texting Satoru when you wanted to watch the overachiever work hard enough to sweat for praise and getting to feel your pussy squeeze tight and gush down his lengthy cock. 

And you did! A little, but it mostly just felt good. You were young and supposed to make fun and somewhat dumb decisions.

So how the hell did you, with two men that kept your pussy busy like she had a full time job of her own, end up flying solo to a new years eve party? 

Short answer, you were indecisive and all of sudden it was too late to invite either to nepo brat Naoya Zenin’s house party. Maybe it was for the best because you’d need to be sloppy drunk to not clock the obnoxious pigheaded host in the face should he open his mouth in your vicinity and you didn’t need Satoru or Suguru to see that. 

It’d be a girls night. You, Shoko and Utahime got ready at your and Shoko’s place. Helping each other into miniskirts and dresses and dangerously low cut tops because who cares if you were third wheeling on Shoko and Utahime’s definitely not a date, you were going to look hot for no one but yourself and your friends.

Music bumping in the background as the three of you did some pregaming to loosen up and painted each other up with glitter, Shoko in charge of eyeliner because she had a steady hand for not just pre-med, before ordering and piling into the uber to Naoya's McMansion. 

“I always forget how rich his family is,” You muttered to the other two as you walked along the packed driveway littered with cars that could pay off your tuition with change. “At a certain point it’s just excessive.”

Shoko shrugged and offered, “I don’t really give a shit how he spends his money just so long as he bought enough booze to last the whole night.” Uthahime elbowed her gently, her brow furrowed. 

“Don’t get too sloppy, okay? These shoes aren’t very appropriate for carrying drunk girls home.” She bent her knee and slapped the chunky heel of her shoe and Shoko grinned, throwing an arm around Utahime’s shoulders. 

“You’d be making a girl's dream come true because I think I've fantasized about being carried by a strong woman in heels.” Utahime scoffed, but her hand came up to rest on Shoko’s arm affectionately.

The front doors were wide open to let stumbling party goers outside and newcomers into the opulent entryway. Music you'd definitely heard before but couldn't name blared so loud you felt it as you all walked in. Looking around at the decor as you stepped into the lively entryway, it was decked in silver and gold that reflected bright neon lights, but the layout was the same and you were pretty sure you remembered where the kitchen was. 

“I’m gonna grab a drink, you guys coming?” You turned to your friends and squeezed closer as a group of loud and clearly already drunk guys brushed past with arms flailing, completely spatially unaware. 

Utahime shook her head, “I’m gonna find Mei first, she always leaves these things early and I wanna say hi.”

“I’ll join you,” Shoko offered, stepping up to your side. “I’ll text you when we have refreshments and we’ll come find you, do you want anything?” She asked Utahime and the dark haired woman nodded.

“Perfect, uhh, cranberry vodka?”

“You got it, babe.” Shoko winked and you swore you saw the faintest tinge of blush on Utahimes cheeks before Shoko dragged you into the crowd. The heat of too many bodies cramped together, tangled and slick with sweat from exertion keeping up to the thumping beat.

But you made it through the living room with the vaulted ceiling that seemed too tall to be inside a house with Shoko dragging you along. The long dining table just outside the kitchen held a majority of the drinks and food and you both stopped to check out what was out. 

“No cranberry? You’re fucking kidding me,” Shoko muttered, rifling through bottles and containers of mixers and juices. 

“It might be in the fridge, be right back,” You offered and Shoko nodded, eyeing a few half empty bottles of amber liquid. The pristine white kitchen was a little quieter, just a few people leaning against the counter chatting. You threw both doors of the fridge open and scanned the contents, looking for something deep red.

“Look who made it,” A vaguely familiar voice drawled from behind one of the fridge doors and you fought the groan dying to break free. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” You chirped back full of fake year end cheer, closing the fridge doors slightly to see the box blonde himself leaned against the counter with a lazy smile. “You got any cranberry juice?” 

“No idea,” Naoya shrugged and let his eyes slide down your frame slowly, not bothering to be subtle in the way he lingered on your tits. “I didn't do the shopping.”

The forced smile on your lips went tighter, eyes narrowing. “Great, super helpful.”

“You’re welcome,” He said lightly, oblivious to the sarcasm in your tone. “You here alone?” 

“I’ve got a date. Two actually,” You gestured out to the dining table where Shoko was taste testing what you assumed was a variety of the whisky options. “Number one is right there and in need of cranberry juice.” 

Naoya furrowed his brow, looking from Shoko to you. “You’re into girls? Huh.” He hummed, as if contemplating it and you scoffed, unable to hold it in. 

Is he for real? How fucking dense can a guy be. It was a shame too because he was really cute. Tall, nice features, pulled off those earrings and even the slightly douchey silk black button down. The moment he opened his mouth though, it all came crumbling down and your ovaries practically shriveled. 

“Uh… yeah sure, whatever.” You mumbled, turning back to the fridge to continue your cranberry search.

“I guess that’s kinda hot,” He took the door of the fridge from you, opening it fully and moving closer. “Still into guys? I can give you a list of reasons why you should be, or I can show you.” He towered over you and you just whiteknuckled the door of the fridge and stared off flatly into the cold LED lit box. 

You were pretty sure he wouldn’t get the hint even if you punctuated each word of not interested with a slam of his head in that fridge.

Still staring straight ahead and avoiding any and all eye contact, you were about to open your mouth to respond with as much enthusiasm as a wet wipe when a deep, familiar voice said your name behind you and both you and Naoya whipped your heads around.

“This guy bugging you?” Suguru nodded at Naoya and leaned back on the counter, arms crossed and biceps bulging against the soft fabric of his t-shirt, dragon wrapped around the muscle of his left and disappearing under the tight sleeve. God, he looked like a bouncer with his hair up like that, using his size to his advantage over the slightly shorter and definitely smaller Naoya. As much as you could and would absolutely stick up for yourself, it was pretty hot to see Suguru puffing up for you.

The fridge door closed as you took attention off of it and Naoya—who had taken a step out of your space and was looking Suguru over.

“Who’s thi—”

“You should probably check on the rest of the party, I saw a few guys tossing a vase around like a football on the lawn when we came in. Looked expensive.” You cut Naoya off with a blatant lie and he scowled, immediately marching off towards the entryway. 

With the unwelcome interruption gone, you leaned back against the fridge and smiled wide at Suguru. 

“Hey,” He returned it, his deep violet gaze sliding down your body slowly, like Naoya but without the creep factor and immensely more welcome. “You look nice.” He noted, meeting your eyes again.

“Thanks,” You peeled off the fridge and closed the distance across the kitchen, approaching Suguru where he was still leaned on the counter, arms still crossed over his broad chest. “So do you, I like that shirt.” It didn’t hide a whole lot of him, and you quite enjoyed that.

Suguru hummed, letting his hands fall to hold the marble at his hips. “Thanks, you here on your own?” He asked, upturned eyes narrowing a little. You could tell he was looking for something specific in your reactions and answers, but you didn't hesitate.

“No, are you?”

“No,” He shot back fast and you both held each other's eyes for a drawn out moment. Was he here with another girl? The thought shouldn’t bother you, but a warm, ugly feeling like jealousy stirred in your chest at the idea for some reason. 

You broke first, nodding off at the dining room. “Shoko’s doing her whiskey flight over there,” 

Suguru’s face softened a little and he chuckled. “I’ve got a few friends scattered around here… somewhere,” He gestured vaguely around, seeming almost annoyed at the excess of the house and you laughed with him.

“Good luck with your haystack search.”

“What, not gonna help me?” He cocked his head, a lock of dark hair falling over his brow in an endearing motion that made it very hard to say no to him.

But you shook your head and held your ground because you weren’t about to ditch girls night for a guy, even when that guy was Suguru looking so yummy you could lick him from head to toe.

“Sorry, can’t ditch my dates tonight.”

“I get it,” A sly smirk tugged at his mouth as he continued. “You gonna be kissing either of those dates at midnight?” 

Your head fell back as you laughed at that. “No, I’m pretty sure they’ll be occupied with each other at midnight.” There was a glint in his eye and something in the wide smile that stretched across his face as you got even closer—as always, you came to Suguru not the other way around. “Why? You wanna be my new year's kiss or something?” 

“Maybe I do,” He skimmed a hand up your side, wide palm settling on your waist just to hold. “Since we’re both here, uncoordinated no less.” He pointed out and you hummed thoughtfully.

“You’re right, can’t be a coincidence,” You slipped a hand up his forearm, tracing up the ink as you held his eyes. “Come find me just before the countdown, ‘kay?”

“In this maze?” He scrunched his nose, hesitant at having to navigate the floor plan on a time crunch.

You scoffed a laugh, “Fine, text me where you are and I’ll come find you, give me ten minutes cause this place’ll be packed.” He grimaced at that but it faded quickly, replaced by that smile that had your stomach fluttering and your panties ruined.

“You got it, see you in a couple hours,” He winked, giving your waist a firm squeeze and you nodded, leaning up on tip toes to plant a peck on his jaw. Giddiness bubbled like carbonation in your chest as you separated and made your way back to Shoko at the table. 

“You find the cranberry?” She asked as you leaned on the dark hardwood beside her. 

“No, Naoya has no taste, sorry.”

“You sure you weren’t just distracted?” She replied plainly but too quickly to not be purposeful and you shrugged. She shot you a knowing smile, “I thought I was your date?”

“I’m making backup plans just in case my date ditches me for our other date,” You sent a pointed look her way and she deflected with a shrug, pushing a white plastic cup your way. 

“Try that for me,” You lifted the cup and peered at the contents. A warm golden brown swirled in the cup and you sniffed, getting apple and something tart and tasted basically that plus an overwhelming amount of whisky when you took a small sip. “Think Hime will like it?”

You stifled a cough at the slight burn. “If she wants chest hair, then probably.” 

With Shoko bartending for you and Utahime, you were loosened significantly up within less than an hour of arrival. You were also going to the bathroom every pathetic fifteen minutes and the closest toilet was always guarded by groups of people knit tighter than fancy Egyptian sheets. 

Ducking and weaving through the crowd in your way without a single shit at who you shoved out of your warpath, you were halfway down the packed hall and to your destination when someone decided to take a full step back and body check you. Sending you stumbling to the left and into a hard body with great reflexes that had arms around you before you could even think about falling to the ground.

You looked up at your savior, about to peel off whatever stranger you’d essentially assaulted, but were met with wide and very familiar azure eyes already fixed on you from behind prescription lenses. 

“Whoa, uh, hey?” Satoru smiled bright at you, hands firm on your waist as you stared back frozen in place, palms on his broad chest and your whole body pressed up against his. 

“Hi?” You blinked a few times, pulling yourself out of the shellshock of being jostled right into your other undefined situation.

Oh fuck. Suguru was here too. You werent too sure what would happen should you get caught right in the fucking act, you’d never faced this problem before. But your bladder screamed that it was about to burst and that pushed the consequences of your two timing onto the back burner.

“Shit, sorry, hi!” You peeled off Satoru and took a step back. “I’m about to explode and I need to get to the, y’know, like now so I’ll be ri—”

“Oh here, I’ll give you a hand getting through!” He offered and didn’t really give you an opportunity to say no and get the fuck away before he grabbed your hand and sent your stomach flipping up into your throat just thinking of someone seeing you. Someone like Suguru.

To his credit though, Satoru barged his way through that hall like he played football instead of World of Warcraft. “Thanks! I’d still be a mile back fighting for my life without you,” You chuckled as he slowed, the closed bathroom door coming into view. 

But, of fucking course, it was locked. This whole house hated you, so why wouldn’t it be?

“There’s another one upstairs, c’mon.” Satoru, again, didn’t wait for a response, just grabbed your hand and yanked you down the hall back the way you’d come. 

It was sweet; that he heard ‘emergency’ and jumped to solve your problem. 

It was just the worst place to be doing so. 

You stumbled behind, head whipping around frantically trying to catch any sight of silky, dark hair knotted up as you were dragged up the stairs. You saw no sign of him and the main floor disappeared from view as you both slipped around the corner.

Satoru jiggled the handle on the last door and it gave, cracking open. “Hah, what an idiot.” He snickered, shoving the door open and you followed inside. 

It was a bedroom, huge with a massive bed fit with dark satin sheets, chairs and a modest velvety couch around a fireplace, massive double glass doors that opened to a big balcony. It was decorated nicely and if it wasn’t for the Naoya-centric photos, certifications and awards hung and purposefully placed around you would have assumed it was the master and his parents room, but no parent is that proud of their kid. 

“All yours, no elbows or lines,” Satoru said proudly, waving a hand at another door on the far side of the room as he flopped down onto the bed and you asked no more questions. Making a beeline right for the door and shutting it a little harshly behind you. 

You pulled your phone out and sent a message as soon as you weren’t in danger of ruining your lack of pants. 

[You] 11:04 P.M. u see sugu in the last 10ish mins?? 

[Sho-hoe] 11:05 P.M. nope srry no sign ofthe raven

[Sho-hoe] 11:06 P.M. hime saw u got draggd upstairs by te dove tho he hehhh 

[Sho-hoe] 11:06 P.M. nuahgty grl

[You] 11:06 P.M. thx and plssss give hime ur phone for the rest of the nite 

You scoffed at the dumb code names and how obliterated she clearly already was and tucked your phone away after washing your hands and stepped back out.

Satoru was sprawled on Naoya’s bed, scrolling on his phone waiting for you. He looked just as he usually did, dressed down in dark jeans that frayed a little at the cuffs, a dark, slightly oversized long sleeve t-shirt with the design for what you knew after several weeks of seeing him was his favorite digimon—Agumon. 

“How do you know Naoya’s house so well?” You asked, flopping down onto the bed next to Satoru and he tossed his phone up by the pillows. 

“Our families are in cahoots, I've been coming here since I was a kid and vice versa.” He rolled onto his side to face you, glasses sat low on the sloped bridge of his nose and a cheeky half smile playing at his lips. “First time I've been in here without him though, wanna go through his stuff?” 

You snorted a laugh rolled onto your back, “So badly, I bet he’s got great dirt in here. But I gotta get back to third wheeling downstairs.” 

Satoru hummed at your side, “Think they can wait like, five more minutes?” You turned your head to face him, the sweet, wide smile on his face that masked unmistakable mischief, and raised your brows. “Ten minutes?” He offered instead. 

You held his bright cerulean eyes, holding your ground for as long as you could knowing full well you had just as much of a hard time saying no to Satoru too.

“That’s not how you negotiate,” The corners of your mouth betrayed you as you spoke, rolling with him as he grinned, pulling you to straddle his lap.

“No? My methods seemed to work just fine,” He pointed out plainly, holding your hips as you rocked back a little on the bulge growing in his jeans. 

It was frankly annoying how right he was. You still had to find Suguru and it would most definitely not be just ten minutes, but how could you just leave when Satoru was flushed and sharing your breath as your fingers tangled in his hair. Those big hands squeezing the fat of your ass as he rutted his clothed cock against you and your ruined panties.

You’d never fucked both of them in the same day, let alone even seen them in the same night. And as much as the thought of finding Suguru later and fucking him with Satoru’s cum still leaking from your needy pussy made your belly flutter with twisted arousal, that was a little too far.

So you shimmied down, undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled his pretty, pale cock out. Eyes on his as he leaned up on his forearms and moaned when you traced a vein up with your flat tongue and swirled around his flushed tip. 

A few minutes later you wiped away some of your eye makeup that had started to run in the mirror of Naoya’s bathroom and snickered at the idea of Satoru being the only one getting head in that bed tonight. Joining him again with a fast kiss on his warm, pink cheek and combing your fingers through his messy hair. 

“Wait here for a couple minutes, I don't need a spiel about safe sex or whatever from the town drunk.” You smiled sweetly at the mildly dazed Satoru, oblivious to any ulterior motives in your staggered exits.

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up again as you slipped out the door and shut it softly behind you. Through the crowded hall, down the stairs and all the way to the dining room to fix a new drink and stifle any taste of Satoru left in your mouth before you new years kissed (etc.) Suguru in thirty minutes. 

Shit, were you kind of messy? 

You held the mix of sprite and some clear liquor in your mouth for a moment and assessed your situation a little. Maybe you were, but you were having fun too, and wasn’t that the whole point?

There was no sign of Satoru or Suguru anywhere on the main floor, and you figured you were in the clear as much as you could be. Waiting out the time before your phone buzzed sunk into a plush chair near a—

Your brief zone out was interrupted by a message and you figured it was probably Shoko or Utahime since it was still half an hour to midnight. But it was Suguru.

[Sugu] 11:28 P.M. last door on the 2nd floor, whenever you’re ready

You didn’t even question it, just hauled your ass out of that comfy chair and made your way back up to the second floor. Only registering that the room was familiar as you approached the door.

Something in your hazy head made you hesitate as your fingers hovered over the handle, but what was there to hesitate about? Definitely not the possibility of fucking Suguru in Naoya’s room. 

The thought made you chuckle to yourself, that you'd be the only one getting any in his room, as you pushed the door open. 

Suguru looked up from his phone, sitting legs spread on Naoya’s dark bedspread. He smiled as he caught your eye, but didn’t get up, just leaned back a little, tossing his phone to the side and letting you come to him as usual. 

Not that you ever minded, especially not then. Legs wide open to you in dark, loose jeans, simple black t-shirt that hugged every perfect muscle that flexed and rippled with each movement. His hair was down, falling around his shoulders in soft, silken waves you were dying to run your fingers through. 

You might have crawled on all fours to that man if he asked.

He didn’t though, just lifted his chin a little and smiled right back at you as you walked in. 

“I think your summons came a little early,” You noted and Suguru’s deep violet eyes narrowed a fraction, thick, dark lashes giving him something feline to the look he shot you.

“Mhm, I wanted to make sure we all had time before the year turned over. New leaf and all that.” 

His words hit wrong and you furrowed your brow at Suguru, it seemed to only fuel whatever had him looking at you like you were a rabbit that hadn’t realized it stepped right into a snare.

“What do you mean?” 

You were about to find out that that’s exactly what you were. 

Suguru’s eyes drifted off to the side quickly, sending a look that was almost imperceivable with how quick and minute it was. But your pulse was starting to pick up and your mind was racing to the worst case scenario. 

Could he have—

“C’mon, princess,” Suguru crooned at your confused expression. “I know. We know, actually.” 

Your stomach dropped. Oh fuck.

“Gotcha,” A voice chirped behind you and you jumped as the door swung shut, whirling around to be met with Satoru leaned against the wall, one hand tucked in the pocket of his jeans. You knew it in your gut before you saw him there, but it didn’t stop you from floundering like a beached fish. Mouth opening and closing trying to figure out how exactly to ask how?

“I-I don’t—” You cut yourself off, observing the look Satoru and Suguru were sharing. Not frustration, anger, anything negative you might have expected. 

It was amused. A silent conversation passed that you were decidedly not a part of and you went from oh fuck to what the fuck? 

“Do you… know him?” You pointed the question at Suguru, who tore his eyes off the white haired man on your other side and suddenly the weight of both their attention was on you.

“Come here,” Suguru beckoned you to him, cocking his head and watching under low lashes as you slowly approached. Stopping once you were between his legs, your racing pulse picking up again as he skimmed his knuckles up your bare thigh and finally answered your question.

“Of course I do, Satoru has been my best friend since we were, what, fourteen?” He looked behind you as he asked and Satoru hummed from across the room.

“I was fifteen, close enough though.”

Suguru rolled his eyes, “Anyways, my point stands.” He set his eyes on you again, both hands gliding up the backs of your thighs with a smirk. “We absolutely know each other.” 

“Seems like someone’s been pretty busy lately, huh, Sugu?” Satoru spoke up behind you and you turned to look but Suguru caught your chin in one hand and held your face to him. 

“Very busy.” He agreed, holding your eyes with a sharp look. “No wonder she needs a tutor, shes getting fucked stupid every day that ends with ‘y’.” 

There was a burn you felt in not just your face, but in your belly that had your thighs squeeze a little. It didn’t go unnoticed by Suguru, who’s hand was high enough on your leg he was almost holding your ass.

You had no idea what to say, mostly because apologizing didn’t feel right since they didn’t even seem mad. 

You shifted a little under the weight of Suguru’s sharp eyes as you tried to just say something. “We never, like, talked about it. I didn’t think—”

“You’re right, we never even talked about it.” Satoru pitched in behind you, getting closer as he spoke, pulling your hair back and speaking close enough to your ear that his lips brushed the shell, making you shiver. “What if I wanted to go steady, sweetheart?”

“What if I wanted to go steady, hey princess?” Suguru piled on immediately, gripping your thigh and holding your chin as Satoru’s soft fingers traced the curve of your neck. Affronting every sense to make you feel almost dizzy just from their touch.

“You were really going to suck him off, and come kiss me barely even thirty minutes later?” Suguru questioned, tutting with disapproval. “Kinda slutty, don’t you think, Satoru?”

“So fucking slutty,” He hissed agreement in your ear and your breath caught.

“Act like a slut, get treated like a slut.” Suguru shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Is that what you want, princess? To be our slut?” 

He didn’t give you a moment to answer, spinning you to face Satoru and pulling you to sit in his lap. Your miniskirt was hiked around your hips and Suguru had your legs spread wide open to Satoru. 

“Look at that,” The pad of a thick finger slid featherlight over your slick panties. Drenched through and sticking to your puffy pussy. “Good girls don’t get this wet from sucking cock, right Satoru?”

“You’re so right, Sugu,” He murmured back, eyes trained on where Suguru’s fingers were gliding, pressing everywhere but your clit. “But sluts definitely do,”

Suguru laughed, and you felt the reverberation of it in his chest pressed against your back. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, “Is that why you didn't fuck him? Wanted to come fuck me instead?”

Satoru took a step closer, and you bit your lip, keeping your eyes on his. “Just couldn't say no to me though, isn't that right?” He trailed a finger through your cleavage, up your neck to hold your chin, pulling your lip free and leaning close. “Can't say no to me, can't say no to Sugu. Greedy and slutty, aren't you, sweetheart?”

“Someone wanted the whole cake tonight. Did you bite off more than you could handle, princess?” Suguru’s breath was hot in your ear and his hands never stopped going, peeling the ruined gusset of your panties to the side to expose your bare pussy to Satoru. His full lips parted, pale lashes lowering as Suguru used two fingers to spread your slick folds. 

A whimper left your lips, eyes unfocused as your head fell back to rest on Suguru’s shoulder. You could feel the purr of his voice as he spoke to Satoru, but all you could do was clutch at his muscled forearm.

“Go ahead, take them off.” 

Fingers curled around the waistband of your panties and pulled. You lifted your head, and Satoru was on his knees between yours and Suguru’s legs, looking up not at you, but at Suguru. 

“Don’t let her come until I say so,” Suguru instructed the man with his face not six full inches from your cunt, his smooth hands sliding up your thighs to push them further apart as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re no fun, Sugu,” Satoru licked a long stripe from hole to clit and your spine bowed off Suguru’s chest, a quick cry ripping from your throat as he flicked over the neglected bud. “You said you wanted to make her cry, right?”

“You’re such a complainer, this’ll be plenty of fun so don’t worry about that. Use your pretty mouth for something more useful than talking will ya?” Suguru teased and Satoru scoffed, but he did as he was told. Suguru kissed your cheek, trailing down to your neck. “You’ll cry for me, won’t you princess?”

You couldn’t answer, not with Satoru gliding through your folds, pointing his tongue and teasing at your drooling hole to make you keen. 

“Who’s face do you like making a mess on more? His,” Suguru dragged his tongue up your neck, the warm metal gliding firmly over your skin to make you shiver. “Or mine?” 

All you could do was whine out with Suguru latched on your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Palming your breast with one hand and carding his fingers through Satoru's hair to keep his face buried in your pussy.

It was possessive in a way and even as Satoru had you speared on his tongue, glasses fogged with his nose rubbing against your clit just right. He had your legs shaking in his hands and pressure ready to burst deep, but you couldn’t deny it. Suguru just had a talent for it and knew how to use that god damn piercing to make you sob when he put his mouth on you.

Again, you couldn’t answer and Suguru was well aware of what he was doing. Holding silence wasn’t right though because quickly Suguru had a hand in your hair turning your face to him, and the other that was on Satoru’s head pulled him off you and sent your climb to climax to a screeching halt. You choked on nothing, trembling in Suguru’s lap and Satoru yelped.

“Ow! The fuck—that hurt, asshole.” Satoru yanked his head back out of Suguru’s reach and rubbed a sore spot where his hair was pulled hard.

“Sorry, but you like it when she does it, right?” Suguru countered, not taking his eyes off you as you breathed hard and came down.

“That’s different,” Satoru snapped back and Suguru hummed, his hand dipping down to push two fingers into your hole and you twitched with sensitivity. He plunged them in and out slowly, curling up to hit a sweet spot deep inside. The sounds were obscene, slick coated his fingers and leaked down your ass, no doubt making a mess under you.

Suguru pulled your face to him, hand in your hair and tugging as his lips found yours. You moaned into his mouth as he fucked his long, thick digits into you and licked into your mouth, the barbell clicking against your teeth and sliding against your own tongue.

When he pulled his fingers from your pulsing cunt just as you started to feel pressure crest, you were kind of expecting it. Suguru could be soft and gentle, but he had the capacity to make you sob and beg for relief or release when he wanted. What he really wanted was for you to cry. So you didn’t stop the tears that slipped out at the ache of another lost release that twisted through your gut.

He broke the kiss and looked at your face, your trembling lip and glossy eyes, and smiled. He admired his own fingers next, the sticky translucent webs that stretched between when he scissored. 

And last, was Satoru. 

“Open your mouth,” Suguru ordered and Satoru scoffed. “Just do it, don’t be a brat.” Satoru glared, hesitating. But Suguru always got what he wanted, it didn’t matter who he wanted it from, and Satoru dropped his jaw slowly. Eyes flicking from you to Suguru, a mild flush tinging his pale cheeks. 

Fire flickered to new heights in your belly as you watched Suguru push his fingers into Satoru’s mouth. Suguru slid in and out, gliding over Satoru’s pink tongue and pale lashes fluttered a little as Suguru pushed in deep. 

“You’re so good Satoru, so fucking pretty,” Suguru purred praise to the man still on his knees between your legs, and a moan spilled out around those thick fingers stuffed in his mouth. “Be a good boy for me and suck,”

Satoru closed his full lips and held Suguru’s gaze as he licked and sucked your slick arousal off his fingers. Humming and moaning without hesitation, the blush across his face was deep but whatever uncertainty he had was gone now. He palmed his hard cock over his jeans, lashes fluttering at the mild relief, his other hand squeezing your thigh hard. Suguru rolled his hips up into you, grinding his own bulge against your ass. 

“You like watching, don’t you?” Suguru murmured in your ear and you didn’t even need to think, just nodded softly and immediately. Your pussy practically had its own pulse with how much need was throbbing through you.

You were right in the middle of and squirming around at whatever was happening around you. 

Sure, you'd dreamt of the possibility of having them both but it wasn't something you thought would happen in the real waking world. But here they both were, and you were watching them together. 

Suguru pulled out of Satoru’s mouth, a lewd string of saliva connecting them for a moment before it broke and hung from Satoru’s deep pink lips. You turned to the dark haired man, seeing a hint of flush across his face too.

“Sugu,” He put his dark gaze on you and hummed.

“Yes, princess?”

“I want to kiss Satoru,” You fluttered your lashes at Suguru, hand smoothing down his forearm and he chuckled.

“I bet you do, he's pretty hard to resist huh?” Suguru responded pointedly, his tone hinted at your lack of control not even an hour before, so you just pursed your lips and nodded. “Go on then, don't keep our poor pretty boy waiting.”

You turned back to Satoru to pull him in, but he was already on his feet, cupping your face and putting his lips on yours as you sat in Suguru’s lap. Feeling his thick cock rolling up against you from below as Satoru’s lips pressed yours open, tasting yourself on his tongue as he met yours. 

He pushed you back into Suguru’s chest and your fingers thread up through his soft hair. Your head rolled back onto Suguru’s shoulder, his hands on your waist and holding you in place as Satoru tugged your top down, freeing your tits and Suguru squeezed one as Satoru cupped the other. 

Satoru groaned into your mouth as you tugged his hair gently, and Suguru murmured in your ear, squeezing your nipple and twisting to make you squeal and break the kiss. 

“Take his cock out,” 

You didn’t question and didn’t hesitate to do exactly that, using both hands to open Satoru’s belt with a soft clink. You looked up at him as you popped the button on his jeans. 

“Take your shirt off, it’s in my way.” He grinned and obliged quickly, yanking it off in one motion and tossing it to the floor, leaving his glasses crooked on his face. You admired him for a moment, eyes roving the lean cut of his body, following the trail of snowy hair that led straight to what had your mouth practically watering again, and tugged his jeans and boxers low enough that his pale cock sprang free. 

A soft sigh left his lips as you wrapped a hand around the base, twisting a little on the glide up how you knew he liked it, pre leaking from the slit in his blushing tip. Suguru worked your tits, kneading and rolling and pinching, nipping at the skin of your neck while you pumped your hand on Satoru’s cock. 

He gripped Suguru’s broad shoulder with one hand and kissed you again, towering over and leaning you back on Suguru’s other shoulder. His other glided up your slit and you moaned into Satoru’s mouth as he slid two long fingers knuckle deep. Making the hand on his cock falter in its rhythm for a moment. 

It was like they had done this before, how perfectly they played off and with each other. Like you were a toy, and Satoru and Suguru were no stranger to sharing those.

“Greedy girl wanted both of us tonight, think you can handle us at the same time?” Suguru murmured, a lilt to his voice that hinted at amusement seeing you try to do just that. In lieu of a verbal response, your walls fluttered around Satoru’s fingers and his lips against yours.

“I felt that,” He smirked, barely pulling away from your mouth to speak. “Soaking wet just at the idea of taking both of us. You really are a fucking slut, aren't you baby?” 

“How many times did you beg me to fill you up just to get Satoru to fuck my cum back into you?” Suguru asked, his voice low like he wouldn’t have minded it and Satoru’s eyes glittered at those words. 

But you jumped to deny it because that was the one rule you held yourself to. It wasn't just sex, not with either of them. Sure it was casual but you cared about both of them, you liked both of them, a lot. 

It was just hard to decide between the two because when you asked yourself who you liked more… you weren't sure if there even was an answer to that.

“No, I never—ngh, never saw you both on the same day.” You whimpered out your claim at innocence, holding Satoru’s icy eyes through his smudged glasses. They flicked to Suguru and the man chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through your back.

“Well, you were going to kiss me with his cum in your mouth, so I guess that changed the first chance you had the opportunity.” Suguru retorted, pinching a nipple as Satoru thrust his fingers in deep and curled up, prodding an overworked spot inside as his thumb pressed up on your clit. 

There was no denying that one, not that you could. Writhing and keening in Suguru’s lap, your head thrown back and panting at the attention paid all over your body. Satoru rolled his hips slowly, fucking your fist knowing you were too overstimulated to move yourself. It was almost too much, but you could tell this was the beginning of whatever was about to happen.

“Hey Sugu, I think she's ready, yeah?” Satoru asked, pulling his fingers from your sticky cunt and showing the mess off to Suguru.

“Definitely, put her on the bed.” 

Satoru obeyed quickly. Biceps flexing as he lifted you off Suguru and tossed you to lie on your back. Tits bouncing as you hit the comforter, your knees pressed together under the weight of both their wandering eyes.

The attempt at modesty felt pathetic and didn't last. They each had a hand on a knee and pried your legs apart.

“Don’t be all shy now, sweetheart,” Satoru squeezed your leg and slid his hand down, smirking cheeky and too attractive for his own good. Head tilted and platinum bangs falling across his eyes.

“Sorry princess, but it's a little late to feign innocence.” Suguru said with mock pity, tilting his head at you. His fingers tugged the hem of his shirt up, and he pulled it over his head. You swallowed hard at his bare chest, broad and toned, his abs that rippled as his thick arms went up over his head, hair cascading around his shoulders as he tossed his shirt to the floor. Satoru looked him over as well, gaze sliding over his bare body.

Your eyes bounced back and forth, from Satoru—standing taller and leaner, to Suguru—only a couple of inches shorter than the man next to him, but he was broader, more muscled. It was almost funny how they held the same differences in their pants.

Where Satoru was longer, Suguru was thicker. 

Suguru walked around the bed and your eyes followed him as he stopped to stand on the side opposite Satoru.

“Come here,” He demanded, softly but firmly and you obliged, rolling over to crawl to him on all fours. Stopping only when you were inches from him. You knew what he wanted and had his pants undone and were pulling them down before he said another word. Strong fingers curled into your hair and held tight as you pulled his thick, veined cock free, head blushing deep and leaking.

He kicked his jeans off and got on the bed to kneel in front of you. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock and glided up, thumb smearing pearly pre-cum beading at the slit.

Tummy tight with desire and mouth practically watering at the sight before you, about to lean in and lick his drooling tip, Suguru stopped you with that hand in your hair before you could. Wincing as he pulled you upright and long fingers curled into the hem of your shirt and tugged up. 

Satoru was behind you and pulling your shirt off, discarding it to the floor with theirs. 

“Wanna taste him sweetheart?” He murmured in your ear, hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts and you leaned back into his chest. His cock slid between your folds with your ass pressed to his hips and you moaned, nodding. Eyes on Suguru as he watched Satoru grind himself against you.

“Mhm, Sugu I wanna—ah, s-suck you,” Brows pinching, you reached for Suguru as Satoru held you close. The man in front of you chuckled softly and leaned in close, lips barely brushing yours. His hands closed around your hips, pushing and pulling you to grind against Satroru’s cock.

“I know you do, princess. Think you can be good and slutty for us and take Satoru while you're choking on me?” 

Oh fuck. The thought sent a shiver rushing up your spine, heat pooling in your belly to make you whine out and nod quickly. 

“Yes! Fuck, god yes—I want you both, please.” 

That was it. 

They shared a look over your shoulder and both leaned back simultaneously. Your miniskirt was shoved off quickly and discarded with the rest of all your clothes. Satoru held your hip and slid a hand up your spine, pushing down between your shoulder blades. Suguru had a hand in your hair again, the other held the base of his cock as your palms planted on his thighs. He pulled your head back to look up at him, your jaw dropping to let your mouth hang open, tongue out a little how you knew he liked. 

He smirked and slapped the tip of his cock on your tongue a few times, letting you taste the salty pre leaking. Satoru slid between folds, wetting himself further with your slick, squeezing your hip hard enough to ache. 

Suguru pushed in first. Using his grip in your hair to hold your head as he thrust in. Thick cock filling your mouth with just the first couple inches. Tongue gliding along the underside, lips stretched around him as he fucked into you, getting deeper as you started to adjust. 

As you got Suguru halfway in, Satoru was lined up to your entrance and slipping his cock in, pushing through your ring of tightening muscles. Your lashes fluttered at the stretch, moaning around Suguru as they both thrust into you.

“Fuck, you're so tight sweetheart,” Satoru moaned behind you, rolling his hips to drive deeper.  

“She likes getting her face fucked,” Suguru added with a mean snap deep into your throat just to make you gag and clench around Satoru.

“I know that,” Satoru snapped back, hips slapping your ass as he shoved all the way in and forced you further onto Suguru’s cock. Eyes watering and whimpering at the fullness from both ends. 

“You seem to like this a lot, if only you'd been honest earlier we could’ve been fucking you together months ago.” Satoru said regretfully and Suguru shared the sentiment with a chastising look down at you. 

“Did it get you wet, going between two guys any time you wanted?” Suguru asked, thumb brushing your cheek to swipe through a wet track. Still sliding in and out of your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. “Did you ever touch yourself thinking about having both of us like this?” 

“Fuck Sugu,” Satoru whined, driving deep and stilling as your pussy fluttered around him. “She's squeezing the shit out of me every time you talk to her,”

Suguru looked up at Satoru with a smug smirk, not stopping the movement of his hips. “Are you really complaining about good pussy?” He scoffed a laugh and glanced back at you. “Has he not been fucking you properly?”

“I fuck her just fine,” Satoru hissed back, bottoming out again with a harsh thrust that pushed you into Suguru again and you whimpered. “Isn't that right, baby?” Satoru asked, like you could fucking answer with Suguru's cock halfway down your throat, just focusing on breathing through your nose as they drove into you with a coordinated rhythm. 

Finally, Suguru pulled your head and angled his hips and your nose buried in the dark hair at the base of his cock. “Oh fuuuck, that's it, princess.” He groaned, hand smoothing over your throat to feel the bulge of his cock deep. “Take it all like such a good girl—god you feel so fucking good.”

Tears streaming and drool streaked down your chin, the praise sent heat to your already pulsing cunt. Making you moan around him and tighten around Satoru.

“Fuck yeah she does,” Satoru groaned, gripping an asscheek in each hand and spreading to watch his cock slide in and out. “So fucking good,”

“Does he feel good, princess? You gonna come on his pretty cock like a good, slutty girl?” Suguru crooned, leaking warm pre-cum deep in your throat and you barely responded, humming a muffled confirmation as you blinked up at him. 

Dizzy with pressure and pleasure that sparked like electricity all the way to your toes. You'd long since lost track of time and only when the barely audible shouting of five came from downstairs and cut through the fog, did you remember you were about to roll into the new year.

Starting it off between two guys and stuffed from either end. The wholesome, good ol’ fashioned way!

“Sorry, princess.” Suguru said to you and looked up, locking eyes with Satoru as the crowd shouted four!

“Satoru,” He said, his voice low and rough and filled with desire you could hear and see on his face.

Three!

“Suguru,” Satoru replied breathlessly and you didn’t need to see his face, you could hear how wrecked he looked.

They both stilled for just a moment, Suguru's hand in your hair tight enough to sting, Satoru clutching your hip with bruising grip.

Two!

They moved at the same time. In sync in a way that only people who'd spent years paying attention to each other could be.

Satoru reached and thread his fingers through Suguru’s long, silky hair. Suguru held the back of Satoru's head, gripping the nape of his neck. They pulled each other close, shoved as deep as possible in you as they shared a breath.

One!

Satoru closed the distance, putting his lips on Suguru's as the crowd exploded into cheers. It was light and experimental at first, but it deepened when Satoru tilted his head and Suguru pressed Satoru's mouth open. The white haired man moaned as his tongue met Suguru's. Tasting and feeling the warm metal of that barbell as it clicked against his teeth.

All you could do was whimper and squirm at what was happening above you, hearing the chu of their lips sliding together, the little noises Satoru made as Suguru held him close and licked into his mouth. The need in their panting breaths that made you wonder if this was even the first time they'd kissed.

It wasn't.

Suguru bit Satoru, sharp teeth sinking into the plush of his lower lip for a moment. He whimpered, and was cut off when Suguru captured his mouth again. 

Still buried to the hilt in your cunt, Satoru rolled his hips to chase friction and pushed deeper, moaning around Suguru’s tongue. Making you whine out and claw at Suguru's thick thigh as his drooling tip grinded against your cervix. Suguru offered no relief though, his grip firm in your hair and hips angled to make shallow thrusts deep in your throat and you started to choke on his cock with tears blurring your vision.

Finally, they broke apart after an eternity keeping you pinned between them and Suguru pulled out of your mouth. You gasped for breath and coughed, saliva stringing from your lips to his cock as you spluttered. 

“You okay, princess?” He asked, tilting your face up to him. Eyes dark with blown pupils and lips glossed with his and Satoru’s spit. You sniffed and nodded and Suguru smiled, taking his cock in hand again. “You ready?”

“Mhm,” Your jaw dropped, tongue out and Suguru fed you his cock inch by inch.

They both picked up the pace, Suguru fucking your throat properly as Satoru drove his leaking cock deep, dragging against a sweet spot that had your lashes fluttering.

“Make her come, Satoru. Our girl's been so good, taking us both so fucking perfect.” Suguru ordered, glancing back and forth between you both. 

“You’re so right, Sugu,” Satoru purred, a hand sliding down your thigh, fingertips grazing lightly back up the inside to tease a little. Tracing your cunt stretched around his cock and hissing as he felt himself dragging in and out. “So perfect, like she was made for us.” 

Finally, your eyes rolled in your fucking skull and a loud moan slipped out around Suguru’s cock as the pad of Satoru’s fingers pressed up on your throbbing clit. 

It was instant, how your whole body glittered with electricity and they both recognized it. Fucking into you faster, harder, pushing and pulling your mushy mind between them to spin dizzyingly until all you could feel was their cocks and the pressure that had you ready to explode. 

Gripping Suguru’s thigh hard, nails digging into the muscle as he groaned, head falling back and his cock pulsing in your throat.

Satoru panted your name, toying your twitching clit as he leaned down and put his heavy, sweat slicked chest on your back, lips brushing your ear. “Gonna come for me, yeah? Be a good girl and make a mess on my cock like Sugu said, okay?”

How in the hell could you ever say no to that? Your body certainly couldn't. 

The first wave hit like a truck and your eyes squeezed shut as your spine bowed. Your scream stifled and held in your throat by Suguru's cock shoved deep. 

Suguru groaned low in his chest and Satoru started babbling, cock twitching and ready to spill into your spasming cunt. 

“Oh fuck yes,” He gasped, slamming balls deep as you convulsed with every messy circle he rubbed. “Feel so good, god damn—it's driving me fucking crazy watching you suck him like that. So fucking perfect, right Sugu?” 

“Mhm, for such a slut, she's a pretty good girl,” Suguru put both hands in your hair, holding your head in place as he fucked your face at a dizzying pace, panting between words as he worked himself closer to release. “Hey princess? Gonna be a good girl and let Satoru fill that slutty pussy up?” 

You couldn’t answer, arms buckling but Satoru held you up, not stopping the ministrations on your overworked bud or the slap of his hips against your ass as he dug his cock into that sweet, tender spot over and over. 

So Satoru answered for you. 

“Fuck yeah,” He grunted, hair tickling your shoulder as his head dropped, “She's gonna take it all. Loves taking my cum—hah, walking back to class still dripping—fuck.” 

“Fucking him at school? Mnh—now that's slutty,” Suguru chided, a moan slipping out. “Both of you, actually.”

“Oh my god,” Satoru whined, pace erratic and growing sloppy. “Fuck—I'm-I'm gonna—” He cut himself off with a loud groan, biting down on your shoulder as he squeezed you tight. You felt the kick deep and he shuddered. His cock spurted, filling you with warmth as he flooded you with cum. Spilling more with every jerky snap of his hips as he fucked it deeper.

You keened, feeling it seep out around his cock and dribble down your thigh. Blinking up at Suguru with bleary eyes. He pulled out of your throat and slid his throbbing cock over your tongue. Hair falling around his flushed face as he gazed down at you with lips parted.

“Hold it, okay princess? Don't swallow yet.” He said breathlessly and his cock pulsed on your tongue. His hips stuttered and he spilled into your mouth with a groan. Cock kicking as shot after shot of hot, salty cum filled your mouth and you fought the urge to swallow and cough. Fresh tears streamed but you kept your eyes on Suguru. Body twitching as Satoru pumped into you with short thrusts, pushing you past overstimulated as they filled you in tandem.

Suguru loosened his grip in your hair, breathing heavy and running one hand through his thick, black locks. Satoru unlatched from your shoulder and you pursed your lips as Suguru pulled out of your mouth.

He helped you sit back, and you sagged against Satroru’s chest, keeping him seated inside you. Cunt full of his cum and mouth still full of Suguru’s.

“Kiss him, give our pretty boy a taste.” Suguru instructed and you were so fucking dazed you didn't really understand what he was saying.

Not until Satoru had your face in his hand and turned you to look at him. Pale cheeks flushed, usually brilliantly bright eyes dark with wide pupils, unobscured by his glasses. Hair a mess, stuck with sweat around his forehead and temples. 

“Kiss me, sweetheart.” Your mouths met and his tongue teased the seam of your lips. Finally catching up, fire flared again and you spit Suguru's warm cum into Satoru’s mouth. 

He reacted instantly, moaning at the taste and rolling his hips up into you. Nails digging into his forearm, your mouth opened with a whimper, tongue meeting his as the kiss deepened. 

“Mmph—wha—” You pulled away and started as Suguru pushed you both to lay back, but were quickly shut up by Satoru dragging you back in. Heavy eyes fluttered shut again as you let your weight rest on Satoru. Sharing the taste of Suguru as your tongues slid together, big hands keeping your legs spread. 

“Mm!” You jolted and broke the kiss, eyes flying open to the sight of Suguru flicking his tongue on your sensitive clit. “Ohh fuck, S-Suguuu,” You whined, brows pinched as that fucking barbell hit and made your legs tremble. Still stuffed with Satoru’s cock, he held you close with an arm wrapped under your chest. 

All you could do was watch as Suguru glided lower and drove you fucking mad tracing where you were connected to Satoru.

“Mnh, ohh shit,” Satoru hissed, feeling metal pressed firmly to his cock, and his best friends tongue gliding to collect the mix of cum and slick seeping out. “F-fuck, feels so good, doesn't it sweetheart? Love how Sugu uses that f-fucking thing—holy shit,” 

Satoru rolled his hips up, fucking into you with slow, shallow strokes as Suguru worked your twitching clit.

It was so much, too much. Already spent and being forced back up, belly clenching and squeezing around Satoru. No words, just noises escaped you, pitched and choked and getting stuck in your sore throat.

“Hold her there for me.” Suguru said and Satoru obliged, holding your thigh as Suguru released it. “Let’s get you prepped, princess.” 

You wanted to ask what the hell does that mean? But you choked on “Wha—” When he spat right on your connection to the man under you and two thick fingers pushed into your already very full entrance. The stretch of it burned and your body tensed, clamping down around Satoru to make him jolt and hiss. 

“Hey, relax, you gotta loosen up a little for me, okay baby?” Suguru spoke low and soothing, stilling for a moment and letting you adjust to the stretch and pressure filling you. Your skin was on fire, trembling in their grip and sucking uneven gulps of air in. But you licked your lips and nodded a little, wanting to try it, trusting both of them to stop if you said it was too much.

A few deep breaths and you'd eased enough to let Suguru push a little deeper and he hummed in approval. 

“That’s it, I know it's a lot but you're doing so good, princess.” Suguru purred to you, thrusting in and out slowly, rubbing against Satroru’s cock to elicit pitched noises from the man under you. “You wanted both of us, right? Gotta make sure you can handle all that.”

A quick cry ripped out of you, fluttering around everything filling you as Suguru flicked his tongue on your clit. He drew back, and slipped a third finger inside. It was brutal, like you'd never felt before but still pleasurable with that metal ball hitting over and over, synced with every thrust and crook of his fingers.

One hand carded through his hair, threading into silky strands and holding. The other gripping Satoru’s forearm, hard enough to leave a mark on his soft, pale skin. 

It happened fast. Your own climax sneaking up on you to hit and punch the air from your lungs. Back arching, head thrown back with a guttural cry. Hips trying to buck wildly but held in place at the hands of each man that had some part of them inside you as you gushed on Satoru’s cock all over again. 

Suguru pulled his hand free and you and Satoru both whimpered as his digits retreated. You went limp on Satoru’s chest as Suguru leaned over you both, a smirk on his shiny lips. “Open up,” He said, voice rough and those deep violet eyes on Satoru’s. 

Watching as the man under you parted his lips and opened his mouth to Suguru, a lewd, creamy drip of saliva and your slick and Satoru’s cum fell from his lips and landed on the other's tongue, and Satoru held it in his mouth. Turning to you, he took your face in hand and your mouths met. Opening to him and tasting that filthy mix on his tongue.

The moment you broke apart, Suguru was pulling you to sit up. You winced as Satoru’s cock slipped out, a little sore but Suguru had you in his lap and his tongue down your throat to make you forget all about that. Replacing everything in your head with the desire to be speared on his fat cock.

And lucky for you, Suguru was going to give you what you wanted. Even luckier? Satoru was going to help.

Suguru pulled you down with him, tits squished against his bare chest as his back hit the bed. Hair fanned out around his head and looking up at you, one hand on your waist and the other cupping the nape of your neck.

Slippery with Satoru’s cum leaking out, smearing on your thighs and dripping onto Suguru’s abs. He rolled up to slide his cock through your soaked folds and you clutched his bicep, gripping that dragon curling around him. 

Satoru was behind you, tapping your hip. “Lift your ass up, sweetheart. Yeahhh, just like that,” Your hips canted back and Satoru positioned you with one hand and held the base of Suguru’s cock with the other. 

The man under you sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as Satoru guided his thick tip to your messy, leaking hole.Your lip caught in your teeth as Satoru pushed you down a little, cunt stretching to take the first inch.

A moan pitched up into a whine as Satoru held your hips and dragged you further down onto Suguru’s cock. He groaned, squeezing the fat of your ass and bucking up to drive deeper as you started to fuck yourself on his cock with Satoru’s help.

“Still feeling greedy baby?” Suguru asked with a mean stroke that had him nearly bottomed out. Satoru piled right on, figuratively and literally.

You felt his slender cock slip between your legs, rubbing against Suguru’s. “Feel how fucking soaked she is, definitely ready for more.” 

“You want Satoru in here too? Ready for us to wreck this slutty little pussy together?” Suguru asked, not stopping the grind of his hips up to yours, holding your neck and waiting for a response. 

“I want Satoru, too.” You pouted, lips pushed out. He was right, they might wreck you like this. But the thought just made whatever was already burning hot in your belly spark further and you asked for it—begged for it without another thought. “I wanna feel both of you, please Sugu. I need you, need Satoru in me too, please.”

“Fuck, can’t say no to that, can we Sugu?” Satoru hummed behind you and Suguru smirked, eyes narrowing further.

“You’re so pretty when you beg, princess. Go on Satoru, give our girl what she wants.” 

He wasted no time. A wide palm slipped up your spine and pushed you down to lie flush against Suguru’s chest. Satoru squeezed your ass, holding a cheek and spreading you wide. He lined up with the cock already inside, and Suguru smoothed his palm over your back in a comforting motion. 

“Ready sweetheart? Biiiig stretch,” Satoru drawled, pressed hard to your entrance and all it took was a few slight rolls of his hips and the head of his cock popped right in with how slick you all were. 

But it stole your breath almost immediately and you gasped for air as both of them hissed as you tensed up. Your cunt ached with biting pain at being forced open so wide you thought you might tear and you started to panic.

“Oh fuck! Too much too much too much!” You cried, heaving fast, ragged breaths as fresh tears spilled at the ache. “I-I-I don’t th-think I can—”

Suguru said your name softly, his arm circling your body to hold you close, the other caressing your hot cheek. “Hey hey hey, deep breath, okay?” You swallowed hard and did as he said, a little shaky on the inhale and puffing your cheeks to blow out. “Perfect, keep going, just like that,” 

Doing as Suguru asked, you took in lungfulls of air. Every nerve on your body lit up, the ache still sharp but starting to wane slightly with both Satoru and Suguru stilled inside you. Satoru barely moved, just rubbing his thumb over your hip as he held gently. 

“Try to relax a little, like you did before, okay?” Suguru said, still rubbing your back and you focused on your breaths, on letting the tension that wound through you, loosen. Eyes sliding shut as your shoulders drooped a little, tummy resting on Suguru as your spine dropped, hips lifting with the motion and you instantly felt relief. 

“Oh yes, that’s it sweetheart, you’re doing so good,” Satoru moaned your praise and Suguru affirmed it quickly.

“He’s right, you’re doing so good for us princess. Satoru is going to move a little, okay? If it hurts we can stop, sound good?” You nodded and Suguru hummed, palm settled on the small of your back. 

“I’m gonna push in, go a little deeper. Tell me how it feels, okay sweetheart?” Satoru asked and your belly fluttered, humming as you nodded. He held your hips with both hands and pulled back a fraction, then sank in slowly. You breathed deep as you were filled with pressure, and Satoru stilled again another inch deeper. 

The ache was dull, you felt the intensity of the stretch and it was hot, but it didn’t hurt. 

It felt… good. Full already but wanting to keep going to see if you really could take both of them.

“Feels good, Satoru. ‘m so full but… I wanna keep—ah, wanna keep going,” You panted, looking back over your shoulder to see excitement light up his flushed face. 

“Yeah? You like how it feels getting filled by me and Sugu?” He asked, voice filled with breathless enthusiasm and you nodded. 

God, you did like it. 

“Yeah you do. You’re taking us so well, I think you can handle a little something more.” Satoru pulled back, barely, just enough to feel the friction of it. “I’m gonna push back in, and we’re gonna see how deep you can take my cock. How does that sound sweetheart?” 

“You tell him when to stop, okay princess? If it’s too much, tell us.” Suguru cut in and you nodded, looking up at him, then Satoru. 

“I will, I’m ready, Satoru,” You took another breath, letting your weight rest fully on Suguru as Satoru started to move his hips. His cock sliding against Suguru’s as he worked deeper. Ache like a mild cramp lingered with them both deep, splitting you open with every thrust Satoru made. 

“Fuck,” Satoru grunted behind you, hands squeezing your hips hard enough to feel the ache of it bone deep. But it was drowned out with how crammed full you were, somehow still taking more as Satoru forced himself in further. Breathing hard and watching himself disappear into you, squeezed against Suguru’s length. “That’s it, sweetheart. So good, fuck you both feel—ngh—so good,” 

“You like how it feels, baby?” Suguru took your face in hand and turned you to look up at him, seeing the light blush across his high cheeks, a few pieces of hair stuck with sweat to his neck. Lip catching in your teeth, a whine reverberating in your throat as you clutched his bicep, nails digging at the ink wrapping around. “Greedy girl, getting your tight little hole stretched by both of us and loving it.”

God, it sounded so wrong but shit was he ever right. 

“You want more? Think you can handle all of us?” Suguru questioned, a slim dark brow up and condescension dripping in his voice. Both their hands wandering, pawing at your overheated flesh.

“So tight,” Satoru hissed, leaning over you to put his warm, sweat slicked chest on your back, pinning you between their bodies and bringing his face close. “You can make it all fit for us though, right sweetheart?” 

His breath was hot in your ear, hips angled down to rub against Suguru’s cock and push into a sensitive spot that had your eyes threatening to flutter shut. 

Suguru groaned low in his chest at the way you tightened and squeezed him and Satoru harder together, and he dragged you to meet his mouth. Tongue slipping past your lips, metal clicking against your teeth to explore your mouth. His kiss thieved thought from your dizzy mind. Stealing your attention as Satoru kept going, moaning so pretty in your ear as the leaking head of his cock rubbed against Suguru’s.

You felt every vein pressed into your slick walls, every ridge that caught as you were molded to accommodate them. 

Tongue tangled with Suguru’s, breathing hard and adjusting as they stilled deep. Satoru latched to your throat, sucking at the soft skin where your pulse was thrumming. His palm slipped low, pressing low on your belly and you whined into Suguru’s mouth at the maddening pressure. Starting to squirm between them at the sensation. 

“God—ahh yeah,” Satoru gasped against your neck, nipping at the dark blotchy mark as you pulsed around them. “Need to get moving. Ready baby?” 

Breaking from Suguru’s lips as he let you come up for air and to answer Satoru, you heaved breaths and swallowed hard, lips slick with spit and body twitching at the way they throbbed inside you. Aching to move the moment you said the word.

“Mhm…” Pretty sure neither of them were fully seated, you couldn’t even think about how much more stuffed you were about to be. You just knew you needed movement too, the stillness was driving you fucking crazy and you glanced from Suguru as he caressed your face, to Satoru as he rubbed up your arm to wrap a hand over your shoulder. “Feels s’good, I wa-want more, please.” 

That was it, Suguru moved to hold your ass, and Satoru used the hand on your shoulder for leverage as he pulled back. The friction of the slow drag out drawing noises from all three of you. The thrust back in forced a cry out of you, pussy squelching wetly as his cock slid through your glistening folds to dig deeper than before.

“This what you were missing, princess?” Suguru, who had been still and letting Satoru set the pace, murmured to you and rolled his hips up as Satoru pulled back. Driving his thick cock deep and pushing into the hand still pressed to your bulging belly. 

Jaw dropped, a pitched whine crawled up your throat and your eyes squeezed shut. Suguru pulled back as Satoru sank in again, cocks rubbing together as they slid through your walls. “Bouncing back and forth between us to satisfy this needy pussy. Didn't work though, did it? This is what she needed, isn't that right?”

There was no answer in your head that you could even try to force out. Panting for breath, your head dropped to the crook of Suguru’s neck and you buried your face there, silky hair tickling your cheek. The only movement you could make was your hips rocking with theirs, earning their speed picking up.

“S-Sugu—oh fuck,” Satoru’s fingers carded through long, dark locks, still holding your belly and gazing into narrow darkened eyes with his face so close their breaths mingled. “I can f-feel you, right there.” He pressed firmly and Suguru pushed into his hand, swollen with how stuffed full you were. Whining into Suguru’s neck as your walls fluttered around them.

Suguru gripped the back of his head, tugging a handful of soft, snowy hair to bring Satoru’s flushed face closer. “Yeah? Like feeling my cock? Fuck, both of you, so needy.” 

Satoru whined, brows pinched and pressing closer, squishing you harder into Suguru with his heavy body. Cock twitching as his lips grazed Suguru’s. 

Satoru let his mouth fall open, head leaning to the side as he, with you sandwiched between their hard, sweaty bodies and drooling onto Suguru’s neck, was dragged down to crash his lips to Suguru's.

Tongues tangled, fingers raked through and gripped hair, muffled groans and moans and the wet, lewd sound of thrusts getting faster filled the room. Pistoning hard enough to make you sob, Satoru's cock spearing deep to kiss your cervix with his leaking tip, being split right in half on Suguru’s girth. 

Feeling like you may break on every thrust, but loving the juxtaposition between the two men cramming themselves into you. The differences you couldn't get enough of, that got you in this very situation, you had it all. 

Shit, was Suguru right? Were you greedy?

Yeaahhhh… 

“Ohh shit… sorry baby,” Suguru murmured into Satoru’s mouth, shifting under you and starting to sit up. They stilled in you, Satoru peeling from your overheated skin and they supported your limp, trembling body as they straightened to kneel. “Bite me, scratch me, whatever, but I need you to take this.” 

Blissed out, you held onto his shoulder and neck, cheek resting on his collarbone and nodding weakly, gazing with hazy eyes up at the two. Their big hands all over your body, under your thighs and ass, holding you up and open.

“Be good and go dumb on our cocks,” Satoru nipped at your neck again, arm wrapped under your breasts and rolling a nipple, the other dipping low to brush over your stomach. “I'll get you back on track with a few sessions.”

“If you're not busy fucking in the bathroom,”

“You sound jealous, Sugu,” Satoru grinned and the dark haired man scoffed. He wasn't jealous. That was ridiculous, both you and Satoru had to go out of your way to see Suguru, and you both did. It was easy for you and Satoru to fuck, convenient and served up five days a week. 

“Ohh, look at that,” Satoru breathed, gazing down your body and pulling you flush to him as he leaned back and gave Suguru a full view. “I can see you, fuck thats filthy.” 

Suguru observed the way your stomach poked out softly, and the way it moved when he rolled his pelvis.

“Shit, thats so fucking hot,” Suguru pressed his palm low, your head fell back onto Satoru’s shoulder with a whine and he pushed into his own hand. “Feel that? Feel me in there? I'm gonna put my cum riiight there.” 

Like it was a timed event they'd prepared for, both men drove up into you in sync. Filled to the brim and shocked you had space for organs anymore. 

You could barely whine as they moved together, just panting for shallow breath. The knot in your full belly tightening as the friction of one cock dragging out while the other shoved back in lit fire under your skin. You clawed at both of them, nails digging into Suguru’s shoulder and reaching up to grip the nape of Satoru's neck, grabbing a handful of hair.

“Gonna take my cum too, right? Gonna take it all when we both fill this perfect little pussy up?” He murmured right in your ear and Suguru leaned close, mouth almost on yours but holding back as he snapped his hips up.

“Gotta come and milk it all out of us, can you do that princess? Come hard and make a nice big mess on our cocks?” 

“Fuck oh my goddd,” You whined, assaulted on all fronts, held in place and used. Fucked like a toy they didn’t just pass back and forth, but shared. Liked it better like that, when they could cover every inch of you with their hands and mouths and feel each other's cocks, taste each other's cum. 

Keening into Suguru’s mouth, he squeezed your thighs, fingers dimpling the fat. Satoru latched onto your neck, hair tickling your skin to make you shiver. Still groping at your tit, his other hand dipped lower, finding your clit and pressing up to make your eyes fucking roll.

God, you almost came right there. 

Exploding with need, clit twitching under the pad of Satoru’s finger as they fucked mercilessly up into you. Suffocated by Suguru's tongue, rolling with yours and gliding metal through your mouth. Your trembling fingers thread into thick, dark strands, holding his head close. 

Fuck. It hit hard and fast again. Taking a pathetic amount of attention paid to your clit, that knot low in your tummy snapping free and sending electricity rippling through. Cunt pulsing in waves, toes pointing and breaking from Suguru to throw your head back on Satoru’s shoulder with a cracked moan. 

Slick leaked, coating their cocks and dripping from their tightened balls. Smearing and frothing up as they kept up the punishing, alternating rhythm. Feeling like they may break you and loving it. Satoru let out a drawn out moan, pitching up as he bit your neck hard. Suguru licked a stripe up the other side and sucked as you twitched violently in their arms, drool leaking and streaking down your chin.

“Mnnh… Suguruuu,” Satoru whined, tilting his head to peer at the man laving the other side of your neck. He hummed and met Satoru’s hazy gaze, electric blue burning into violet that held solid. “I’m gonna—fuck… I'm gonna come.”

Suguru pulled off you with a wet pop! Bringing his face close to Satoru, barely letting their lips touch even as the man behind you leaned forward to chase his dizzying kiss. Still rubbing absentminded circles on your clit to make you sob and spasm on their twitching cocks. 

“Go ahead, come when you need to, but you're gonna keep fucking her until I come too.” He pushed you and Satoru back until he hit the bed, and you both cried out as Suguru shoved deep with a mean snap of his hips. You squeezed around them tighter with the position and Satoru was already about to lose it. 

“Gonna be good and pump our girl till she's leaking? Come deep in this pussy and fuck it all back in with me like a good boy?” Suguru questioned, breathless and fucking into you fast and hard with leverage on his side. Holding your thighs high and wide and pounding like he hated your pussy. 

“Yes! Fuck—I'll be good—I'll be so good!” Satoru cried, head thrown back and hips stuttering up, leaking tip dragging through your walls. Ready to burst again with Suguru grinding against his cock with every plunge in and out. “I won't stop, need to feel it when you come—mnnh, need to feel you both come.” 

Dark hair flipped to the side, falling around their faces like a curtain of silk and Suguru dropped his face close again. 

“So pretty, such a good boy. Come for me, Satoru,” Suguru crashed his mouth to Satoru’s and the man under both of you opened instantly. Whine muffled around Suguru’s tongue, clutching his inked bicep. Bucking up wildly and toying your slippery clit, pinching and flicking to make you writhe as they fucked you until Satoru’s cock jumped deep and he moaned loud into Suguru’s mouth.

His pace became erratic and uneven. Full body twitching violently under you and whining out, “Oh fuck ohh f-fuck,” Into Suguru’s mouth as he did just as the man said, and came. 

Warmth flooded, every hard twitch of his cock spilled thick ropes of cum deep. Feeling his flushed tip pulsing, painting your cervix as he lifted and grinded his hips into you. Fluttering around them as their breaths mingled, Suguru dragged over and over on an abused spot. 

Pushed and pulled between them, watching as they gave into each other again and used you as a sleeve to stick their cocks in and rub together. 

Not that you were really minding being stuffed in the middle and forced to come over and over, to take so much cum you were already leaking and still had more to be pumped in.

Messy? Yeah you were really fucking messy now.

Satoru didn't stop, he really was such a good boy. His hand kept working your sensitive clit, kept driving up into you to fuck his cum back into you with Suguru. Whining and panting and slick with sweat but not daring to stop when Suguru tasted so good, when they slid together so perfectly inside you, slick with his cum and yours. Dying to feel that thick cock pulse and flood your pussy right along with him.

It was enough to send you right over again. This time tinged with the ache of being stretched too full for too long. Belly contracting as a cry tore from your throat, walls clenched to grip tight and Satoru whimpered but didn't stop moving and Suguru groaned deep in his chest and broke from Satoru, putting his attention back on you as you writhed. 

“Fuck—feel so good baby, liked taking Satoru’s cum, ready for mine? Want me to fill you the fuck up?” He murmured into your mouth, the snap of his hips getting faster as he edged closer to release and you keened and nodded in a short jerky motion. “Words, princess.”

That was Suguru. Loved watching you struggle harder when you were already at your limits. 

“Yes! Fuck—fi-fill me up, Sugu—please!” You cried, breath short and desperate but not having the will or energy to give a fuck about appearances. Leaking one man's cum and begging for another’s. 

“Ohh fuck,” He slammed in balls deep and ground his hips, throbbing against Satoru who bucked up to fill you at the same time and your cunt fluttered. “Such a good girl, gonna fuck all this cum right where it belongs, y-yeah?” He stuttered, gasping as he hunched and dropped his face to yours.

Lips pressed open and tongues met as he groaned into your mouth and pulsed deep. Flooding you with shot after shot of wet warmth. His cum mixing with Satoru's and leaking out around them. Dribbling down your ass to make a mess on Satoru’s abs, slicking the patch of hair at the base of his cock. 

That barbell clicked against your teeth as he licked into your mouth once more and stilled inside you with Satoru, panting hard under you and spent. Suguru pulled back and observed you both, looking exhausted and half dead, but knowing Satoru would be back up and ready in ten minutes.

“Ready princess? I’m gonna grab a fancy towel from this rich asshole,” Suguru sat up and you nodded, resting your head back on Satoru’s shoulder as he pulled his cock from your sore cunt and you winced. Immediately feeling cum seeping out and you squeezed your legs shut to hold it. Suguru strode off, hair swaying down his back and his cute, round ass on full display.

You let your eyes slide shut, turning your head to nuzzle into Satoru’s neck and he hummed. Arms slipping around you to hold tight. Pressing his cheek to your head.

“Feel okay? It wasn't too much?” Satoru, sweet, sweet Satoru murmured to you. Tracing patterns on your sticky skin and you put your hand on his, thumb rubbing his knuckles.

“A lot, yeah. But no, it was perfect. Whose idea was it though?”

“Collaborative effort, but… I might’ve pushed harder for it.” He almost sounded sheepish, like he hadn't just fucked you raw with his best friend, kissed said best friend and swallowed his cum. “Sugu isn't always the biggest fan of sharing.” 

You snorted, “And you are?”

“Better than him,” He chuckled. 

The man himself emerged and waltzed back in, damp washcloth on hand and hair tied up in a sleek knot. He always somehow had a hair elastic, no matter the situation. It was pretty handy actually.

“Alright princess, let’s get you off him,” Suguru started scooping you up and Satoru groaned under you.

“As much as I do love having you here, my back is killing me.” 

“Yeah, same. But my pussy,” You all chuckled a little but you winced and sucked a sharp breath as Satoru slipped out. Empty after being so full. “Ooh, oh my god…” 

Huffing a breath, you laid back on the bed rolling your shoulders as Suguru parted your legs and ran the warm washcloth over your puffy, swollen pussy. Pursing your lips and humming flatly.

Satoru stood and reached up, stretching his arms and back and walking off to a dresser. Butt naked and no regard for the windows and huge glass doors he strode past.

“What are you doing?” Suguru questioned, wiping your thighs.

“Snooping,” Satoru chirped back.

“Oh,” That spurred a question to the forefront of your brain and you looked at Suguru. “How did you guys, um… figure it out?”

He smirked, head tilting and bangs falling over a brow. “Saw you two scurrying upstairs and you coming back down with sex hair twenty minutes later.” He cast a glance off at Satoru who was looking everywhere but your direction. “He broke immediately and then begged to fuck you together.”

“I already told her that,” Satoru snapped back. “And I did not beg. Strongly suggested.”

“Riiight,” Suguru drawled, rolling on the bed to lie next to you and dragging you into his side. You curled happily, head resting on his chest, arm slung over his muscled middle.

Not finding whatever he'd been hoping for, or just feeling left out, the bed dipped next to you and Satoru fitted himself around you, arm thrown over you to sit palm flat on Suguru’s sternum. The dark haired man rubbed circles on your shoulder and thread his fingers into Satoru’s hair. Massaging through the soft strands to make the man behind you melt.

“Happy new year you two,” Suguru sighed and you hummed.

“Very happy new year,”

“So, we set a new standard for this year, yeah?” Satoru mumbled and you chuckled.

“So greedy,”

God, you could have fallen asleep like that, slotted perfectly between them. 

But the doorknob rattled and you and Suguru lifted your heads. Seeing if the person would get the hint and scram.

Just your fucking luck though.

“What the—who the fuck is in my room?”

a/n ⭑ᝰ ahhhh!! this was so much fun and just what i needed to get out of the slump, smooshed between stsg rolling into 2026, NEED THAT. HAPPY NY YA'LL! cheers to season 3 like next week hehehhh (choso ugghhh hiromi UGGHH) | dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more <3

[indiewritesxoxo]

DISCOVERY CHANNEL! bear hybrid!toji x zookeeper!reader x tiger hybrid!sukuna

a/n: here you go anon :3 this may be the worst thing i've ever written

you probably should've read the job description instead of y'know, just skimming it. but you saw ZOO and CARETAKER and NO DEGREE REQUIRED next to a ridiculous hourly rate, so yeah, you applied anyway! got all excited when you got a call back the next day, eagerly setting up an interview that you got all dressed up for, shimmying on your most professional-looking skirt.

and okay, perhaps you were a little nervous when the blond guy asking you questions suggested seeing if the animals took a liking to you, but you didn't think anything of it until you saw him through the thick glass of his enclosure, and you finally realized what sort of zoo this actually was.

where exotic hybrids were housed and put on display for normal humans to see.

but you couldn't really afford to have ethics when you were one missed rent payment away from losing your apartment.

so, yeah, you let him lead you around to a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY - and nervously stepped through only for him to shut it behind you.

"the bear's pretty lazy so you're not in any danger," your future boss calmly said through the door, like you couldn't hear the fucking lock click into place. "but we'll be on standby in case you change your mind."

and like a moron, you just stood there, frozen as your brain scrambled to catch up to the situation you'd gotten yourself into. standing in a goddamn bear hybrid enclosure just because you were broke, basically begging for some shady job to save your skin.

you felt him first.

breath hitching as a low grumble came from somewhere in the thick trees.

"who're you?" a deep voice growled, your heart straining to stop beating so fast as you scanned the bushes for some sign of him.

"um, i'm, uh," you were stuttering, scrambling to think of something not stupid to say when your lack of brain cells landed you here. "here for a job interview?"

he laughed at you. dry and low, crackling like the leaves as heavy footsteps thudded closer while you still hadn't spotted him.

"to what? be my mate?" he mocked, goosebumps trailing up your arms at how gritty his voice sounded. your face heated up, something absolutely inappropriate bubbling up in your stomach as you uselessly shook your head.

"n-no," you stammered, squinting ahead as you caught a flash of green. "your caretaker."

"oh?" he chuckled, and then you saw him.

a hulking man, bulky muscles half-covered in dark, shaggy fur, a crude smirk on his scarred lips as his stare raked over your skin, stopping at your skirt.

"mine?" he asked again, bridging the distance while you were too stunned to budge.

your mouth parted, but both his hands reached for your throat, thick fingers wrapping around and lightly squeezing as he felt how fast your pulse was racing.

"i-"

"you smell good," he muttered, his thumb trailing up to tilt your jaw to the side. "i think we'll have fun."

you shouldn't be turned on, right? like, not for a hybrid like him?

at least you were pretty sure he couldn't pick up on the scent of your arousal even if he had noticed the way your thighs were currently pressed together, amusement glittering in his dark green eyes as a slow grin spread up on his face.

"tell that dick to start you tomorrow," he grunted, letting go of your throat as his other hand slipped down your side just to grab a handful of your ass and squeeze hard.

"you treat all your caretakers like this?" you asked, some of your shock wearing off just in time for him to lean down enough to be almost on your level.

"just you now," he muttered, his breath warm on your skin before he suddenly sank his sharp canines just above your collarbone in a claiming...kiss? bite?

not quite hard enough to break the skin, but definitely enough to pop the blood vessels beneath it, to leave a bruise you'd go home with.

"that's enough, toji," a dull voice crackled over an intercom you couldn't see, and he made a show of letting you go, rolling his eyes as his hands dropped from your body.

"see ya, doll," the bear murmured as you stepped back, not breaking eye contact as you felt your way back to the door, fumbling for the handle as you heard it unlock and someone pulling you back through quickly.

you should be mad.

shout at the asshole who set you up and left you locked in alone. but your adrenaline wasn't the only thing that was pumping, nerves fried as a needy ache somewhere deep inside you started to pulse.

standing there while your potential employer started gesturing you to follow him, blankly nodding along as you noted his name tag. nanami.

"you'll mostly be between toji and sukuna," he continued, as if you already had the job. which, um, you guessed was good?

thinking was hard when your mind was still loitering on toji's broad chest and the dull sting he left on your throat, your fingers absentmindedly reaching up to graze over the sensitive skin, adding hms and ahs until you reached the next enclosure.

the glass was thicker, the habitat looking more like a jungle, more dense foliage and a low fog collecting by the ground.

you didn't ask any questions when he pushed you through the door this time - although you couldn't help but note how many locks were on this one.

"good luck," nanami grunted, sending you off to your second assignment.

it only took you maybe ten seconds to realize how much you'd need it when two steps inside this sukuna's home resulted in you being pinned to the mossy ground, massive hands holding your wrists over your head and a knee spreading your thighs apart as as fuzzy tail brushed against your leg.

"you smell like that fuckin' bear," a gravelly voice grunted, your eyes belatedly focusing on a thick set of furrowed brows, dark red eyes glaring down at you. "who the hell are you?"

"your new caretaker?" you offered, unfortunately still too horny to find this position anything except hot. especially when he was so absurdly attractive, with pretty markings and massive muscles, veins bulging across his arms. one of his fuzzy ears twitched, a little voice in your brain suggesting he was cute too.

he scoffed dismissively, but he didn't get off of you. his weight shifting down harder, leaning down to take a big whiff of your neck where toji had taken a bite of you. for a brief second, you thought he might tear out a chunk for himself. instead, he dragged his tongue up across it, coarse and dry as he sent a shiver straight down your spine.

"you think you can take care of me?" he growled, like you couldn't feel the huge fucking cock throbbing and pressing right against your clit.

your pussy was probably the one talking at this point, but you let out a little indignant huff, squirming underneath his grip as you met his burning stare. "what makes you think i can't?"

"stupid girl."

yeah, you were stupid, but when he was bullying that fat cock of his inside you ten minutes later, you didn't really mind anymore. face pressed into the leaves, his hips rutting ruthlessly against your ass as he growled in your ear, claws scraping against your skin as he claimed you like nanami wasn't fucking waiting for him to finish up and return you on the other side of the thick door.

he even had the decency to leave your panties intact!

just shoved your skirt up past your hips and pushed them inside to make room for himself, although it was turning out to be a tight fit.

"i-i didn't think this was part of my, ah, job description," you mumbled, voice muffled in between all the moans and the sloppy sound of your pussy being stuffed full. he chuckled behind you, probably leaving fingerprints with how tight his grip was, like you were the only one left out of the joke.

you loathed how much you liked this. how the pressure built and mounted at his will, treacherous pleasure overriding any sense you had left.

"don't play dumb," he wrlyly muttered, and you could only let out a pitchy squeak as the base of his cock began to practically fucking balloon, swelling up and holding you hostage as you squirmed in his hold. "might think your part bunny."

you huffed in protest at the idea of that, although you guessed you were probably already totally screwed socially if word got out you were letting zoo hybrids use you as a sex toy for enough cash to cover your bills.

but on the bright side, at least it felt really good, that hunger inside you finally being fed, too full to think of any of the other consequences when your brain was busy being fucked out of that pretty head of yours.

taking the tiger's knot while your fingers dug into your palm, crying as you clamped down on his thick cock, sure you were about to split, to splinter into too many tiny pieces only for him to soothe the pressure at the last second, grunting under his breath about you being a pathetic thing only to rub rough patterns over your clit.

you didn't know who came first.

didn't know anything except how delicious the stretch was, how filthy it was to get fucked like this, down in the dirt. Past skin-on-skin when his tail kept tickling your calves, his heavy breathing in your ear as his thick cum coated your insides white.

"k-kuna," you groaned as you recalled his name, eyes rolling back as his thumb refused to stop rubbing your oversensitive bud.

"makin' a fuckin' mess in my habitat," he growled, and you felt your head bobbing like you were agreeing. heat rolling over into warm satisfaction, the sort that left you limp and loose, mind hazy as he rested his wide frame on you.

"let her go, sukuna," your new boss warned, adding a little huff of irritation, but not a single hint of surprise detected.

"what if i wanna keep her?" sukuna snarled back, his sharp fangs skimming over your shoulder blade while you melted into even more of a puddle underneath his sweaty chest. his hips readjusted, his cock jostling against your womb as you let out a lewd groan you couldn't control.

"she'll be back tomorrow," he replied, voice short and clipped.

sukuna didn't say anything, but he didn't give any indication of giving you up either. licking another stripe over your throat, clearly intent on replacing any hint of toji on you with his own scent.

"don't make me muzzle you," nanami warned.

the threat was enough for sukuna to begrudgingly climb off of you, a few more drops of cum leaking down onto your skin after he reluctantly removed his cock from your cunt. although he didn't bother to help you stand after he got up, no, he just watched you push yourself up on trembling legs. your knees were shaking as he glowered at you, pouting at the idea of his toy walking out the door.

what the hell were you supposed to say?

see you tomorrow?

"bye, kuna," you murmured softly, swallowing hard as you tried to pull your skirt back down, dazed as you stumbled back in the direction of the door.

he scoffed again, tilting his nose up dramatically as you left his enclosure and took some of him with you.

nanami was already back to discussing wages and benefits, acting as if the whole thing was totally normal, just pushing a thin pair of glasses up his nose as he discussed your hours and schedule, handing you a thick fucking packet titled 'HYBRID CARE' and promptly showing you back to the parking lot.

you pulled the job advertisement back up once you were in your car, cum still sloshing around inside you and thighs damp and sticky as your sore muscles ached for some sleep after getting fucked like an animal. scrolling through the description, only to see what you misread the first time.

it never fucking said caretaker.

you were their new cumtaker.

[tonycries]

West Coast - R.S.

Synopsis. Down on the West Coast, there’s nothing ‘round these parts but your diner. Same old regulars. Same dirt roads. Same men that can’t fúck you right. Until Ryomen Sukuna - leader of the infamous Curses biker gang, heaven and hell on wheels - rides in to mess this whole town up (and your insides along with it).

Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!waitress!reader, biker!Sukuna, small town AU, biker gang AU, fIirting, joyrides, Sukuna with píercings and tattoos, town gossip, semi-public, keeping quiet,  RULES, fíngering, Sukuna with rings, FÉRAL Sukuna, overstím, ínappropriate use of engine vibrations, oraI (fem rec.), manhandIing, spítting, p talking, p sIapping, showing off, he’s BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, DÚMBIFlCATION, mean Sukuna, rough s, reciting, o control, squírting, creampíes, cúmpIay, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k

A/N. Someone said Tonycries is listening?! Of course inspired by this video by the amaaaaazing and gorgeous @/v4mpyrf4e on Tiktok (tysm to their biiiig brain mwah <33)

“Could you please top off my coffee, darling?”

“On the house, mister!” A few regulars coo at the sweet sound of your voice ringing across the diner. You weave between the tables with an efficiency fit for a figure skater, one hand holding up a tray topped with the specialty breakfast and the other pouring out fragrant coffee into the man’s outstretched mug. 

You watch as the brew catches the sunlight and makes it look as though liquid gold. “Long day ahead, huh?”

Yaga sighs. “Mhm…all good thank you, darling.”

“You know Sweetheart’s Diner fixes you right up!” Before another call of your name makes you hurry away.

Checkered floors. Long booths. Tall sundaes. And a line of stools that looked like cherry gumdrops: it was a vintage diner, and an even more vintage town. Here, people were steadfast in their ways and their hunger. 

It was the busiest time of the day. And you’re setting down two more breakfast trays when you hear it—

The growl of motorbikes.

Hastily smoothing down your white apron, you peer over the counter - it wasn’t very common for a customer to arrive on a motorbike (let alone what sounded like a small army of them taking over the humble parking space outside). You could count on one hand the number of them that didn’t arrive in a beaten-down car or a truck that coughed down the road.

As most people in your little town did.

Which meant only two things: this certainly wasn’t one of your regulars, this was someone from outside town.

And so you’re squinting through the glare of the diner windows, catching just the briefest flash of pretty pink before-

“Hello? Hellooo—?” An annoying, graaaating voice forcefully weasels its way into your consciousness and drags your attention away from the window. “Should I beg to get some service ‘round here or should I come over there and fuckin’ service myself?”

Now this noise you knew almost too well, unfortunately.

“Why hello, Naoya Zenin.” You didn’t even have to look into his frowning face to know who it was - or the fact that he was frowning.

And yet, diner policy dictated that you be on your most polite behaviour towards any and every customer that walked through those swinging doors - no matter how rude they were, no matter how many times you’ve had to kick them out in the past.

You supposed it helped that his father was the town mayor that ‘suggested’ those policies, too.

And so with a stifled sigh, you’re picking up your notepad and pen to not stare at Naoya’s bad bleach job, if anything. Maybe then he won’t try to ask you out for the fifth time this week. “What can we do for you at Sweetheart’s Diner today?”

He sniffs, “No tip.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Anyways- my egg’s too runny and my toast tastes burnt.” Roughly, Naoya shoves his tray of breakfast over the counter at you. The mostly-eaten scraps of food shuffling around sadly as he does so. And perhaps you could try to empathize with the man…if he hadn’t eaten all the food he was complaining about in the first place.

You narrow your eyes at him, “You ordered…a sunny side up?”

“Yeah, and it was too fuckin’ runny!” He bites back, leaning over the counter to leer at you. You take a subtle step back. “Not only that- my orange pulp juice was too pulpy and there were too many damn blueberries in my pancake. You call this a fine dining experience or what?”

You take another step back. “I apologize-”

“The least you could do is fuckin’ apologize.” The mayor’s son roars, catching the attention of the other diners. He scoffs, banging a fist down on your thoroughly-polished countertops. “I’ve never had a dining experience so shitty in my entire life-”

In the corner of your vision, you see Yaga starting to stand up- and quickly signal at him to sit back. You didn’t want this to escalate any further. 

You put your palms face-up in front of you and placate, “Sir, if you could please just calm down-”

“Calm down? And now you want me to calm down?” He seethes, stabbing an accusing finger your way. “You and this establishment should be thankful I don’t call my father, the mayor, and get you shut down this very instant-”

“How can I correct our mistake?” You’re whispering, you could handle rude customers but it’s the rude customers with power that you could never get used to. Especially him. Especially not when this diner had been your dream for so long. And it’s with every ounce of your will that you manage to keep your voice even - you will not let Naoya Zenin hear you hurt. “Would you perhaps like a refund? Or perhaps an alternative? Or-”

“How about…” A sleazy smirk spreads across his lips, and you already dread what will be next to leave them. “-a kiss—”

But before you can open your mouth to answer, Naoya’s grinning face is being slung away as if catapulted by some invisible force. 

Feet struggling to find purchase. Arms flailing. Ears flushing. Mouth sputtering out profanities as he tries and fails to catch his footing. Ultimately toppling backwards until he’s thrown directly over an elderly couple’s breakfast.

You can only watch slack-jawed as Naoya - now with a particularly runny yolk dripping down the side of his face, matching his hair (you had to remember to comp that sweet couple) - scrambles to stand up. His mouth quivers with rage once he rights himself, and you’re grimacing as you wonder just what it might unleash next on your poor diner now- until…until he catches sight of the ‘invisible force’ that had thrown him.

And you do, too.

First your gaze is tilting up, up, up—

Fuck, he was just so tall. And you could tell that it wasn’t with some breezy strength that Naoya had been thrown. Towering. Back so broad that you couldn’t look past it from here. It almost seems to go on for an age before you finally lock eyes with the hulking man that’d saved you. Crimson irises. Smoking gaze.

One that narrows in interest as they meet your line of vision, one of his pink brows raising- and ah, you’re realizing that it’d been none other than his hair that you’d noticed before. Those cotton-candy pink locks seemed to slick back effortlessly, presumably by his helmet. It was so at odds with the ruggedly handsome rest of him.

Classically handsome features. Smirking lips. Studded ears. Tattoos.

Despite his jet-black biker jacket, you could see the way they crept all over his muscular body. There were inky lines slashed underneath his eyes, his chin, the back of his neck, and down those broad shoulders that stretched his outer jacket tight. Encircling his strong wrists before ultimately slithering down to heavens-knows-where.

You gulp as your mind wanders.

And the dangerous-looking man before you snickers like he knew exactly what you were thinking about, “So are you the ‘sweetheart’ that makes this ‘Sweetheart’s Diner’?”

“I uh…” You’re left momentarily speechless, forgetting any and every default conversation that’d been drilled into you after years of waiting. It takes this customer tilting his head to the side and gazing down at you in a half-lidded way that makes you shiver for you to actually collect your wits- “I mean- welcome to Sweetheart’s Diner, what can we do for you today?”

The words are out of your mouth before you realize that you hadn’t even acknowledged his previous question—could it have been made any more obvious that you were staring?

“Heh…” His lips tilt up in a way that makes him look devastatingly handsome- you have to dart your eyes away for your own sake. “Cute.”

Fuck.

“The name’s Sukuna, sweetheart.” His name drips from his lips like sex, a slight purr in his baritone.  “Ryomen Sukuna. But you can call me whatever’s easiest…”

There seems to be a hidden end to that sentence that you can’t quite discern. But somehow you manage to sputter out your own name-

“I know.” As Sukuna ploughs on with confidence, you can only look up at him in shock. What did he mean he knows…?

At your palpable confusion, one of his hard pink brows raise. And Sukuna raises one of his hands to tap a roughened finger over the side of his chest and—oh. It’s only then that you’re looking down at your uniform and realizing that your name tag was gleaming front and center, polished just this morning.

Your heart races- fuck. “A-ah, of course!” Your voice threatens to crack. And the only thing you can do is follow your script with the hope that perhaps you’ll wake up from this nightmare (or daydream?) soon. “And may I ask whether that will be seated or to-go?”

“Trynna get rid of me so soon, huh, sweetheart?” Sukuna chuckles, before glancing over his shoulder at the barrage of men - ones that you hadn’t even noticed entering your diner. Honestly, what was with them not setting your bells off? 

They were all rough n’ tough bikers seemingly just like the one before you: matching leather jackets, hard eyes, looming figures that seemed to fill the space entirely. And despite their intimidating looks, you think that the strangest thing about them was the fact that they were all lined up perfectly obediently behind Sukuna. Hands behind their backs and almost waiting for command. “Let’s say ah- a booth to seat fourteen, and menus for each.”

“Oh- oh yes, of course!” You startle, before grabbing some menus and hastily rounding the counter to squeeze past the bikers. “I know the perfect booth. Follow me this way, please!”

And never in your entire life did you think you’d have an entire troupe of bikers following you through your humble diner like a line of lost ducklings (quite intimidating ducklings). You pass slightly apologetic smiles at the other customers for the commotion that’d occurred, delicately giving a wide berth to the yolk-covered Naoya-

He seethes, “Don’t you fuckin’ think that this is-”

“Whoops.” It takes a mere moment for Sukuna’s strong shoulder to bump against the mayor’s son and send him sprawling onto the tiled ground. And you could almost believe that it had been an innocent accident - almost - until the biker slightly lowers himself and mutters to the man.

Eyes blown wide. Tone dangerous.

“I’d spit on you but I don’t want to dirty her diner.”

Naoya cowers but still turns his sour face up at him, “Y-you don’t know who my father is-”

“Your father?” Sukuna moves as if he was about to step over the man like he was nothing but something nasty on the pavement outside—before actually swinging his foot down and kicking the other man. Hard. “You don’t know who I am.”

And with that, the pink-haired man walks right up to where you’d stalled - staring at you expectantly as if to ask what the hold-up was.

“Right…l-let’s keep moving then.” You swallow. 

As you keep walking, you could see the rest of his gang continue to follow in the same route - each one giving a good kick at the source of your troubles all these years. Naoya Zenin’s running out of the diner by the time you’re seating the group.

You look after his disappearing figure through the window - never have you managed to get him to leave so soon…

“Something the matter, sweetheart?”

Jumping slightly, you meet the crimson eyes of Ryomen Sukuna. The rest of the table was nose-deep in your menu now, flipping excitedly through laminated pages of items that you’d put together yourself. Though—he only had eyes for you.

He repeats, head cocked. “Something the matter, sweetheart?”

You’re shaking your head, “Not at all!” And you wonder just how a man that’d been so ruthless earlier had so much patience with you. You place a hand thoughtfully at your lips, “It’s just- that man has been giving me so much trouble over the years. It’s just amazing how you managed to get rid of him so quickly.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens, and you wonder whether you’ve said something wrong. “Oh yeah? Little fucker’s been at it for a while now, huh?”

“O-oh, but it really hasn’t been anything too bad!” You hurry to explain, “But still- really- I’m so thankful to y’all for the help.”

“S’nothing, honey.” He throws an arm over the back of his chair—a new nickname? “M’just wondering why you didn’t go into that diner kitchen of yours and bring out the knives earlier.”

Surprising yourself with a giggle - you don’t see the way that Sukuna’s grin grows at the sound. “Oh I wish- it doesn’t help that his father’s the mayor of this town and could take away those knives just as soon as I pull ‘em out.”

His brow raises, “So ol’ daddy’s the mayor, huh?”

You’re nodding, but Sukuna seems to be deep in thought himself. Leaning back against the cushion, he starts finally taking off his jacket and fuck.

You might just be fucked.

You’re doing your very best not to gawk at the thick, chiselled arms that make an appearance then (and you fail). Sun-kissed skin. Muscles for daaaaays. He was wearing a sleeveless denim jacket and a thin white t-shirt underneath that did nothing to hide the rest of his tattoos. 

There were two colored-in circles on each of his prominent deltoids, and then a band around his biceps. From where the neckline of Sukuna’s t-shirt dipped when he threw his jacket over his chair, you see the inky glimpses of even more decorating his pectorals-

“Are there any motels ‘round these parts, sweetheart?” Sukuna hums as he laces his ringed fingers on top of the table.

You have to rip your eyes away from how looooong and thick they were, “There’s one just a little ways downtown- but lately it’s been closed for renovation, mister-”

“Sukuna.”

“Sukuna.” You repeat on autopilot, before registering just how sweet his name tasted in your mouth - it started with the curl of your tastebuds, and ended with a little flick. Almost teasing. 

The edge of his lip quirks upwards, “And you’re saying that there’s no place for a guy like me to stay here?”

“Well…no motels unless you don’t mind skipping to the next town over. Folks don’t come around here often, see?” You’re fiddling with a fistful of your apron, wondering whether or not you should really say the words already in your mouth…fuck it. He did save you from the headache that was Naoya Zenin. “But I do have a spare bedroom upstairs if you would like.”

Sukuna stares at you in silence.

And you suddenly feel the embarrassment hit you at once- “O-only if you would like, however! I’m afraid I have only one room for you and I’m sure the motel in the next town would be much more comfortable but-”

“I’ll take it.” Sukuna reclines with an almost-feline smirk, before digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a wad of hundreds that make your jaw drop. The sheer thickness of it…you didn’t even want to imagine how much the total amount was.

Attempting to push it back into his hands, “Please, you really don’t have to pay- let alone this much! Especially not after you’ve helped me-”

“Then consider it a tip.” He gruffly forces the money into your hands. “I expect my banana split to come with four scoops of ice cream.”

You almost want to laugh. Helpless to do anything but drop it into the pocket of your apron and pull out your notepad, “And what will the rest of the table be having?”

.

.

.

Your legs ache stepping up the stairs. 

Miwa, the part-timer, had just clocked in for her shift - which left you free to finally freshen yourself up before heading back into the rush. Lunch hour was one of your busiest, it always had the diner packed with the workers around town who’d gotten off in time for your well-served specials.

You’d grown a great clientele for yourself, and you’d never complain about the hard work—though you did have a thing or two to say about your poor ankles…

But you had to get back soon, you knew that the blue-haired girl easily got overwhelmed by the sheer amount of orders yelled at her. You wouldn’t want another mix-up!

And so you hasten to stride up the rest of the short distance to your apartment upstairs - one of the reasons you loved this place was because of the close quarters. Your home was just on the covert second floor of the diner, allowing you to flit in and out as seamlessly as you pleased. It wasn’t anything too grand or fancy, though it did have a bedroom, a bathroom, and all other things that your humble heart may desire. It really was the perfect place.

Home sweet home…you think, your hand reaching for the door knob. 

And just before your fingertips could touch the burnished wood, just before you could actually move to open the door—it swings open from the inside.

And you’re bumping into a firm chest

Firmer arms falling to your waist to steady you.

You look up- filling the entirety of your door frame was the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Pink hair decorated with a few droplets of water that shined like diamonds. Ruggedly handsome face still glowing with the remnants of a shower. Dressed in nothing but a fluffy white towel that dangled precariously around his toned hips.

It exposed the entirety of his toned chest, riiipped with his prominent pecs, his abs, his obliques. How was he so damn sculpted? His tannish skin ripples in unison as he leans from his towering height to look down at you. And you couldn’t even meet his eyes because you were too busy reeling in the fact that you were right…there were black tattoos snaking down his chest as well. 

Like two inky tendrils down the middle that pointed to his sculptured v-line. To the tufts of pink leading in an unruly line down, down, down…

You’re realizing that the towel he was wearing was one from your own closet (of course it was) and it barely reached past his knees. Below that, you could see his strong legs flex, still drip-drip-dripping with a few dewdrops of water that fall onto your welcome mat.

You’re seeing more of Ryomen Sukuna than you ever thought you’d see. 

And right after you’ve seen him you don’t think you can ever rip your eyes away-

“You’re wet.” It blurts out from your mouth faster than you can stop it, and your gaze strays on the single glittering droplet of water that dips from the curve of Sukuna’s deltoid and down to his tattooed bicep.

And he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t make a single noise.

Looking deep into your eyes, he slowly - slooooowly - lifts his arm up and licks away the dewdrop on his bicep. Right where that tattooed band was, you watch the tip of his tongue lap it away like the sweetest sap.

A thrill zaps down your spine.

“Like what you see?” An amused baritone rumbles from within Sukuna’s chest, sending vibrations humming through your body. He cocks his head to the side and shoots you a sleazy grin, tuggin’ your body to his water-cooled chest. “Ya should take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You could feel every one of his muscles shift underneath you, and your veins start to bubble. “You’re corny! I just came here to freshen up but—” You sniff at his skin. “You used my body wash!”

He raises a bicep up to his nostrils, and you try not to ogle the way his muscles flex. “Candies…heh.” Sukuna bores right into your eyes, “Don’tcha know that I love everything sweet?”

“I can tell.” 

The biker leans even closer, his tattoos seeming to expand and flare. “And by that, I mean eeeeverything sweet.”

“I can tell.” You grumble, unsure why he was repeating it but you can’t keep the smile off of your face. You wouldn’t have taken the hulking man to have a sweet tooth, but you guessed you couldn’t judge books by their cover. “That thing was expensive.”

He titters, “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do about it then?”

“It’s alright, I don’t really mind.” You shake your head sweetly, still in his arms and growing dangerously used to it. “You know you’re free to use anything in the house, right? What’s mine is yours.”

And an agonized expression crosses his face as if you’ve entirely missed some point—“Yeah, but what’re you going to do about it?”

Your brows furrow, “What do you m-”

Footsteps. A call of your name.

It takes you a singular split-second to catch sight of Miwa’s figure running up the stairs, and then two more split-seconds to break apart from Sukuna as if his body burned- you push his (highly attractive) chest away from you, you let his hands untangle from your waist.

They fall limply to his sides, and you’re missing the feeling of their heat on your skin already.

Though you moved on pure instinct, as fast as your body allowed you to, Miwa still catches a glimpse of you before her interruption and freezes. And pales. And lets her jaw drop, eyes widen—“S-sorry!” With a voice that was nothing more than a whimper, she’s sprinting down the stairs faster than you’ve ever seen her move, even during rush hours.

“N-no, wait-” The two of you are startling into action - or, well, you are. 

Sukuna merely raises a pink brow and scoffs, as if your part-timer had just disturbed something extremely important. And the last thing you’re seeing is the crimson roll of his eyes as you follow Miwa down the stairs, with nothing but an apologetic smile thrown over your shoulder at the man staying in your apartment.

By the time you’re politely smiling and nodding at the customers downstairs, you find Miwa cowering behind the counter - as expected.

You rap on the marble and kindly hum, “Anyone in here?”

“I didn’t see anything- I didn’t!” She exclaims from her position on the checkered floor, looking up at you with an agonized face. She pleads, “I swear I didn’t see you sneaking off during hours to do the naughty with a half-naked man, who also happens to be the leader of a biker gang, and who also happens to be fucking hot—eep!” Clapping both hands over her mouth.

“First of all, I didn’t sneak off to do the naughty.” You gasp out, looking around to make sure that none of your customers were overhearing this nonsense. “He just…happens to be staying over-”

“To do the naughty.” Miwa solemnly says.

“Because I owe him a favor.” You’re firmly finishing off your own sentence, and she didn’t look like she believed you a single bit. “And the motel downtown is closed for now- so it’s merely a transactional relationship, you see.”

She points out, “But he was embracing you in nothing but a towel…”

“I know—” You sigh, before you quickly realize that you weren’t helping your case. Shaking your head to rid your mind of any thought of Ryomen Sukuna and his…nakedness. “Either way- what was that you said about him being the…leader of some biker gang?”

“You’re saying you don’t know?” She looks up at you with wide eyes, immediately shooting to her feet. If there was anything that excited Miwa more than lunch hour (and not in a good way), it was a fresh bit of gossip (and that was in a good way).

She leans over the counter, hand cupped to her mouth in a conspiratorial way. “Ryomen Sukuna. King of Curses. He’s been the leader of the Curses biker gang since, like, forever.” Shivers run up your spine. “They say no one knows whether to respect him or to fear him, even those in his own gang. They say he’s the only reason they’ve grown to be so widespread, travelling so many distances and waging chaos wherever they go. They say that if he feels like it…they won’t even find the pieces of your body.”

You look towards the staircase, almost as if expecting Sukuna to be standing there listening. “He’s really…that Ryomen Sukuna?”

She nods, “You don’t want to get on his bad side.”

And you’ve heard about him.

Who hasn’t?

The Curses were the most infamous biker gang in the nation, with their unabashed ways and their almost more unabashed Harleys. They weren’t too much trouble through their days-long cruises…for the most part, but there were whispers…other whispers…

Ones that spoke of what the Curses did to those they didn’t take kindly to.

And yet, you couldn’t help but think of just how kindly they’d taken to you. Sukuna most of all - but even the closest of his troupe that had arrived for breakfast today (only a fraction of his gang, you’re learning) were well-mannered and tipped well. With the sweetest smiles and goodbyes as they left their leader here to drive off to the motel in the other town. “But you know- just today Sukuna scared off that nasty Naoya Zenin from the diner for me?”

“Ryomen Sukuna?”

“Ryomen Sukuna!”

Miwa hums thoughtfully, “Well, it makes sense. They say that if there’s anything biker gangs hate- then it’s people who can’t keep their paws and mouths to themselves.” 

“I see.” You ponder thoughtfully, looking over as a fresh new batch of customers enter. You grab a few menus, “Do you think it’s possible he’s not too bad then?”

She shivers.

“You know, anyone in town with half a brain would tell you to stay away from them? Most of all Ryomen Sukuna?”

You look over at her curiously, “I know.” 

“But I won’t- go for it, girl.”

.

.

.

The rush of customers always died down around nine.

It was the slight dip before the wave of night shift workers were released, along with the college students pulling all-nighters in the local universities. It was only now that you could take it easy.

The kitchen hummed quietly behind you, only a few customers inside as you wiped down the counter. The parlor might have been a bit lonely, but your diner’s sign stood loud and neon outside: Sweetheart’s Diner. Hot-pink with a heart at the end. It coated each chair along the bar in a dusky glow, making those cherry gumdrops look pleasantly radioactive.

It was a fuzzy silence.

Not even a peep upstairs - you could almost forget that it wasn’t just you, your part-timers, and your customers in this building. Sukuna was there, too. 

He’d gone out only a few times on his bike since taking residence in the spare room in your apartment, and had come back just this evening with a heavy bag of something and a tall order of waffles (to which you’d happily obliged, of course). And now…now you weren’t quite sure what he was—

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Sukuna’s gruff tone carries across the diner and makes your customers look over- hell, it makes Miwa pop her head out of the kitchen and shoot you a meaningful look.

You’re shaking your head subtly at her and turning to the tall man that easily steps down the stairs, two at a time. You smile, “How can I help you, Suku—oh.”

Before you know it, he’s thrown a helmet into your hands.

Shiny coating. Red like your diner seats. Decorated with accents of gold that caught the artificial lighting from above and bent it into odd shapes.

You’re blinking down in awe at the heavy weight in your hands, “This is…”

“A helmet that’s what.” He says, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. He stands before you with his beefy arms crossed, and you notice that he’s changed into a slim black t-shirt and black denim. “Bought it brand-new. Accidentally threw out the receipt but don’t be afraid to tell me if it’s ass, I’ll go beat up the clerk right now.”

“You bought this…for me?” So that was what was in his bag earlier today - did he go out just to buy this for you? But why…

“Isn’t that obvious, honey?”

You’re distinctly aware of Miwa who was listening in on this conversation like a hawk. “And because you want me to…”

“Ride me- I mean with me, of course.” He coughs, looking slightly off to the side. Not giving you the time to say anything more before turning on his heel and opening the diner door as if he was about to leave. “So?” He cocks his head at you, “You coming?”

“B-but the diner-”

“She’s coming!” Miwa’s shrill voice sounds beside your ear, before her voice drops down to a whisper. “I can take care of the diner right now- so don’t worry about a thing and just go.” She gives you a gentle nudge, “Go!”

Well…you supposed that this time was more or less manageable for just Miwa.

And it’s in a slightly dazed state that you’re walking towards Sukuna, who was still stalking at your doorway. He raises a pink brow as you finally halt before him and look up—only to grab onto both sides of your apron and puuuuull you against his firm chest. 

You yelp as you’re pushed against his developed pectorals, thinking for just a second that he was embracing you- before you feel a slight looseness around your waist and realize that his nimble fingers had actually gotten to work untying your apron.

“There.” Sukuna hums out cockily, looking back to admire his work. You were in nothing but your short, cutesy dress and your name tag. “Can’t have that thing flying away when you’re riding me- I mean, the bike, right?”

“We’re going to…” You still can’t quite believe it.

Not even as you’re led into the chilly air outside and Sukuna’s producing two jackets from his bike’s top-box. One was much smaller than the other, and before putting on his own- he’s roughly manhandling you to him and gently putting the brand-new jacket over your shoulders, threading your hands through the sleeves. And you don’t know whether you should be flattered or insulted! “I know how to wear a jacket myself, Kuna!”

“I know.” He snickers anyway.

The next was the helmet that Sukuna takes the time easing it down your head and fastening it properly. You can’t help but feel that it’s so…intimate.

In no time, he’s worn his own jacket and slung a leg to mount the bike. Looking over his shoulder, “So? You coming, sweetheart?”

You scramble to throw your own legs over the bike and situate yourself—on the plush cushion, feeling it hum, you just didn’t expect it to be such a massive contraption-

“Harley-Davidson Forty-Eight.” Sukuna proudly announces, slightly muffled by his helmet. “Rides like a dream, purrs like a…” He looks over at you, “-pussy.”

You squirm where you sit behind him.

Sukuna’s ensuring the bike was in neutral before turning the ignition on. He fiddles about with the engine kill switch and handlebars for a few seconds, then pressing on the starter button. Once it slowly releases, he gently revs the engine and it roars—

You yelp at the sudden vibrations flitting through the engine and into your core. 

“Hold on tight.” He slides down his helmet visor and revs it a little more. And you genuinely don’t think you’ve seen a sight more attractive. “And by that I mean tight. We’re going for a ride ‘round town, sweetheart.”

You hasten to loop your arms around his waist, interlocking your fingers tightly as the bike starts to ride. It starts to zoom off under a star-lit sky.

“Mmm, good girl.”

You’ve never been wetter.

.

.

.

“Rev it up- reeeeev it up now, honey.” Ryomen Sukuna’s gruff grumbles speak into your ear from behind, a volume just above the thundering engine of his bike. Both so raspy. Both so greedy. Both sending pure carnal electricity through your half-naked puffy.

Your panties just tugged to the side. Utterly soakin’ over where the bike’s engine was.

By the time you’d gotten back from your little ride with Sukuna it was after midnight. He’d taken you to every hidden corner and secret spot in your town, before riding to the next town over and then finally parking it against a wall of your diner’s empty parking lot. Where things had…escalated.

Where he’d stared you down as he put his rings on one by one. Where he’d been teasing you like this for aaaages now. 

“Please—” You’re attempting to situate yourself more comfortably where you sat, reaching behind to tug on the hem of your dress with a mewl. “P-please Kuna, someone’s gonna see-”

“See me teachin’ you how to- heh, ride a bike?” Questioning innocently, though his right hand was clasped over yours on the handlebar and revving the engine even louder to send vibrations up your pussy. The other pushing up your dress and gliding his fingers between the sweet sopping crevice of your cunt, “Or see me drivin’ this pretty pussy absolutely wiiiiiiild-”

“Both-” You gasp, feeling the tips of his middle and ring finger smearing aside your wet panties to enter. Both of his digits were just so girthy, such an incredible circumference that was only made bigger by the chunky metal rings you could feel grazing frigidly across your outer pussy. “Both- fuck, they’re gonna hear us, too-”

“Then just be quiet, hm?” 

Before you know it, Sukuna’s stuffin’ just his rounded fingertips inside—and you’re forced to clap your free hand over your mouth just so you don’t scream.

Just so you’re not cumming already on the sensation of his fingers pushing gluttonously inside- just using the edge of his thumb to pry aside your swollen folds, just swirlin’ around your hole with a wet slurp! 

Sukuna’s pink brows furrow, a line of sweat trickling between them as he watches your cunt gulp up just the first tips of his fingers. Juuuuust the first tips that wriggle and bash all ‘round your walls before he feels the slight resistance- “Fuck.” He whispers parchedly against the back of your neck, “Fuck, now watch yerself—yer really gonna have to try hard to be quiet right now, honey.”

“What are you-” You’re just barely managing to bawl out, before Sukuna pries his fingers back out with slimy strings of your slick lacquering them. Connecting him to you still.

You’re missing the stretch of him at your entrance for a mere few seconds- before Sukuna’s craning his head down and spitting—splatter! Straight onto the lips of your pussy.

And you should know that Ryomen Sukuna has perfect aim. 

You should know that he could shoot an arrow through an apple seed a considerable distance away.

But for now, he’s letting all his gluey wads smear so messily against the inner part of your thighs to leave a wet splotch on his seats. Letting you slip n’ slide back and forth as he revs the engine even harder. “Oh p-please—”

“Shush, girl- tch, so messy. Leave a stain and this pussy’s the one who’s gonna pay for it.” He grumbles, “What? D’you need me to teach ya how to be quiet?”

“But you’re the one that’s making me- fuck!” Immediately clicking your mouth shut at the feeling of the engine’s vibrations shooting through you - they itch a primal part of you that you didn’t even know you had before. 

Your head throws back with a moan and he tuts, “Quiet, sugar. Quiet—fuck, rule number one: focus on me. And only me.”

“You’re th-the only thing that I can focus on- ngh.” You hiccup stubbornly. Instead, all you can do is blink your teary eyes back down at the way that Sukuna had claimed your cunt and was bangin’ his fingertips in and in and iiiiiin against your entrance. They were just so vicious. They were just so greedy to go insiiiiide and swab into your cutest orifices. “Kuna, are you even sure they can fit?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” He hums, and you can almost hear the roll of his eyes in his words. “You just turn the engine up reeeeeal loud…”

“O-oh—” Shrilling out maddeningly as he hitches up the engine until it was roaring. Until the brr-brr-brrrrr— of it vibrated against your treacly cunt.

His nostrils flare with a huff of laughter as he watches you squirm, “And then you just tease this lil’ hole out like this- see how she tries to suck me in?” Scissoring your entrance wide open with his roverin’ tips, you could feel the pattern of his fingerprint against your soft insides. Shivering at the way he manages to sink in with a sluuuuurp- “And then while she’s suckin’ me in, lemme teach you about rule number two: just turn the engine up a little louder-”

“Fuuuuuck—” Bucking wildly back and forth against him at the sudden rev. This might just be the toughest rule thus far, and it’s only the second…

But no matter how much you move - no matter how much you squirm - Sukuna’s pinning his left hand against your front and crushing you against his washboard abs. You could feel each defined ridge glissading against your back as he leans in and feeds your cunt just a bit more of his thick fingers, “And then like this-” Hitting near the back of your pussy with a thump! He was lifting his heavy rings up to the tops of his fingers, making those hard edges push back and forth against your gooey walls. “-just a few more times before I-”

“Sh-shit, that’s unfair.” You’re babbling out, eyes nearly bulging out of your skull as his rugged tips swipe near the bottom of your pussy. 

Hooking at your elastic hole. Curving in just right. 

Your loose limbs start shaking the moment that Sukuna’s fingers are so long and laaaarge- “Kuna, I think m’gonna—” Large enough that his ringed joints end up pushing against your sweetest place - that lil’ g-spot of yours. And Sukuna gives a hard thrust accompanied by a few more revs of his engine, before you can feel yourself falling apart. “-gonna-”

“Rule number three-” He spits- “I control when you cum.”

It’s the only thing you’re hearing as you’re taken over by your high. White-hot pleasure behind your eyes. The tension curling your toes.

You’re rutting like an animal in his arms- as he holds you mercilessly down to his body and fingers you speechless. “Cum f’me-” He gasps out, those frigid fingers of his probin’ open every hidden spot of yours. Battering your poor walls. Squeezing a third finger inside your tight channel- “Cum f’me cum f’me cum—”

“Oh- fuck!” Hitting your g-spot until you felt all raw with pleasure. He’s fucking you through your high at an incredible pace, making the bike buckle with how fast he was going. 

Again and again and again.

Each glide of his thickened fingertips activates the nerves inside you, setting your entire body on edge with his motions. He somehow pinpoints the exact peaks of your high and hammers in with vigor at each one, elongating them until it felt like your mind was melting into nothing but mush with the sensation of your orgasms.

Pushing into every slick-filled orifice and he still isn’t stopping as he hears you start to sob out with wettened gasps, “And know that if yer making a mess then I’m gonna hafta be the one cleaning it up.” 

“Well, you’re the one that made me make this mess in the first place.” You huff out.

“Fiesty.” Before he’s digging his pearly white canines into the side of your neck, making you yelp at the sudden indents being forced into your clammy skin. Your mouth opens with a sudden scream- before Sukuna’s instantly shoving it right back into your throat.

Along with his slithering, slick-glazed fingers.

Your eyes snap open, shocked at the sudden intrusion between your lips. It’s managing to shut your simpering sounds up, and Sukuna chuckles as he scissors his digits up and down on your tongue—veering for the veeeery back of your throat. The most lecherous slurps and gulps escape between your shaky legs with every fuck through your electric high. “Quiet, honey, yer leaking too fuckin’ much.” He gapes down in awe at the sight below of his knobbly fingertips spreadin’ apart your puffy folds. “I wanna taste it.”

And by now, your high is just barely starting to peter out into nothing but powerful twinges of pleasure that shake you from your very insides. “What do you mean you wanna taste it, Kuna…?”

“Remember when I told you I like everything sweet?”

Gasping, “Yes?”

And Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t answer that particular question. 

Not before he’s keeping the engine of his bike on a rumbling vrrrrrr—! that jostles you on top - that leaves your pussylips twitching and crying out in even more sensitive slick. He unlatches himself from your sweaty body and swings a leg over to get off of the bike, “Sit with both legs facing me.” He crouches down beside the bike, knees hitting the ground, hands pushing aside the sheeny inner parts of your thighs.

You flinch at the feeling of his roughened palms, his even rougher hot breath against your pussy. “What are you gonna do, Kuna?”

“Mmm…” And Sukuna’s only pulling up the hem of your dress and shoving his head nose-deep between your cunt. Letting his lavish tastebuds come out to slurp up your pussy’s slit. 

Just one lick.

Just one single lick.

Before you realize that Ryomen Sukuna might just have a tongue piercing—

He sticks it out properly, “M’having dessert.”

“F-fuuuuck—!” Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head as Sukuna’s flexible tongue immediately darts out and squeezes between your swollen folds. Kissing aside your panties. Plunging his tongue in like he’s gone mad. 

He isn’t wasting any time. He’s squeezing his lengthy tongue in as far as it could go before fucking n’ fucking you wildly with it.

“Mmmm, rule number four: m’gonna overstimulate you until you can’t scream- heh.”

In and out, in and out, in and out.

Hot, slick drills of his muscle. The ridged textures of his tastebuds drag along your tender walls, and smack! the front of your cunt. Making you twitch with pleasure any time he’s hitting a spot you like. And you can feel the orbed piercing at the end of his tongue slash into spots you didn’t even know you had. Thrashing. “Now, rule number one. Feel this- hngh?” You feel it head straight inside your walls and bang-bang-bang! from side to side.

“I can I can—!” You’re whining out, before the volume registers in your hazy brain and you slap a hand over your mouth- was the rule working or not? You were too gone to think.

“Mmm, good girl.” He peers up at you with a chuckle, “Though I wouldn’t mind if anyone actually heard…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” The pink-haired man croons out, his rosy locks grazing the front of your core. And you could feel the exact moment that his frigid piercing slugs in and presses right on top of your throbbing g-spot, “And can you feel this?”

“I c-can—”  Blubbering through your tears. “Fuck, it just feels too good, Kuna.”

“And what about….this.” The next thing you’re feeling isn’t a result of his mouth, it’s his hand that’s veering upwards and pressing a thumb down above where your womb would be situated. 

Incredibly sending shivers down your spine, “Y-you haven’t reached there, Kuna!”

“Mmm, not with my tongue…not yet.” He’s grumbling out into your pussy. Before blurting, “Then what about- hah- this?”

Staying on that specific spot of your bundle of nerves and press-press-pressing doooooooooown. So hard that you buck with a slew of profanities. “Too good- too good too good-” Sukuna might have had his rings earlier, but now his tongue piercing was just as sloppy. 

“You’re welcome~” The sheer audacity. And you’re being given a proper sight of him with his tongue stuck out, the metallic circle of his piercing drippin’ all wet with slick and sap. “S’nothing much. S’just’how I eat the sweetest fuckin’ thing on the menu.”

“Sweetest fucking…” You breathe.

He smugly hums as he slithers in his tongue back between your folds and starts thrusting once more, faster now, harder now. Now purposefully moving over so that the tip of his nose was rubbin’ over your pulsating nub.

“The sloppiest dessert.” Almost humping his face against your pussy, “The sweetest. But fuck, you’re so messy. I’ve gotta clean up after this pussy now. Fuckin’ ruined my seats, y’know that?” Massaging your clit. Massaging the crevices of your walls. “I’ve gotta drink up every sweet drop yer givin’ me. I’ve gotta fuck her so that any time you’re walking you can still feel my mouth between your legs. I’ve gotta fuck you with my mouth while this pretty pussy’s bein’ so wet on my tongue now-”

“Oh- please—” Your dilated pupils are swirling around maddeningly within the whites of your eyes, and Sukuna only increases his pace. As fast as it would go. As rough as it would go. Jerking, just too sensitive by now as you try to focus on the first rule. “Please please-”

“Ah ah- hold still unless you wanna fall.”

And any time you’re trying to run back from his gaped maw- you find that you don’t have anywhere else to go. The seat of his bike was just so thick, and yet you couldn’t move anywhere further - the biker had one hand on your ass cheek as he eats you out on his bike. Pulling you back against his mouth every time you lurched away. Tuggin’ you right onto his tongue. “B-bikes shouldn’t- oh, fuck.”

As much of a pinkish blur that shovels between your tender pussylips - he’s somehow managing to mold every twist n’ turn of his tongue against the sides of your walls. Every knob of his tastebuds. And by this point you weren’t sure whether Sukuna was more lethal with his fingers or with his tongue—so thick and long lashing aside your velvety channel. “Mmm, what’s that? Can’t hear you over this pussy.”

“B-bikes shouldn’t be used this way.” You’re whining with each wrigglin’ movement inside of you - so sensitive after your first high. And the constant rhythm of his engine only makes your body tremor even further. “You’re just plain filthy, Kuna.”

“And you’re too fucking loud—”

As if to stop you from being so loud, his nearest hand reaches over and revs the bike up even louder. And you gasp through your tears at the sudden vibrations, jolting- “Fuck, if you do that-”

“N’ what’s gonna stop me from doing that? Rule number two, remember?” He’s proving his point by repeating the motion with his hands and letting the engine tremor all throughout your puffy core. Sensitive. Still overstimulated with your high, “Huh? What’s gonna stop me?”

“I-it just feels too goooood—!”

“Shush, honey.”

The engine thunders once more and you think you’re losing your mind. His lips were practically glued against your pussy’s and spreading you open with his tongue. His tongue was flicking inwards and using his piercing as a little spotlight to poke n’ prod at your sweetest spots. His face was shoving even deeper between your legs and pressing such hot open-mouthed kisses against your hole, “Shhh shhh sh shhh…someone’s gonna hear.” Grumbling as he drills the length of his muscle in until you feel dizzy, “What’s that you were sayin’ about my precious bike? Whatever- shut up and take it, sweetheart.” Drowning out your shrill noises with his revving engine, his slurping kisses. “Shut up and take it shut up and—”

“Fuck, Kuna m’gonna cum again!” You cry out in overstimulation.

He leans in with narrowed crimson eyes, “Oh? Then don’t shut up. Then fucking cum.” He’s pushing on the handlebar to rev it as hard as it would go, keeping it at a constant high whilst he trickles his tongue into any spot that he could reach. Whilst he swabs his nose down your puffy clit. Whilst he’s pushing and pushing you into your second high of the night-

“So close-” You gasp, the pit of your stomach churning with pleasure as he continues. You grab onto the pinkish locks of his sweaty scalp, “Just a little longer m’gonna fucking, mmm, cum-”

“And for the second time on my bike.” Sukuna titters out, his velvety tongue slickly moving against your g-spot. You could feel the metallic feeling of his piercing at a frenzy now - and so were you. “What’re you waiting for, girl? Ruin my bike again.” He rolls his eyes, “Make a mess all over the seat. Fucking leave the mark of your sweet, sweet pussy-”

“Fuck-” With your nails almost painfully digging into his scalp, you’re hunching your body over as your veins start to tremor. “M’c-cumming—”

“Mmm, delicious.” The last thing you’re seeing before your white-hot high is the edges of Sukuna’s lips curling up into a smile, your juices splashing down either side of his mouth.

And then your head throws back with a broken whine, tears falling down your cheeks.

As your soppy dreneched legs fall open, he’s bullying himself even closer and fucking you right through your high. Letting the mushy tip of his tastebuds burrow into your sweetest spots, your g-spot feels pounded raw with his vulgar strokes, “Should put this p-pretty pussy on the dessert menu.” He gurgles out, lavishing your snug channel with his kisses. With his mouth. “Oh- but I’d wanna be the only one gettin’ this dessert.”

“Shit, you’re talking crazy.” 

“M’talking pussydrunk, know the difference.” He looks up at you with a narrowed gaze, pupils dilated until those red irises looked almost black entirely. “And don’t think m’fucking done with you.”

You’re pushed straight through wave upon wave of your bliss.

Again and again.

It seems to be stronger than even last time, zapping through your body even faster. Sobs escaping you. Back arching. Your entire body finches primally any time he’s caressing your sweet clit.

You’re holding onto Sukuna for dear life as he zig-zags his tongue all over, finally draggin’ his sloppy tongue away once you were shivering so hard it was as if you were a leaf in the wind. “Overstimulated till yer dumb, yet?” He asks, “No? Then we’ve got a long way to go…”

“O-oh, I don’t think…” Your mouth waters, bleary eyes blinking back your vision once your high finally peters out. Once you’re watching Sukuna wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and get up, “-I don’t think m’gonna make it out of this alive, Kuna.”

“Damn right.” He snickers, towering over you once more. 

You catch the stains of dirty and friction on the knees of his trousers, and you’re reaching out to return the favor when- 

“Ah ah- s’alright, honey.” Grabbing your hand in midair to stop you, “Wouldn’t want you to get on this ground and get dirty. How about we do something more fun?”

“Like what?” Your eyes widen cutely.

“Well-” Sukuna cocks his hips and starts counting on with his ringed fingers, “-I’ve fucked you with these fingers, I’ve fucked you with this mouth- what else is left then?” Three fingers raised.

Eyes dropping down to the thickened erection throbbing in his pants, “Your cock…”

“Atta girl—”

Those three fingers are stuffed between your pussylips once more and given a thorough few pumps, making sure that you were all soft n’ wet for him still (and why wouldn’t you be? Sukuna’s merely teasing you by now). Before he sweeps a look around the empty surroundings and starts unbuckling his belt with metallic clinks.

“I’ve been so fuckin’ ready to fuck you- fuck, ever since I fucking walked into this diner-” Lugging his heavy pants down, boxers right along with it. “-I knew the sweetest thing in there would be you—and that pussy.”

Your eyes drop down immediately to the massive length of his cock.

Standing upright between his legs.

His large bulbous red tip. His drippin’ lacquer of slick. His veins that throbbed and ached the closer he got to the heat of your cunt.

And not only was he loooooooooong- but he was so thick that it made your thighs squeeze to imagine what he’d feel like inside of you. His girthy tip. His flared base, decorated with a few tufts of pink. If you thought that taking his fingers was an incredible feat, then you surely weren’t ready for this…

Ryomen Sukuna was rock-fucking-hard. All because of you. 

So hard that it almost looked painful for him to be anywhere but inside your cunt- and the man himself hisses as a droplet of precum oozes out of his tip. Dribblin’. 

Reaching down to smear it with his thumb, he then plops! that wettened digits straight into your mouth. Using the leverage to tug your chin down and make you look up at him through your lashes, “Now- yer gonna sit on my cock and ride me crazy, understood? And yer gonna be quiet about it so we don’t get caught, understood?”

You don’t know whether you’re nodding so readily because he’s using his strength to make you nod- or because you simply wanted him just as badly. “Mhm—” You moan around his thick finger.

“Heh…” He watches you with pussydrunk, loving eyes. “Well ya can fuckin’ try.”

And before you know it, you’re moving aside - leaving such a large puddle of slick where you were seated - to let Sukuna mount the bike facing you. To let him beckon you over and straddle his hips—him straddling the bike, you straddling his toned waist.

You’re shivering as you feel his wettened tip scrape-scrape-scrape between your pussylips, in disbelief that you were just about to fuck the leader of a biker gang in the parking lot of your diner.

“And make sure ya get it in until here.” Sukuna’s looking down between you two, and you follow his line of sight. To where he was holding onto his swollen cock and showing off the ringed tattoo around his base, just a line of black marking the end of his length. They matched the ones on his wrists and biceps. “Riiight here, the ring marks the spot, sweetheart.”

Shuddering in a deep breath, you clasp onto his muscular shoulders and start lowering yourself down. Feeling just the curved edge of his cock kiss your orifice, back arching at the primal stretch that shoots up your cunt already. “F-fuck—” You’re hollowing out before closing your mouth and looking around you, “You’re just so big, Kuna- I d-don’t know if I can-”

“Of course, you can.”

And the next thing you’re feeling is his big hand glued to the side of your hips, tuggin’ you down like a ragdoll without even trying. He’s hauling you down. He’s eeeeeasing your cunt onto his cock.

Flared tip snagging against your elastic hole. Makin’ the most lecherous wet slurps emanate as he fits in.

And he’s got such a firm grip on you that you can’t even run if you wanted to, you can’t even squirm, you can’t even lurch away. He’s embedding the crescents of his nails against the flesh of your ass cheeks, and letting his biceps bulge with strength as he holds you still—“New rule. Rule number five: you’re gonna take it aaaaaall, honey.”

“Wh-what does that even have to do with me being quiet?” You’re sobbing out, feeling his globular cockhead maze it way in. Thick enough that he was wringing out all your soft crevices.

“Hmmm…” And Sukuna himself didn’t seem to be quite sure - or maybe he was too pussydrunk to actually remember. Simply giving into his most animal instincts when fucking and fucking up into your hot cavern with his honed tip, red-hot with need. “Maybe if m’stuffing you all the way up till here-”

His free hand draws an invisible line down the middle of your neck.

Ending right where your throat bobbed, “-then you won’t be able to speak anyway. Maybe you won’t be able to- ngh, feel anything but my cock inside- h-heh…”

“Oh—” And it’s with your head thrown back that you’re slipping n’ stumbling down his pulsing cock.

Every ba-dump! of his ruddied cockhead you could feel all the way at your lungs, and you truly wonder whether he was right about the rule he’d set earlier…“Ahhh, I can see that cute lil’- ngh, drunk look coming over you.” Sukuna breaks through your hazy reverie  with his words, “Not overstimulated till you’re speechless yet, are ya? Speak f’me. Speak—”

To make your mouth gape with some pretty noise, he’s ignoring the resistance ‘round your entrance and whacking his bulbous tip into you meanly. Making your jaw drop with a loud, “K-Kunaaaa—!”

And something in his predatory gaze flickers, “Hey…that’s not too bad.”

“Wh-what the fuck do you mean-” It’s a sheer miracle that you manage to grit out the words, hell- it’s a sheer miracle tha you can even form a coherent thought in the first place. What with Sukuna’s animalistic thrusts trying to fit inside of you, “-Kuna, we’re gonna get caught if you keep up with this-”

“Then you better remember all the rules, huh, sweetheart?” He asks you innocently, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was simply reminding his forgetful girl.

And without a moment’s warning, Sukuna has one hand clawed to your hips- Sukuna has his inhuman strength pulling you down to sit against his hilt with a wettened plop! Finally bottoming you out through his own needy efforts.

“Oh look…” Sukuna rasps, grinning down at you both. “She’s right there where my tattoo is.”

He has your cunt circlin’ the ink at his rugged base, and your legs squirming around his waist.

You can feel his tip painting the end of your pussy with precum, and his veins massaging each battered spot on your walls. Just so shattered by this point that you swear you’re tasting his caramel-salted flavor on your very tastebuds.

No matter how hard your restless body tries to accommodate him, he only seems to push against your velvety walls and grow even bigger—“Recite them.”

You blink your teary eyes open, “Wh-what?”

And before he answers, the biker pumps out a thorough few thrusts. Hitting the very back of your spongy womb and letting his tip sink in, “I saaaaaaid—” As he drawls out his words, he drawls out his cock in the most sloppy drag. Making your body shiver at the zig-zagging patterns of veins that seem to be molded perfectly to the map of sweet spots inside you, “Recite. Them.”

The strike he leaves on your womb is enough to make you see stars.

“O-ohhhh-” Your breath hitches, salty tears clogging up your throat. “Oh my god- fuck, oh my god, Kuna-”

And his way of shutting you up is gripping you by the throat and spitting straight into your mouth, squeezing at your poor unhinged chin until the only thing you can do is fucking swallow.

He looks positively dangerous from this angle, “That’s not the first rule.”

And your punishment? Yes, you do get a punishment - you didn’t think that Ryomen Sukuna became the leader of one of the most infamous biker gangs in the land by being nice, did you?

The hand at your throat comes down to spank! your sopping pussylips, rings and all. “F-fuuuuck-” Just as the words are leaving your lips, you’re hastening to retract them. “I-I mean, that wasn’t the first rule- fuck, that wasn’t the first tule, that was just-”

“Shit, s’like you want us to be caught. Quiet the fuck down-” Though he was only funneling you with his sinful inches even harder. He looks between your two connected bodies and plants a great slap on your folds once more, “-and that goes for you, too.”

“Th-the first rule is to focus on you, and only you.” You’re saying, still slightly dizzy with the impact of his slamming fingertips. 

Your cunt was still all tender- and Sukuna’s pink brows raise in surprise at the way your folds quiver once he snakes his hand closer once more. Merely to roll over your clit as some reward for getting it right, “Mhmmm—cute. Now what about the second?”

And for that, you have to think a little bit.

Which was so fucking hard to do when he was drilling into you like an animal - as if he’d run out of breath every second he wasn’t shoved to the brim between your legs. As if it physically pained him to pull out, even if it was to hammer back in.

As it was his simple instinct to balance you on top of his attractive bike and bounce and bounce and bounce you on his lengthy cock, the end of his tip probin’ at your every spot inside.

It left your eyes racing to the back of your skulls, the front of your chin glazing thickly with your saliva.

Something that Sukuna’s ravenous tongue dips out to clean off of your face- “Ahhh- how can I resist you, sweetheart?” For your whimpering silence, you’re getting two more rough spanks on top of your folds. “Let me give you a little hint…”

He lifts his right hand off of your drenched core then, reaching out to grip at his bike’s handlebar.

And then revving—

“Turn the engine up l-louder!” You gasp out, the realization hitting you all at one with the pushes of his cock into your sweetest spots. “The second rule is t-to turn the engine up.”

“Good girl.”

With a hand pushing on the handlebar, Sukuna controls a ruthless staccato of revving up the engine just when he could feel your cunt diving down to his hilt. Just when you were closest to the engine and could feel the vibrations at their strongest. Just when it let his entire shaft bask in the gummy hot embrace of your cunt squeeeezing around him at the sparks of pleasure.

This just felt too good, and you shake as Sukuna lets go of the clean handlebar to drag a thumb between your slit. Pressing the fatness of it down on your clit, “And the- hah-” You cry out, “-and the third one-”

“Impatient, huh?” He grins, “Go on then. What’s Ryomen Sukuna’s third rule to be- mmm, quiet?”

“Third one is that you control…”

Cooking his head smugly, “Control what?”

A particularly hard thrash at your deepest depths, and the slit of his cockhead manages to curve against yours walls. Perfectly in the same spot. Again and again. Until you were sure that he’d created a little indent there that only he could reach so well- “Control how- ngh! how loud I am?”

“Wrong.” Sukuna seemed way too content with himself to announce this—smack! Smack! Smack! 

Without pausing, he was pressing in three consecutive slams against the most tender parts of your cunt, ending off with that poor clit of yours that was just cryin’ out at the abuse it was facing. And he doesn’t seem to regret it just one bit, “Try again.”

“Control my tears?”

Smack!

“Again.

“My pace?””

Smack!

“Again.

“M-my—” And the only thing that your body can even coherently do is wrap your arms around Sukuna’s bulky shoulders, lifting his t-shirt and taking in all the sensual tattoos that you just wanted to lick off of his skin. “-my orgasms?”

“Mhmmm—” Just so proud, he’s finally able to roll the crown edge of his thumb over your clit like you deserve.

But what you didn’t account for was just how sensitive you’d be after multiple highs and your pussy being constantly under the threat of his rugged fingers. Toyin’ with your pussy to seemingly no end again and again and again until—

Until you’re crash-landing into your third high of the night, and even Sukuna wasn’t able to predict it.

It takes you over by surprise, just a sudden thunder of your heartbeat in your eyes - your eyes wrenching open, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy kissin’ his prolonged shaft until it felt like your were trying to mold the lightning patterns of his veins to your walls.

And Sukuna’s hunching his own body forwards with a low- “Fuck-” Gnawing down on the insides of his cheek. Entire forehead perspiring into something sheeny.

It takes every shred of will in his body to stop himself from creaming right then and there- and instead focus on fucking you through the peaks of your high. He’s counting the pulse of your pussy underneath his breath, using it to perfectly time the direct thwacks! onto your g-spot. “Fuck, you didn’t.” Sukuna whispers, more to himself than anything. “Fuck you didn’t…you are.”

“C-cumming—” You’re announcing belatedly, fucking back into his toned v-line.

“And who said you could?”

“Wh-what-” Your eyes snap open - with great effort, considering how you were still in the throes of your high.

And without warning, Sukuna grasps the side of your waist with one hand. The other one of his smacking and smacking and smacking over your cunt- “Says it right here- fuck, rule number three s’that I control when you cum.” There was something blazing in his eyes, looking at you through his rosy bangs as if he was going to devour you. “And who said you could cum without me sayin’ so, honey? You want everyone in here to hear you- you want this entire fucking town to hear you?”

He stops slamming his rude fingertips down on your clit to instead hone in on your clit and drag. And pinch.

You moan loudly- “Fuh-fuuuuuck-”

“Because I can make this entire- fucking- town hear you.” And it didn’t sound like a threat - it sounded more like a promise. A challenge. “So unless you want this town and the next two town over to know who fucks you right-”

“Oh, please—!” You gasp. Your ears pop at the sheer amount of pleasure that was coursing through your veins, and every deep plunge of Sukuna’s cock felt like he was stimulating every tiny orifice inside of you.

Increasing the force of his hips going upwards as if he wanted to stimulate them even more- to mark his name out on every tiny nook and cranny. “-unless you want that- hah, then you better cum again.” Sukuna’s snarling out, his sharp canines peaking out at you. “You’re gonna cum when you’re done r-reciting all my rules, aren’t you? Gonna cum for me then-”

“Y-yeeeees—” Even though your previous orgasm had settled over your body, until it felt like your skin was on fire with each passing second. Until your slick channel seemed to be caressed and massaged raw and Sukuna still wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. You think a few cars whizz by on the road, but you can’t pay attention to that right now. “The fourth rule s’th-that you’re gonna make me sensitive until I can’t scream-”

“Overstimlate you.” He corrects you, though for that you get a loving few rolls over your clit. A correct answer. He assesses you, “Mmm, almost there with that…heh.”

“And the fifth rule-” Your hips start to tremble weakly, “-the fifth rule is that I have to take it…”

He nods eagerly, mouthing the words over each sultry squelch and slurp as the rounded end of his cockhead pushin’ into your cervix. Again and again. “Mhm, you have to take iiiiiit—”

And you imitate the silent movements of Sukuna’s lips, “-a-all.” You gasp, feeling his fingers start to work up a frenzy on that cute lil’ nub between your folds once more. “The fifth rule is that I have to take it all.”

“Perfect. Now this pretty pussy better cum all over my cock- at least, she would.” He hums, ebbing you somehow closer and closer to your…you honestly forgot what number of your high it was by this point.

And Sukuna only seems too happy with numbers- “But that was only five rules, sweetheart. And Ryomen Sukuna has six rules.”

Your brows furrow, “B-but I swear you only told me five-”

“Oh? Don’t you know? He’s just added in a n-new rule right now—” You shiver to think just what that might be, and Sukuna only seems all the more ravenous to tell you. He bucks his hips up into you like an animal, just pistoning his cock inside until the feeling of your cushy cunt was the only thing he could feel, the only thing he wanted to feel, the only thing he thinks he ever will- “Rule number six: beg to take every single drop of my cum.”

And you don’t even need it to be a rule for it to be your true carnal feelings, “Please-” You gasp out, embracing Sukuna fiercely. “Cum inside me- g-give it all t’me, Kuna.”

“Mmm, rules are rules.”

The both of you are reaching your euphoric peaks at the same time - you having lost count with the number that you were on, Sukuna reaching his first and his strongest.

Powerful muscles shivering. His voicebox cracking with a lecherous groan.

He’s scrunching his blushing brows as he spurts out seed deeeeep and hotly into your womb, letting the ivory mess trickle down the sides of your channel and end up glazing his tattooed base. Wad after wad. Stream after stream. It ended up hot and heavy inside of you—so much of it that you swear you could feel the warm volume of it seeping out. “F-fuck-” He gasps out, sounding more ruined than you ever would have thought him to be. “Say it- say it say it say it—” Cracking one crimson eye open at you to peer at your orgasmic expression, “What’s the sixth rule, sweetheart?”

“Beg to take every single drop-” Your own high had left you in tears, body twitching so delicately between each buzz of bliss - not even waves at this point, you were simply too far gone. “R-rule number six is to beg to take e-every single drop of cum-”

“And are you begging?”

“I’m begging.”

He holds you tight and pushes every white gluey wad deeeeeeeep into your womb, you can feel the rotund edge of his tip swirling around the mess inside you. Slick filing every orifice. His bodyheat turning into something feverish because of his high and transferring into yours.

Meanwhile your high had you absolutely gone, and perhaps this was your limit - perhaps this was Sukuna actually succeeding in fucking you dumb.

Because the most intense arcs of your high are passing, and you’re barely even making any noise save for a few whispers and whines. Tucking your head into the crook of Sukuna’s neck, you shake with the electricity. Another car passes. Sobbing, “K-Kuna…it feels so wet.”

“What do you mean we- oh.” It’s only then that the biker looks down - only to find out that you’d squirted all over his prized bike. His seat. 

Your cunt almost numb with pleasure, your hole expands with pure gushes of liquid arousal. Over and over. Again and again. It takes so much out of you to let out the glossy messy, one that ends up slathering down Sukuna’s abs, creating a gleaming sheen that shines even in the night. 

Sukuna’s shocked by the primal urge in him to not even wash it off-

“Fuck- maybe we should make a seventh rule about this…”

“You think?” You huff.

.

.

.

Breakfast hour was always the loudest. The most boisterous. The most lively.

Especially with fourteen members of a biker gang occupying the booth at the very end of your diner as if they lived here. Well…you supposed that one of them technically did - and you could see his gruff expression right now, eyes narrowing at the chaos that his group was causing.

Their loud cackles and crude jokes drew chuckles from every other regular there, still in awe at these avid new customers that were anything but regular. Their imposing bikes lined outside. Their conversations rattling the tables.

They’d quickly become the heart of the diner (and your town) in the last few weeks.

For starters, Naoya Zenin never weaseled his way through those swinging doors ever again. His father ‘mysteriously’ resigned from his post as mayor. They’d ‘mysteriously’ left town. And then you’d come to discover that word of mouth travels fast within biker gangs, and soon enough your lil’ town had bikes cruising joyfully through them every few seconds - with your diner turned into a hotspot above all! You’d been forced to hire more part-timers, and promote Miwa into working full-time (she’d positively squealed the roof off in excitement, and you still weren’t quite sure whether that was mostly because of the promotion or because you’d announced your relationship…)

Ah yes. And then there was Sukuna…your core and legs were still sore from the night before, and every night that preceded that.

He was an animal.

And he was here to stay.

You watch as the members of the Curses try to include everyone in their conversation, but only end up talking over everyone- which was likely to end up in a fist fight had it not been for the look your boyfriend gave them. Just one look. 

And they were settling back down into their seats and only somewhat noisy debates.

Sukuna catches your gaze from beyond the counter and raises a pink brow—do you need me to shut them up properly? You knew that was what he was asking without words.

But you only shake your head with a smile.

Picking up your large pot of coffee, you’re weaving through the tables giving everyone who wanted a complimentary refill. It’s only once you manage your way up to Sukuna’s gang’s booth that a smile finally graces the pink-haired man’s face, “Finally! I was about to leave no tip.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know how good you are at leaving tips.” You wink, making the table erupt in rambunctious wolf howls.

Why wouldn’t they? Especially not when their ever-tough leader’s face was just so red—“Yeah yeah, wait and see what tip you get tonight-”

It’s then that you hear the doors of your diner swing wide open.

And with a playful glare thrown at Ryomen Sukuna, you’re turning to greet the newcomer who could be…his brother if anything. 

The same towering stature.

The same narrowed gaze.

The same tattoos on his face.

The same leather jacket that denoted him to be one of the bikers.

You could even argue that some of their handsome features were similar, except for the long, snow-white hair that this man had. Not to mention perhaps the most eye-catching feature of all - the looooong line of small hoops that decorated his slightly elongated earlobes, heavy with piercings. 

“This fucker- he should know better than to set foot on my fuckin’ turf.” Sukuna’s slightly tense voice echoes behind you, sounding as if he was a distance away. He tilts his head with cockiness, staring down the man even when seated- “Leader of the Simurian biker gang.”

By the time you’re turning back, Dabura has strode up to you silently.

His fiery eyes sweep between you and Sukuna.

Between the bite marks on your necks. Between the slight radiance around you.

Between the way you could barely even stand-

Sukuna stands up and stands head-to-head with the man, a silent battle between the two bikers.

“Ryomen Sukuna” The other man’s deep voice echoes.

“Dabura Karaba.”

“I didn’t expect you to be in some small diner- then again, I don’t expect much from you.”

“Is it because you don’t expect me that you never see the punches coming?”

Dabura seethes, “You-”

“Thaaaaat’s enough for today!” Somehow, you found yourself wedged between the two men, being squeezed from both sides by their incredibly chiselled fronts. You could feel their prominent pecs. You could feel their abs. You look up at them with a nervous smile, unsure how long this would last before all hell breaks loose and your diner ends up in shambles and debris. “How about we ah- we just get something to eat together, hm? Enough of that ah- biker rivalry and beating each other up. Let’s just have breakfast- on the house! Our specialty today is this French-”

Dabura raises a brow, looking at the rather…intimate position the three of you were squeezed into. “Eiffel tower?”

Sukuna breaks out into a grin.

You gulp.

A/N. Can y’all believe that (in some time zones) the next time I’d be posting is in 2026?!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[cumironi]

DICKLARATION OF LOVE Gojo satoru

pairings. college au! gojo satoru

summary. once upon a horny night, a lonely dorm night turns steamy when an unexpected visitor crashes her private moment— masturbation. the usual no-strings hookup spirals into some cheap dicklaration of love.

word count. 14,6k words (pardon me, (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ)

trigger and warning. college au, modern setting, friends with benefits to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining, possessive gojo satoru, soft dom gojo satoru, gojo satoru is a menace, pervert gojo satoru, filthy smut with feelings, explicit sexual content, oral sex, cunnilingus, squirting, multiple orgasms, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink mentions, overstimulation, light manhandling (folded), doggy style, possessive behavior, gojo satoru has a big dick, praise kink, dirty talk, teasing, fluff and smut, post-sex cuddling, love confessions, confession during sex, confession after sex, emotional constipation

you are sprawled across your unmade bed in the cramped little dorm room that smells like a chaotic mix of vanilla candle wax, that cheap strawberry shampoo you’ve been using since freshman year, and something distinctly you—like warm skin and that faint horny musk that creeps up when you’ve been ignoring your needs for too long.

the lights are off except for the soft blue glow of your laptop screen painting everything in this hazy, porn-lit ambience, shadows dancing lazily on the posters peeling off your wall— one of them is that dumb anime print of gojo satoru you impulse-bought last year from his stupid bazaar because, well, look at him.

it’s quiet, too quiet for a wednesday night on campus, no drunk kids yelling in the hallway, no bass thumping from the floor below, just the low hum of your laptop fan and the wet, rhythmic sounds spilling from the speakers—some over-the-top video you found twenty minutes ago that’s doing way too good a job at getting you worked up.

your legs are kicked apart, one knee bent, foot planted on the mattress, the other leg dangling off the edge. those tiny shorts you’re wearing—the gray cotton ones that honestly should be classified as underwear—are riding so far up your thighs that the bottom curve of your ass is just straight-up out, peeking like it’s waving hello to anyone who might walk in. spoiler: no one’s walking in. you made sure to lock the door after your roommate texted she’s crashing at her boyfriend’s. perfect. privacy. freedom. the ability to be a complete degenerate in peace.

the laptop’s balanced precariously on your lower stomach, close enough that the heat from the bottom is making your skin all tingly, and every time you shift your hips (which is a lotttt, because god you’re restless), the screen wobbles and the volume spikes for a second—some girl in the video moaning like she’s getting paid per decibel. your hand is wedged between your thighs but you’re not touching yet, not really, just pressing your thighs together around your wrist like that’s gonna be enough to scratch the itch. it’s not. it’s soooo fucking not. you’re throbbing, swollen, slick enough that you can feel it when you clench, and you keep telling yourself just one more minute, just let it build, you greedy little monster.

your hair’s fanned out on the pillow like a halo you definitely don’t deserve right now, and there’s this dumb little pout on your lips because the guy in the video isn’t doing it right—he’s too gentle or something, and you’re over here imagining someone louder, meaner, someone who’d laugh at how desperate you look right now. someone like—

your phone buzzes on the nightstand, loud as a gunshot in the silence.

you jolt, thighs squeezing around your hand so hard you almost moan for real, and the laptop slides dangerously close to your crotch. you scramble to pause the video (too late, the girl on screen is mid-scream), and snatch your phone with sticky fingers.

it’s a text. from gojo satoru. of course it is.

the absolute clown prince of campus, the six-foot-three walking disaster with white hair and those stupid sunglasses he wears indoors like he’s hiding a permanent hangover— or just permanently high on his own ego. the guy who’s been in half your classes since sophomore year, who sits two rows behind you and spends lectures throwing crumpled paper at your head or texting you the dumbest memes imaginable. the guy who once ate an entire family-size bag of takis in ten minutes just to win a bet and then cried because his tongue “felt like sandpaper.” the guy who calls you “princess” in the most mocking, syrupy tone possible and then immediately ruins it by stealing your fries.

he’s your friend. kinda. your annoying, hot, unbearable, stupidly affectionate friend who flirts like it’s a competitive sport and then acts shocked when you flirt back. the one who texts you at 2 a.m. about the dumbest shit imaginable and somehow always knows when you’re awake.

the text reads:

gojo 🍼: yo why’s your snap story just a black screen with the candle emoji u dead or jerking off

you stare at it. then at the ceiling. then back at it.

another text pops up immediately.

gojo 🍼: wait don’t answer that  gojo 🍼: actually do  gojo 🍼: i’m outside your building  gojo 🍼: let me up it’s cold and i’m lonely and i brought snacks

your heart does this stupid flip that has nothing to do with the porn still paused on your screen. p.s. the guy’s dick is literally just hovering there, frozen mid-thrust, and you’re too flustered to close the tab. you sit up too fast, laptop nearly yeeting itself to the floor, and you have to grab it with both hands like a football. your thighs are sticky. your face is hot. your brain is short-circuiting.

another buzz.

gojo 🍼: unless ur busy fingering yourself to tentacle porn again in which case carry on queen i support women’s rights and wrongs

you choke on air. how does he—last time was one time and you were drunk and you told him in confidence and he’s never let you live it down.

you type back with trembling thumbs.

you: i hate you so much  you: go away  you: i’m studying

gojo 🍼: studying the inside of your pussy? valid  gojo 🍼: open the door i can see your light’s off from down here u little liar, which mean you are watching porn!

you glance at the window. the blinds are cracked just enough that yeah, someone standing on the quad could probably see the glow from your laptop. fuck.

you: i’m literally about to sleep

you: go bother someone else

gojo 🍼: can’t  gojo 🍼: everyone else is lame  gojo 🍼: and i miss your stupid face  gojo 🍼: also i have sour gummy worms and those melon ramune things you like  gojo 🍼: and i’m freezing my balls off  gojo 🍼: be a good girl and let me in

your stomach flips again, harder this time. be a good girl. he says that shit on purpose. he knows exactly what it does to you. you hate him. you hate him so much you could scream. you look down at yourself— tanktop ridden up to your ribs, shorts basically nonexistent, thighs glistening a little because yeah, you’re that worked up—and you imagine him seeing you like this and your brain blue-screens.

another buzz.

gojo 🍼: if you don’t answer in ten seconds i’m gonna start singing that one twice song you hate under your window  gojo 🍼: you know the one  gojo 🍼: the cheesy one  gojo 🍼: i know all the words

you can picture it so clearly—him standing out there in one of his dumb oversized hoodies, hair probably a mess from the wind, grinning like an idiot with a bag of snacks in one hand and his phone in the other, ready to make a complete spectacle. you groan, loud and dramatic, and flop back against the pillows. the laptop slides down to rest between your thighs now, and the paused video is still there mocking you.

you type:

you: fine  you: but if you make fun of me i’m kicking you in the dick

gojo 🍼: kinky  gojo 🍼: on my way princess <3

you throw the phone across the bed like it’s possessed and immediately regret every life choice that led you here. you scramble to close the twelve incognito tabs you have open— why are there so many, what is wrong with you?, slam the laptop shut, and shove it under your pillow like that’ll erase the evidence. your room smells like sex and vanilla and faint strawberry. your heart is hammering so hard you can hear it in your ears.

you yank your shorts down a little—sort of, they don’t go far—and pull your tanktop lower to cover the wet spot on the front that you’re praying isn’t visible, which by the way is a useless act of being a modest. you flick on the fairy lights strung over your headboard because total darkness feels too suspicious now, and the soft golden glow makes everything look a little less like a crime scene and more of a way of telling gojo you are horny and eager for sex.

there’s a knock. three quick raps, then two slow ones. his stupid secret knock he came up with last month because he’s twelve years old. you pad over to the door on bare feet, take a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to calm you down, and yank it open.

there he is. gojo satoru in all his annoying glory—hoodie half-zipped, hair fluffy and windswept, cheeks pink from the cold, holding up a plastic convenience store bag like a trophy. his sunglasses are pushed up into his hair even though it’s pitch black outside, and he’s grinning that wide, stupid, lopsided grin that makes your knees feel unreliable. “hi baby,” he says, voice all soft and teasing, eyes already flicking down your body and lingering on your legs like he’s cataloging every inch of exposed skin. “miss me?”

you want to die. you want to drag him inside and never let him leave. you want to slam the door in his face and also maybe bite him. instead you just glare, cheeks burning, and step aside. “get in before someone sees you, idiot.”

you shuffle backward into the dim glow of your fairy lights, bare feet dragging across the fuzzy rug you stole from communal living room last semester, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it always does when he's around—like a moth banging against a lightbulb, desperate and dumb. the door clicks shut behind him with a soft, final snick, and you hear the lock turn too, that little metallic scrape that makes your stomach drop straight between your legs because yeah, he locked it. of course he did. gojo satoru doesn't do anything halfway, especially not when he smells blood in the water—or in this case, the thick, sweet scent of your arousal still hanging in the air like a neon sign screaming horny loser lives here.

he saunters in like he owns the place (he doesn't, but try telling him that), plastic bag crinkling in his fist as he drops it onto your cluttered nightstand—right on top of your half-eaten bag of hot cheetos and that one textbook you've been using as a coaster for three weeks. the gummy worms and ramune bottles clink together inside like a promise. you perch on the edge of your bed, knees pressed together now because suddenly you're aware of how fucking wet you are, how the seam of your tiny shorts is probably soaked through, and if you spread your legs even a little he's gonna see it. like a fucking shark, he’s gonna smell it. he's gonna know. he always knows.

you watch him with half-lidded eyes as he shrugs out of his hoodie, that big dumb black one he wears even when it's not cold, just because it makes him look like some brooding anime protagonist. he tosses it over your desk chair where it lands in a heap on top of yesterday's laundry (including the panties you wore to class, oops— which gojo gonna steal later), and now he's just in that loose white t-shirt, the one that's a size too big and hangs off his shoulders in the most infuriatingly hot way. the fabric clings a little to his chest from the chill outside, and you can see the faint outline of his nipples because of course. pervert.

he turns to you finally, slow and deliberate, and those stupidly blue eyes lock onto yours like lasers. his hair's all messed up from the wind, white strands sticking out everywhere, and his sunglasses are still perched on his head like a crown for the king of being annoying.

“i was about to call you,” you say, voice coming out breathier than you meant it to, leaning back on your hands so your tanktop rides up just enough to flash a strip of your stomach. you're trying to play it cool but your palms are sweaty against the comforter and your thighs keep clenching involuntarily.

he hums, low and interested, eyebrows shooting up as that slow, filthy smirk spreads across his pink lips—the kind of smirk that says he's already three steps ahead and winning whatever game this is. “yeah?”

he steps closer, towering over you even though you're sitting on the bed, and then he's leaning down, planting one hand on either side of your thighs, caging you in. his fingers dig into the mattress, knuckles brushing the bare skin of your legs, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell that stupid clean-boy scent mixed with the cold night air clinging to his shirt.

you nod, just a little, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning at how close he is. “yeah.”

“and why were you gonna call me, princess?” his voice drops, all velvet and menace, and then—fuck—his thumbs hook under the hem of your shorts, just barely, brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs in these slow, deliberate strokes. back and forth. back and forth. like he's petting you. like he's already got you figured out. “what was the big emergency?”

you smile, slow and knowing, eyes dropping to his mouth—those soft, obnoxious lips you've thought about way too many times—and then flicking up to meet his gaze, bright and electric behind those long lashes. your hand moves without permission, reaching up to pluck the sunglasses off his head. his hair flops forward a little as you slide them onto your own face, the world tinting darker, cooler. you shrug, all fake innocence, tilting your head.

“i don't know,” you murmur, voice syrupy sweet even as your heart hammers against your ribs, “maybe like... a 911 fucking emergency?”

his eyes darken instantly, pupils blowing wide behind the faint reflection of the fairy lights in his irises. because yeah, that's your code. that's been your code since that one drunk night sophomore year when you both admitted you'd rather die than actually say “i need to fuck” out loud like normal people. 911 fucking emergency means i'm so horny i'm malfunctioning and if you don't fix it i'm going to combust. it means come over right now and ruin me. it means please.

he lets out this low, broken laugh, half groan, head dropping forward for a second like you've wounded him. “oh my god,” he breathes, thumbs pressing harder into your thighs now, sliding higher, dangerously close to where you're aching and empty and dripping for him. “you're such a fucking menace. you were—wait.” his head snaps up, eyes narrowing with delighted suspicion. “what were you doing before i got here, huh? don't lie to me, baby. your room smells like pussy. were you really watching porn?”

you shove at his chest weakly, laughing even as heat floods your face. “shut up! oh my god, get out of my room if you're gonna be mean about it.”

“mean?” he gasps dramatically, clutching his heart like you've stabbed him, but he doesn't move back an inch—in fact, he leans in closer, nose brushing yours through the sunglasses lenses. “baby, i'm never mean. i'm observant. i'm helpful. i'm literally a humanitarian for showing up to your little... crisis.” his thumbs trace the edge of your shorts again, tugging just enough that the fabric shifts and cool air hits your damp skin. you whimper, actually whimper, hips twitching forward without your permission. “look at you,” he coos, voice dripping with fake sympathy and real hunger. “poor thing. all alone in the dark, touching yourself to god knows what—tentacles again? or was it that one video with the guy who kinda looks like me but lamer?”

“he did not look like you,” you lie, shoving the sunglasses up into your hair so you can glare at him properly. “he was way hotter. better dick too, probably.”

gojo's grin turns sharp, predatory, and he drops to his knees in one fluid motion, hands sliding up to grip your thighs properly now, spreading them just enough that you have to catch yourself on your elbows or fall back. “oh yeah?” he murmurs, voice dangerously soft, eyes locked on the wet spot darkening the front of your shorts like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. “that's fucked up, princess. here i am, actual best dick on campus, and you're out here settling for knockoffs? we gotta fix that.”

your breath hitches, legs trembling in his hands, and you know—he knows—you're already gone. already his. already desperate for whatever mean, sweet, stupid thing he's about to do to you.

“satoru,” you whisper, and it's half warning, half plea. he looks up at you through his lashes, beautiful and terrible, and smiles like the devil himself.

“shhh,” he says, thumbs stroking soothing circles even as his eyes promise chaos. “i've got you, baby. emergency services have arrived.”

your fingers dig into that fluffy white chaos of his hair the second his face dips back down between your thighs, like you're desperately trying to haul him away before he wrecks you completely, but let's be real—your grip is weak as hell, more of a caress disguised as resistance because deep down, you’re already melting into the mattress from the anticipation alone.

“satoru, no—” you half-whisper, half-moan, voice cracking like cheap glass as his nose presses right up against your throbbing clit through the thin, soaked barrier of your shorts, nudging it with this slow, teasing precision that sends electric shocks straight up your spine and makes your hips buck involuntarily, chasing the pressure even as your brain screams abort mission. the contact is muffled but devastating, the heat of his breath seeping through the cotton like steam from a hot spring, making everything down there pulse and clench in this desperate, empty rhythm that has you seeing spots.

you whimper—actually whimper—high-pitched and embarrassing, the sound slipping out before you can clamp your lips shut, and you tug harder on his hair, yanking like you’re trying to reel in a wild animal, but all it does is make him groan deep in his chest, this low, rumbling vibration that travels right through the fabric and buzzes against your pussy like a goddamn toy on low speed. “fuck, baby,” he mumbles against you, voice muffled and wrecked, “pull harder, i like it when you’re mean to me.”

the sensation hits you like a truck, thighs trembling and squeezing around his head on pure instinct you nearly knee him in the face, toes curling into the rumpled sheets as waves of heat radiate outward from your core, making your stomach flip and your breath hitch in your throat. it’s too much, too good, too filthy for how innocent it looks, and you can feel yourself getting even wetter, the damp spot on your shorts spreading like evidence of your betrayal.

“satoru,” you call out again, voice shaky and pleading now, not because you actually want him to stop—god no—but because underneath all this horniness there’s this stupid, sappy ache in your chest that you refuse to acknowledge out loud. you’ve missed him, really missed him, like a hole in your routine that no amount of solo sessions or dumb memes from mutual friends could fill.

he’s been off on that fancy family vacation to some exotic island paradise—probably sipping piña coladas on white sand beaches while you were stuck here in your dim dorm, drowning in lecture notes and rainy campus days, feeling lonelier than a forgotten sock under the bed. sure, him diving face-first into your pussy sounds like heaven right now, his tongue and lips and that obnoxious confidence turning you into a puddle, but tonight? you want more—something softer, stupider, like cuddling under your fairy lights while he rambles about dumb vacation stories, or him stealing your snacks and calling you pet names until you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. you’d die before admitting it though; vulnerability is for losers, and you’re not about to hand him that kind of ammo.

so you tug his hair even harder, really yanking this time with both hands, fingers twisting in the soft strands until his head snaps back and he lets out this dramatic yelp that echoes off your posters like he's been shot. he pulls away from your pussy reluctantly, rising up on his knees with one hand clutching his scalp, those bright blue eyes wide and accusatory as he stares down at you like you've committed treason.

“ow, fuck—okay, okay, i know i like it rough but you’re literally gonna make me bald, woman,” he whines, blue eyes all wide and wounded like you’ve committed a war crime, voice pitching up into that whiny drawl he pulls out when he's being extra pathetic, rubbing the spot vigorously as if soothing a battle wound. “what’s with the violence? i was about to give you the best head of your life. i missed you too but damn.”

you chuckle, but it's broken and breathy, catching in your throat like a hiccup because you're still reeling from the ghost of his vibration down there, your clit throbbing in protest at the sudden loss of contact, legs shifting restlessly against the sheets and now he’s looking at you like a kicked puppy and it’s doing things to your chest. “i told you to stop, idiot,” you manage, trying to sound firm but coming off more like a winded mess, cheeks flushed hot under the dim fairy lights that cast everything in this soft, golden haze.

he flops forward dramatically, forehead thumping against your collarbone all long limbs and needy energy, long body draping over yours like he belongs there— he does, shut up. he whines immediately, loud and theatrical, flopping forward onto his elbows so his face is hovering inches from yours, lower lip jutting out in the world's most exaggerated pout. “why stop though?” he complains into your skin, voice muffled and petulant. “i’ve been dreaming about your pussy for two whole weeks. all i could think about was how you taste when you’re desperate and mean. and i was about to make you see god, baby. i practiced in the shower the whole vacation just thinking about you. that’s dedication— ”

but he's already leaning closer before you can answer, being all dramatic as usual, nuzzling into the curve of your neck with these hot, open-mouthed kisses that trail down your skin like molten lava, leaving wet little marks that cool in the air and make you shiver. his hands slide up under your tank top, pushing the fabric higher until it bunches under your arms, and he tugs the neckline down with his teeth—teeth!—until one of your tits spills free, nipple pebbling instantly in the chill of the room, exposed and begging for attention like it's got a mind of its own. he makes this satisfied little humming noise before latching on like he’s starving.

“satoru,” you warn again, but it’s softer this time, playful, fingers still tangled loosely in his hair. but he is being a fucking baby, a menace, he sometimes— often— pretend he doesn't hear you when he gets all horny and pervert. “satoru,” you call his name again, a playful warning laced with laughter, because god he's being such a baby about this, all needy and clingy and over-the-top, pressing his body against yours like he can't bear even an inch of space between you two.

“satoru,” you say again, half-laughing, half-moaning as he sucks a bruise right above your nipple. “you’re such a fucking baby.”

he pulls off with a wet pop, lips shiny, eyes glazed and happy. “your baby,” he corrects smugly, then dives back in to bite gently at the swell of your breast. “missed these too. they got bigger or am i just delusional from lack of titty in my life?”

you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. “you were gone forever,” you mutter, trying to sound annoyed but mostly just sounding pouty. “twelve days on some fancy beach with cocktails and sunshine and you didn’t even bring me a stupid souvenir. what kind of boyfriend fake-thing are you? i was here rotting in exam season and seasonal depression and you couldn’t even grab a keychain? what’s wrong with you? people bring back keychains, tacky magnets, something. you bring back nothing but blue balls and harassment.”

he hums against your skin, the vibration tickling as he bites down gently on the swell of your exposed tit, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp before he pulls away with a wet smack, lips shiny and smirking. “you want a gift?”

you shrug, trying to play it nonchalant even though your heart is doing that dumb fluttery thing, arms crossing over your chest— which only pushes your tit up higher, oops— as you look away toward the window, pretending the peeling poster on your wall is suddenly fascinating. “i mean, whatever. it's not like i was expecting anything or whatever.”

he stares at your face for a long beat, those piercing blue eyes narrowing like he’s trying to read your mind— he probably is, nosy bastard, like he's peeling back your layers one by one, reading every unspoken word in your expression—the way your lips twitch, the faint blush creeping up your neck—and then he nods slowly, that filthy grin spreading wide.  “oh, i’ve got a gift for you,” he says, voice dropping into that dangerous register that makes your stomach clench. “it's right here in my pants, big one. thick. veiny. best souvenir ever, guaranteed to make you scream. you’ve been begging for it in your texts like a little slut—”

you slap his shoulder immediately, hard enough to make a satisfying thwack, but not enough to actually hurt, laughing even as heat floods your face. “i don't want your dick, you pervert!”

he raises both eyebrows so high they nearly hit his hairline, leaning back on his heels with this mock-shocked expression, hand flying to his chest like you've mortally offended him. “you... don't want my dick? the dick that's had you begging and babbling nonsense every other time? the dick that's basically your favorite toy? wow, okay, noted—i'll just go cry in the corner now.”

“wait—no, fuck, obviously i want your dick,” you correct quickly, words tumbling out in a rush because the thought of him actually thinking that makes your stomach twist, cheeks burning as you shove at him again, lighter this time. “don’t look at me like that, you’re the worst. i want it eventually. later. after. but i want something else too, you dumbass—like an actual gift, not just your ego-stroking appendage.”

he gasps, clutching imaginary pearls before breaking into that bright, stupid laugh that always makes your insides melt, then sighs like you've asked for the moon. “there’s something you want more than my perfect, magnificent, life-changing cock? i’m wounded. i’m devastated. i need to speak to the manager of you.”

“shut up,” you mutter, but you’re smiling despite yourself, cheeks hot.

he sighs dramatically, standing back on his heels, “fine, fine, princess demands variety—i can work with that.” he shifts, digging into the front pocket of his jeans with exaggerated effort, the motion making the shirt ride up and you get a prime view of his abs flexing and fabric pull tight across his thighs and the faint happy trail disappearing into his waistband  and highlighting the obvious bulge there— god, he's already half-hard just from this—focus— and pulls out a small velvet box, not ring-sized but compact enough to fit in his palm, black and sleek with a subtle sheen under the lights.

your eyebrows shoot up, curiosity overriding everything as you sit up a little straighter, tank top still askew and tit hanging out like a casual accessory. “fancy,” you tease, voice lilting with mock surprise, eyes flicking from the box to his face where that smug grin is firmly in place. “what is it, a promise ring? gonna ask me to go steady, satoru?”

he , flicking the box open with his thumb, and inside is a necklace. delicate silver chain, thin and shiny, with a little pendant hanging from it—a tiny, elegant script “satoru” in cursive,

he snorts, flicking the lid open with his thumb to reveal the necklace inside—delicate silver chain, fine and shimmering like it was spun from moonlight, with a pendant that's a small, elegant cursive script spelling out “satoru” in looping letters, the ‘o’ replaced by a heart-shaped pink stone. not garish pink, soft rose quartz maybe, soft and blushing, cut with these subtle facets catching the fairy lights and throwing little flecks of shimmer across his fingers, tiny rainbows across the velvet lining, warm and romantic in a way that clashes hilariously with how possessive it is. it’s pretty. it’s really pretty. it’s also extremely possessive.

you groan immediately, loud and drawn-out, flopping back against the pillows with your hands over your face like the sight of it pains you. “i’m not wearing that.”

“what? why not?” he sounds genuinely offended, holding it up to dangle in front of your face. the pink stone swings like a hypnotist’s charm. “it’s custom! i had it made! look how cute the little heart is—”

“it’s literally a collar,” you deadpan, glaring at him even as your cheeks heat up. “like you’re branding me. ‘property of gojo satoru, if found return to owner.’ i’m not your pet, you neanderthal.”

he gasps, clutching imaginary pearls. “a collar? baby, this is couture. this is loveeee. this is me saying ‘i was on a stupid beach thinking about you the whole time and spent way too much money on something that has my name on it because i’m obsessed with you.’ this is me spending an embarrassing amount of money on vacation to get it custom made because i saw the pink stone and thought ‘that’s her color when she comes.’ but sure, call it a collar, you ungrateful brat.”

you stare at him. he stares back, lower lip wobbling in the most over-the-top pout you’ve ever seen, necklace still dangling from his fingers like a peace offering.

you choke on air, face burning. “you did not just say that.”

“i did,” he says proudly, crawling over you again until he’s straddling your hips, necklace dangling above your chest like a threat. “and you love it. admit it. you want my name right here—” he taps the hollow of your throat, right where the pendant would rest, “—so every time you look in the mirror you remember who makes you dumb and drippy and desperate.”

you stare up at him, heart hammering against your ribs, the pink heart swinging gently between you like a hypnotist’s charm. he’s grinning that stupid, soft, menace grin—equal parts pervert and lovesick—and you know you’re fucked.

“...the stone is pretty,” you mumble eventually, looking anywhere but his eyes.

his whole face lights up like christmas morning. “right? it’s rose quartz. supposedly good for love and healing and all that spiritual bullshit, but mostly it matches your pussy when you’re—” you slap a hand over his mouth before he can finish, but you’re laughing, legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. he licks your hand again, slow and deliberate, then pulls it away to beam down at you.

he chuckle, bright and stupid and yours, and leans over you again, the necklace pooled in his palm. “let me put it on you? please? just try it. if you hate it i’ll wear it as an anklet or something. very avant-garde.”

you roll your eyes so hard it’s a workout, but you’re already tilting your head back, lifting your hair off your neck in silent surrender.

because yeah. you missed him so much it’s stupid. because yeah, you want his name against your skin more than you want air right now. because yeah, you’re completely, hopelessly gone for this absolute idiot.

he fastens it carefully, fingers brushing your throat like he’s handling something precious, and when the little pink heart settles into place he leans down to kiss it—soft, reverent, right over your pulse.

he shifts back just enough to stand at the edge of the bed properly, long fingers still cradling the delicate chain like it’s the most fragile thing in the world, even though we both know he’s about to wreck you in approximately thirty seconds. you tilt your chin up higher, hair spilling over your shoulders and onto the pillows, exposing the full column of your throat because yeah, you’re giving in, you’re letting him brand you like some lovesick idiot and you can’t even pretend to hate it. the silver is cool when it first touches your skin, a sharp little contrast to how hot you’re running everywhere else, and he drapes it carefully, the tiny pink heart pendant settling right in the dip between your collarbones like it was made to live there. his fingertips brush the hollow of your throat as he fastens the clasp—slow, reverent, almost tender—and you feel the exact moment it clicks shut, like a lock snapping into place. his. officially. embarrassingly. perfectly.

he just stares, blue eyes going dark and hungry, pupils swallowing up all that ridiculous sky color as he drinks you in. the fairy lights catch on the silver chain and the rose quartz heart, making it shimmer every time you breathe, and his gaze keeps flicking from the pendant to your face to your still-exposed tit like he can’t decide where to look first. “fuck,” he breathes, voice rougher than before, almost reverent in the filthiest way. “you look... fuck, baby. you look so pretty with my name on you. like you were always supposed to wear it. jesus christ, i’m literally gonna cum in my pants just thinking about fucking you stupid while that little heart bounces between your tits.”

you laugh—soft, breathless, a little embarrassed because god he’s so much—and the sound makes the pendant tremble against your skin. “you’re so dramatic,” you manage, but your voice cracks on the last syllable because he’s looking at you like you’re a miracle and it’s doing things to your chest.

he chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating straight to your clit, and leans forward to brace his hands on either side of your head. “dramatic? princess, i’m serious. two weeks without this pussy and now you’re sitting here all flushed and marked up as mine? i’m half a second from nutting untouched. be nice to me.”

you slap his shoulder again, light and playful, fingers lingering on the warm cotton of his shirt. “shut up, pervert.” but then your hands are sliding up, wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling him down because you need his mouth on yours now. he comes willingly—eagerly—crashing into the kiss like he’s been starving for it. his lips are soft and greedy, tongue sliding against yours in that perfect messy way that always makes your head spin, tasting like the melon ramune he probably chugged on the way over and something that’s just him. he groans into your mouth, low and desperate, one hand cupping your jaw while the other slides down to palm your bare tit, thumb flicking over your nipple until you’re arching up into him with a soft mmph.

he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard, lips brushing with every word. “okay,” he whispers, voice wrecked and filthy, “now take those shorts off so i can finish what i started. gift time’s over, time for the real present—my tongue in your—”

you slap a hand over his mouth fast, palm pressing against those plush lips before he can finish the sentence, but you’re laughing so hard your whole body shakes with it, the necklace tinkling softly against your skin. “satoru, oh my god, you’re disgusting.”

he doesn’t even fight it—just licks a slow, deliberate stripe across your palm, hot and wet and utterly shameless, eyes locked on yours the whole time. you squeal, yanking your hand away and wiping it on his shirt. “ew! you animal!”

“you love it,” he grins, already sliding down your body like a man on a mission, big hands hooking into the waistband of your tiny shorts. you lift your hips without thinking, letting him drag them down your thighs along with your soaked panties in one smooth motion. the cool air hits your dripping pussy and you shiver, thighs trying to close on instinct, but he’s already wedging his broad shoulders between them, spreading you wide open for his greedy gaze.

“ffffuck,” he groans, long and drawn-out, staring at you like you’re a feast and he’s been fasting for weeks. “look at you. look at this pretty fucking pussy. missed her so much—dreamed about her every single night on that stupid trip. jerked off in the hotel shower thinking about how you taste when you’re all swollen and needy like this. you have no idea.”

he doesn’t wait for permission—he never does—just dives in like a starving man, mouth hot and wet and perfect as he licks a slow, filthy stripe up your slit from entrance to clit. you cry out immediately, sharp and broken, “ah—satoru!”—back arching off the bed as your hands fly to his hair again, gripping tight. he groans into you, the vibration making your thighs tremble around his head, and then he’s devouring you, tongue swirling around your clit in tight circles before sucking it into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure.

“mmph, fuck! yesss,” you’re already babbling, hips rolling up to meet his mouth, the necklace bouncing lightly against your chest with every jerk of your body. he pulls back for a second just to spit on your pussy—gross, hot, perfect—watching it drip down your folds before licking it back up, humming like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“so fucking wet,” he mumbles against you, voice muffled as he buries his face deeper, nose nudging your clit while his tongue pushes inside you, curling and thrusting like he’s trying to fuck you with it. “tastes better than i remembered. my favorite meal. should’ve brought you with me—would’ve eaten this every morning on the beach instead of that overpriced brunch bullshit.”

you moan loud and shameless, “oh god—satoru, don’t stop.” fingers yanking at his hair hard enough that he hisses, but it only makes him double down, sucking your clit into his mouth again while two long fingers slide into you without warning, curling right against that spot that makes your vision blur at the edges.

“fuck—right there—” your voice cracks, thighs clamping around his head as he finger-fucks you slow and deep, tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit in time with every thrust. the wet sounds are obscene—slurping, sucking, your own slick coating his chin—and he’s moaning into you like he’s the one getting pleasured, hips grinding against the mattress for friction because he’s that worked up just from tasting you.

he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips shiny and swollen, eyes wild. “gonna make you fall apart on my tongue, baby. been thinking about this for two weeks straight—how you sound when you’re close, how you shake, how you drown me. not stopping till you’re begging.”

then he’s back at it, fingers pumping faster, tongue lashing your clit in quick, mean little flicks that have your legs shaking and your moans turning into desperate little sobs, “satoru, please—fuck—i’m. . .” toes curling into the sheets, the necklace warm against your skin now from your body heat, the little pink heart glinting every time you arch.

he doesn’t even give you a second to catch your breath, just slides those big hands under your thighs and yanks you down the bed like you weigh nothing, the sheets bunching under your back as your ass hits the edge of the mattress with a soft thump. you squeak—actually squeak, embarrassing as hell—and he laughs all bright and obnoxious, that stupid triumphant grin splitting his face as he drops to his knees on the floor like he’s praying at the altar of your pussy.

“c’mere, princess,” he coos, voice syrupy sweet and filthy all at once, hooking your legs over his shoulders so your thighs are draped across his back, knees bent, feet dangling uselessly. the position spreads you wide open for him, everything on display, slick and swollen and glistening under the fairy lights, and he just stares for a second like he’s memorizing it, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“fuck, look at you,” he groans, dragging it out dramatic and reverent, one hand splayed across your lower stomach to hold you down while the other slides two long fingers up and down your slit, coating them in your wetness before pushing in slow. you’re so soaked they slip right in to the knuckle, curling instantly against that spot that makes your eyes roll back, and you moan loud and broken, “ah—satoru, fuck. . ” hips bucking up into his hand on instinct.

he hums all satisfied, pumping his fingers lazy at first, scissoring them just to watch you clench and drip around him. “that’s it, baby, open up for me. been dreaming about this greedy little pussy every night—how tight you get when i do this—” he crooks his fingers harder, pressing right up against your g-spot and holding the pressure, thumb coming up to rub messy circles over your clit. your back arches off the bed, thighs trembling over his shoulders, and he leans in closer, mouth hovering just above where his fingers are buried inside you, breath hot against your skin.

“gonna make you squirt all over my face,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous, eyes locked on yours as he starts fucking you with his fingers in earnest—fast, deep, relentless, the wet squelch of it filling the room along with your gasping moans. “mmph—yes, right there—don’t stop. ..” you’re already babbling, hands fisting the sheets, the necklace bouncing against your chest with every thrust of his hand. he sticks his tongue out flat and needy, hovering right over your clit like he’s waiting for it, eyes half-lidded and wild.

“c’mon, pretty girl,” he coaxes, all soft and mean at the same time, curling his fingers in a brutal come-hither motion while his thumb presses down hard on your clit. “give it to me. soak me. wanna taste you when you lose it—wanna feel you squirt all over my tongue like a good little slut—”

the pressure builds so fast it’s dizzying, that tight coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with every stroke, every filthy word dripping from his mouth. your thighs start shaking harder, toes curling against his back, and he can feel it—he knows—because he doubles down, fingers pistoning in and out, palm slapping against your pussy with every thrust, tongue still out and waiting like a goddamn target.

“satoru, fuck, i’m gonna—oh god—”

it hits you like a freight train, the orgasm crashing over you so hard your vision whites out for a second. your whole body locks up, back bowing off the bed as you squirt—hard, messy, unstoppable—clear fluid gushing out around his fingers in rhythmic pulses, splashing across his face, his waiting tongue, dripping down his chin and neck in hot streaks. he groans loud and wrecked, “fuuuck, yes—” mouth open to catch as much as he can, swallowing greedily, eyes rolling back like he’s the one coming undone.

you’re still twitching, aftershocks ripping through you as he keeps fingering you through it, drawing out every last spurt until you’re whimpering oversensitive and trying to squirm away. he finally slows, pulling his fingers out with a wet sound and immediately sucking them clean, humming like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. his face is drenched—shiny with you, hair sticking to his forehead, lips swollen and red—and he looks up at you with this dazed, blissful grin, licking his lips slow and deliberate.

“holy shit,” he breathes, voice hoarse, wiping his chin with the back of his hand only to lick that clean too. “you just baptized me, baby. i’m reborn. this is my new religion—your pussy is my god now.”

you’re still panting, legs jelly over his shoulders, brain thoroughly melted, but you manage a weak laugh that turns into another moan when he leans in to press a soft, reverent kiss right to your throbbing clit. “you’re so fucking gross,” you whisper, but your fingers are already in his hair again, petting gently, affectionately, because god you missed this idiot and his dumb dramatic face covered in you.

he nuzzles into your thigh, smearing more of your mess across his cheek like a cat marking its territory. “gross? baby, this is art. this is love. this is the best welcome home present ever—better than any stupid beach sunset.” he kisses your inner thigh, then the other, soft and sweet now, contrast to the absolute menace he just was. “thank you for the facial, princess. ten out of ten, would drown again.”

you tug his hair lightly, pulling him up toward you because you need his mouth on yours now, need to taste yourself on him, need to feel him close. he crawls up willingly, hovering over you with that stupid lovesick grin, face still glistening under the lights.

“you’re never leaving for two weeks again,” you mumble against his lips, arms wrapping around his neck, the necklace cool against both of your skin now. “never,” he promises, voice soft and serious for once, before ruining it with a filthy smirk. “not when i’ve got a five-star pussy buffet waiting at home. now kiss me, you squirting goddess—i earned this.”

you’re still floating in that hazy post-squirt fog, limbs heavy and tingling like you’ve been electrocuted in the best way, chest heaving under the soft weight of the necklace that keeps catching the fairy lights every time you breathe. your pussy is throbbing, oversensitive and fluttering around nothing, thighs slick with your own mess, and gojo is still on his knees between them looking like he just survived a hurricane made entirely of you. his face is an absolute crime scene—shiny and dripping, hair stuck to his forehead in white spikes, lips red and swollen like he’s been making out with your clit for hours (he basically has). he’s grinning like an idiot, tongue peeking out to lick another stray drop off the corner of his mouth, eyes glazed with pure unfiltered bliss.

“god,” he rasps, voice hoarse from all the moaning he did into your pussy like a fucking animal, wiping his chin with the back of his hand only to immediately suck his fingers clean again because he’s disgusting and perfect. “you just hosed me down, baby. full-on super soaker. i look like i got caught in a rainstorm of pussy juice. i’m never washing my face again—this is my new skincare routine.”

you laugh, breathless and wrecked, kicking weakly at his shoulder with one heel where it’s still draped over him. “you’re so nasty, satoru—oh my god, get up here before i die of secondhand embarrassment.”

“embarrassment?” he gasps, all fake offense, standing up slow and predatory, dragging his wet chin across your stomach, between your tits, leaving a shiny trail like he’s marking territory. “baby, this is a badge of honor. i’m wearing your cum like war paint. i’m a warrior. a pussy-eating champion. they should give me a medal—or another round.”

he settles over you finally, forearms braced on either side of your head, caging you in as his hips slot between your thighs like they belong there. his shirt is clinging to him now from the splash zone, white fabric gone semi-transparent over his chest, and you can see the faint outline of his nipples and the stupidly defined lines of his abs. he’s hard—painfully hard—cock straining against his jeans in a thick line that presses right up against your bare pussy when he rolls his hips once, slow and teasing. you both groan at the contact, your oversensitive clit dragging against the rough denim, and you feel another helpless gush of wetness leak out of you.

“fuck,” you whimper, hands flying up to grip his shoulders, nails digging in because holy shit you’re still so sensitive but you want more, you always want more with him. “satoru—too much—i’m—”

“shhh, i know, i know,” he soothes, but his voice is all dark and hungry, dipping down to kiss you slow and filthy, letting you taste yourself all salty-sweet and tangy on his tongue. he licks into your mouth like he’s still starving, swallowing your little moans, “mmph. . ” while his hips grind in lazy circles, rubbing his clothed cock against your soaked folds just to watch you squirm. “you’re all sensitive and shaky now, huh? my poor little baby, came so hard she painted my face. look at you—still dripping for me. greedy pussy can’t get enough.”

you whine into his mouth, high and needy, “satoru—please. . .” legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, trying to pull him closer even though the friction is bordering on too much. the necklace shifts with every roll of your bodies, the little pink heart pressing cool against your flushed skin, and he notices—of course he does—pulling back just enough to stare down at it with this possessive, lovesick glint in his eyes.

“fuck, that looks so good on you,” he murmurs, voice softer now but still rough around the edges, one hand coming up to thumb at the pendant where it rests against your throat. “my name right here while you’re all wrecked and leaking for me. you’re never taking this off, yeah? gonna wear it to class, to parties, when you’re sleeping—gonna think about how i made you squirt like a fucking fountain every time it catches the light.”

“you’re so—ahn!—possessive,” you manage, but it comes out breathy and fond, fingers sliding up into his damp hair to tug him back down for another kiss because you can’t help it, you need him close. he laughs against your lips, bright and stupid and yours, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

“damn right i am,” he says, grinding harder just to make you gasp, “fuck—satoru!” and feel another helpless twitch of your pussy against his jeans. “you’re mine. this pussy? mine. these tits? mine. this pretty little neck with my name on it? definitely fucking mine. been gone twelve days and i come back to you squirting on my face like a welcome home parade—i’m never leaving again, baby. gonna chain myself to this bed. or to your clit. whichever’s more convenient.”

you moan again, louder this time, head falling back against the pillows as he starts mouthing down your neck, sucking new bruises right next to the necklace like he wants to layer his claim. his hips are relentless now, dragging the rough seam of his jeans over your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that have your thighs shaking around him again already. “satoru—wait—i can’t—too soon.”

“too soon?” he echoes, pulling back to grin down at you, all teeth and menace and affection. “baby, we’re just getting started. you think one little facial means i’m done? nah. i’ve got two weeks of blue balls to work out. gonna make you come on my tongue again, then my fingers, then my cock—gonna keep you stuffed and shaking till you forget what day it is.”

he dips down to kiss the pendant one more time, soft and reverent, lips brushing your skin as he whispers, “love you in my name, princess. love you all messy and mine.”

your heart does something stupid and warm in your chest, and you yank him up by the hair to kiss him properly—deep and desperate and tasting like both of you now. “love you too, idiot,” you mumble against his mouth, legs tightening around his waist. “now get these jeans off before i actually die.”

he laughs into the kiss, bright and filthy and home. “yes ma’am. but fair warning—once this dick’s out, you’re not walking straight for a week.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice—hell, he was already halfway there the second the words left your mouth. his hands drop to his belt like it personally offended him, fumbling with the buckle in this frantic, desperate rush that’s so unlike his usual cocky grace, metal clinking loud in the quiet room as he yanks it open. “fuck—yes—finally,” he mutters under his breath, all breathless and wrecked, shoving his jeans and boxers down in one clumsy push until they pool around his knees. his cock springs free, thick and flushed and leaking at the tip already, curving up against his stomach like it’s been suffering without you for weeks (it has). it’s pretty in that obnoxious way his everything is—long, veiny, the head all slick and shiny with precum that drips down the shaft in a slow, teasing bead.

you stare, because how can you not, thighs still trembling from earlier, pussy clenching around nothing at the sight of him. he kicks the jeans off fully, nearly tripping in the process and catching himself on the bed with a dramatic little “whoa—shit,” that makes you snort even as heat pools low in your belly again. “don’t laugh at me,” he whines, crawling back over you fully naked now except for that clingy white shirt, “i’m suffering here. two weeks of hotel lotion and my own hand—do you know how tragic that is? i deserve a purple heart for surviving without this pussy.”

“poor baby,” you coo, mocking and soft all at once, reaching down to wrap your fingers around him because you can’t resist. he’s hot in your hand, velvet-smooth over steel, throbbing when you give him one slow stroke from base to tip, thumb swiping over the head to spread the precum. he groans loud and broken, “fuuuck, baby.” his hips jerking forward into your fist like he can’t help it, forehead dropping to yours as his eyes flutter shut.

“sensitive?” you tease, pumping him again, slower this time, watching his abs clench and his thighs tense where he’s kneeling between your legs. the necklace shifts against your chest with every breath, the little pink heart catching the light, and his eyes snap open to zero in on it immediately, pupils blown wide.

“you have no idea,” he rasps, voice cracking as you twist your wrist just right on the upstroke. “been hard pretty much since i landed. kept thinking about you in those tiny shorts, about bending you over your desk in the library, about this exact moment—fuck—tighter, baby, please—” he cuts off with another moan when you oblige, gripping him harder, feeling him pulse in your palm. “ahn—yeah, like that. . . god, your hand’s so much better than mine. everything about you is better. gonna ruin me again, aren’t you?”

“maybe,” you murmur, guiding him closer until the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, sliding through your folds in one slick glide that makes you both shudder. he’s leaking so much it mixes with your wetness, making everything messy and perfect, and you roll your hips up just to feel him drag over your clit. “mmph—satoru.” the friction sending sparks up your spine even though you’re still sensitive from earlier.

he whines, actual whines, high and needy in the back of his throat, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he tries to hold still. “don’t tease me,” he begs, voice all wrecked and dramatic, “i’ll literally die. i’ll combust. my dick will fall off from neglect—please, baby, let me in—need to feel you around me so bad—pleaseee.”

you take pity on him—on both of you—because you’re aching too, empty and fluttering and desperate for him to fill you up the way only he can. “okay,” you whisper, lining him up properly, the blunt head pressing right against your entrance, stretching you just from that. “slow, toru—fuck—”

he pushes in slow like you asked, but it’s torture for him—you can see it in the way his arms shake where they’re braced beside your head, in the way his jaw clenches and his breath stutters out in ragged pants. inch by inch he sinks into you, splitting you open on his cock, and you’re so wet from before that he slides in easy despite how thick he is, bottoming out with a low, drawn-out groan that vibrates through his chest into yours. “holy fuck—” he chokes, forehead pressed to yours, eyes squeezed shut like he’s overwhelmed. “so tight—still so fucking tight after all that—gonna kill me—ahn!”

you’re not much better, moaning high and broken, “satoru, oh god. . .” your nails digging into his shoulders as your walls flutter around him, adjusting to the stretch, the fullness that’s always just on the edge of too much with him. he stays still for a second, buried to the hilt, letting you both breathe, letting you feel every throb of his cock inside you, every twitch when you clench down on purpose just to hear him whimper.

“move,” you finally gasp, rolling your hips up to take him deeper even though he’s already all the way in, legs wrapping tight around his waist. “please—fuck me—need it—”

that’s all it takes. he pulls back slow, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, then snaps his hips forward hard enough to punch the air from your lungs, “fuck—yes. .  .” as he setting a rhythm that’s deep and punishing right from the start. the bed creaks under you, headboard tapping the wall in a steady thump-thump-thump that’s gonna get you noise complaints tomorrow, but neither of you care. he’s fucking you like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s trying to imprint himself inside you, cock dragging against your walls with every thrust, hitting that spot that makes your vision spark white.

“like that—” you sob, back arching, tits bouncing with every slam of his hips, the necklace swinging between you like a pendulum. “harder, satoru—pleaseee.”

“yeah?” he pants, grinning down at you all feral and beautiful, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, shirt clinging to his chest. “want it harder? my greedy little princess—missed this cock that much? been empty without me, huh?” he shifts his angle just right, grinding deep on every thrust now, the head of his cock kissing your cervix and making you see stars. “take it—fuck, take it all—gonna fill you up so good—”

you’re babbling now, incoherent moans and his name over and over, “satoru, satoru. fuck—don’t stop.” he have your toes curling, thighs shaking around him as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly again already. he drops to his elbows, chest pressed to yours, mouth finding yours in a messy, desperate kiss, swallowing each other’s moans as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“love you,” he gasps against your lips, voice raw and soft underneath all the filth, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh and hitch your leg higher so he can go deeper. “love you so fucking much—never leaving again. gonna keep you full of me always—

mine.”

you cling to him, nails raking down his back under his shirt, the necklace warm between your bodies now, the little heart pressed right over your heartbeat like it belongs there. he’s ruining you, remaking you, loving you in the only way gojo satoru knows how—loud, messy, overwhelming, and so, so sweet.

he slows just enough to make you whine in protest, that deep, relentless rhythm faltering as he pulls his hips back a fraction, cock dragging slowly and teasing along your walls until you’re clenching around him desperately. “satoru, no—don’t you dare stop,” your voice all high and broken, nails scraping down his back under the damp cotton of his shirt.

he laughs, breathless and mean, blue eyes glittering with pure mischief as he sits back on his heels, still buried balls-deep inside you. “oh, baby,” he coos, voice syrupy sweet and filthy, “i’m not stopping. just rearranging you a little. gotta fold my favorite girl up like a lawn chair—wanna see how deep i can really get.”

before you can even process the words, his big hands are sliding down to the backs of your thighs, gripping tight, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave pretty little marks tomorrow. he pushes forward slow and deliberate, forcing your knees up toward your chest, your calves sliding over his shoulders until you’re bent damn near in half, ass lifted off the bed, pussy tilted up toward him like an offering. the stretch in your hamstrings burns in the best way, and the new angle has his cock sinking even deeper, the head nudging right up against your cervix on every tiny roll of his hips. you cry out sharp and wrecked, “fuck—satoru—too deep.” your back arching as far as it can in this position, tits bouncing with every thrust, the necklace swinging wildly between them, the little pink heart glinting like a filthy trophy.

“too deep?” he mocks, grinning down at you all sweaty and flushed and gorgeous, hair sticking to his forehead in white strands, shirt clinging transparently to his chest. “baby, you’re taking me so fucking well—look at you, folded up all pretty for me, pussy swallowing my cock like it’s starving. you feel that?” he pulls out slowly just to slam back in, hard enough that your whole body jolts up the bed.

“ahn, yes, fuck,” and he groans loud and dramatic, head tipping back. “that’s me all the way in your guts. gonna rearrange your organs, princess. gonna make sure you feel me for days every time you sit down in lecture.”

he fucks you like that for what feels like forever, deep and grinding and punishing, hips snapping forward in short, brutal thrusts that have you seeing stars, your thighs trembling against his chest, toes curling in the air. every drag of his cock lights up every nerve inside you, the pressure building again so fast it’s dizzying, and you’re babbling nonsense, “satoru, please, i’m gonna, fuckkkk, again.”

your tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how overwhelming it is. he’s moaning right along with you, filthy and unrestrained, “yeah, fuck! squeeze me just like that, my perfect little slut,” until suddenly he stops, buried to the hilt, pulsing inside you.

you whine loud and betrayed, “no, no, why,” as you are trying to rock your hips up for more friction, but he holds you pinned, chuckling dark and breathless. “easy, greedy girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you messy and slow, tongue licking into your mouth while he’s still throbbing inside you. “not done with you yet. wanna fuck you from behind—wanna watch that pretty ass bounce while my name swings between your tits.”

before you can even catch your breath, he’s pulling out—slow and torturous, making you feel every inch leaving you empty and clenching around nothing—and sliding off the bed. he stands beside it, tall and naked and stupidly gorgeous, cock slick with you and jutting up against his stomach, and reaches down to grab your ankles. “c’mere,” he says, voice rough with want, tugging you toward the edge of the mattress until your legs are dangling off, feet barely brushing the floor. you’re still folded and shaky, but he manhandles you like you weigh nothing, flipping you over onto your stomach and then pulling your hips up until you’re standing bent over the bed, chest pressed flat to the rumpled sheets, ass in the air.

“fuck, look at you,” he groans, hands spreading your cheeks apart so he can see everything—your dripping pussy, swollen and gaping a little from how hard he just fucked you, slick running down your thighs in shiny trails. he steps up behind you, one hand splayed between your shoulder blades to push you down harder into the mattress, the other guiding his cock through your folds, slapping it heavy and wet against your clit once, twice, three times until you’re jolting forward with every hit. “satoru, please, stop teasing,” your voice muffled into the sheets.

“teasing?” he laughs, all mean and delighted, slapping your pussy again with the length of his cock, the wet smack echoing loud in the room. “baby, this is foreplay. gotta make sure my favorite hole is ready for round two—look how fucking wet you are, dripping all over my dick like a desperate little mess.” he lines up finally, the fat head pressing against your entrance, and then he pushes, one long, forceful thrust that buries him to the hilt in a single stroke, forcing the air out of your lungs in a broken scream, “fuckkkk.”

he doesn’t ease up, doesn’t give you time to adjust—just grips your hips bruisingly tight and starts pounding into you like he’s trying to fuse you together, skin slapping against skin loud and obscene, the bed creaking dangerously under the force. your hands scrabble for something to hold onto, fingers twisting in the sheets as he fucks you hard and deep, every thrust shoving you up the mattress until he yanks you back by the hips. “take it, fuck, take every inch,” he growls, voice wrecked, leaning over you to mouth at the back of your neck, teeth scraping the chain of the necklace. “love this pussy—love how you feel around me—love how you look bent over and stuffed full of my cock, mine!”

you’re moaning into the sheets, high and nonstop, “yes—yours, fuck, harder.” again, non-stop, he have your toes curling against the fuzzy rug, body rocking forward with every brutal snap of his hips. the necklace swings beneath you with every thrust, the little heart brushing the mattress, a constant reminder of who’s ruining you so perfectly, and you can feel another orgasm building fast and overwhelming, coiling tight in your belly as he hits that spot inside you over and over and over.

“that’s it,” he pants, one hand sliding up your spine to fist in your hair, pulling your head back gently so he can hear you better, “moan louder, baby—let the whole dorm know who’s making you dumb on this dick—let them hear my name around your pretty neck while i fuck you stupid—”

you’re lost in it, in him, in the way he owns every inch of you without apology, loving you loud and messy and filthy and sweet all at once.

he doesn’t let up for even a second, hips snapping forward with this brutal, steady rhythm that has your whole body jolting against the mattress, cheek pressed into the rumpled sheets that smell like vanilla and sex and him. every thrust shoves you forward an inch, tits dragging across the comforter, nipples hard and aching from the friction, and he just yanks you back by the hips like you’re his personal fucktoy, fingers bruising your skin in the shape of his grip.

the angle is devastating—his cock slamming into you from behind, deeper than before, the head grinding against that spot inside that makes your eyes cross and your mouth fall open in a constant stream of broken moans, “fuck, satoru, right there—don’t stop, oh god. .  ” your voice muffled and hoarse, echoing off the walls along with the wet, obscene slap of his hips against your ass.

“listen to that,” he groans, all breathless and wrecked, slowing down just enough to pull almost all the way out before slamming back in, making you scream into the sheets “ahn—fuck!” and he laughs, low and filthy, one hand leaving your hip to reach forward and flick the dangling necklace where it swings beneath you. the little pink heart bounces with every thrust, catching the fairy lights in tiny flashes, and he’s obsessed with it, you can tell. “hear how wet you are for me? that’s two weeks of missing this dick talking, baby. pussy’s so sloppy she’s crying all over my cock—fuck, gonna ruin this pretty little hole till you can’t walk to class tomorrow.”

you try to push back against him, desperate for more, ass jiggling with every impact, but he pins you down harder, palm flat between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest deeper into the bed while your back arches perfectly for him. “stay right there,” he growls, voice rough with possession, leaning over you so his shirt brushes your sweat-slick skin, his breath hot against your ear. “love seeing you like this—bent over, stuffed full, my name swinging under you like a fucking claim tag. everyone’s gonna know tomorrow when you’re limping around campus wearing that necklace. gonna look at you and think ‘yeah, gojo wrecked that.’”

“satoru—please. . .” you sob, fingers clawing at the sheets, knuckles white as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter, your pussy fluttering around him in warning. he feels it—of course he does—and his rhythm stutters for a second before he doubles down, fucking you harder, faster, the bed frame groaning in protest like it’s about to collapse under the force. his free hand snakes around your hip, fingers finding your clit swollen and slick, rubbing messy circles that have your thighs shaking uncontrollably, “yes, fuck, right there, i’m gonna come. . .”

“yeah? gonna come all over my cock again?” he taunts, voice dripping with mean affection, pinching your clit lightly just to hear you yelp, “satoru!” before soothing it with quick, relentless strokes. “do it, baby. . . milk me, wanna feel this pussy squeeze me while i fill you up, gonna pump you so full you’ll be leakin’ me all week. fuckkk, look at you, taking it so good. my perfect little slut. . .”

the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you so hard your vision blacks out at the edges, whole body locking up as you scream his name into the mattress, “satoru, fuck. i’m coming, cominggg. . .”

your pussy clamping down on him in rhythmic pulses, gushing around his cock in hot, messy spurts that soak his balls and drip down your thighs. he groans loud and broken behind you, “fuuuck, yes, squeeze me just like that.”

hips stuttering as he tries to fuck you through it, drawing out every last tremor until you’re whimpering oversensitive and boneless beneath him.

he doesn’t stop though—not yet—just slows to these deep, grinding rolls of his hips, letting you feel every inch buried inside your spasming walls, his fingers still lazily circling your clit to keep you teetering on that edge. “one more,” he murmurs against the back of your neck, kissing the sweat there, tongue darting out to taste your skin. “gimme one more, princess—wanna feel you fall apart again while i breed this pretty pussy—wanna watch my cum drip out of you with my name around your neck, fuck. . . you’re so perfect when you come for me—”

you’re already shaking your head weakly, overstimulation making tears prick at your eyes, but your hips are pushing back against him anyway, greedy and desperate even when you’re wrecked. “can’t—satoru, too much,” you gasp, voice cracked and raw, but he just chuckles dark and sweet, nipping at your shoulder.

“you can,” he coos, all soft menace, pulling out slow just to watch you clench around nothing before sliding back in with a filthy wet sound. “you will. for me. because you’re mine. my good girl, my favorite—gonna keep you full and shaking till you forget how to say anything but my name,”

he straightens up again, both hands gripping your hips now, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust like he’s using you to chase his own release, the pace turning brutal and unrelenting. your moans turn into these high, broken sobs, “please. . . fuck, satoru, again.” the pleasure-pain building impossibly higher, your body no longer your own, just his to take and ruin and love however he wants.

and god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

he doesn’t give you even a breath to recover, just keeps that punishing pace like he’s trying to fuck the memory of every lonely night you spent without him right out of your body, hips slamming into your ass so hard the impact ripples up your spine and makes your tits bounce against the mattress. you’re so overstimulated it hurts in the sweetest way, every nerve lit up and screaming, your clit throbbing from his fingers, your pussy fluttering wildly around his cock like it can’t decide if it wants to pull him deeper or push him out. tears are leaking from the corners of your eyes now, soaking the sheets beneath your cheek. “satoru, fuck! i can’t, too much, gonna break—” but your body betrays you completely, hips pushing back to meet every brutal thrust, greedy and desperate even when you’re falling apart.

“break?” he laughs, breathless and mean and so fucking fond, leaning down to drape himself over your back, chest heaving against your spine, one arm hooking under your waist to hold you tight while the other keeps rubbing your clit in those quick, filthy circles that make your vision spark white. “baby, you’re not gonna break—you’re gonna come again for me, gonna squeeze my dick so hard i see stars, gonna milk every drop out of me like the perfect little cockslut you are—” his voice cracks on the last word because you clench down involuntarily at the praise, and he groans loud and wrecked right in your ear, “fuuuck—there it is,do that again. . .”

you sob, high and broken, “satoru—i’m—oh god, again.”

and the second orgasm barrels into you without mercy, harder than the first, ripping through your oversensitive body like lightning. your pussy clamps down on him in violent pulses, gushing around his cock again, hot and messy, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you as you shake apart under him. “coming—fuck, satoru—coming so hard. . .” your voice is shredded, muffled into the mattress, whole body locking up and trembling uncontrollably, toes curling so hard they cramp, the necklace swinging wildly beneath you as your back arches off the bed.

he swears viciously, “shit—baby, fuck yes.”

feeling you squeeze him like a vice, and that’s what finally does it, what finally pushes him over the edge he’s been teetering on since he first sank into you. his rhythm stutters, hips jerking erratically as he buries himself as deep as he can go, cock pulsing hot and thick inside you.

“gonna come, fuck, take it, take all of it!” he groans, long and filthy, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as he empties himself in heavy, endless spurts, filling you up exactly like he promised. you can feel every throb, every hot jet painting your walls, and it drags your orgasm out longer, makes you whimper pathetically as he grinds deep, riding it out with these sloppy, desperate thrusts that smear his cum and yours together.

he collapses over you finally, both of you panting like you’ve run a marathon, his weight heavy and comforting, cock still twitching inside you as the aftershocks ripple through you both. “holy… shit…” he breathes against your neck, voice hoarse and wrecked, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “you just… drained me. i’m dead. deceased. write ‘death by perfect pussy’ on my tombstone.”

you laugh, weak and shaky, clenching around him just to hear him hiss and feel him jerk inside you. “you’re* the one who wouldn’t stop,” you mumble, turning your head to nuzzle at his cheek, the necklace cool against your flushed chest now. “i told you i was sensitive, you animal.”

“sensitive?” he echoes, grinning against your shoulder, nipping the skin there before soothing it with his tongue. “baby, you came twice in ten minutes—i’m calling that a talent. an olympic sport. gold medal in cock destruction.” he shifts a little, still buried inside you, and you both groan softly at the movement, oversensitive and raw. “fuck, i’m gonna be leaking out of you for days. gonna feel me every time you sit down, every time you walk to class—gonna think about how full i kept you and get all needy again, huh?”

you whine, reaching back to smack weakly at his thigh. “shut up, toru—i’m literally dying.”

“dying happy,” he corrects, all soft and smug, finally pulling out slow and careful, making you both shudder at the drag and the sudden emptiness. he watches with way too much fascination as his cum immediately starts dripping out of you, thick and white, sliding down your thighs in slow rivulets. “fuck, that’s hot. look at that—my favorite creampie. should take a picture. commemorative.”

“don’t you dare,” you mumble, but there’s no heat in it, just fond exhaustion as you collapse fully onto the bed, limbs jelly, heart racing. he flops down beside you immediately, tugging you into his arms like you’re his personal body pillow, legs tangling with yours, face buried in your neck where the necklace rests against his cheek.

“never,” he promises, voice muffled against your skin, pressing a soft kiss right over the little pink heart. “this view’s all mine anyway.” his arms tighten around you, possessive and tender all at once, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. “missed you so fucking much. don’t let me leave again, okay? chain me to the bed. or to your pussy. i’m flexible.”

you laugh into his chest, fingers sliding up to play with the damp hair at his nape. “deal. but you’re cleaning the sheets tomorrow, you menace.”

“worth it,” he murmurs, nuzzling closer, voice going soft and sleepy. “so fucking worth it.”

you’re melted against him like warm wax, the kind that’s been poured and left to set in the shape of his body—naked skin on naked skin, the thin sheet barely covering your hip because neither of you can be bothered to pull it higher. his shirt is long gone, flung somewhere near the door with the dramatic flair of a man who declared it “too restrictive for post-nut clarity,” and your tank top followed shortly after, peeled off between lazy kisses and his whining about how it was “blocking the view of his favorite necklace.” the room is quiet except for the soft whir of the fan and the occasional creak of the bed when one of you shifts, fairy lights still glowing like a cheesy rom-com filter over your tangled limbs. your cheek is pressed to his chest, ear over the steady thump-thump of his heart, one of his arms slung heavy around your waist while the other traces random shapes on your bare back. your eyes are closed, body humming with that deep, syrupy exhaustion that only comes after he’s fucked you absolutely senseless.

then he opens his mouth and ruins the peace, because of course he does.

“you ever think,” he murmurs, voice low and sleepy-rough, “that maybe we’re soulmates? like, in every universe i’m out there annoying the shit out of you and you’re putting up with me anyway? because i refuse to believe anyone else would let me live after the things i just did to your pussy.”

you snort so hard it shakes both of you, eyes cracking open to squint up at him. “soulmates? really? that’s the line you’re going with after folding me like a lawn chair and coming inside me twice?”

he grins down at you, all soft and dopey, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and leans in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead—gentle, reverent, the kind of kiss that doesn’t belong on the same mouth that was just saying the filthiest shit imaginable ten minutes ago. “what can i say,” he whispers against your skin, “i’m a romantic.”

and there it is again—that memory slamming into you like a truck. his voice raw and desperate in the middle of everything, gasping love you, love you so fucking much like it was ripped out of him, like he couldn’t hold it back anymore. he’s never said it before. not in the almost two years you’ve known him—first as the annoying white-haired idiot in your intro psych class who kept stealing your pens and drawing dicks on your notes, then as your actual friend who dragged you into every dumb adventure imaginable, then as the friend you started hooking up with because the tension was unbearable and the sex was insane.

it started innocent enough—late-night study sessions turning into late-night makeouts, one drunk confession that you both wanted more but were too scared to ruin the friendship, so friends-with-benefits it was. safe. casual. except it stopped feeling casual for you months ago, and you’ve been starving for the real thing ever since, hoarding every soft look and lingering touch like a dragon with gold, too terrified to ask for more.

but he said it. love you. and now he’s kissing your forehead like you’re precious and you’re spiraling.

you swallow, heart suddenly racing again. “toru,” you start, voice small, lifting your head to look at him properly.

“hm?” he hums, thumb brushing your cheek, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear with that gentle focus he saves just for you.

“earlier,” you say, hesitating, fingers fidgeting against his chest where the necklace rests warm against your skin. “when you said… you know. that you love me. what did you mean?”

he blinks, eyebrows shooting up like you just asked if the sky is blue. “what do i mean?” he echoes, tilting his head, fingers still stroking your hair. “baby, i meant i love you. like, duh.”

you stare at him for a second, brain buffering. “but… you’ve never said that before. we’re—we’re just—” you gesture vaguely between your naked bodies, “—this. fucking. hanging out. eating bad ramen at 3 a.m. you don’t… you don’t do the love thing, toru. is it because you missed me? or were you just… overheating at the moment?”

he laughs softly, but it’s not mocking—it’s warm, a little sheepish, and he shifts to prop himself up on one elbow so he can look at you properly, the sheet slipping down to his waist. “overheating? princess, my dick was literally inside you, everything was overheating. but no, that’s not why.” he pauses, biting his lip like he’s trying to figure out how to say it without sounding like a total sap, then sighs.

“look, yeah, i jerked off to your nudes every single day i was gone—don’t look at me like that, you sent them, you knew what you were doing—but it wasn’t just that. i missed you. the whole annoying, perfect package. missed stealing your hoodies and watching you pretend you’re mad about it. missed dragging you to vending machine runs at midnight. missed hugging you when you’re stressed about exams, kissing you when you’re not expecting it, falling asleep with you snoring on my chest like a tiny chainsaw.”

“i do not snore,” you mutter, but it’s weak because your heart is doing cartwheels.

“you do, it’s cute,” he says immediately, grinning, then sobers a little. “point is… i suggested friends-with-benefits in the first place because i was already stupidly in love with you and too much of a coward to say it straight. thought if i could just… be close to you, even if it was just sex at first, maybe you’d catch feelings too. or i’d eventually man up and tell you. turns out getting you off three times is what finally did it.”

you’re staring at him, mouth slightly open, because what the fuck. gojo satoru—campus legend, walking wet dream, rich pretty boy who plays guitar like it’s nothing and has half the school drooling over him, the guy whose dick is apparently a religious experience according to every girl he’s ever slept with (rumors you tried very hard not to hear)—has been in love with you this whole time? the guy who could snap his fingers and have anyone, who’s smart and athletic and funny and tall and built like a god and fucks like one too, has been pining like a lovesick idiot?

“you’re serious,” you whisper, searching his face for any hint of a joke. “you… love me. like actually love me. not just because i let you rail me into the mattress.”

he snorts, but his ears are pink, and he reaches up to flick your forehead gently. “yes, dummy. i love you. have for ages. you’re my favorite person to annoy, to kiss, to fuck, to just… be around. i meant it earlier. mean it now. not just because your pussy is a national treasure—though it is, five stars, highly recommend—but because it’s you.”

you swallow hard, the necklace suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, the little pink heart warms against your skin. “you really mean it?”

he softens completely, cupping your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “i really mean it,” he says, voice low and serious, eyes locked on yours. “love you. for real. no take-backs. no overheating. just you.”

you surge forward and kiss him—hard, desperate, pouring every unspoken thing into it, and he kisses you back like he’s been waiting his whole life, arms wrapping tight around you, pulling you on top of him like he never wants to let go.

when you finally pull apart, breathless and grinning like idiots, he rests his forehead against yours. “so… girlfriend?” he asks, voice teasing but hopeful, fingers tracing the chain around your neck. “or do i have to beg? i’ll beg. i’ll get on my knees again. third time’s the charm.”

you laugh, watery and happy, and kiss him once more, soft and sweet. “yeah, toru. girlfriend.”

he whoops loud enough to wake the whole dorm, rolling you both over so he’s on top, peppering your face with kisses. “fuck yes. best day ever. now cuddle me before i combust from feelings. too many. system overload.”

you roll your eyes but wrap your arms around him anyway, the little pink heart pressed warm between you both, and everything finally, finally feels right.

[randomthoughtsofanimemen]

Loving Aki Hayakawa feels like loving something already halfway gone.

I watch him the same way you watch a candle burn down—quietly, helplessly, knowing it’s beautiful but knowing it’s killing itself just to give off a little light.

He smells like cigarettes and cold mornings. Like cheap coffee that’s gone bitter because he forgot to drink it.

Every day starts the same: tie the topknot, check the sword, light a cigarette he barely smokes, and leave before the apartment feels too much like something worth staying in.

He never lets anyone take care of him. Not really.

He’ll accept help if it’s tactical, if it’s efficient, if it doesn’t look like concern. But the moment it feels like someone is trying to soften him, he shuts the door. Puts the mask back on. Acts like he’s fine.

If I reach for the bandages, he says he’s fine.

If I offer to cook, he says it’s a waste of time.

If I tell him to rest, he looks at me like rest is a luxury meant for people who still expect to live long enough to need it.

And the worst part is that he isn’t fine—he just doesn’t think he deserves to be.

I’ve seen him come back from missions bleeding through his clothes, face calm like nothing happened. I’ve watched him stitch himself up with hands that tremble only after he thinks no one’s looking. He trades years of his life like loose change, makes contracts like they’re errands, gives pieces of himself away so easily it makes my chest ache.

The contracts etched into him like invisible scars. The Curse Devil taking years from his life with every use. The Future Devil laughing in his eye, whispering about how he’s going to die. And still—still—he walks into every fight like it’s his responsibility to pay for everyone else’s survival.

And for what?

For people who barely say thank you.

For a world that only notices him when he’s useful.

Aki protects everyone like it’s his job to disappear for them.

Sometimes I think he believes that if he keeps sacrificing enough, the universe will finally decide he’s paid his debt. Like one day it’ll look at him and say, Okay. You’ve suffered enough. You can rest now.

But it never does.

And I hate that I can’t stop him.

I hate that when I reach for him, he gently moves my hand away—not harshly, not unkindly, just… firmly. Like he’s afraid if he lets me care for him, I’ll get hurt too. Or worse—he’ll want it.

Sometimes I catch him staring at nothing, like he’s already halfway gone. Like the Future Devil is whispering again, showing him the shape of his ending. I want to grab his face and tell him he doesn’t have to be brave anymore. That he doesn’t have to die right to be worth something.

I want to be the one who makes him sit down and eat until he’s full.

The one who washes the blood off his hands instead of pretending not to see it.

The one who tells him that he’s allowed to want a future that isn’t paid for in years shaved off his life.

I want to take care of him the way he takes care of everyone else—quietly, constantly, without keeping score.

But Aki doesn’t know how to be held without bracing for impact.

So I stay beside him instead.

Close enough to notice every new scar.

Close enough to feel the weight of everything he carries.

And every time he walks ahead of me into danger, I wonder how many pieces of himself he has left to give before there’s nothing left at all.

Maybe that’s selfish. Maybe loving Aki Hayakawa means loving someone who’s already chosen to burn out for the sake of others.

But if he’s going to disappear one day—

I want him to know he was loved while he was still here.