a bookmark blog

i see a lot of fics that i would like to read but never get around to so i’m bookmarking here. i’m twentysomething so there will be nsfw stuff

[mintmatcha]

actually really like the idea of bakugo liking you but having zero game or awareness of his tone

[mintmatcha]

"nice outfit" and he doesnt know why you get visibly upset

[mintmatcha]

i think he asks you out after hearing about how someone canceled on you for some outing the group has. maybe a wedding.

"might as well go together," he says. in his mind, he's playing it cool and hoping you can't smell how badly he's sweating right now, because that nervous sweat always makes everything worse and he's afraid to even lift an arm up- "Since neither of us got anything better to do."

there's no response from you for a couple of beats.

"you're really mean sometimes." You gather your things from the desk, head tucked down. "I'm not a fall back plan."

[pillsatoru]

A girl such as yourself — popular, confident, & a total party animal — should be with any boy other than your private tutor. Yet, you found yourself head over heels for satoru gojo, whom you had hired last second to help your astrophysics grade come back up after prioritizing parties and shopping sprees over it. 

You couldn’t help but admire him from time to time. tracing his side profile in your head before doodling it down in the margins of your notebook — the one he had personally bought for you after an accidental coffee spill that ruined your previous one. Not like you had any important notes listed on there to begin with. But that was when something sparked between the two of you, at least, on your end. 

& you definitely couldn’t help but let your feelings for him grow despite each other's social status. 

His white hair mirrored the snow that poured down on the December evening. You waited patiently in the library, silently stalking his figure as it made its way inside the building. Today would mark your last studying session, making your heart feel a tad bit heavy. 

A smile crept up to your face once the doors opened after a minute or so. Quickly patting down your skirt that was above your see through tights, the smile faded when you saw who he had entered with. 

Utahime, a classmate you knew was in your astrophysics class as well. She was majoring in something you knew you couldn’t even be able to understand. point being, she was highly intelligent just like satoru was. 

And they looked incredible together. 

Why has the pairing never clicked to you?

Earlier this week, you recalled jealousy rising in you when utahime interrupted your little rambling with satoru so she could ask for a pen. & it definitely wasn't the first time you've felt possessive over your tutor.satoru smiled at her, laughing at whatever she had said. What made matters worse was when his hand reached up to her raven black hair to pick out fallen snowflakes. 

You felt like throwing up.

Of course he liked her. Everything made sense now. Every small wave given to each other in the hallway, every time they’ve partnered up together in class for a project before you came along.

Why would he waste his time with a wannabe sorority girl who needed extra support for a class deemed easy for both him and utahime? why would he ever consider going out with you of all people. If you were to be in high school, you’d definitely poke fun at him. Hell, you still did before actually getting to know him. He only tolerated you because you paid him for his service at the end of the day. Right?

Your eyesight began to get blurry, forcing you to blink rapidly. satoru said goodbye to utahime, approaching where you sat. He adjusted his glasses that had gotten foggy, pulling out a chair.

“wearing a skirt in this weather?” he commented. “at least you actually put on tights this time. Getting smarter I see.” you stayed quiet, just nodding, flipping your textbook to the assigned page. Satoru's playful smirk flickered at the lack of response. “everything alright?” 

“Yeah. Can we just start?” 

you never just started studying. satoru would have to deal with your usual gossiping first, then watch as you showed pictures of all the new clothes you had gotten over the weekend. “Is everything okay..?” 

you wanted to yell that no, not everything was okay. That your feelings were eating you alive and that you just wanted to oh so desperately smash your lips onto his until he forgot every algebraic formula. 

“I just had a long day.” you simply said.

satoru stared intently, knowing that it was more than just a ‘long day.’ he reached over to close the book, moving you by your chin to look at him. if it were to be any other day, the butterflies in your stomach would be freaking out. but they were still. 

he had a thing for touching you in ways that were beyond ‘friendly.’ Now you wondered if what you thought were reserved actions for just you were also used on her. 

“doll,” his personal favorite nickname to use on you. “its definitely more than that. talk to me. you’re always there for me when im upset, let me be here for you too.” 

it was true that you’d tentatively listen to satoru whenever he had a bad test or when his astronomy club was acting up. It's the least you could do in return. 

“There's nothing wrong.” 

satoru sighed, feeling himself grow frustrated at your inability to confess to what was eating you up. 

your eyes accidentally scanned the room, landing on a familiar red bow. utahime was sat at the computers, posture perfectly straight, clicking away at the keyboard. The look on your face was enough to make satoru turn around. before you could stop him, he figured out immediately what was going on. 

his eyes widened in realization. “hey..” he quietly said, reaching for your hands only for you to pull away. you felt embarrassed, knowing what was about to come. rejection. 

never in your life were you afraid of being rejected by a guy. you could have anyone you wanted, really. all the frat boys shamelessly flirted with you at parties. but you didn’t want them. 

satoru was internally panicking. overtime, his crush on you has doubled in size. no, tripled. he was crazy over you. you were the only thing his few friends would hear about every day whether it be the cute outfit you wore or how you mistook astronomy with astrology. 

“Do you like her?” your voice trembled, making satoru’s heart crack. He immediately shook his head. “no, no god no. utahime?” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “hell no.” 

you didn’t want to believe it just yet. “but the way you walked in with her-“

“We've been friends since childhood. I swear she’s like a sister to me. besides, she’s with shoko right now, they’re going out.”

oh.

you felt embarrassed. 

After a moment of silence, he spoke again “.. did the thought of me going out with her bother you?” he asked, hopeful. His blue eyes stared into yours, somehow making you feel more vulnerable. The library was the last place you’d want to confess to him in, but it really was the place that started it all anyways. 

“Yeah, it did. A lot, actually.” 

satoru fought back an excited smile. “why?” 

“because.. I like you.” 

there it was. the confirmation of the reciprocated love. satoru looked around the place, checking that no one was staring into your direction before placing his lips on yours. 

He was a sloppy kisser, of course. The lack of experience really showed but neither of you cared. Your eyes widened, shutting as you let yourself melt into him. His chair had scooted next to you, allowing him to wrap his arms around your.

“I like you too. so much.” 

⋮

“Fuck, is this what youve been dying to do to me?” satoru slammed your body down onto his aching cock, loving the yelp that came out of your bruised lips. His teeth sank down your neck, savoring you as best as he could. Your hips were giving out with every thrust you gave, requiring his assistance to continue riding him. “Satoru..!” You couldn't even finish your sentence without cringing at the wet noises that were unfortunately coming from your needy cunt. 

His hands kneaded at your ass, forcing you to keep up with the pace he had set. His glasses were missing from his face, now being set on the side table of his bedroom. “Can’t believe you were jealous over me.. Now y’know how I feel every time I see one of those stupid frat guys approach you.” 

“You’re too deep!” You gasped, shutting your eyes close, feeling hot ropes of seed shooting into your womb. “I know,” Satoru hugged you close, fucking his cum back into you. “I know baby, but you can take it.” 

Your clit brushed against his white pubes, tickling you in a way. “Y-you were jealous too..” You managed to ask. Your brows furrowed in pleasure, your stomach knotting in warning. 

Satoru moved the two of you, going from having you ride him to putting you in a mating press. “Yeah, I was.” He had you seeing stars when his cock reached areas you deemed unreachable. Who would've guessed this geek knew how to give a great fuck? Must’ve been all the hentai he’s consumed over the years. He just recently began to imagine the pretty girls in slutty outfits as you, making it easier for him to jerk off late at night. 

The bed wouldn't stop creaking. And you wouldn't stop moaning. 

Satoru groaned, thrusting in meanly, entranced with the way your tits bounced. “Wanted to walk over and fuck- did you get tighter huh? I wanted to punch all of them.” He hunched over to kiss your lips, swallowing every sound. 

You had grown tighter, because all he needed to do was deliver another drag of his cock to have you coming all over it. Satoru sighed, pecking you lightly now. “You’re mine.” 

[bloomflix]

like the movies!

abstract: higuruma pissed you off; he’s stupidly smart, punctual, and has all the qualities of being a top future lawyer (even if he seems to have the emotional intelligence of a puddle). all the reasons why you would do anything to be at the top of your shared political theory class. even if it means having to play romcom heroine with him.

tags + cw: college au! hiromi higuruma x reader; 13k w.c ; academic rivals to lovers; rom-com + music references; fluff + smut; a bit corny but that's ok; #repost from my old blog -- art by mizuart_bolillo on twt <3

aniyaps: those who remember this fic... but yeah, it's edited ! (the original draft was written in hs jesus christ... i cringed so bad editing this but it's better now, i swear) this shit was legit my magnum opus but hopefully my college au! choso fic can surpass it… coming soon!

“Liberty isn’t inherently owed,” Hiromi said, tapping his black pen against the mahogany of the table. “It’s a construct that is shaped and regulated by those in power and in turn, rewards control rather than fairness.”

Higuruma’s words echoed throughout the lecture hall— calm, precise, and annoyingly punctual. His tone was crisp and assertive; like listening to him was like listening to a future litigator (probably was). 

“To negotiate liberty through the lens of moral fairness is to assume that the system is built on fairness. However, it is designed to maintain hierarchy.”

You thought the pen you held was about to explode considering that you gripped it so tight, your knuckles were turning white. You didn’t even notice the way your jaw clenched at his words. 

It’s just that the bastard kept speaking like he knew everything. But that’s the thing. He wasn’t wrong—and that sole fact pissed you off to no avail.

Hiromi Higuruma is smart as hell, top of your class too. However, despite all his academic acclaim, unfortunately, the same praise can't be applied to his... affinity for social interaction. Even a goddamn puddle of spilled coffee would be more charasmatic and warm than him.

For the entire term, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him raise his voice or even laugh at anything, despite your professor’s occasional corny jokes that you can’t help but laugh out of sheer pity. He just sat there like a statue, except for the occasional clicking of the pen that would also, quite frankly, irk you (maybe you should really reevaluate your anger issues like your friends have told you. Or maybe it's just him).

You constantly hear about the praise he receives, despite not having some courses together; always mentioned for being “brilliant” and “ahead of the curve”. Obviously, given the fact he can be quite a prick, and the fact that he is your "academic rival" as you'd put it, of course you were irritated.

He always came to lecture dressed like he had a deposition afterward. Ironed his clothes perfectly pressed, and his plain expression looked like he was bored with everything. 

That shit drove you absolutely insane.

Not to mention, that he simply seems conceited—cocky. He doesn’t greet anyone, and apparently during group presentations, he does his part and leaves everyone else scrambling. 

You hated vain people like that. Hated people that thought they were above others and acted that way.

“Interesting, Higuruma. Very interesting.” Your professor said, looking devastatingly bored. “Does anyone care to respond? Any commentary or inquiry?” Again, your professor's tone seriously sounded quite monotone. Granted, this was a 9 A.M..

Suguru, your friend beside you, shot you a glance that was practically screaming “don’t do it”. 

Suguru, along with almost everyone in the class, were already aware of Higuruma’s antics. That is who he was known as: the know-it-all that always had his hand raised.

He was also unfortunately aware of your disdain for the guy; how he aggravated you with his constant "raise of the hand" and refusal for human interaction in the hallways. To be fair, he didn’t even want to take the class but had to as a philosophy major. However, that isn’t to say he didn’t find your one-sided beef with the guy not entertaining. Just the sheer mention of Higuruma had you fuming. It was fucking hilarious.

“Y/N. Don’t,” he whispered.

Too late.

You already raised your hand with a prissy little smile etched on your face. 

Maybe it was the fact that you woke up late, got your coffee order done wrong, and the fact that you lost your train card. But you weren’t about to deal with Higuruma getting the last word like always.

You didn't back down. And you didn't want to (unfortunately, you were also too prideful to put your hand down given the fact it shot up so fast).

“Yes,” you said, clearing your throat. “With respect, Higuruma’s argument assumes that liberty is transactional—that it is something handed down or withheld depending on someone’s access to institutional power, is not liberty’s fault rather those systems.”

You noted the way Higuruma turned to look at you from the front of the lecture hall. He didn’t even look at you with disdain rather interest. His gaze towards you lacked the usual judgement it had when someone said something stupid or redundant during class and his eyebrows were pinched together. 

He was listening intently to what you were saying.

“Rousseau would argue that liberty must exist independently from power structures and when it doesn’t, that just means the social contract is broken—not that liberty itself is just leverage. Then that means, we risk reducing liberty to a tool of oppression rather than a foundational principle worth reclaiming.“

You could hear Suguru’s slight chuckle at your words, challenging Mister ‘Definitely-Going-To-A-Top-10-Law-School’. He looked at the rest of the class to notice that everyone was looking at you—and how could they not? 

You were the first person to really challenge something “the genius of the class” said. And you kind of had a point with your words? Oh, how could you. How utterly preposterous.

You shot your professor and Higuruma a smile. Higuruma tilted his head towards you almost innocently. Like he wasn’t aware that your words were dripping with malice and opposition. 

One to nothing.

Your professor went back to pacing and his expression ceased from looking bored. “You have a point, Miss L/N. Very valid challenge to Mister Higuruma and his commentary. Now back to page 466…”

Suguru snickered as he tapped his pen on the table. “That is probably the first time in the semester that someone’s gone up against him during lecture time. How nice, Y/N.”

“Yeah. No thanks to you,” you sneered, gaining post-discussion clarity.  

However, you never thought that you would really interact with Hiromi Higuruma again after that. He was an uptight know-it-all with his personality depth equivalent to white-out, and you purposefully avoided him even before all of this. Even so, he had his own pretentious clique of future law school students in his work study and internship. 

To be fair, the only moments you did was the occasional disagreement in class after the first time, however that itself was rare.

But here you were, emailed a few weeks later regarding your selection to the prestigious school journal for the political science column—and being paired with that fucker. 

The universe—or rather your professor—must hate you.

“Congratulations! You have been selected by the Liberal Arts department to co-author the semester's Political Science journal piece. The assigned topic is Civil Liberties in Post-Democratic Systems, and the writers will be Y/N L/N and…Hiromi Higuruma.”

You tapped on your phone in disdain when you finished reading the email. “I just got asked to write something for the Political Science journal piece for the LAS department,” you scoffed. "What a start to my weekend."

The setting you were at was pretty loud, dimly lit, and typical for a Friday at your campus bar. You were already a few drinks in when you got the notification alerting you of the dreaded, fucking email. 

You took a dramatic swig of your beverage and placed it on the table. “You three are smart—to some extent. Tell me why I, such a sophisticated scholar, am being punished like this.” 

Suguru raised an amused eyebrow at your reaction and laughed. “You literally got into the most competitive writing fellowship on campus and you’re calling it punishment? God, you’re such a piece of work.”

Shoko nodded, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Fuck, are you drunk already?”

You frowned and unlocked your phone to show them the email. Satoru took your phone dramatically and cleared his voice like he was reciting a Shakespearean poem at a slam poetry event. 

“Congratulations, Miss Y/N. Yada yada blah blah, selected for Civil Liberties…Writers will be…Oh...” Satoru hummed before letting out a hearty guffaw. “Are you serious? You’re stuck with Hiromi Higuruma of all people? Holy shit, these jokes write themselves.”

"Shut up," you groaned, covering your face and hitting your phone on your forehead in an attempt to look dramatic. “Now I'm stuck with a guy that has a damn superiority complex? How thrilling.”

“Awh. I’m sorry, Y/N,” Suguru said, mock sympathy dripping from his words. “You know how that guy is, but I can’t lie, this is quite entertaining.”

Satoru’s eyebrow quirked up. “The same Higuruma in your Social Justice 201 class who made Yuki cry? Didn’t he say she ‘didn’t belong in the class’ over a misunderstanding?”

Shoko laughed. “Oh my god. I remember when you told me the story about him submitting an entire paper with case citations for a damn theory class? God, I’m not in liberal arts but that sounds insane. He’s already quite the character in our stats class. Right, Satoru?”

Satoru laughed and nodded. "That guy might be a bigger piece of work than you, Y/N, and that says a lot."

You paused for a moment before really thinking; you didn’t hate the guy based on everything he did… some things were rather…

“Fuck, I can’t even lie… but that whole ‘being prepared’ thing is hot if he isn’t being pretentious about it.”

The three of your friends went silent before Satoru let out a giggle. You didn’t even catch what you said out loud until Satoru spoke to call you out.

“So…you’re sayin’ you’re into him? Ouu shit...”

Suguru let out a damn giggle at your misfortune. “You bitch about him all the time during class and now this happens to you?  This couldn’t get better.” Shoko hummed, "oh but it could... Let's just see how Y/N gets after this."

You flicked Satoru’s forehead and frowned. “No. I’m not into him, I’m into winning. I’m into being the first in that class because I need a recommendation letter from that professor.”

Then you turned to the others. “You two are really, really full of shit.”

“Wouldn’t you just need a good relationship with the teacher to do so?” Shoko asked.

You shook your head. “No. He’s putting a cap for 3 recommendation letters—or the top person in each of the classes he teaches.”

Shoko nodded. “Gotcha. So you’re into leverage? Smart, smart.”

You nodded. “Exactly. I’m gonna make him so irritated that he’ll drop out of the journal and it’s gonna be all me. Then I’ll be at that Top Three.”

“You sound like a movie villain, holy fuck.”

“Or…” Satoru said, swirling his drink.

“Oh no.”

“You seduce him.” He said, deadpan. It was quiet for a moment between the four of you, with everyone looking at Satoru like he had gained a third head.

“From all the shit you’ve ever said, Satoru,” Shoko laughed. “This might be the smartest yet most stupid idea you’ve ever come up with.”

You frowned. “You too? You’re better off watching 10 Things I Hate About You or How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days? I fear there’s no romance happening between me and that guy.”

Satoru giggled. “No, this would be ‘10 Objections On How To Seduce A Poli Sci Student’ or I don’t know. Whatever legal jargon you future lawyers use.”

“Think about it,” Suguru said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “These guys aren’t wrong and imagine if he did fall for you. This might surprise you to know, but I know some of his ‘friends’ and overheard them talk about his type.”

“His type?” Your eyes narrowed at him. Hiromi Higurumahas friends? He has an ideal type? Fuck, wait, why are you even curious about this?

Suguru nodded and dabbed some of the ash onto the little ashtray beside him. “Mhm. He’s into those political science girls. And oh my God! Look! You major in that! Well, what a coincidence.”

You snorted. “Uh huh, tough shit. You forget I minor in Economics too... Y’know, I’ve been thinking of what he reminds me of. He’s like, very Miles Edgeworth in real life—and not in a good way. In a bad way. Very.”

“But, you could.” Satoru grinned. “You’ve got the looks—because you’re pretty, no weird shit—the brains, and ability to say those weird Latin legal terms without brutally mispronouncing them. He wouldn’t stand a damn chance. You’re gonna have that guy wrapped around your slimy little finger.”

“Gross... but on some actual serious shit, I don't even think he is capable of romance,” you said meekly. “What if he’s like…Gee, I don’t know? Not interested in dating? I’ve never heard of him ever dating anyone. He’s probably better off with his books.”

You then shrugged. “Besides, he’s not my type. I’m not into over-the-top bastards who have an insanely inflated ego.”

Your eyes widened at Satoru letting out the biggest cackle of the night, his face practically turning red like you said the funniest thing ever. “Are you serious? Let’s be honest, your type is shit. Higuruma is a much better option in comparison to the other two guys you’ve dated: stupid and utterly incompetent. Let's not forget Naoya, now."

He had a point… 

“You’ve got nothing to lose, Y/N.” Shoko said. “Let’s make a bet.”

You felt your stomach drop at what she said and feared for the worst. “Uh huh. What type of bet are you trying to make?”

She leaned in and put her hand on your shoulder mockingly. “You make Hiromi Higuruma—Mister Top-of-the-Class—fall for you by the end of the semester. We’ll give you 400 bucks from all of us.”

Suguru shrugged. “I catch him taking a little look at you occasionally. A little here and there. You’re like practically a quarter there.”

Satoru snickered at your reaction. “Awh, this is so like the movies. So so cute!”

You scoffed at the proposition and at the shitty nicknames given to the guy. “He looks at everyone like he’s about to cross-examine them. Don’t start with that bullshit.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” Suguru said.

“Let’s raise the stakes a bit, then.” Satoru raised his finger like a little kid attempting to call the teacher’s attention and cleared his throat. 

“Father dearest is planning to hire some undergrad student shadows for the legal department at our humble family finance group.”

You froze. “Are you suggesting…Corporate law experience..?”

While Satoru pretends to be “dumb”, he comes from the Gojo financial conglomerate. He’s the epitome of being a “daddy’s money” “trust fund” baby.

He smiled. “Precisely. It’s paid, prestigious according to some accounts, and exclusive, according to my uncle. But you already have me. He recently told me that they're planning to receive applications and well, you'll be a favorite considering you have me."

“And if I lose..?”

Shoko shot you a saccharine smile. “You do our stats homework for the rest of the semester. All of it.”

You frowned, weighing the options of attention from your potential-future legal peers to stats homework. You hate that class. It was too annoying.

Higuruma’s face flashed in your mind for a second; his stupid thin wire-frame glasses and that stupid fucking face he makes when someone says something obviously dumb in class. His cocky demeanor also came to mind, making you frown.

You let out a deep exhale. “Fine, but when I succeed—and trust me, I will—I expect all of you to kneel to me during graduation.”

They smiled. 

“You’ve got it.”

                              ──────────────────── 

When you entered, the library smelled like old parchment, the smell of wood polish, and the presumable tears of first year students getting through exams. The sun gleamed over the area of the library from the large windows overlooking the rest of campus.

You glanced at your wristwatch and looked at the time, it being 4:25 in the afternoon. 

You had emailed Higuruma during your stats class to meet when the afternoon lecture was done at the library at 4:35.

The window seat with the two outlets was bare and you decided to station there while waiting for him. 

You placed your things and were finally starting to accommodate yourself and establish your amazing intellectual dominance with your long and cluttered notes. You typed away on a starting document, sharing him on it and sipping on your sadly overpriced matcha from the cafe by campus.

However, just when you were starting to find a bit of solace in your typing and rich matcha, you felt a shift and heard the doors clash open rather dramatically.

He was here.

Your eyes shifted in front of you, where you spotted Hiromi walking towards you—walking like he just walked out of a courtroom where his client was just fucking sentenced to death. 

Yeah, that type of ominous and serious presence.

He was dressed in a dark grey turtleneck, dark colored slacks, and some expensive looking, black leather loafers from the looks of it. And worst of all, he had his stupid little leather satchel that screamed ‘future pretentious law student’.

He looked like he jumped out of The Secret History; dark academia aesthetic and all.

“L/N,” he said, acknowledging you while he set his things down across from you on the table. 

“Higuruma,” you replied, not looking up from your laptop in fear of looking him in the eye. 

A little beat of silence passed amongst the two of you where he spoke—the same pretentious authority he usually spoke with. “I didn’t expect you to be early.”

“I didn’t expect you to show up at all, quite frankly,” you muttered, taking a sip of your matcha before realizing you actually said that out loud. 

You weren’t wrong when saying that. Amongst your peers in your Political Theory class, Higuruma had quite the reputation for being neglectful to his peers when it came to group projects, or so you’ve heard.

“May I look at these?” You felt relief that he ignored your stupid little quip and you nodded, sliding your notes from class over to him. 

You felt your face get warm and looked up to see him already reading your notes; he was taking out a legal pad and fucking Levenger fountain pens. His stupid expression was neutral but focused—analysing your notes. 

How annoying.

“So, I thought we could start with outlining the major arguments and split the sections based on the scope,” he said bluntly. Despite Higuruma being your age, you felt like you were speaking to one of your professors due to his demeanor; even more the reason to mess with him.

“No foreplay?” Your voice sounded more deadpanned than usual, which wasn’t on purpose. It slipped out, causing your face to turn warm, but it proved useful when it came to being the cause for Higuruma’s expression to be anything but a stone-cold one.

His expression faltered and his eyebrow twitched; the pen he was holding had its ink bleeding through the pages of his legal pad while he appeared to be thinking on what to say to your interesting choice of words.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “...Excuse me?”

You shot him a smile: sweet and extremely fake. “Metaphorically, I meant. I was thinking of starting with a basic thesis breakdown before jumping into the actual structure of what we were going to discuss—before we get too far ahead of ourselves. Then, obviously, construct our abstract of the paper so execution can go smoothly.”

He stared at you blankly—like he didn’t know what to say again, before returning to his own notes and placing yours back to your side of the table. “Your choice of metaphor is quite…strange.”

You kissed your teeth and nodded. “Yup. I get that a lot. What can I say?”

Hiromi paused and glanced up at you, his gaze lingering a bit longer than expected for someone like him—like he was almost examining your face? You felt like a witness in court being cross-examined.

Your eyebrow raised. “Problem, Higuruma?”

“No…” he said, leaning his head onto his wrist. “Just confirming that you’re as unconventional as everyone says…”

Your smirk faltered and you leaned back in your chair. So the little bastard talks bad about you?

“That sounds like gossip. Didn’t take you for the type to indulge in that, Higuruma.” His expression was rather plain as his eyes were glued onto his screen as he wrote some things down in his legal pad.

“I’m not,” he said simply. “But your name has come up before.”

You blinked. 

What the fuck? 

You scoffed. “The hell does that mean?”

Higuruma didn’t answer, rather just turned his folder and passed you a printed outline of a running bibliography with disgustingly clean formatting of his APA citations and the precis on what he wrote. They were color coded by ideology and in alphabetical order with a key up top.

Fucking show-off.

You narrowed your eyes at him and scoffed a bit. You had barely gotten the email two days prior and he had a running bib that was 7 pages long front and back. 

“You do realize that this is just a student journal piece, right? Not a damn dissertation?”

He didn’t react, but instead, continued looking over his notes and typing some notes on his MacBook. “If you are going to write about something like post-democratic systems, it’s better to be precise and do it properly.”

You rolled your eyes at his stiff response and took the outline he placed on the table. From your peripheral, you noted how his eyes went to you and how he watched you do it.

You couldn’t help but admire the organization—how neat, logical, and useful it was. 

It was, unfortunately, useful and easy to work with.

“Okay,” you began. “I’ll take the opening section of the paper and look at Hobbes and Rousseau—some basics and classic theory. You can take modern structures. So like Hayek, Schmitt, and all that constitutionalism shit you obsess over during lecture.” You said the last part rather low in hopes that he wouldn’t hear you.

You looked up to see his expression and his lips twitched upward; he almost cracked a smile. Almost. 

“Fair.”

His tone was plain like always, but with a twinge of something else. You felt your stomach turn... For some reason you didn't feel irritated rather...

Your eyes widened a bit. “You didn’t argue.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I was hoping you would tell me about the structure. It helps me really look at what you’re good at so we could work together accordingly.”

What? He was waiting for you to announce who took what? And he thinks you're good at it? Isn’t he just a prick who doesn’t take that into consideration? 

Maybe he thinks you’re competent. You both were chosen and recommended by a professor. But he just admitted to talking shit about you? 

Or maybe Higuruma just doesn’t know how to word ‘I think you’re so awesome and deserve the first spot’ properly.

His comment caught you off guard and you looked at him for a moment, his eyes already on you. 

“Careful, Higuruma. I could mistake that for a compliment.”

“I know.”

You stared at him and maintained eye contact before you dropped your gaze back to your laptop and began using the running bib he had given you for some reference. It was a mix of some classic theories from class up to some other commentaries from different professors about this topic from other universities. 

But he almost complimented you?!

Shady fucking bastard.

Minutes passed and he didn’t joke, flirt, nor comment. But you felt on edge, like if you breathed too heavily, he could say something. However, you maintained your rhythm, not speaking a word until you were kicked out of the library and you ended your meeting with a simple ‘bye, see you next class’. 

He was rather dry and had you on the edge of your seat, and you hated that with a passion.

                              ────────────────────

You felt like the sun was going to blind you. You had forgotten your contacts and dealt with your glasses, with the sun specifically shining and reflecting on the glass of your lenses.

But it felt wrong feeling that way; despite it being rather chilly outside and perfect for sweater weather. It was a nice day—weather wise.

The lecture hall for your Political Inquiry class was still locked and you waited outside, leaning against the ivy-ridden, red brick wall of the building, looking at your surroundings. Your gaze followed the occasional cyclist and jogger who went by the trail in front of you. 

You felt your eyes close and you let out a deep exhale. The thought of what happened yesterday left you anticipating—for what? You didn’t know. 

You never had the chance to properly digest the fact you actually interacted with Higuruma alone. Maybe it was overthinking but, you couldn’t help but feel rather weird about it. Despite the initial joking with your friends, in hindsight, you didn’t know how to feel.

It wasn’t an unpleasant encounter, despite his unexpected quips here and there. Maybe you could work with him. But what about the bet? You needed that recommendation letter.

“L/N?” Your eyes flickered to the ground, meeting the sight of black leather loafers in front of you. You looked up to see Higuruma, pushing his wire glasses up the bridge of his nose and carrying a textbook. “What are you doing out here?”

“I–I mean…lecture?” You stammered, feeling your face warm for no reason. “Why? The lecture hall is closed and—”

“Didn’t you catch the email? Our professor wanted to meet in the library. I was just passing by to go.” His tone wasn’t mean but dry—clinical and superficial. Like you were another stupid classmate who didn’t know the difference between political ideals.

You narrowed your eyes at him, his expression plain. “I…didn’t know. Thanks, I guess, for letting me know. Unless you’re joking with me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not.”

You kissed your teeth and nodded. “Alright.”

You began walking down the trail and noticed how he walked beside you. The creeping heat in your cheeks returned and you felt like you couldn’t speak. 

He walked with such authority, like he was headed to a courtroom. And he smelled good—maybe cedarwood? You reached in your sweater’s pocket and pulled out your AirPods to cancel out the silence.

“What do you have so far for the paper?”

Your eyebrows raised and you hesitated. “I have a good 4 paragraphs done so far, but I’m definitely going to revise it when I get back. I’m definitely gonna add some structuralist angles and Rousseau. Then it would be much more intuitive.”

You noticed the manner in which his brow twitched. He hummed in acknowledgment to your words before he spoke up. 

“You write very…defensively,” he said looking at you sideways. “It’s not bad.”

You frowned. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not trying to offend you. It means you’re smart in your own way.”

You fought off a smile. “Is that…a compliment?”

“An observation.” His tone was flat, forcing you to laugh out of pure awkwardness. “You’re quoting? Correct?”

You snorted. “Of course. This isn’t a damn Buzzfeed article.”

Then you saw how the corners of his mouth twitched like he was going to smile at your quip. “That’s…fair.”

You took out your AirPod from your ear and placed it in the case snug in your pocket as you walked. Maybe he wasn’t as unbearable as always. 

“You said you’re starting with Hobbes, right?”

“Mhm. Framework-wise and then I’ll tie it all together. You?”

He nodded. “Well, I’m building off that with Hayek and market structure in constitutional states.”

You blinked. “That’s…not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess something more cutthroat. That’s how you are in class anyway…”

“So are you,” he shot back plainly. Like his words were so normal in the context of who he was. 

You stopped walking for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed while your mouth was agape at his bluntness. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I haven’t not noticed the fact that you’re the only person in our Political Theory who has had something to say to my commentary. I’m pretty sure everyone else doesn’t even care to be there.”

You felt your ego rise and a twinge of disbelief. Since when was he so direct? 

“Right…so you remember what I said?”

“It wasn’t a bad argument.”

“Uh huh…I’m honored.”

The sound of your sneakers clashed with the sound of his sleek loafers on the pavement and before you knew it, Higuruma had tapped you on the shoulder, phone in hand. 

“Would it be alright if I got your number?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words and he noticed. “Excuse me?” 

He blinked profusely and motioned his hands awkwardly. “Strictly for coordination. Email would be too tedious, especially with our course load. This would be the most convenient for the both of us.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking it. “Sure. But if you send me some political Instagram Reel bullshit at night, consider yourself blocked.”

A slight twinge of a smile graced his face before he nodded. “Noted.”

You smirked and shoved the AirPod back in your ear as the two of you walked again in peaceful silence to your lecture.

                                ──────────────────── 

“What do you think of the edits so far?” 

Higuruma is a punctual man, you were already aware of that. So much so that he established a schedule to meet twice a week every week for the next month and a half or so. 

That’s how you found yourself constantly leaving to the library once the afternoon lecture was over. And how you found yourself currently revising his part of the paper on his couch. The library was currently under renovations so you felt a bit surprised that Higuruma waited for you outside your stats class to “walk over to his place” to revise the paper. 

He had said it in such a calm and casual voice that you didn’t think anything of it. That was until you actually were in front of his apartment door, waiting for him to unlock it and enter. 

You were in your academic rival’s apartment. Alone. With him.

This was the last time you were going to revise this since the term was almost over. All that was left was submitting the piece and your final.

The actual apartment wasn’t as cold and scary as you thought. You spotted some pictures of him with his parents and what appeared to be a little novelty figure of a chess rook on a table, along with a little action figure. His apartment was also littered with bookshelves that were aesthetically organized and it was nice. 

Not what you thought. You imagined something painfully boring and beige, yet this was actually depicting some type of personality. 

You held your red pen and printed copy of your piece tightly, analyzing the structuring of his paragraphs while he did the same to yours. 

“For your Rousseau part,” he started,  “it needs a bit of restructuring. He sounds like he contradicts himself when speaking about natural liberty and civil liberty. The transition is too abrupt. Change it. Other than that, your argument is fairly strong and good.”

You narrowed your eyes at him from across the couch despite the twinge in your heart from his clear compliment about your writing. The two of you had been making final revisions for hours and you yawned, ignoring his commentary.

“Hiromi. Do you ever just turn it off? Like just relax...Okay?” Now you were full-on ignoring him, yet now, you have gotten to the point where you had gotten comfortable enough to do so. "Do you ever just... get on social media and talk shit or something? Reddit, Quora, maybe you're a little freak and you use Twitter."

His lips curved to a slight smile. “To do that, I’d need to be on social media constantly in the first place.”

You snorted. “Oh right. God forbid you don’t have the masses begging to access a piece of your intricate little mind.”

“You seem to have access just fine.”

You glared at him to which he looked at you deadpanned and covered his face with the printed paper he held. His ears were pink.

That was something in your mind too when it came to Higuruma, it was like a switch flipped.

When you had first met with him to look at the paper in the library, he was simply stoic and quite dense, dressed like he was to go to a courtroom after your meeting. But now, he still dressed like a pretentious law student, but he almost seemed like he was getting more casual. 

His attire shifted from Oxfords to casual Asics or Nike shoes, and from his knit sweaters and cardigans to sweatshirts from your college and such.

He was less blunt and ‘old man’ when he spoke to you. Now, he actually sounded like someone in your age range rather than an 80 year old professor on his 5th divorce (a.k.a, your current Political Theory professor). His tone shifted from completely academic to more human.

You had even started calling each other by your first names. 

Truth be told, you’ve really gotten quite comfortable with him.

You looked over to check the time on your phone, it being around 8:50.

“We’re probably gonna be here for a while, and I don't think you'd kick me out so suddenly. It’s the weekend tomorrow,” you said, yawning. “Let’s get some caffeine. I saw a coffee shop by here. Let’s go.”

To your surprise, Hiromi didn’t seem bothered by it. He hummed in agreement and nodded. 

He got up from the carpet and stretched. “Okay. Let me get my wallet and keys.”

You didn’t know why, but you felt your heart slightly flutter at the sound of his raspy voice. Even more so when you accidentally looked at him while he stretched and got the view of his toned lower stomach as his sweater lifted. 

It’s not like his outfit was anything out of the ordinary either; he wore his regular old purple sweatshirt that had your college crest embroidered on it and regular old jeans—however, it did look good on him. It...kinda...really did.

God, you felt like a 19th century prude. Seriously? Getting flustered over his lower stomach and boxers peeking out? Your ex-boyfriend would strip and you wouldn't feel anything but now?

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hiromi looked at you concerned, keys and wallet in hand as he was putting on his shoes by the door of his apartment. You were still on the couch, head against your wrist and daydreaming.

You felt your face get warm and nodded profusely, grabbing your own wallet beside your phone on the coffee table and putting on your own shoes. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The apartment complex he lived in was rather quaint, taking a good 3 minutes to get to the ground level from the emergency stairs. The cafe itself was also quite a short distance—only being some 4 blocks away. It seemed familiar but maybe it was because you were familiar with the area already.

The smell of coffee beans and lavender hit you while the two of you went over to the barista taking orders. 

“What can I get you two?” They asked, to which Hiromi answered. 

“May I get a medium black coffee and a small iced matcha with brown sugar?”

“15.98, please.” 

He handed the barista his card and waited for the transaction to pass where you then found yourself waiting for the order with him by the pick-up area. 

It was so quick, you didn’t know what to say.

“You remembered my order? I must be spending too much time with you,” you joked. “You didn’t have to pay. I could have.”

He didn’t say anything and you just went on your phone to see what games you could play while you waited. You felt a strange feeling at the fact that he remembered your order; so mundane and small yet…it left you with a weird feeling. You just couldn’t explain what it was. You felt warm.

Maybe it was courtesy on his behalf. You didn’t know—just that it felt a bit casual.

You placed an AirPod in your ear while waiting for the order to be completed, scrolling through your playlists. The cafe was littered with college students in presumably similar situations to finish their own individual papers. 

Maybe it was a bit of a cringe thing, but you began humming the lyrics of the song you listened to, and then noticed Hiromi moving a bit to look at you, specifically looking at the AirPod peeking through your hair. 

“What is it today?” He inquired, making note of your habit of listening to your AirPods when you weren’t speaking in public. 

“Oh. It’s The Smiths.”

Hiromi nodded slowly before he said something that nearly shook you to your core. “May I?”

You blinked slightly at his words. 

Never did you think someone like Hiromi Higuruma—the person you were in such a weird frenemy-ship with, would ask for an AirPod of all things. Something so mundane yet so…intimate? Or maybe you were over-thinking... What the hell?

“You want one?”

He didn’t verbally respond, rather extended his hand towards you. You looked at his blank face then at his hand—big, calloused—and took out your AirPod case to which you gave him the left one and placed it on his palm. 

He gently tucked it into his ear and listened to the music resuming for the both of you. It played a song off The Smiths’s The Queen Is Dead album—one of your favorites. You looked over to see Hiromi, slightly smiling. 

It was calm and gentle. You felt oddly at peace with the man you nearly professed your hatred to at your first meeting. 

You really were calm right now, really. But then—

“You bitch!” 

Holy shit, you thought your heart was about to jump out of your chest. 

You turned around to see lo and behold, your best friends Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru appeared out of thin air. In the fucking flesh. In the cafe right by Hiromi’s apartment.  

No wonder it felt so familiar. Those three idiots lived nearby.

“No fucking way,” you muttered. 

Hiromi looked confused and opened his mouth to say something until he noticed your order was ready and walked over to get it, where your triple threat set of friends walked over to you. Except from what you can tell, Suguru was missing, and was rather, next to your project partner.

“You’re such a slut.” Satoru said mockingly, pointing at your outfit up and down while giggling like a damn moron. 

“Oh shut it.” You sneered. He was right to note your outfit—but you swear it wasn’t to seduce Hiromi. Not in the slightest. The most it did was showcase cleavage.

“Tomorrow’s laundry day, you idiots.” You heard Hiromi cough from beside you, covering his face as he turned around with Suguru beside him.

You felt on edge considering their expressions; with Suguru having a smile while Hiromi looked rather contemplative. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pursed, almost like he was anxious.

Shoko snickered. “It’s okay, girl.”

“Well, Satoru, Shoko, we should leave these two on their date. Wouldn’t wanna interrupt.” Suguru said, a sly smile playing on his lips. 

“Study break,” you corrected, feeling your face become flushed and warm. 

Hiromi nodded and you noticed the way that your friends smiled at each other and exchanged knowing glances.

His face was turning pink.

“Okay then. Bye, Y/N. Bye, Higuruma. Have fun.” Satoru called out. Rather ominously. 

You eyed the three of them as they left the cafe and waved at you from the window. 

“Are those your friends?” Hiromi quietly asked, leaning over to see if he could still spot your friends. His hand was awkwardly placed near his face where it was slightly covered.

“Unfortunately,” you said with an annoyed smirk. “I swear that their combined IQ is the equivalent that of a carrot’s.”

You heard him let out a slight chuckle. “Gotcha.”

He handed you your drink and the both of you walked over to leave the cafe after that strange encounter. You still were sharing your AirPods with him and the melody of a random, you were pretty sure, Radiohead song filled the silence. 

You glanced over to him, who was sipping his coffee rather calmly. You felt the tension and disdain for him slowly disappear and you walked in peace. Then, you turned to him with a teasing smile and asked, “So…what do you think of my lovely friends?”

Hiromi’s lips twitched to a slight smirk. “I recognize Ieiri and Gojo from my statistics class. Then, we have Geto in our political theory class and he’s also in my public speaking class. They seem alright. We don’t really speak.”

You hummed and nodded. “Right.”

He looked over at you and cleared his throat a bit, noticing the song transition. “What song is this?”

You checked your phone and showed him the screen— the title of "High and Dry” appearing beneath the album cover plastered on the home screen.

He nodded. “It’s good. The frontman sings really nice.”

"Mhm... I like him too." Your eyebrow quirked up. “You don’t seem the type to like alternative rock. I kinda doubted you'd even like this in the first place. Like yeah, this is quite basic but regardless...” 

You snorted. He didn’t seem the type to even like music at all and came off as someone who preferred white noise instead.

His eyebrows raised and he drank his coffee. “Do I really seem that type? Tell me, what music do you think I like?”

You smiled. “Probably some shit like Mozart? Bach? Dunno. Something smart like that.”

You felt your muscles relax and felt your cheeks warm. You felt comfortable in his presence despite having thoughts back to the stupid bet you made. 

Your heart fluttered at what happened next: he laughed, like an actual laugh.

Your eyes widened as you simply gawked at him laughing. It wasn’t a quick chuckle nor a scoff, he actually laughed. 

It was a melodic sound—something you didn’t expect from him of all people. It flowed natural and smooth despite his usually tired and deep sounding voice. 

You wanted to hear it again.

“Really? I seem like that? I know you’re quite the jokester but I’m not like that.” He smiled at you, and all you did was simply gawk at him like he gained a third head.

You shrugged. “You give off those vibes. But hey, I’d love to get music recommendations from the great Hiromi Higuruma someday. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find my next favorite song.” You said, unaware of his raised eyebrow at your words. 

He didn’t seem opposed. 

“You use Spotify, right? We can make a shared playlist. We can listen to it while we make some final edits to the paper.”

“Oh! Sure.” You stopped for a second before handing him your phone where he made a blank playlist and shared his own Spotify profile. 

You took your phone back and raised an eyebrow at the title of the playlist. “Poli-Sci Journal Playlist? Is that the best you could come up with? How dry.”

“You choose then, if you have such a problem with my chosen playlist title.”

And before you were going to respond, he spoke up. “We’re here.”

The casualness between you two made you feel warm. Especially considering the fact that he was now initiating it; it made you feel like you weren’t annoying him. Like the quips you let out weren’t just one-sided. 

Like you had nothing to really “hate” on him for. You initially hated him for being dry, but as of now he was anything but.

You were lost in thought while taking the elevator to his apartment where he tapped your shoulder. 

“C’mon.”

“Right.”

Once you reached his apartment, you got readjusted onto the couch, grabbed the coasters he had lying around in the coffee table, and placed your matcha there. 

He walked over to the couch and sat by you, on his phone. Surprisingly.

You smiled and attempted to peer over his shoulder to see his screen. “Talking to your girlfriend, Higuruma?” You didn't know why that quick quip you threw at him made your chest feel heavy. Maybe it was because you were worried about that he would say... but you could always pass it off as you joking...?

His eyebrow raised at your quip and shrugged, handing you his phone. “That’s up for interpretation, I guess,” he paused and glanced at you, smiling shyly. “Here, I added some songs to the playlist.”

You took it and looked at it. “‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over’? ‘About You’? 'To the End'? I think it’s safe to assume you don’t have a girlfriend, but hey. These are really good songs.” Again, your chest began to feel heavy.

“That’s up to your interpretation. But yeah, I enjoy those songs.” His voice sounded like as if he was nervous—like he was trying something new, but you decided not to question it despite it being out of character from his usual authoritative nature.

You went back onto analyzing the paper and read it—anything to avert your attention from him and his stupid face. His phone was playing the songs the two of you had chosen on the playlist. 

As of now, The 1975 was playing, a popular song of their's that you've heard on the radio before, filling the slight silence in the apartment. You loved the song—but felt anxious—you felt antsy.

Still, one thing was on your mind: why was he being so cryptic?

You sat on the couch with him, analyzing a draft paragraph on theory of fairness when you noticed his expression changed as you leaned closer. 

You noted the change in his gaze from your peripheral; the manner he leaned against the edge of the couch and the way he was just looking at your figure. It was methodical, careful—almost reverent.

You glanced back at him. His eyes lingered on the slope of your neck, the pretty shape of your lips, to finally the allure of your eyes. 

The lamplight, all warm and dimmed, softened his features. 

In the light, he didn’t look like the same harsh classmate that executed everything he did in a precise manner.

The shadows softened his features in a way that could make angels cry and he looked like a muse for a classical Roman statue. The way his pretty lips parted like he was going to say something, the way his eyes softened under your returning gaze and the way his nose looked so sharp yet alluringly sexy. 

You felt a clench in your chest at the thought, at the effect he had on you. His expression was unreadable. 

You swallowed and cleared your throat. “This is perfect now, Hiromi. I think that we did pretty good…” Your voice was a bit shaky, anxious-sounding. 

You were just blabbering about the topics covered when he suddenly interrupted you.

“You’re always so confident, L/N.“

You became stiff. His voice was lower—deeper, almost seductive. It had an edge you couldn’t explain.

He tilted his head slightly and the corners of his lips curved. “Is that to our—my benefit?”

The pronunciation of his words left you breathless—the way he said ‘my’ left shivers down your spine. 

Maybe it was the caffeine and sleep deprivation making you think in such a manner. Despite that, you couldn’t deny how aggravatingly good he looked. How much you felt drawn to him—not by lust but by the natural law of attraction. 

His mannerisms, his rhetoric, everything. His tone wasn’t deadpan, rather lifted by a charm you couldn’t explain.

You slightly smiled, your voice dripping with tease to appear calm. Anything to appear like he didn’t have such a visceral effect on you. 

“Do you want it to be, Hiromi?”

The smooth roll of his name on your tongue felt foreign, usually being said quick and easy but now having a different weight. 

“You don’t even flinch when I speak in class anymore.” His voice was calm but there was a twinge of dissatisfaction in his words. 

“You would have some type of reaction. A glance, sigh. That little frown you have when you disagree with something I want to say.”

He leaned his head against his wrist while he looked at you with an analytical gaze. He was looking at you like you were a court case he had to revise for class—same intense look. “No reaction from you anymore.”

So he does that on purpose. 

You shot him a grin. “Because why not? I have nothing of substance to say. What can I say? I only argue when needed.”

“I think I miss it,” he muttered. His gaze averted from you and you felt a pang in your chest. 

“Maybe I’ve grown” He glanced at you, your words dripping with unexpected sarcasm. “Y’know, selective silence is my new thing. Gotta keep them on their toes.”

He hummed. “It keeps the lecture interesting when you do so. You should keep doing that. I at least knew someone paid attention to what I say.”

You didn’t respond immediately and averted your gaze over to his collarbone out of shyness. Like if you kept staring at his eyes, you would start screaming out of embarrassment.

“I notice,” you murmured. “You don’t have to worry about me not listening.”

He let out a deep exhale. “You’re difficult, you know that? You say things and sometimes I’m not even sure you mean it.”

You smiled. “I mean you’re not wrong. Sometimes I just talk and talk…”

His gaze was still on you and you lightly laughed at your predicament. “I’m shocked I didn’t talk your ear off yet. I’ve been expecting you to tell me to shut up but nothing…”

“Okay. Then stop talking.”

Your eyes widened and lips parted. His words weren’t with malice or offense rather low and breathless. Like he didn’t think about what he just said. 

“That simple, hm?” Your laugh turned almost bitter, dry. He sat closer to you and you could smell his cedarwood cologne closer to the point where your senses were drawn. 

“Nothing with you is ever that simple.”

Your fingers were intertwined with your red gel pen, flicking it against the edge of your fingers as you tapped it on your knee. But with his stupid words, you accidentally flung it. 

Such a simple move like leaning forward to grab it affected him. You moved your shoulders to prevent them from being stiff and you ran your fingers through your hair without thinking.  By the time you turned over to him, you met his gaze. It wasn’t just intense, rather like he was starving. 

“Should I be worried?” You asked. “You look at me the same way you look at the documents we’re covering. You got this intense look in your eye, so I can’t help but feel a little nervous.”

He looked like he was caught off guard. “Really?”

“Mhm. Makes me feel like I’m about to be cross-examined, counselor.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply, a ghost of a laugh escaping his lips from the stupid nickname. “It’s not that…You just…throw me off.”

Your eyebrow raised in an amused manner. “Really, Hiromi? That’s not very academic of you, I fear. Not very Hiromi of you.” You shot him a meek smile, like you were unsure... and quite frankly you were. It felt as if you were tethering on the edge of him telling you to either get out, or you on the verge of pouncing on him and kissing him. Hard. 

“Yeah…I know.” He let out a small, pitiful laugh. For a moment, he didn’t look at you, rather his gaze drifted to the floor. Like he was nervous.

“The first week of class, I overheard you telling Geto that I spoke like a scary litigator.”

You blinked. “I did?”

He nodded. “Was that a moment where you spoke without thinking?”

You felt that pang in your heart again. This was too intimate, too much to bear. It mirrored a confession scene like in those movies you watched and you felt nervous. You realistically had no reason to; he was someone your friends bet on, not someone you should fall for.

“Well,” you shot him a nervous smile, “you kind of do. And you sound professional. Cutthroat.”

He stayed quiet until he hesitantly spoke. “If anything, you’re the same…”

Your breath caught in your throat. That wasn’t flirting…that was something else.

“I don’t really know what to do with that,” you whispered. 

He looked at you again with that same intense gaze. “I—neither do I…”

The pen you’d thrown earlier rolled slightly across the floor with the shift of your knee, but neither of you moved to get it.

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears and felt how warm your face had gotten. 

He leaned back slightly, like he was going to speak but slightly hesitated. “I thought that if I acted like this didn’t affect me then it would carry on and not…”

“And how’s that working for you now?” you asked. 

He hesitated. “Not working. Not in the slightest.”

The silence engulfed the both of you, except the sound of the train and cars outside along with the playlist still ringing on his phone— specifically a Radiohead song. 

It was impossible to ignore how you felt. Impossible to ignore how he made you feel. So you leaned in ever so slightly; possibly an inch. 

He met you the rest of the way. 

Just like that. And you didn’t stop him. Not even in the slightest.

He tasted like the black coffee he drank, vanilla chapstick, and smelled like his annoyingly expensive, woody cologne that drove your senses on overdrive. 

His lips moved with vigor and desperation. It was a move of pure desire—different from pure lusting rather it being anticipation. 

Like he’s been waiting to do this for a while. And the way he held you was like he was afraid of breaking you.

You didn’t push back rather wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed him onto you; the both of you were laid onto his couch, him on top of you while your lips moved with even more aggression. 

Your fingers clutched the hem of your jeans and his hand grazed your cheek. He pulled back slightly, looking in your eyes like he was looking for your reaction.

You shot him a half-frown, albeit flustered. “Was that supposed to shut me up?”

For the first time, you felt butterflies in the manner that he smiled at you; it was cute and sexy. “It worked. Didn’t it?”

“I’ve been thinking of doing that…” he muttered. For the first time, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so unsure and not confident in his words. Like he was anxious on your reaction and response.

You swallowed and let out a jagged exhale. “Me too…”

His gaze brightened towards you. Then you latched your lips onto his with just enough aggression to make him want more as he held your face with one hand and placed the other on your hip.

His hands roamed over your body, hesitant to feel you. You grabbed him by the collars of his stupid sweatshirt and felt his body weight and warmth against yours. 

Fuck Hiromi Higuruma. 

Him and his nonchalant demeanor, shitty awkward smile, shitty know-it-all personality. Even the way his hair was styled that day and his little wrist-watch pissed you off. 

But God…you wanted to fuck him so bad in that moment. You wanted to touch and feel all of him.

“Touch me…please,” you murmured in the heat of the moment. You looked at him, foggy glasses and flushed face. Your tinted lip gloss was smeared on his lips and he blinked profusely at your words. 

“Okay.” His hands fiddled with the front of your jeans as he slid them off. His eyes widened at the sight of your pink panties all soaked and at your beautiful toned legs. 

Hiromi looked up at you for reassurance; as if he didn’t know what he was doing. 

You smiled. “Do you know how?”

His face got redder and he blinked, slowly shaking his head ‘no’. “I—I want to try.”

“I’ll help you.” You grabbed his wrists and guided them to the waistline of your panties. His breath became shaky and you leaned forward to kiss him. 

“Do you trust me?” You whispered, eyes filled with need. 

He nodded profusely. “Yes.”

You guided his dominant hand down to your folds and clit. Your fingers adjusted his own so that his thumb was on your clit while his ring and middle fingers played with your folds—aching for his touch. 

“Oh my God…Hiro— k-keep doing that…” Your breathing became shaky as he kept rubbing at your clit and his fingers curled into you. He continued his pace while you grabbed at his wrist in reaction to his touch. 

You moved your hips to feel his fingers further as they thrusted inside you. 

Your lips latched onto his one more time; the action overtaken with lust and need, like you absolutely needed each other.

“Damn it…” he muttered, feeling the way your pussy clenched around his long fingers. 

He brought his arousal-slicked fingers and put them in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste of your pussy. 

“Fuck…You’re so damn sweet.”

Hiromi glanced at you again and parted his lips in hesitation. “Y/N? May I try something?” 

You shot him a glance and nodded. “Of course.”

Hiromi nodded, a smile playing on his lips while he leaned back, positioning his face by your bare pussy; wet, puffy, and desperate for him. 

Your lips parted as you felt him go down on you, calloused and large hands gripping your soft, smooth, lush thighs. 

“Please let me know if I’m doing okay.”

You fought off a smile at his words and nodded. You felt the presence of his tongue licking the slit of your pussy while you felt his nose rub on your clit. 

His tongue slowly entered your hole to which you gripped on his black hair in reaction while the point of his nose rubbed on your puffy clit.

Your hips bucked against his face, moving them up and down so deliciously. The sound of him slurping up your pussy drove you mad. His calloused hands gripped your thighs and his thumbs traced circles on your skin: littered with goosebumps at the sensation of him eating your pussy out. 

He ate you out like a starved man, gripping your inner thighs with more strength as he tilted his head while working his tongue. You felt your back arch as your breathing turned almost jagged, feeling his moans against your core.

“Y-You’re doing so good, Hiro…Fuck.” You shut your eyes, feeling the way that little knot in your stomach was inching towards release the more his nose rubbed your clit and thrusted his tongue in and out like he was insatiable for your sweet taste.

You felt your legs shake over his shoulders and that knot slowly undo itself; where you came and shuddered as he slurped even louder. 

“Did I do alright..?” He lifted himself up to see you; his face was absolutely pink and his glasses were resting on the top of his head. His lips and nose were glistening with your arousal and you fought off a smile at the sight.

“More than alright.” You moved yourself to kneel before him, working with the buckle of his belt and sliding his pants and briefs down. Your legs slightly shook at the foreign position but you began stroking his cock: large, veiny, and certainly girthy.

You took his cute strawberry-tinted tip leaking with pre in your mouth, licking it slightly. Your hand worked at the base of his cock, stroking it while his tip stayed in. The taste of his salty sweet cum in your mouth made you feel almost needy for more as you took him whole. 

Tears began brimming at your eyes as you looked up at him, eyes closed and lips parted as he said your name like a prayer. His breathing became more jagged and his forehead gleamed with sweat already, a string of curses leaving his lips. 

“Mm…” He squeezed his eyes shut cutely as your tongue teased his cock slightly, giving him butterfly kisses until you took him whole again. His cock twitched and you sucked him further, squeezing his thighs from how fast you were going. 

You slurped on his cock further, milking him dry from his release in your mouth. His hands gripped on your hair as you did so, his voice cracking with every whine, and you’ve never felt more aroused.

You wiped the corners of your lips and swallowed. “Now fuck me. Please, Hiro.” Your widened doe eyes looked up at him, still on your knees. He blinked, nodding to your immediate request. 

He stripped off his upper half and lifted your shirt up as well. You poked his chest for him to sit down on the couch as you unclipped your bra.

His hooded eyes were glued onto your cute breasts, perky from the cold air hitting them. His gaze roamed on your body; all bare and beautiful in the dim, golden light of his lamp illuminating the place.

“God, you’re beautiful…” he muttered, his gaze mirroring that of before: analytical except there was that hint of gentleness that seemed to overtake the rest of his expression. 

“You flatter me too much,” you murmured, climbing on top of him slowly as you felt his hard on against the inner of your thighs. Your lips met his neck as you kissed it softly; simultaneously, you felt his hands roam on your body again, massaging your ass as you grind against his cock. 

You noticed how he swallowed and touched you like he didn’t know what to do, and you smiled. 

“You’re a damn tease,” he said, letting out a breathless laugh.

“I’m aware, but I know you like it too.” 

You grabbed his cock from the small space between the two of you and stroked it slowly, giving it a few pumps. Your hips bucked up as you aligned the tip of his cock to your puffy, wet slit. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, looking at you as he followed your instruction. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you slowly adjusted yourself.

You moved your hips to the side and shifted your weight on your knees as you went up and down his cock. You could feel every pulsating vein and how lengthy yet filling his cock was to your tiny pussy, begging for him to fuck you. 

“Move. Fuck me. Please.” You said it in such a manner that your voice cracks and whiny tone almost unlocked something in him. His slow touches on your ass became rougher, with more weight and force.

His hips went at a damn near animalistic pace, rutting into you with vigor as his hands maneuvered your ass. The pitter-patter sound of your soaked thighs meeting his echoed through the apartment loudly and that alone made you whine, feeling the sticky and hot skin with every move of the hips.

“Ahh…F-Fucking damn it,” you whined, scratching at his tan toned biceps; they were so defined, strong. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as you felt him pant against your warm skin. Hiromi had pressed your body closer to his, your perky breasts against his toned chest while he fucked you with finesse.

“Don’t stop, please,” he groaned, the raspy sound of his voice leaving you with butterflies in your stomach and your pussy fluttering around his cock.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck—Y/N…” he closed his eyes and held you tighter, the sensation of him bottoming out only had you squeezing your eyes shut and knees bucking. It was warm, leaving you filled up with serotonin and his cum. 

You kept riding him, feeling how your release was approaching and how your pussy squeezed on him. Hiromi let out such raspy moans that it led you to quicken your pace; such alluring yet seductive sounds coming out of the lips of someone you should hate. 

“Fuck—Hiromi..!” You felt yourself soon reaching your climax and throwing your head back, wanton moans slipping from your lips as your hips gyrated back and forth slowly until you stopped.

You felt your body slump down against him, panting while a sheen of sweat decorated your skin as you both breathed heavily in attempts to catch your breath. He held you gently—with such care as if you were made of sugar, about to crumble on his fingers.

His fingertips brushed on the skin of your hips while he kissed the crown of your head. You were laid on his chest and could hear how rapid his heartbeat was—and how it was matching your own.

There was no sassy quip you could come up with nor any dramatic diss you could throw on him. It was silent between you two, except for the beeping of cars and the train outside. 

You felt your heart clench at your current state: clung to him while he was still inside you.

You couldn’t deny your feelings at your current situation. 

You attempted to get out of his grasp but he held you tighter. 

“Stay the night,” he whispered. It was such a simple offering but your face got warm again. You couldn’t.

“I–I don’t know…”

“Please, love.”

There was a beat of silence before you let out a deep exhale, his nickname causing your heart to beat faster. He spoke to you with gentleness, care. The authority in his voice that you’d gotten used to was dimmed, and your heartbeat sped up.

“Okay.”

You couldn’t deny the sensation in your chest just thinking of the vulnerable state you were in. Letting someone like him see.

You’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that you’ve gained feelings—and now face a weird ultimatum.

Give up your pride, tell him the truth, and risk not getting that rank; or getting that rank no matter the cost. 

And at that moment, you didn’t know. So for then, you just stayed in his arms, and closed your eyes. 

                               ──────────────────── 

You weren’t one to call for an emergency meeting, but this time, you had no choice but to. 

Shoko had barely sat down before raising an eyebrow at your nervous demeanor. “Something happened. Didn’t it?” Her voice was flat and deadpan. 

Satoru and Suguru were across from you and mid-sip their coffees before they exchanged a knowing glance. They both looked at you, your appearance and demeanor.

“You slept with him,” Suguru said bluntly, like he was absolutely positive and all-knowing. "...Right?"

Your lack of response gave you away and Suguru and Shoko lightly laughed while Satoru’s jaw dropped. 

“Hold up…” Satoru leaned in like he was telling you a secret and shot you a shocked look. “You fucked that guy?”

Your face burned and you looked away. “Stop...: 

“No fucking way,” he murmured, “You’re telling me you actually slept with Higuruma? You’re lying…”

You let out a deep exhale and buried your face in your hands. “I’m not lying.”

Suguru had an amused look on his face and pointed at the sweatshirt you were wearing—the law firm’s insignia embroidered on the left side of the chest. Specifically the law firm’s insignia Higuruma interned at.  

“That’s his. I’ve seen him wear it during midterms.”

You groaned and covered your face meekly. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I mean—It just happened. And now I feel like I’m gonna be sick and I don’t know what to do…”

“Probably because you like him. Like really like him,” Shoko said, matter-of-fact. 

You blinked at her like she had three heads. “What?”

“Look, you dense girl,” Suguru added, “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be spiraling like this.”

You slumped in your seat and groaned, your coffee untouched and cooled. “Look, I’ve been thinking…about ending the bet. Like no more, calling it off for good. He’s not who I thought he was and he’s really nice…”

Shoko leaned back smugly and extended her hand towards Satoru, earning a glare from him. “Pay up, good sir.”

He sighed and slapped a crumpled twenty dollar bill from his wallet into her palm. 

Suguru chuckled. “You were the one who said he ‘probably had no game’ or am I mistaken?”

Satoru pouted. “Still does but I guess his whole…melodramatic intense poli-sci vibe works…Maybe I should consider trying that.”

Shoko snorted. “Right…I’m sure every girl on campus would love to hear you rant about the philosophy behind finance bros,” to which Satoru flipped her off. 

They were teasing, sure, but none of it felt mean. 

“We get it,” Shoko continued, her tone softer and understanding. “You’re not doing it for just the game anymore. That’s understandable.”

You sighed. “I don’t even know if he feels the same way…”

Satoru shrugged. “Tell him regardless. As much of an ass that he might be, he deserves to know.”

Suguru nodded, a knowing smile gracing his face. “Worst case? He doesn’t feel the same. But now you wouldn’t have to be on eggshells. Do it.” 

You nodded slowly, your stomach churning. But even if they might be stupid sometimes, your friends were definitely right. 

────────────────────

He hadn’t texted you all week, until today. 

His message was brief, curt—“Let’s go over final revisions before the journal deadline.” Despite the paper already being turned in to the department head. 

Still, there you were: outside his apartment and cold from the wind outside. Your palms felt clammy and your hair was still wet from the shower. You did your routine the best you could for the whole week yet you couldn’t shake the feeling of the pit in your stomach residing every time you thought about him. 

That even caused you to sit all the way in the back during lecture; somewhere he couldn’t hear or see you.

“Y/N…” Hiromi looked at you, his gaze shifting from one of hesitance to one of worry. His eyes narrowed at the way you were pacing outside of his door and went to a stop the moment he opened the door. "Are you alright? Come in."

You slowly stepped inside, your body suddenly going stiff as the intimate smell of cedarwood and eucalyptus hit you. The apartment was dimly lit, courtesy of the lamps in Hiromi's living room. Yet, everything felt different. 

You turned around, standing in the center of his apartment with your arms crossed to your chest. He shut the door and watched you carefully. "You...didn't bring your laptop."

"No," you said. "I didn't bring it."

You met his gaze for a second and looked away. The view of his eyes: narrowed and emotion practically leaking from his look, made you feel guilty—sick. 

"Hiromi, just...please stop." You whispered softly. Despite the bustling city life of downtown, it was like everything was silent between the two of you, slow. 

His eyebrows slightly furrowed but he didn't move from where he was. "Okay."

You swallowed and cleared your throat. "I know this isn't about the paper," you started, your voice low and hesitant. "And I know I've been avoiding you and not speaking to you, but I didn't want to say anything until I knew how...I felt."

"There was a bet.”

He didn’t react—not at first.

You kept talking before you lost all your nerve. "Back when we got paired for the journal, my friends thought it would be funny if I got you to fall for me or to piss you off. And if I did, then they would help with getting a recommendation letter from Kitagawa."

You paused for a moment, swallowing the immense guilt you felt bubbling in your chest. "At first...I didn't think it would matter. You were so...closed off, focused. I thought it would be harmless and a joke."

You looked up and you felt your heart crack at his still expression; he was looking at you like you were a person in your lecture saying something stupid. And you didn't blame him, you couldn't. Not in the slightest.

"But then I got to know you. The way your mind works and the way you speak when you think I'm not listening and how kind you are and how you have such strong fucking integrity."

You looked to the side, to the living room, and exhaled sharply. "And it stopped being a joke. And I didn't know how to come clean without ruining everything, so I just...stopped. Because I liked—like—you. And I hated myself for it.”

There was a pregnant pause between the both of you. It was silent—but you didn't feel any hostility. Despite that, you could practically feel your pulse in your ears.

Then he spoke, calm, collected. Like he was restraining himself. 

"Thank you for telling me."

You blinked. His tone was completely calm. "Y-You're not mad..?"

He let out a slow breath. "I don't know what I am right now."

Hiromi ran a hand down his face and then looked at you again—not with anger or resentment rather something close to prostration, like he was hurt. 

"I had a feeling something was off. Especially after that...night." 

He paused and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose shortly after. "I didn't reach out because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I thought maybe you regretted it, because you were very quick to leave soon after."

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something, but you literally couldn't.

"I've been thinking about it all week," he said, his voice cracking the slightest amount. "And not just that night but you. The way you laugh when you're trying not to be nervous. The way you argue when you know you're right—which is almost all the damn time. The way you snap your fingers when you figure something out."

Your heart felt like it was going to break. 

"I like you," he said, his voice slightly above a whisper. "I really like you. Even if it started with those intentions. Even if I don't know what to do with all of that. All I know is that I’ve never done something like this before—liked someone how I like you.”

Your body moved before you could even process everything he just told you and took a step forward. Then you felt his arms snake around your waist, engulfing you in his pretty cederwood scent that you liked so much.

Then, he spoke softly, face buried in your hair. "For the record, if it even matters, I was going to call you. A dozen damn times."

Your lips curved into a smile. "Why didn't you?"

"Thought I would come across as too strong or pushy. Or that everything that happened was a figment of my imagination."

You snorted at his words, despite the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. "You didn't."

He smiled too—a real genuine smile. Not those forced ones he gives professors rather one that simply came about. Your heart clenched at the sight. 

Hiromi hummed and he lightly laughed before speaking. "I guess I should go thank Geto."

Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of your friend and he laughed again. "What the hell? For what?"

"He told me to 'man the hell up because it's obvious'. He said you liked guys who made the first move."

You slightly blinked. "So that's why you were so...confident?"

His smile dropped and a look of concern flashed on his face. "Was it that bad?"

You giggled and covered your face. "A little slutty, I can't lie."

He kissed his teeth and his lips twitched. "Damn. I tried, though."

You extended your hand and held his, intertwining your fingers together. "For what it's worth, though...I liked it. Maybe a bit too much."

And then, before you could make another stupid joke, he caught your face between his warm hands, catching your lips with his in a slow kiss. 

You didn't pull away. And you didn't want to.

────────────────────

a/n: this has def seen so many edits but i think i’m finally happy with this one. i honestly don’t give a fuck if it flops, i’m js very happy with this; i’ve wanted to post it for this blog since im so proud of the pacing and everything after the editing (since trust me, it was so damn choppy and cringe and very obvious i wrote it in high school) hehehe no glaze … stay tuned for my college au! choso fic that’s still facing the early drafting process!!

[mintmatcha]

getting high with your guy best friend and he starts listing reasons you should let him put his cock inside you

[mintmatcha]

halfway through his list of reasons he's toying with himself through his pants, stroking and moving it, showing off the outline. his other hand is over your shoulder, gently brushing fingertips over your tit.

"you know i'm huge, right?" he says. "Pornstar big."

"Shut up."

"i'm serious. im massive. touch it and see."

when you go to reach, he's pushing down his pants to give you a proper handful of the biggest cock you've ever seen-

"holy shit. that'll break me."

"god, i hope so."

[indiewritesxoxo]

CUTE CAMGIRL GETS NAILED BY NERDY ROOMMATE?

lights, camera, action!

starring: roommate!Gojo x camgirl!Reader

content: mdni, modern au, gojo is obsessed but sweet, instant crush, falling in love, masturbation, jealousy, Sukuna cameo, teasing, making out, back shots, doggy style, unprotected piv sex, creampie, aftercare

art by @chu-cho + divider by @bronzewasp

roommate!Gojo whose been obsessed with you before you even moved in - he just didn't know it

roommate!Gojo who didn't really need a roommate when he doesn't even pay rent for the penthouse he already owned, but after so many lonely nights with no one to talk to (and considering pets were out of the question since he can't even keep a plant alive) he was more than a little taken by the idea of having someone to come home to who was stuck with him for a twelve month lease

roommate!Gojo who plasters ads online, exchanging emails with strangers until he lands on sweet little you, asking you to meet him for brunch the next weekend, despite Suguru being convinced you had to be a catfish hoping for cheap rent

roommate!Gojo who thinks you're an angel when you slide in the seat across from him - even if you laugh in his face when he calls you one

roommate!Gojo who listens leaning halfway across the table with his chin propped up by his hand, enraptured by every word that leaves your mouth, the way you giggle at his lame jokes and roll your eyes at his lamer flirtations, only getting serious when you awkwardly admit you have an unconventional job that meant you'd be home most of the time, although something about your voice is familiar, like maybe he heard it before, bumped into you somewhere

roommate!Gojo who pulls out the lease for you to sign then and there, cheeks already heating up at the thought of you walking around his apartment in tiny shorts and thin tank tops, or even better, your figure drowned in one of his t-shirts, padding into the kitchen barefoot and bending over to grab a drink from the fridge, well, actually, he's imagining what a cute story this would make to tell your future children someday but even he could admit that was probably a little much

roommate!Gojo who figures out what your unconventional job is one week into this new living arrangement after helping you get your new room all set up, scrolling on his phone in his own bed and debating on asking you on a late night ice cream run when he hears your voice through the wall, all cute and chirpy, and yeah, he shouldn't snoop, but perhaps he just-so-happened to press his ear against the wall to listen in when all the pieces clicked together

roommate!Gojo who has never typed faster in his life than when he's searching up his favorite faceless camgirl, pulling up the stream just to confirm his suspections - and thank the fucking stars he somehow got this lucky, listening to your laugh through the wall and on his phone

roommate!Gojo who ends up fucking his fist by the end of the show, because even if you never showed above your shoulders on stream, he's picturing what pretty faces you were making now that he knew it was you, barely able to keep his moans to himself as he strokes himself in rough, harsh thrusts, bucking his hips up and wishing it was your palm wrapped around him instead, or fuck, the pretty little cunt you had on display on screen

roommate!Gojo who blushes wildly the next morning he sees you, and you just giggle, giving him a quick wink, like maybe it wasn't just his imagination your little show had been louder than usual, your gasps and whimpers meant to be heard through the wall you shared

roommate!Gojo who thinks you're the perfect girl roommate - you listen to all his ramblings and rants, curl up next to him on the couch for movie (and Digimon) marathons, ask to bake sweets together when you're bored or let him drag you around some afternoons to shop and eat, casually holding his hand in public, resting your head against him and letting him throw an arm around your shoulders, and yeah, okay, you always pay rent on time (although his generous donations probably make up half of it)

roommate!Gojo who is, of course, devastated to have to spend even just a few hours apart and leave you alone in the penthouse to attend a stupid work party with Suguru, ignoring his friend's teasing about his crush, but a cup of spiked punch later, he's wondering why he hasn't just made a move yet, asked you to be his, when he gets the notification you're live again

roommate!Gojo who almost pukes when he clicks on it and realizes you're not alone, some asshole with too many muscles and even more tattoos manhandling you into a mating press on your soft mattress, faces carefully concealed out of shot as usual while you get speared open on his obscene length

roommate!Gojo who excuses himself from the party, an emergency at home, which really meant he needed to get there and throw that fucking prick out and show you anything that guy could do, he could do better, but by the time he made it through the front door, the jerk was gone, only finding you sleepily sprawled out on the couch watching some reality show

roommate!Gojo who just blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat when you yawn and sit up as soon as you notice him, stretching your arms and letting your shirt ride up to expose a thin strip of skin, while you just tilt your head to the side as if to ask if he was going to say anything - as if you knew he knew about your guest star

roommate!Gojo who bridges the distance in a few short strides, getting down on his knees in front of the couch to cup your face and capture your lips in a starving kiss, hard enough you almost fall back onto the couch cushions, but you're giggling in-between kisses at the way his glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, fingers tangling back in his hair, tugging him in closer so your canines can nip at his bottom lip

roommate!Gojo who's the one throwing you onto your bed half an hour later, his cock throbbing painfully in the too-tight confines of his boxers, aching for your warmth after barely being able to stop himself from cumming in his pants ten times just from making out, but the sight of your glistening cunt in person when he peels your blue lace panties down your thighs almost does him in again

roommate!Gojo who thinks he must've got into a car crash and died on the way home, because he must be in heaven when he finally slides the first few inches of his thick cock inside, groaning as he forces his way past the first ring of resistance, his grip on your hips nearly bruising as he grinds in deeper, overwhelmed by the pretty arch of your back and you on your hands and knees, whining and ready to take him, your soft ass squirming while your walls grip and suck him in so sinfully

roommate!Gojo who fucks you like you're still on camera, pounding into you until you're crying out his name loud enough for half the building to hear, his hips probably leaving marks on your ass and the lewd smacks of skin-on-skin and your pretty wet slick dripping down your thighs only encouraging to go faster, harder, give you more until there was nothing left of him to give

roommate!Gojo who knows what spots to hit to make you shudder, you thighs trembling as you whine and mewl, making soft, sweet promises of something he can't even fully process, too focused on making you cum harder than you ever have before, his grip on your hip the only thing holding your body up as he reaches his other hand around to play with your surely needy clit, his new favorite toy, massaging precise patterns and calculating just the right amount of pressure to have you unravelling into putty in his palm

roommate!Gojo who can't help cumming inside you when your body shivers and you break into what feels like a billion pieces for him to put back together with searing kisses scattered across your back, grunting your name and mumbling something half-incoherent about how long he waited for this, for you

roommate!Gojo who carries you to the bath afterward, still pressing kisses everywhere while he cleans you up, washing your hair and scrubbing both of you clean, leaning back against the porcelain with you on his chest when you glance up at him to fix his crooked glasses with a grin, pressing a peck to his jaw and asking if he wants to do it again - with an audience

a/n: this was based on an anon ask I accidentally deleted sorry >.<

[sc6ro]

neighbor!toji who always seems to step out onto his balcony the exact second you go out to water your pink petunias, lazily leaning over the railing in his worn-out gray sweatpants just to watch you chat with your plants.

neighbor!toji who effortlessly carries all your heavy grocery bags up three flights of stairs in one trip, holding them easily with his fingers while using his free arm to keep you steady against his side when you trip over your own long cardigan.

neighbor!toji who lets you use his massive, worn-out leather jacket when the radiator in your apartment breaks down, smirking when it looks like a literal dress on your small frame and pulling the hood up over your eyes to gently tease you.

neighbor!toji who notices when a creepy delivery driver stays a little too long at your door, suddenly appearing in the hallway looking absolutely massive and intimidating until the guy scampers off, only to turn to you and completely soften, asking if you're okay in his low, quiet voice.

neighbor!toji who holds your umbrella for you when it rains, tilting the entire thing over to your side so not a single drop hits your outfit, completely ignoring the fact that his own broad shoulder is getting soaked in the process.

neighbor!toji who always mutes his TV the second he hears you fumbling with your keys in the hallway late at night, cracking his door open just an inch to make sure you get inside your apartment safely before he locks up his own

neighbor!toji who always takes out your trash bags for you because he claims they're "too heavy for someone your size," leaving a little note or a piece of candy on your welcome mat afterward just to make you smile.

neighbor!tojiwho notices your favorite pastel mug sitting on his counter from the last time you visited, carefully washing it by hand and putting it away in a special spot so it's ready for you the next time you come over for coffee.

neighbor!toji who lets you drag him into the local craft store to help you carry big bins of yarn and fabric, standing patiently in the middle of the pink aisle looking completely out of place but carrying everything with an amused look.

neighbor!toji who pretends he hates the sweet, flowery perfume you always wear, but you notice he always leans in just a little bit closer whenever he takes a package from your hands at the door.

neighbor!toji who notices you shivering on the balcony one chilly evening and steps over the low divider separating your apartments, wrapping his giant arms around you from behind to pull you against his chest to warm you up, his heart beating loud and steady against your back.

neighbor!toji who starts finding excuses to come over every single night, whether it's bringing you a sweet treat he "accidentally" bought too much of or asking to borrow a cup of sugar he definitely doesn't need, just so he can sit on your couch and watch you talk.

neighbor!toji who blocks your doorway with his massive frame when you try to say goodnight, trapping you against the wall with his arms on either side of your head. he looks down at you, completely breathless, and whispers that he can't keep pretending he's just your neighbor when he's completely in love with you.

neighbor!toji who finally cups your face, his palms warm as he pulls you into his space, his green eyes completely dark and serious. he whispers that he's tired of just being the guy next door and wants to be your boyfriend.

[indiewritesxoxo]

(one of those) crazy girls

baby, are we over now?

synopsis: you thought you were retired from being the kind of obsessive girlfriend who was convinced her boyfriend was cheating on her. until you started dating a man the rest of the world seemed to want. but when you try to break things off before they can go bad, Nanami reminds you that you aren't the only possessive partner in this relationship.

pairing: bf!Nanami x insecure!Reader

content: mdni, smut and angst, fem reader, mentions previous bad breakups and being cheated on, established (toxic) relationship, self-sabotaging, heavy jealousy, possessiveness, picking fights, discussions of breaking up, unprotected piv sex, makeup sex, light spanking, breath play, light choking, emotional hurt/comfort, creampie

art is by @/enjin13 + divider by @/crynlynnluv

"Do you wanna fuck her?"

Nanami didn't even flinch. Just brought his glass up to his lips and took a long, slow sip.

"Do you want to fuck our waitress?" You reiterated, a calm challenge, tilting your head to the side with clinical precision, to an angle that said you already knew the answer to the question you were asking.

"No," he stoically answered, not a single strand of blond hair out of place, mouth not even twitching or tugging down when he set his glass back down.

"She wants to fuck you," you pointed out, nodding back to where she was shamelessly staring at your boyfriend and giggling with her coworkers behind the bar.

You knew how it'd go. She'd slide him the receipt (with her number scrawled under the bottom) and he'd tell you he'd toss it (but you'd find it in his wallet instead of the trash can). Then you'd call him out and he'd call you crazy just for you to find out a few months from now he'd given her a different kind of tip.

It wouldn't be your first time getting cheated on. And still, you'd never felt nearly as insecure as you did after you started dating Nanami.

You'd met him at a local bakery. He was in line in front of you - and turned around to offer to buy your sandwich too. Blunt. Direct. Asking for your number to set up a date afterwards. Truthfully, it hadn't been that long since you'd been dumped by the last guy that brought another woman into his bed, but Nanami was new. Attractive enough you figured he'd help you get over your exes if you were busy being underneath him. You made a cheesy joke, pointing to the baguette in his hand and winking when you noted the faint color dusting his cheek. You were still pretending to be cool then.

But one date turned into two and then four, and suddenly he was getting flowers delivered to your apartment and calling you his girlfriend even after your mask slipped and you started accusing him of love bombing you - for doing the bare minimum.

He was the kind of guy people stopped and stared at, clean-cut and nicely-dressed, the one your friends warned you to lock down soon and strangers said called marriage material. But he was still a man.

And men traded girls like you in all the time.

Why the hell was he interested in you anyway?

The sex was good, sure, but you weren't special. You'd seen the glances you got whenever you were out together. The pitying ones that screamed he could do better and the ones that felt sorry for you like they just knew you were something temporary.

"And?" Nanami exhaled, and you felt a familiar sting of panic. One that pricked your heart and reminded you how much it hurt to hold onto him when you knew it'd end.

"I think we should break up."

Five months wasn't very long. And anyway, it wasn't like you exchanged anything serious or sappy. It was cleaner this way. Cutting it off before he could cheat, while all your bills were still separate and you were both living on your own. Clearing your conscious of him. He could go fuck the waitress in the parking lot for all you cared.

It definitely wouldn't hurt at all. And you certainly wouldn't go back to curl up in your bed and cry.

(You would.)

Nanami dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin, blinking long and slow before slowly placing it down and folding his hands across the table.

"No," he repeated.

Your lips had already parted, ready to say you were glad he could be amicable about it before you paused and processed what he actually said. "I'm sorry, no?"

"I don't think we should break up," he casually said, flagging the waitress over with a veiny hand up in the air. All the tendons and muscles twitching as he effortlessly caught her attention. His jaw was locked, holding his tongue until she scampered over. "I need the check."

"Is it separate?" She asked, all faux innocence and long lashes.

You started to say yes, figuring fifteen bucks for lunch would be worth not fighting with him. You could call a cab or a friend to give you a ride back home. But he glared - shot a cold enough look that she phsycially recoiled.

"Together," he curtly corrected her. She took out the check from her book, sliding it too close, pretty nails clicking against the table as she recovered her composure.

"What a good friend you are," she purred, and Nanami scowled.

"Boyfriend," he clarified, and you were tempted to say not anymore. To let her know he could be all hers.

She frowned. Turning on her heels and walking away as he took his wallet out of his pockets to take out enough cash to cover the bill and toss it on top.

You wondered what kind of tip he left.

"I'm just going to call someone to get me," you muttered, hooking your purse over your shoulder and starting to stand.

You didn't make it four steps before he was following, his hand on the small of your back following you towards the double doors. The pressure of his palm was supposed to be reassuring, but you wanted to slip away. Shrug off his affection and shove it towards someone who wouldn't be bothered by every smile he received.

"I don't want to fuck the waitress," he murmured under his breath once you were past the threshold and out on the sidewalk.

"So who do you want to fuck?" You snapped at him. You couldn't help it. A list of names had already popped up in your head. The sales associate whose hands lingered on his shoulder? The girl at his gym who asked if he'd be her personal trainer? His coworker who always ended her messages to him with Xs and Os?

"You," he huffed.

It wasn't his fault he was so fucking attractive.

But it wasn't yours that you were uncomfortable fighting a million other women (and sometimes men) for an ounce of his affection.

"Sure," you dryly said.

You kept your head forward, walking just ahead of him and starting to pull your phone out of your purse before you bumped into someone and nearly dropped both.

Nanami caught them, the weight of his hand disappearing on your back just for a new set of fingers to grab your forearm and steady you.

"Sorry about that," a warm voice apologized, and you recognized it. You'd seen enough videos that Nanami had been tagged in to know who it was, glancing up at one of his coworkers. Gojo. You half-wished you met him first. He was the kind of pretty boy that'd buy you breakfast the morning after and block your number two days later. None of the messy emotional entanglement Nanami came with. "You must be Nanamin's girlfriend."

"Actually, we just-"

"She is," Nanami interrupted, sliding your purse up on his elbow over his rolled-up sleeves and putting his arm around your waist.

You grinded your molars, throwing an annoyed look over at the blond man by your side, the spot he occupied that you shouldn't have let him.

That he, for some fucking reason, wouldn't leave.

"I heard a lot about you, sweetheart," Gojo purred, and your pulse spiked.

"Bad things?"

He laughed, thinking you were joking, oblivious to just how serious you were. You frowned at him, eyes narrowed as you tried to assess if that was a yes or a no.

"He didn't mention how hot you were," he chuckled, whistling and giving you a long look over.

"Shut up, Gojo," Nanami gritted his teeth. "My girlfriend and I were just leaving."

"What? It's not like I asked for her number," Gojo defensively groaned, but then he winked at you not at all discreetly and Nanami was pulling you away before you could ask for his.

"So I'm not hot?" You grumbled under your breath.

"I never said that. I just don't discuss my private life with him," Nanami brusquely replied, clearly bristling. From you breaking up with him? Or from someone else showing the slightest interest in you?

You laughed. It slipped out. A guy you dated a couple years ago had said almost the same thing. That he didn't tell his friends about you because he didn't want your relationship to be public.

That secrets made everything more special.

You were sick of it. Sick of feeling that you had no right to stand next to him or that he'd stuck himself to a sinking ship.

"You think he's still back there? Maybe I could ask him for a ride," you dryly teased him, about to glance over your shoulder to check before he made a disgusted sound.

"Don't make me hit him."

He made it to his car, opening up the passenger side door like he was waiting for you to get in.

"Nanami," you started, but he held up his other hand to stop you from saying his last name like that.

"I'm not letting you break up with me just because a waitress can't respect boundaries," he spoke firmly, enunciating each word clearly like it would change anything.

"It's not just that," you muttered, glancing down the busy street. People were still glancing at him. They always did.

"Let's talk about it at home," he requested, his voice softening, just enough to make you melt, to second-guess your resolve when he reached out and placed a warm hand over your own.

"Yours or mine?" You begrudgingly asked, hating yourself for leaning in when he bent down to press a kiss on your forehead.

Loathing the fact that fifteen minutes later, you were awkwardly standing a foot away from him on the elevator ride up to his apartment. Five minutes after that, he was hanging up your purse for you, setting your heels neatly on his shoe rack and leaving a casual peck on your shoulder as he stood back up.

"I'm not leaving you," he murmured, brushing his fingers over the spot his lips had just been. "So stop trying to leave me."

"You say that but-"

"I'm not like the boys you've been with before," he retorted. You were tempted to scoff. Any asshole could say that. It didn't make it true.

He couldn't predict the future any more than you could. How could he say he wouldn't cheat?

You'd confided in him once. Wished you hadn't the next morning. But the moment had been comfy you guessed, sleepy and cozy in his sheets, your head resting on his warm chest and your bare bodies connected, still damp with slick and sweat as you came back down.

Traced your fingers over his muscles and murmured a thank you that hung in the air. He asked. He always did - pressed the questions you avoided. You were just tired enough to tell him about the disaster you called a love life. All the boys who broke your heart and buried themselves in other women the second you let your shields down.

That was why you couldn't stay. He'd seen too much of you. If he was the one you caught with his cock out, you didn't think there would be enough super glue to piece your shattered heart back together.

You didn't say anything, staring at the ground like it'd speak for you.

Nanami tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. They were warm. Heavy-lidded and hazel, seeing through you without you having to state the obvious.

You were scared.

"Suppose you're gonna make me show you," he murmured.

His bedroom was only a handful of steps away after all.

But he made it feel like a mile, dragging out every kiss he delivered to your lips. He still tasted like tea. Comforting and clean, washing away all the words you said with his tongue past your teeth.

Murmuring mine between breaths on the outside of your mouth, as if kissing you was the only thing that mattered.

His hands worked fast, groping and squeezing and tracing your outline as if you were worthy of his worship. Twisting you around so he could slip off your dress, discarding your bra before you could suck in a breath at the chill of his air conditioning. His sturdy fingers sank into your soft tits, squeezing as his mouth latched onto your throat, teeth nipping at your skin so hard you wondered if he'd leave little indents there. Cock pressed against your back, throbbing and ready to watch you unravel.

He pushed your face down against the cool blankets. A hand on the back of your neck. Another on your ass, rubbing it softly before bringing down a rough smack!

"Think you're not mine? That this isn't all I need?" He haughtily asked, letting out a sharp exhale before his hand came back down for another spank.

You gasped, already panting as he flipped you around to the front. Missionary or a mating press, you supposed, whatever would satisfy the intimacy he was searching for in you.

Maybe if he met you a few years ago - maybe if you weren't the kind of pessimist who pouted at every compliment and convinced yourself it was all pretend.

He only slowed down to peel off your panties, spreading your thighs apart just to see how damp you were for him.

"Pretty girl," he muttered. "All this for me."

Nanami hummed, approving your small nod of agreement. He didn't hurry to take off his own clothes, enjoying you splayed out and staring while he stripped. Carefully laying out his clothes on the armchair by his bookshelf, dropping his belt with a clink on top before he was on top again.

His fingers wrapped around your throat while his other hand guided his cock against your entrance.

His cock drove in fast and deep, the lewd squelch of him bottoming out in one harsh thrust, claiming you as his in case your body had forgotten it too. You could feel every ridge, no condom to separate you from him, to offer any kind of protection or barrier between you. Just raw need.

Nanami's grip on your throat got tighter, squeezing just enough to make your head fuzzy, the heat in your stomach turn from a flickering flame into a fire.

Hungry kisses and bruising hickies, muscles trembling as your thighs wrapped around his sturdy waist. Nails scratching down his shoulder blades, digging into his skin to leave scratches. But you were still thinking of that stupid waitress with her perfect manicure, imagining what kind of marks she would've left down his back.

"No," he scoffed into your mouth, picking up on some little tell, maybe your nose scrunching or some frown line, interrupting your spiraling. "Stop thinking."

"H-How do you know-"

"I know you," he grunted, grinding against that soft little spongy spot in the back that he made you squirm and shift under his weight. "And I love you anyway."

No. He didn't. There was no-

His hips slammed back down into you hard enough to cut off your protest.

Was this love?

You used to think you knew what the word meant. But you were always wrong.

"Look at me," he murmured, fingers squeezing as you dragged your eyes from the firm clench of his jaw up to his intense stare. It burned with promises you were scared he'd break and even more terrified he'd keep.

"Say you don't mean it," you swallowed hard, lashes fluttering as his free thumb slipped between your bodies to roll over your clit.

He was drawing letters there. Ones you felt in your heart and on your skin.

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

"You know I do."

The worst part was you did.

He left a kiss on the corner of your lips, like you could feel anything except for the pressure building in your core and his cock between your thighs.

Nanami fucked you faster. Not sloppy, never sloppy. But his typical restraint had disappeared, drowning in you the way you were drowning in him. Clenching around the thick ridges and throbbing veins of his cock with each swipe of his finger over your swollen bud, practically feeling him in your guts with each thrust.

"Come on, you can let go," he murmured, soft when his hips were so fucking hard against your skin. Quiet where the filthy sounds of his cock making a mess in your cunt were loud.

His thumb rubbed back over your clit, and you were coming undone, moaning his name while he reassured you through it. You clung to his shoulders, clinging to him even though you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't this time.

But the truth was you wanted him just as bad as everyone else.

He finished inside you with a low grunt, the kind that reverberated through your body and burned its way into your brain. Cum leaking it's way down even with his cock plugging you up.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he groaned, half-collapsing on top of you with a tired sigh.

"You like it," you dreamily exhaled back, another accusation instead of an apology.

He chuckled, the tension finally dropping from his shoulders.

Chest squishing your cheek while you tried to wiggle away, but his hands moved to catch your wrists, holding them firm above your head. Like he was just a really heavy weighted blanket soothing your stress away.

"Ken," You whined, breathless as he grunted, cock still twitching inside you.

"Still want to break up with me, baby?" Baby used to sound condescending when it came from him. But it was kind of comforting now, as if it really did carry his adoration in two simple syllables.

You hesitated, pouting as you shelved the idea.

"No," you begrudgingly admitted.

He exhaled, relieved or reassured. He released you, shifting so you were looking up in his eyes. And maybe there was just the slightest bit of love there you could detect.

"Promise you don't want to fuck Gojo either?"

[showhay]

microdose - AKAASHI K.

i just need you to lay your head, in the little thing that beats for you in my chest.

akaashi keiji x f!reader “fake” dating with keiji, or at least that’s what you think.

​it had been seven hundred and thirty days since you had scrubbed that man out of your life like a stubborn grease stain on a favorite white tee. two years. in that time, you had learned how to brew the perfect cup of coffee, mastered the art of parallel parking without crying, and developed a soul-crushing, heart-palpitating crush on akaashi.

​and yet, here was the stain, back for a second coat.

​your ex was less of a human being at this point and more of a persistent pop-up ad for a product you never wanted to buy again. he was currently cornering you near the gym entrance, his face twisted into that specific brand of ‘reformed’ puppy-dog eyes that made you want to launch yourself into the nearest sun.

​“i’ve changed, i really have,” he pleaded, his voice hitting a nasal frequency that could probably shatter glass or, at the very least, your patience. he reached for your hand, and you recoiled so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “just one dinner. for old times’ sake? i’m sure you still have that sweater i liked.”

​“i burned that sweater in a ceremonial bonfire two winters ago,” you lied—mostly because it sounded more dramatic than telling him you donated it to a thrift store. “and i’m busy. for the rest of my life. forever.”

​“you’re not busy, you’re just scared of how much we still click,” he said, sounding like a budget self-help book.

​it was exhausting. it was a marathon of annoyance, and you were running it in lead boots. you needed a shield. you needed a fortress. you needed a god.

​or, failing that, you needed the vice-captain of the fukurodani volleyball team who was currently walking toward the equipment shed with a stride so graceful it felt like he was mocking the very concept of gravity.

​akaashi was, in your humble and very biased opinion, the pinnacle of human evolution. he was a calm sea in a world of hurricanes. he was the quiet ‘click’ of a light switch in a dark room. he was also the man who had been the protagonist of every single one of your daydreams for the last six months.

​he looked up, his sharp, intelligent eyes catching yours. there was a flicker of something there—a subtle tightening of his jaw, a momentary lapse in his perfect composure—whenever he saw you. you usually chalked it up to him being tired of your presence, but today, you were desperate.

​your ex stepped closer, his shadow looming over you like a particularly unwelcome rain cloud. “come on, just give me five minutes to explain—”

​“i have a boyfriend!” you blurted out, the lie tasted like copper and panic.

​your ex paused, one eyebrow arching in a way that screamed ‘prove it.’ “oh yeah? since when? i haven’t seen anyone.”

​your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird. you scanned the horizon, and there he was. akaashi. beautiful, stoic, potentially-willing-to-help akaashi.

​you needed to ask him. you needed him to play along just long enough to send this human equivalent of a damp sock packing. you just had to phrase it perfectly. a simple request for a fake relationship to act as a deterrent. easy.

​except, as you started walking toward him, your brain decided to melt into a puddle of prehistoric sludge.

𝒶.𝓴.

​the air in the gym hallway felt approximately ten times thicker than usual, like you were trying to sprint through a swimming pool filled with honey. your heart was performing a drum solo that could be heard from space. behind you, the ‘human equivalent of a mosquito’ was still hovering, his skepticism practically radiating off him in waves of unearned confidence.

​akaashi was standing by the equipment shed, adjusting the strap of his sports bag with the kind of meticulous precision that usually made you want to write poetry about his fingers. he looked up as you approached, and for a split second, his entire posture shifted. his shoulders dropped, his gaze softened, and the typical stoic mask he wore for the world crumbled into something dangerously close to adoration.

​it was now or never. you had to sell this.

​“akaashi!” you chirped, your voice hitting a pitch you didn’t know you possessed.

​he blinked, his dark eyes widening just a fraction. “y/n? is everything alright? you look a bit… distressed.”

​you reached him, your lungs suddenly deciding that breathing was an optional hobby. you leaned in close—close enough to smell the faint scent of laundry detergent and cool mint that always clung to him like a second skin. it was a scent that usually made your knees feel like they were made of overcooked noodles.

​“akaashi, could you be my fake boyfriend? my ex keeps bothering me,” you whispered, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a frantic, tangled rush.

​except, in the chaotic theater of your mind, a very specific thing happened. as you said ‘fake,’ a heavy metal cart full of volleyballs rattled loudly across the gym floor behind you—bang—swallowing the most important syllable of your entire life.

​to akaashi, the sentence he had spent the last six months dreaming about, praying for, and losing sleep over finally manifested in reality. he didn’t hear a request for a protective ruse. he heard a confession. he heard:

​‘akaashi, could you be my boyfriend? my ex keeps bothering me.’

​for a moment, time simply stopped. the universe ceased its expansion. akaashi’s brain, usually a high-functioning supercomputer capable of calculating the trajectory of a volleyball in milliseconds, completely short-circuited. blue screen of death. system reboot required.

​his grip on his bag tightened until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. a boyfriend? your boyfriend? the concept hit him like a physical blow to the solar plexus. he had spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’d ever be brave enough to ask you for your phone number, and here you were, offering him the keys to the kingdom because some pathetic ghost from your past was trying to haunt you.

​he didn’t care about the ex. he didn’t care about the context. he only cared about the ‘yes’ he was going to say.

​“yes,” he said, the word leaving his lips before he could even process the breath required to speak it.

​you blinked, a wave of relief washing over you. “really? you don’t mind? i know it’s a lot to ask on such short notice, but he just won’t—”

​“i don’t mind,” akaashi interrupted, his voice dropping an octave into a register that was far too intimate for a ‘fake’ arrangement. he stepped toward you, closing the gap until you were forced to look up at him. his gaze was predatory in its devotion, a quiet fire burning behind his pupils.

​he reached out, his hand hovering near your waist for a heartbeat before he settled it firmly against the small of your back. the heat of his palm seared through your shirt, sending a bolt of electricity straight to your toes.

​“in fact,” he murmured, his eyes flicking over your shoulder to where your ex was standing, “i should have stepped in sooner. i apologize for being so unobservant of my own partner’s discomfort.”

‘​partner?’ you thought, your brain lagging. ‘wow, he’s really committing to the bit. he’s like the meryl streep of fukurodani.’

​your ex approached, looking confused and slightly intimidated by the sheer aura of competence radiating off the boy next to you. “wait, what? you’re… with him?”

​akaashi observed him with the detached clinical interest a scientist might show a particularly dull specimen of mold. then, with a smoothness that felt like silk over a blade, he drew you closer until your side was pressed flush against his chest. you could feel the steady, thudding rhythm of his heart. it was fast. incredibly fast.

​“we’ve been together for a while now,” akaashi lied with the straightest face you had ever seen in your life. he sounded so convincing that for a split second, you actually searched your memory for a first date you might have forgotten. “i’m surprised y/n hasn’t mentioned it, but then again, she tends to not tell anyone things to people that aren’t important.”

​the jab at your ex was so subtle, so sharp, that you almost wanted to cheer.

​“look, man,” your ex started, stepping forward. “i just wanted to talk to her—”

​akaashi’s hand on your back shifted, his fingers splaying out possessively. he took a single step forward, shielding most of your body with his own. he wasn’t a loud person, but the sheer, concentrated intensity of his stare was enough to make the air turn cold.

​“she’s expressed that she isn’t interested in talking,” akaashi said, his voice a low, dangerous hum. “as her boyfriend, it’s my responsibility to ensure her wishes are respected. if you continue to disregard them, i’ll have to consider this harassment. and i’m very protective of what belongs to me.”

​the word belongs made your brain do a backflip. he was really going for the ‘obsessive protector’ trope, wasn’t he? you looked up at him, intending to give him a ‘thanks, you’re doing great’ look, but when your eyes met his, you froze.

​akaashi wasn’t looking at your ex anymore. he was looking down at you, and the expression on his face was so tender, so desperately devoted, that it felt like you were intruding on something private. his thumb began to stroke the fabric of your shirt in a slow, rhythmic circle. it wasn’t the gesture of a fake boyfriend. it was the gesture of a man who had finally found the missing piece of his soul and intended to weld it to him forever.

​“are you okay, darling?” he asked, the pet name rolling off his tongue like it had been living there for years.

​you squeaked—an actual, high-pitched squeak. “y-yeah. totally. keiji. yes.”

​your ex, realizing he was currently fighting a losing battle against a man who looked like he would gladly go to war over a misplaced hair on your head, took a stumble-step back. “whatever. i get it. fine.”

​he turned and scurried away, finally disappearing through the gym doors.

​you let out a huge breath of relief, your shoulders sagging. “oh my god, akaashi, thank you. you’re a lifesaver. i thought he’d never leave. you really nailed the ‘boyfriend’ thing. the ‘darling’ was a bit much, but hey, it worked!”

​you started to pull away, expecting him to let go and return to his usual stoic self.

​except, his hand didn’t move. if anything, his grip tightened.

​akaashi looked down at you, a tiny, confused crease forming between his brows. “nailed it? y/n, why would i be acting?”

​you paused, your heart stopping for the second time in five minutes. “wait, what?”

​“i know the circumstances of the confession were a bit hurried because of him,” akaashi said, his voice regaining that terrifyingly soft, devoted edge as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingered against your skin, warm and steady. “but i promise to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. i’ve actually had a three-year plan for our eventual cohabitation drafted in my notebooks, though i suppose we can go through the dating phase first if you’d prefer.”

​your jaw hit the floor. “akaashi… three-year plan? cohabitation?”

​“well, yes,” he said, looking at you like you were the sun, the moon, and all the stars in the galaxy combined. “i’ve been waiting for you to ask me for six months, two weeks, and four days. i’m just glad we’re finally on the same page.”

​he then leaned down and pressed a lingering, soft kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing in what looked like pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

​you were still standing there, frozen, realizing that while you were playing checkers, akaashi had just claimed victory in a game of chess you didn’t even know you were playing.

𝒶.𝓴.

​the air in the hallway was suddenly very thin, and you were pretty sure your brain had just experienced a total system crash. akaashi was still holding you, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a reverence usually reserved for ancient, priceless artifacts. he wasn’t just “playing” a role; he was looking at you like you were the answer to a question he’d been asking the universe since the dawn of time.

​“akaashi,” you squeaked, your voice sounding like a flute being stepped on. “when i asked you to be my boyfriend... back there... i meant fake. like, a pretend boyfriend. to scare him off.”

​the silence that followed was heavy, weighted with the sound of your own frantic pulse. akaashi’s hand stilled. his expression didn’t crumble—that would be too simple. instead, his eyes darkened, a swirling vortex of calculations and intense, simmering devotion. he didn’t pull away. if anything, he leaned closer, his shadow swallowing you whole.

​“fake?” he repeated. the word sounded foreign on his tongue, like he was trying to pronounce a dead language. “y/n, i don’t think you understand. i don’t do anything ‘fake.’ especially not when it comes to you.”

​he took a step forward, forcing you to back up against the cool brick wall of the gym. he didn’t trap you—he didn’t have to—his presence was a cage made of velvet and steel.

​“i have spent every practice for the last six months tracking your location in the stands,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, melodic hum that vibrated in your very marrow. “i know which vending machine juice you buy when you’re stressed. i know that you bite your lip when you’re concentrating on your homework. i have memorized the exact frequency of your laugh.”

​your heart was trying to escape your chest and hand itself over to him on a silver platter. “that’s... a lot of data, akaashi.”

​“it’s not data,” he corrected softly, his face inches from yours. “it’s a map. and today, you finally invited me to follow it. do you really think i’d let a ‘fake’ label stop me now?”

​just then, the ghost of your past—your ex—decided to make one final, catastrophic mistake. he appeared at the end of the hallway, having regained some semblance of his ego.

​“hey! i thought about it, and there’s no way you two are actually—”

​akaashi didn’t even turn his head. he didn’t need to. he simply shifted his weight, shielding you completely from the ex’s view, his hand sliding from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair with a possessive heat that made your knees turn to jelly.

​“leave,” akaashi said. it wasn’t a shout. it was a command, cold and absolute, the kind of tone that could stop a heart mid-beat.

​the ex turned pale, scrambled backward, and finally, mercifully, vanished for good.

​the silence returned, but it was different now—charged with a frantic, sweet electricity. you looked up at akaashi, your breath hitching. he looked exhausted, like the sheer effort of containing his affection for you was starting to fray his composure.

​“he’s gone,” you whispered, unsure of what else to say. “you can stop now.”

​akaashi let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. “i told you. i’m not stopping. i’ve been waiting for this for so long that my chest actually hurts when you’re not in my line of sight.”

​he took your hand and guided it upward, pressing your palm flat against the center of his chest. beneath the thin fabric of his fukurodani jersey, his heart was thundering—wild, erratic, and completely undone. it was a rhythmic franticness that mirrored your own.

​“i don’t care if you started this as a game to get rid of him,” he whispered, his eyes searching yours with a raw, terrifying honesty. “i’m making it real. all i need is for you to lay your head on the little thing that beats for you in my chest, and tell me you feel it too.”

​you didn’t have a choice. your body moved on its own, guided by the gravitational pull of a man who was clearly, hopelessly, and beautifully devoted to you. you tucked your head under his chin, pressing your ear against his chest.

​thump-thump. thump-thump.

​it was the most honest sound you had ever heard. it sounded like a home you hadn’t realized you were looking for. you wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling the way his entire body shuddered in relief, his arms winding around you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your two souls into one.

​“okay,” you breathed into his chest, the scent of mint and pure keiji filling your senses. “no faking. i think i’ve been down bad for you just as long, akaashi.”

​he let out a soft, triumphant sound—half-laugh, half-sob—and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a lingering, worshipful kiss there.

​“good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with a desperate, wholesome kind of hunger. “because i’ve already picked out the curtains for our apartment, and it would be very difficult to return them now.”

​you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be surprised. you just squeezed him tighter, realizing that being ‘claimed’ by akaashi keiji was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

n: well, there goes my ideas. i’ve been getting a lot of asks asking me to uhh do them from the back..? people who follow me in insta have been watching me break down over those.

keiji’s taglist 1/3

@the-bloopsters @trulyylee @highandalive @nelinkythoughts @sleepykeijiii @averys-place @reverd-ck @sxnnee @anzuuhoshi @evilari111 @rabbitcola @nivabiva @eudaim0nia-a @miilsa @yeonette @forgottensniper @katzline @michexoxo @meonelixir @pelicanpizza @x3nafix @meikstv @depressinglyobsessed @buriedfifii @keiob @ghostwifeyy @bigdaddyyaoii @perpetuallydone @mptality @qardasngan @crystal-lilac @methiart @wensurr @alyriaschoenheit @rafsbeloved @suha-reads @sillylule @horanghaepaws @imjustanobody2024 @hibernatinghamster @olliesoxenfree @griffincorn @fiannee @snowstormsandavalanches @starzlytoetsie @ceramic-raven @nekoffie @eri0-0 @kuroofangirl67 @lov3shin

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners !

iloveu

[iaemjnct]

next-door neighbour!higuruma x f!reader

tw: smut, mdni

next-door neighbour!higuruma coming from running a few errands, spots you in the hallway. the door to the apartment right next to his wide open as he sees you carrying a few boxes in by yourself. you huffed as you looked at the rest of the boxes and other small furniture and decorations laying around in the hallways that you need to bring in until you spot him staring.

you beamed up and walk towards him. you take in his appearance, a nice white fitted shirt that his muscles kind of bulged out, black slacks, hair slicked up, his long, big nose. oh how lucky you are to have such a handsome neighbour.

“oh! you must be my neighbour! i’m y/n!” you excitedly reach your hand out for a shake and he just stares at your hand then at the left over mess you left in the hallway.

“do you need help?”

“oh! uh that would be appreciative, yes.” you nervously replied as he walks pass you and helps you bring in your stuff.

he sighs as he brings in the last few things before setting it in on the floor.

“thank you for helping-.” trying to catch his name.

“just helped so you don’t crowd the hallway, the landlord wouldn’t appreciate the mess.” he says monotoned as he starts to walk out of your apartment. he walks out towards his complex before unlocking it and entering his place with the sound of the door closing. you only can stand there in surprise at what just happened.

“what a prick.” you muttered in disbelief but that will not stop you for being the nice person you are.

next-door neighbour!higuruma on his way out to get to work and spots you exiting your place in nothing but tight-fitted sports top and biker shorts that insinuate your curves. you had your earphones in until you lifted you head up to see your neighbour, dressed up in a charcoal black suit, leather brief case in hand, disheveled hair and slight dark eyebags under his eyes.

“hey! you’re an early bird, on your way to work i assume.” you say with a smile. higuruma only sighs as you both walk towards the elevator.

“yes. i am.” he replies. the silence that follows is awkward as you both enter the elevator and descend down. you both standing side by side.

“i didn’t catch your name the other day.” you say. trying to make sense of your nameless neighbour. the elevator doors open and he walks out quickly catching you a little off guard. you catch up to him outside as he walks towards his car. he stops abruptly before turning to you and stares before he huffs.

“hiromi higuruma.” you hear him say before entering his car and driving off from his lot, car disappearing in minutes. you smile to yourself before starting your morning walk.

next-door neighbour!higuruma hears a knock on his door the moment he steps foot in the kitchen. it was right at 9am, who would possibly need something from him at this time.

he walks over to open the door, about to cuss out the menace that tries to bother him early in the morning, but instead finds you, wearing a thin-strapped tank top and short pajama shorts with fuzzy slippers on, your hair up in a messy bun. dare he say you look beautiful in the morning, but he refrains himself from thinking of you that way. you’re just his neighbour.

“goodmorning! i baked some muffins last night, had a few extra lying around. they’re banana muffins with chocolate chips in it!” you enthusiastically. he eyes you before looking down at the container of muffins as you hand it him.

he grabs it as he still stares at it.

“i hope you’re not allergic to anything, if you are, i can uh, take it back! but think of it as a thank you treat for helping me move in!” you ramble on as he looks up to look at you. you gave him a nervous smile.

“thank you.” he says as you let out a small sigh in relief.

“you’re welcome! i’ll uh go now, um let me know how they taste, haveaniceday.” you say quickly before leaving quickly to get back to your apartment and close the door behind you.

higuruma can only just stare as he watched you enter your apartment complex. he enters his, closes the door behind him and sets the muffins down. he eyes it before opening it and grabbing one, he smells it first, enjoying the smell of bananas and chocolate before taking a bite. the delicate taste of bananas as the chocolate chips melt in his mouth, with the soft and moist bread. it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten.

next-door neighbour!higuruma peeks from the balcony as he sees you do some yoga on your balcony.

he didn’t mean to be a creep, he just so happens to see your figure in his peripheral as he finishes up his paperwork for his next case.

he watches you for a good minute. with the way you maneuver your hips around as your feet are planted against your mat. the way your arms flex over your head. the way you let out a breathy sigh as you do your next move. he can only imagine how you would sound like under hi-

he slams his laptop and abruptly gets up to enter his living room and shutting the balcony slide door closed. all this movement was loud enough for you to stop what you were doing and look over to your neighbours’ balcony, briefly seeing his figure enter his home. you slightly smirk and continue on.

he sighs then groans as he notices a tent forming within his pants.

next-door neighbour!higuruma sees you as you were leaving the apartment building as he was arriving late at night from the law office. he eyes you attentively. you wearing a nice red dress, hugging your curves, black high heels and small red purse on your shoulder. your hair was nicely curled and your face beautifully covered with makeup.

you were texting on your phone until you felt the presence of higuruma standing at the elevator door. you greet him with a smile.

“good evening higuruma-san.”

“good evening.” he clears his throat as he replies with a curt nod.

“date?” he asked as he presses on the elevator button going up while trying to sound normal as possible, definitely not trying to sound curious.

“yup. some guy from the cafe i frequently visit asked me out. just gonna see how it goes.” you explained. he only nods as he enters the elevator.

“well have a good-.” the elevator door closed in your face, cutting you off.

“-night.” you mumbled as you slightly sulk. you walked out of the apartment as a car pulls up to the entrance. you see your date roll down the window and smirks.

“hey gorgeous, you ready?”

“hey naoya! yes i am.” you greet him.

next-door neighbour!higuruma was awoken by the sound of his door pounding with knocks. he took in his surroundings at first, realizing he fell asleep on his living room couch, still in his office attire. he rubs his eyes before getting up and as more knocks erupted. he scowls hard, trying to think who in their right mind would cause a ruckus at 2 am in the night.

he opens his door quickly, about to scold some nuisance, but instead finds you, again. you bare foot as you were holding your heels in your hand, makeup slightly smudged, hair a bit messy with a slight smell on vodka radiating off of you. you look like a mess.

“y/n? what are you doing? it’s 2am.”

“oh! higuruma! w-what are you doing in my apartment?” you slurred as you wobbled into his apartment unannounced. you were drunk and he realized that. and you think this is your apartment.

“y/n, you’re drunk. this is my apartment, not yours.”

you don’t listen as you lay down on his couch, releasing a relaxed ah sound as you head hits the pillows. you set your heels down on the floor. he follows and watched you in disbelief. no way he was dealing with his right now, at 2am.

“y/n.” he sternly says, you don’t budge. you sit there with your eyes closed, not saying a thing. he walks up to you and shake your shoulder to wake you.

“y/n.”

nothing. he sighs heavily. you knocked out as soon as you hit the couch. he just stares at you, studying every feature of your face. seeing how beautiful you are, unconsciously not knowing his face was really close to yours. he then decides to carry you, bridal style, into his room, lays you down on his bed and covers your body with a blanket. he closes his bedroom door and stays on the couch for the night.

you woke up the next morning, to an alarm. you squint your eyes as you open to the light shining through sheer black curtains. you rub your eyes and turn off the alarm. you yawn as you sat up and groan as your body aches from the uncomfortable clothes you wore to sleep last night. you look down to see your dress as the realization hit you.

black curtains, a thin blanket, an office desk, blank walls, a big king size bed. this is not your room. thus this is not your place. you realized that this might be your neighbour’s room instead. you’re eyes widen so quickly. you got up real quick and opened the door. you looked out to see if anyone was around, and the coast is clear. you quickly and quietly walked towards the door, about to open it and go to your home and forget everything ever happened, until a voice interrupted.

“you’re awake.” you hear a voice say behind you, you stop in your tracks and freeze.

you sighed as there is no way getting out of this and turned to face him. he had his arms crossed over his chest. wearing a white button up with the a few top button undone with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his muscular forearms, and some tight black slacks. gosh he looks so hot right now, but now it’s not the time to think of those thoughts as now you have to explain yourself how you got yourself in this situation. so you did before he could say anything.

“oh, hey higuruma-san. i uh-i just want to apologize for crashing your place last night.” you awkwardly say as you avoid making eye contact with him.

“i guess i had too much to drink last night. date was being an asshole the entire night. i thought i could get away from him if i just get wasted.” you muttered but it was coherent to higuruma as he looked at you with slight eyebrows raised.

“he didn’t do anything to you though right?” he sounded concerned. your eyes widened.

“oh no! he didn’t thank god. i just took the taxi home last night.” you reassured him as he gave a slight nod.

“well, you were pretty knocked out the moment you crashed on my couch.” he says as you slightly cringe at the hazy memory.

“i apologize again. i’ll make it up to you, i’ll do anything.” you say and that peeked higuruma’s attention.

“anything?” he repeats as he slowly walks towards you until he’s really close to you, looking down on you as you look up to him. the way he’s looking, his eyes screaming to touch you. you legs squeezing together, as you bite your lip in anticipation.

next-door neighbour!higuruma has his arms wrapped around your waist, has lifted you up and put against the wall. your legs wrapped around him for support with your hands in his hair. tongues fighting each as you make out. you groan as he doesn’t break off the kiss but brings you towards the kitchen counter. he sets you down and mumbles in your ear.

“i didn’t have breakfast yet, so i’m quite hungry right now.” he says as his hands, under the skirt of your dress trickle up your thighs to pull down your panties, feeling the material, your lace panties. he lets them drop down before kneeling down, scrunching up your dress and spreading your legs apart to see your wet, glistening pussy. he looks at it hungrily.

“looks good.” as you watch him dive straight in. you moan at the sudden sensation of his tongue swirling between the folds of your pussy. his nose slightly digging into your clit. you arch your back as he sucks and tongues your cunt.

“o-oh hiromi.” you moan his name. he groans, causing a vibration sensation through your pussy.

he continues licking your pussy dry. flicking his tongue rapidly, creating a pleasurable sensation as you pull on his hair as you moan.

“ohhh fuck yes.” as your shift your hips forward, slightly grinding your cunt against his face.

“do that again.” you hear him mutter. you grind on his face again and you feel your pussy pulse. you continue to do that, as higuruma’s thumb reaches for your clit, rubbing it rapidly as you pick up the pace.

“shittt i’m gonna cum-.”

“cum baby.” he says and you ride out your high until your orgasm crashes down on you. your body vibrating, legs shaking as higuruma continues you suck every last bit of your arousal. you groan so loudly at your high as higuruma pulls back and smirks.

“so sweet.”

next-door neighbour!higuruma is balls deep into your pussy as he hits it from behind. seeing the way you’re bent over the counter, holding onto dear life as your ass jiggles every time he thrusts in hard.

“fuck, ugh. the moment-ngh i saw you. thought you were shit- so beautiful.” he grunts as he holds your hips and thrusts deeper and harder into your squelching pussy.

“mm hiromi-.” you moan as your pussy suck him in.

“shit you’re tight, stretching out this pussy real good for you baby.”

your moans mix in the air with sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing throughout his apartment.

he suddenly picks up his pace as he quickly thrusts into your cunt as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“nghh gonna cum a-again ugh.” you groan out as he continues to fuck your pussy out.

“argh, yes baby, cum on my dick.” he moans as you let out your second orgasm, head rolled back and legs shaking violently as you cum. higuruma quickly follows up.

“gonna cum, shit-.” as he pulls out quickly and jerks off as his cum shoots out, landing on you ass and lower back. he groans loudly, letting every drop of his seed onto your skin as he heaves heavily.

“let me clean you up.” he says as he quickly walks to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and walks back and cleans you.

“you know those banana muffins you gave me the other day?” he says as he fixes his shirt and sleeves. you look at him as you adjust your clothes.

“you should make them again, for me.” he gives you a small smile, you smile back.

© iaemjnct 2026. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

lowkey didn’t know how to end this :/ but i hope you enjoyed this! i finally made a fic for higuruma, sigh he’s so hot. lowkey wish i added more law references but didn’t really know how to incorporate it, next time i will!

anyways please reblog if you enjoyed reading this fic, it helps boosts my content and please like and follow if you want to see more content from me! i appreciate all the support! <3

[inkykeiji]

feels good to be running from the devil

anonymous said: imagine natsuo holding you in his lap while ur watching a movie with touya-nii and he’s sitting rather close but u ignore it, until u feel a big hand on ur thigh, tracing and trailing up, up, and up until he’s tracing ur clit through ur panties and natsuo, already knowing where tonight was headed, leans in to whisper against ur ear, “you’re gonna let touya-nii have his fun right? you’re gonna be good for me and let him play with you?”

characters: todoroki touya, todoroki natsuo

genre: smut

notes: hehehe this was really fun!!! it’s set in my sugar daddy natsuo AU! reader’s a lil bit of a brat and Big Bad Brother touya is mean as always!! | title cred: high by sir sly

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudoincest, daddy kink, toxic/codependent relationships, degradation/dumbification, dacryphilia, frottage, pussy spanking

words: 3.4k

Keep reading

[inkykeiji]

beautiful when the damage is done

part one | part two

characters: todoroki touya | dabi, todoroki natsuo

genre: smut laced with angst and a pinch of fluff

notes: part two of getting naughty with natsuo!! please please heed the warnings!! | title cred: sick thoughts by lewis blissett

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, sadism, punishment via overstimulation, pseudo-incest (stepcest), vaguely implied incest, emotional manipulation, a hint of degradation, toxic relationships, poly relationship, dom/sub dynamics, a LOT of crying (dacryphilia), slight size kink/size difference, rough sex

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

And you’re both reminded of how privileged you are, being the only two who ever get to witness this side of him, the only two who are fortunate enough to see the person he might’ve been if you stripped away years upon years of trauma and abuse, the person he truly is at the core of his soul, the person he was born as before he was forced to layer himself with thick, protective walls of aggression coated in indifference—and the person who he becomes as he sheds that armor, in the middle of the night when it’s just the three of you, the whole world having fallen away outside the bedroom door.

Keep reading

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ touya-nii + his nasty habit of sneaking into your bedroom

character: todoroki touya | dabi warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest, noncon, a slight bit of degradation, implied size difference words: 1.2k

he’s always careful when he starts. careful when he creeps into your room in the middle of the night, sock clad feet quiet against the hardwood; careful to keep the doorhandles latch from catching on the strike plate as he closes it behind him; careful not to wake you as he slinks into your frilly little bed, knocking stuffed animals and extra pillows onto the floor, as he worms his way beneath your pink-piped comforter and slithers his hand between your silky thighs—ah, good girl, you’re not wearing those pesky sleep shorts, just like he told you not to (good little sisters only wear panties to bed; and sometimes, they don’t even wear those, he had informed you)—and then wiggles his fingers under your lacy undies.

that’s when he stops being careful. 

because he loves that sharp gasp of surprise, that sheer unadulterated bolt that courses through your body—shock in the purest, prettiest form—that jolts you from your blissful slumber almost violently; skin shuddering, eyes snapping open, when he shoves two dirty fingers into your ill-prepped cunt. 

it’s his favourite sound in the world, he swears it is, swears he would bottle it up and keep it close to his heart if he could, swears he would wear it around his neck like the cutest, daintiest little noose, tethering him to you. 

but this is the next best thing, he supposes. 

your eyes slip shut again, so tightly they crinkle the corners and furrow your brow, and a whine of his name spills from your lips; first in frustration, then again all wispy and dumb when he curls his knuckles against that plush spot buried deep inside of you—that spot he knows so well, that spot he discovered, then claimed as his own. 

yeah, not so irritated now, are ya, y’little brat. 

no, you’re not. you’re sighing out his name in time with the pumps of his fingers, all melty and stupid and oh-so-cute, knotted with his honorific and seeping into your lace-trimmed pillows in little threads of drool. you’re grinding your ass back against his hard cock as you pathetically hump his palm, indulging him as his hips rut into your plush flesh, pre-cum steadily leaking through his thin pyjama pants, staining plaid in dark wet patches.

“touya-nii,” you whimper, back arching a little, nipples peaked through the thin cotton of your camisole. “stop, stop.” 

this is the routine almost every time, practiced and perfected through night after night of rehearsals, and you play your part flawlessly; effortless and enticing and full of emphasis, because you know he gets off on it—the no!s and wait!s and don’t!s, sometimes spit from your lips, sometimes dribbling out the corner of your mouth, only heightening the whole sordid affair.

because you’re just as fucking sick as your big brother is. 

he can’t stop, don’t you know?

it’s all your fault, he’s telling you, voice caught somewhere between accusatory and mocking. if you weren’t such a slutty little tease, nii-chan wouldn’t have to do this. 

but it’s all just a game; he knows you love it just as much as he does, knows you’re just as depraved as he is, because your actions don’t match your words, you bad girl, the rolling of your hips encouraging the rocking of his own, one of your free hands threading itself over his and guiding it to your breast, bony knuckles pressing into a soft palm as his fingers flex around supple flesh.

if you didn’t love it, if you didn’t want it, then why would you prance around the house in those short, short little dresses? the ones that fan out when you twirl to your music in the living room or ride up when you bend over while cooking in the kitchen, gifting anyone within the immediate vicinity (your vile siblings and their prying eyes) a coveted glimpse of the silk and lace clinging delicately to your cheeks; the ones that are an inch or two too short to be considered wholly decent, and the ones Daddy has repeatedly told you to stop wearing around your big brothers—especially the eldest. 

“m’sorry, touya-nii, m’sorry, m’sorry.”

no, you’re not, but that’s okay. he isn’t, either. 

at least you have each other.

your other hand snakes between your tensing thighs, cupping his own, little fingers layering larger ones as they try to speed up his motions, push his digits deeper, fuck you harder, give you more. 

these trysts never last long enough, though; no matter how hard he tries to lengthen them, to savour them, you’re both too eager, too hungry for one another, cumming too quickly in the dead of night as your bodies tremble together, as names shatter on tongues in sharp whispers and limbs seize and tangle and fuse into one.

it’s always so fucking messy, your cunt clenching around your conjoined fingers, slick dribbling down his knuckles in thick dollops to pool in his hand, to settle in the lines of his palm and streak his inner wrist in pretty shimmering streams.

it’s always so fucking messy, his grunts hot and humid against the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to the crown of your head as his cock throbs, filling flannel with copious amounts of burning, sticky cum—so much it seeps through the material to soak your scrunched panties, so much it dries in a hard glaze, welding lace to your ass. 

you don’t ever dare to wash it off, clean it away, eradicate the evidence, instead allowing each other’s pleasure to stain your skins, wearing it like a mark of honour, a claim of ownership, barely visible when it dries into something firm and translucent, but there nonetheless. 

his fingertips continue to flutter against that swollen spot until ripples of overstimulation are shuddering through your flesh, until your little hand is wreathing around his syrupy wrist and nails are biting into his flesh and tugging, tears beginning to bead your lashes.

only then does he chuckle and pull his hand free, knuckles hooking in an attempt to scrape your walls, a heavy coat of your arousal glistening on his fingers. 

“you cum so fucking much for your big brother,” he growls in your ear, lips wet against the cartilage, voice tapering off into a whine. “look at how wet you get for me.” 

two of his fingers flatten against your cheek and then swipe, slow and hard and thorough, smearing a thick film of your slick across your face, from the tip of your temple to the corner of your mouth, back and forth and back and forth until it’s been rubbed into your skin. 

callused fingertips push past your parted lips, weighing down on your tongue and cramming themselves into your throat, forcing you to taste yourself—to taste him, painted in you; spicy nicotine and heady salt.

“you’re fucking disgusting,” he pants out, but his pupils are gaping, watching as your gorge yourself on your big brother’s flesh, lips puckering and cheeks hollowing as your tongue curls around his knuckles and tries to siphon him further down your throat. 

a whine splinters in his chest as he pulls his extremities free from your voracious grip, slathered in spit, viscous cords strung between his knuckles as he spreads them apart. 

“yeah, you’re real fucking sick, y’know that?” 

“you made me like this, nii-chan,” you breathe out dreamily, already drifting back into sleep’s welcoming embrace, body going lax in his arms and snuggling back against his chest. 

yeah, he fucking did. 

and neither of you would have it any other way. 

[mewnbuns]

your best friend humbly offering to take your virginity out of the kindness of his heart because he doesn’t want you to end up losing it to someone who doesn’t deserve it (he’s been plotting on this outcome for months)

[aikuwuus]

hey lex hi. so i crashed out last night thinking about your owner!oliver x cat hybrid!reader. again. and i was just wonderingggggg if you could share anything about their first time 👉👈

— in heat. cw: explicit smut, hybrid themes, praise kink, heat cycle, fingering, oral (reader rec), piv sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, everything but the kitchen sink really... (hi i'm crashing out with you x) wc: 1361 | MINORS, AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

oliver adopted you on a whim, a sort of endearing thought he had entertained a few times. the idea that he'd always have someone to come home to at the end of day, a cute little thing to fuss over him and cuddle up with on the couch or in his bed. not to mention it fed into his selfish desire to be needed, a sturdy pillar in someone's life.

he had trouble finding these things in normal partners, but when you came into his life, all of those things started to feel a little more attainable.

oliver was diligent in figuring out your basic needs, observing your temperament and cultivating the bond he secretly always wanted. it took little time for you to warm up to him, which he attests to his very charismatic personality and being generous with the praises you seemed receptive to.

you very quickly became his good little kitty, his pretty baby that he spoiled rotten. he brushed your hair and brought home all sorts of special treats for you, even a collar in your favorite color with a 14 carat gold name tag. some would say you had him wrapped around your finger.

but the one thing oliver hadn't accounted for was the most basic need a feline like you would have, that animalistic urge that you couldn't control, deeply embedded in your dna: your heat.

after a few weeks, oliver started to notice your behavior changing, growing increasingly more affectionate, and in hyper mega doses at that. you wouldn't leave him alone, you'd cry when he'd go to the gym, and you'd brush your ass against his crotch a few too many times for him to ignore.

"oliiii," you whine almost painfully, draped over his lap on the couch and wriggling around nonstop. "it hurtssss."

"what hurts, baby?" he coos in that smooth comforting tone that he knows you like. he runs his hands through your hair and down your back and notices how you keep lifting your hips. it's a curious thing to him.

you whimper back, nails kneading into the fibers of the couch because every stroke of his hand feels like heaven, but you need more.

"i need... i need... mmmph—" you arch your back and toot your ass up, the ache between your legs getting to be too much to handle without relief. but at this point, oliver seems to have begun to connect a few of the dots.

he trails a hand over your ass, down the back of your thigh and watches how you react to his touch. your cheeks are flushed, and you're already panting against the couch cushions. you look horny.

the lightbulb goes off in oliver's head. thankfully, he's pretty confident that he can help you with this.

he grazes two fingers over your shorts, right between your legs, and can feel the heat radiating from underneath, a slight dampness to the fabric that makes him huff out a chuckle.

"do you need me to touch you, pretty girl?"

you nod so enthusiastically that it makes you dizzy, wiggling your hips to try and find his fleeting touch again. "yes, oli, pleaseee."

oliver would usually be the type to make someone work for a reward like this, but he also feels a little bad for being slow on the uptake of your needs. and the display in front of him makes it hard to delay further action.

he slips your shorts and panties down your thighs, marveling at how soaked you are already. there's a pool of slick between your soft folds that makes his cock twitch in his pants.

"mm, what a pretty pussy..."

"please, oli, please, oh please—"

"shhh, i gotcha, baby," he responds smoothly, gliding his fingers over your wetness that instantly has you moaning and purring loudly. "i'm gonna take good care of you, okay?"

he slips two fingers in effortlessly, your arousal defeating any resistance that your flittering walls might've already had. you jerk your hips back, bury your face into the couch and whine so wantonly that they neighbors might hear.

oliver wastes no time in plunging his fingers into your weeping hole, impressed by the debauched sound of your arousal with every thrust. he's never seen someone this wet before.

"oh, oliiii. mmph... feels so good."

"yeah? you like that, baby?"

your ears are nearly flat, tail twitching like crazy and your chest vibrates with thick purrs of pleasure. your moan desperately as oliver curls his fingers against your sweet spot, and in less than a minute you feel the release you've been dying for. you shake and pant through your high, and oliver starts to feel his mouth salivating as he watches his knuckles get coated with your cum.

he doesn't ask if you feel better now, because he's not done yet.

oliver gently flips you onto your back, your legs spreading without him even having to do it himself, and he growls between his teeth. he nestles himself between your thighs and grips your hips before pressing his hot tongue against your slit, the taste of you overtaking his senses and making him even harder.

despite his firm hold, you buck your hips against his face, and judging by the way he dives further into your cunt, he doesn't mind. in fact, he doesn't mind any of it, because the fact that you needed him this badly fuels something within him akin to your own primal instincts.

oliver has you cumming on his tongue in no time, and no matter how diligent he is in trying to clean you up, there's still arousal leaking from your twitching hole. his cock strains against his sweats at the sight.

"oliiiii, please... more." you're pleasure drunk and delirious already, pawing at him pathetically because you just can't help it. not only do you feel incredible, but the fact that it's oliver... your oliver making you feel this way... you think nothing has ever felt better.

and oliver... he hears your whimpered little pleas and your rumbling purrs, sees your fucked out face and your glistening folds, and he thinks he's finally found a match for his level of stamina.

"tch, so needy, arent'cha baby?"

"can't... can't help it. oli, please—"

"don't worry, sweetheart," he tucks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and shoves them down over his thighs along with his sweats, an exhale of breath at the relief of letting his cock free. "told ya i'm gonna take good care of you, hm?"

oliver fucks you thoroughly into the couch, the air in the living room growing heady. your pitchy moans get louder and louder with every orgasm, the wet slick sound of your pussy and the rhythmic jingle of your gold name tag and oliver's groans filling your ears like a euphoric melody.

"good girl... good fuckin' girl, baby." he has one hand pressed to your belly, the other tucked under your chin to give you even more pleasure while he thrusts into you relentlessly. your walls squeeze him so tight that he can't fight off his impending release.

and it's like you can sense it, your nose catching the increased level of desire pouring from his body heat that you lock your ankles behind him, your tail softly curling around his thigh.

and oliver cums just like that.

he nearly collapses on top of you, a thick guttural moan ripping from his throat as he spills his load inside your heat. you hold him close, nails gripping his shoulders and purring against his chest. the encompassing ache you had earlier is nothing but a dull buzz now, more content with having oliver this close to you.

you think you love him.

"thank you, oli. you're so good to me."

he gives you a tired chuckle, kissing the very tip of your nose.

"can't wait for everyone to find out just how spoiled my kitty really is."

© aikuwuus 2025. do not reproduce, translate, or feed my writing into ai. do not recommend my writing on any other platform.

[aikuwuus]

ᯓ★ Day One : NEPENTHE —

OLIVER AIKU x F!READER. 18+ NSFW. Soft Dom!Oliver, Reader POV, established FWB, date gone wrong (reader gets ghosted), angst if you squint, Oliver cares more than he lets on, petnames (baby + sweetheart), body worship, praise (use of 'good girl') and dirty talk, nipple play, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, kissing and handholding or whatever, creampie, aftercare. WORDCOUNT: 2.8k

18+ MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DNI. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

AIKU WEEK MASTERLIST | DAY TWO ->

Hey are you busy right now? 10:49pm

No. Whats up? 10:51pm

Can I come over? 10:51pm

You worry your thumbnail between your teeth, slumped in the drivers seat of your car with the air conditioning on blast as you stare at the glow of your phone screen. The typing bubble doesn’t immediately come up after your last hasty text, which makes you even more anxious.

You never do this. You never ask to come over to his place unannounced, and you’re sure that both of you are aware of this. It’s not that you don’t want to take initiative, but with Oliver, you hardly have to.

Sure, there’s been times when you have a really bad work week and you reach out to make plans the following day, or nights when you want a little bit of attention and simply stay up an extra hour to exchange hot photos with your friends-with-benefits who’s never shy about showing off his body, but for the most part it’s Oliver that makes the suggestions to hang out.

It’s really only ever about sex, though. Nothing more. And you’re fine with that… for the most part.

Sometimes you do wish that Oliver would be a little less skittish about his feelings or show more interest in things a little deeper than the surface when it comes to you…

He’s a good lay, that fact is certain, but he’s been relatively noncommittal. And you just had to reason with that on your own if this was going to continue.

But after a miserable night of trying to break that cycle of sleeping with a guy who won’t take it to the next level and going on an actual date with someone with the right intentions, only to find out they hardly had the decency to make an appearance at the restaurant after an hour of waiting, there’s only one person your mind thinks to call upon.

To feel better. To forget.

Oliver is good for that.

Bzz!

Sure. Give me 15 mins 10:55pm

You sniffle and blot away your streaky tears with a rough paper napkin from your center console to do your best to save your makeup and head over to Oliver’s apartment.

Within minutes of crossing the threshold of his front door, still in the dress and heels you wore to the date you never got to enjoy, you’re crashing your lips against Oliver’s and quickly straddling his lap on the couch. You paw at his bare chest, fingers roughly tangling in his hair to lick into his mouth and promptly grind down on his crotch.

Any other time, your eagerness would only get Oliver going that much faster, but his keen perception has seemingly decided to speak before his dick this time.

“Baby— Baby, slow down a sec,” he urges between every hurried kiss.

Weird. He’s usually the first one to get straight to the point.

You try to ignore him, overpower him with physical desires, but when his hands take hold of your waist and push instead of pull, you flare with annoyance.

You reluctantly stop attacking him and sigh sharply. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just…” You realize that have to test out your bluffing skills in real time because you hadn’t anticipated this reaction from him. “I’m really horny.”

Oliver chuffs a laugh, untangling your arms from around his neck and forcing you to look at him. “You’re a bad liar, ya know that?”

You make a face then, and something about him… softens.

“C’mon, you come over here unexpectedly in this pretty dress and expect me to not notice that your mascara is all clumpy? And your eyes are all red and puffy. What—”

“Oliver…” You sigh again, this time long and hard, hanging your head between the two of you. “Please don’t.”

You don’t see it, but his eyes narrow, tightening his brow. “Don’t what?”

“Act like you care.”

You can feel his muscles tense underneath you, a twitch of his fingers that still rest on your waist. He’s quiet for a second.

“I can tell something is up.” He soothes his thumbs over your dress, a pacifying thing to get you to calm down. “Just thought you might wanna talk about it.”

And maybe talking about your shitty and embarrassing night of being stood up would be the better option, but you never imagined Oliver Aiku of all people would offer such an intimate kindness, especially not when your dress is already riding up to your hips and you’re practically begging him to fuck you right here on his couch. He should be drooling like a dog with a treat in its mouth.

Oliver is just better suited for things of physical nature, not the emotional kind.

“No,” you finally say.

“I don’t want to talk. I just want to forget.”

“Forget about what?” he pushes again. “What happened?”

“Oli, please. Please…” Your plea dies in your throat that’s fighting to not choke up again. Oliver couldn’t possibly understand. Because he’s happy with being alone, in that way. He’s made that pretty apparent for months now.

He hasn’t wanted more.

“Can you just… be normal Oliver tonight and pretend that I wore this dress to, like, spice things up or whatever and that nothing is wrong?” Your fingers press into his shoulders, voice wobbling despite your efforts to keep it together because whatever he’s doing is melting that wall you tried to put up.

Your eyes start to sting once again. “I just need—”

The touch of his forehead against yours stops your tirade. You feel the way his arms hold you a little tighter now, big palms pressing into your lower back, if only for the comfort.

“Shh,” he finally cuts in. “Okay, alright. No more questions then.”

He holds you close against him and rises to his feet, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for support. You hardly need it, though.

“I gotcha, sweetheart.” Oliver’s voice takes on a gentler tone, a whisper against your skin. You feel goosebumps starting to rise, clutching your arms around his neck as he effortlessly carries you.

It’s a short stride from the living area to his bedroom, cast in nighttime hues and warmth from the street lights below, the soft glow that highlights the differing tones of his eyes that stay trained on you as he lowers you to the edge of his bed.

“So is this a new dress?” he asks, hooking a finger under the shoulder strap.

You nod silently before Oliver is craning down to press a trail of kisses to the curve of your shoulder, pulling the strap of your dress out of the way as he works his way down.

He hums, and you promptly shiver.

“Pretty as a flower.”

You swallow hard, taken aback by his shift in demeanor. His mouth is hot against your skin, a chill rolling down your spine as his tongue flicks over your neck before sucking on it softly.

When you whimper and reach out to tug on the waistband of his sweats, Oliver shushes you again and grabs your wrists with gentle strength.

“Relax, baby. Let me help, yeah?”

He leans into you, his lips finding yours in the darkness as his hand reaches for the zipper at your back. His fingertips run over the length of your back as he brings the zipper down and peels your dress away from you, painstakingly slow and a little too thoughtfully.

It leaves you stunned silent.

Oliver positions you on the bed, your head laid perfectly against his pillow that smells comfortingly like his shampoo, nervous at the way he takes his time admiring your silhouette, nearly bare in the bra and panties that don’t match at all because you weren’t actually expecting to have sex tonight.

And you think that maybe Oliver has put the pieces together by now, why you came over here in a rush in this outfit with smudgy makeup and refusing explanation, but he’s forgone his previous attempts to get it out of you.

The look in his eyes now says he understands what you want.

His large hands cup your tits, kneading them over the thin material that still covers them, listening to the way you breathe deeply against his palms. When you automatically arch into the touch, he smoothly guides one hand behind you to unclasp the hooks of your bra and slip it off of you.

You hear Oliver hum with appreciation, and it makes you shudder once again. You can see that lopsided smirk of his through the shadows, usually smug but now something else entirely different.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day, baby.” His tone is warm, hushed and husky as he brings himself lower to kiss across your collarbones. His indigo mess of hair tickles against your cheek and all you can do is whine with need.

He slow to work his way down until his tongue circles around one of your stiff nipples, immediately blowing on it until you’re keening at the sensation.

“Oli…” you whine again.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Oliver smiles. “You just look so damn cute in my bed like this.”

Usually, Oliver says something really brazen to get you to blush, but even just that comment has your cheeks feeling hot already.

He takes his time giving each of your tits the proper attention, keeping a hand on whichever one isn’t occupied by his mouth, all the while you moan and squirm beneath him.

His lack of haste has your head spinning.

Eventually, he moves further down, kissing gingerly around your navel and your hips while his fingers curl under the waistband of your panties.

But he doesn’t yank them off in his typical fashion, only pulls them down one inch, then another, until his stubbly lips are kissing directly over your mound.

His teasing is starting to make you feel like you might explode. The slick ache between your thighs has you pushing your hips off the bed which only makes Oliver coo at your impatience.

You’d smack him if you didn’t catch the gleam in his eyes that makes your mouth go dry, a look that carries a patience to attend to you just the way you need, not the way you want.

“Shit,” he marvels as he slips the lace over the length of your legs, parting your thighs with a gentle firmness. “Already so wet. Must’ve really needed me, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, I did,” you weakly admit. “I do.”

“’Course ya do, baby.” Oliver lets some of that smug confidence that you’re well acquainted with slip out as he settles between your thighs, leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive inner areas leading to your now exposed core.

Oliver lets his tongue drag over the length of your cunt, entrance to clit, before kissing your center so heavily it has you gasping for air. You thighs twitch under his grip, framing his handsome face as he dives right in.

“Fuck,” he groans against your folds, kissing from left to right, up and down. “You taste so damn good.”

Your fingers tangle into his hair, nails scratching his scalp and tugging at the root as he eats your pussy like it’s his favorite meal. He sucks your clit just how he knows you like it, over and over until you’re coming undone with a wobbly cry of his name.

But Oliver doesn’t stop there.

He spends so much time with his face in your cunt that your entire lower half is left trembling from the orgasms he delivers. His tongue eagerly accepts your release, arms pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth like he can’t get enough.

You’re left dizzy and breathless by the time Oliver pulls away, the scruff of his jawline glistening with slick and spit, licking his lips as he finally rids himself of his sweats that have grown uncomfortably tight.

“You alright, sweetheart?” You feel his stubble against your cheek, the warmth of him hovering over your pliant body as you search for his gaze and give him a nod.

Oliver grins proudly. “Good girl. Eyes on me, then, ‘kay?”

You blink through the haze of euphoria he’s plunged you into, looking at violet and green hues as he guides the head of his cock to your entrance, thrusting his hips enough to slide himself almost halfway in on the first stroke.

You both moan in tandem, simultaneous sounds of pleasure racking through you as his cock stretches you open, a welcome feeling of fullness hitting the very heart of your core.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby. Takin’ me so well, hm? That’s it.”

Oliver’s filthy mouth lights a fire under your skin, his pace slow and deliberate and downright mind-numbing. He’s not rough or demanding, no harsh slapping of skin echoing off the walls as his neighbors are used to, but a meaningful rhythm that has tears wetting your lash line once again.

But it’s a different flood of emotion about to hit you this time.

“O-Oli—”

As if he can sense that you’re about to break, Oliver brushes his nose with yours, voice low and reassuring.

“S’okay, baby. I’m here.”

He entwines his fingers with your smaller ones, holding your hands above your head as he kisses you so deeply it squeezes your heart with a frightening intensity.

You’re almost not sure that it’s him.

Oliver fucks you just like that, uncharacteristically close and intimate, letting you thoroughly taste yourself on his tongue and pressing you softly against the mattress. You moan together as his cock strokes your walls in all the right ways, building up that delicious pressure every time he sinks himself deep.

Your sounds of pleasure begin to heighten, pitchy breaths still muffled against Oliver’s mouth, a desperate rock of your hips to increase the friction you need.

Oliver responds in kind, releasing one of your hands to slip between the heat of your bodies. He presses his thumb to your sensitive clit, moving in firm gentle circles until you’re chest heaves against his own.

“One more, yeah?” His voice effortlessly coaxes you closer to the edge. “C’mon, cum for me, baby.”

The precise stimulation makes you shake, the corners of your vision going white as you shatter beneath him, tears trailing down the sides of your face and you sob and stutter out his name in desperation.

Your mind completely melts, every nerve in your body surging with the shock of pleasure.

Oliver drinks you in, groaning unabashedly as your cunt squeezes him so tight that it kickstarts his own release. He draws out a curse, almost panicked as his cock twitches with every thrust that paints your walls white with his cum.

There’s a liminal moment, maybe seconds or even minutes, caught in the comedown that’s left you boneless, mind completely devoid of everything that happened before you got here.

Oliver lets you catch your breath, hands smoothing over your tired body and kissing the tears that streak your temples.

It could be your imagination, but it feels like the two of you eventually start breathing in sync.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He eventually says. “I’m gonna go get some water.”

He peels himself away from you with a satisfied groan, making sure you’re comfortable before tugging his sweats back on to go out to the kitchen.

You wish your voice would have asked him what the hell is up with him tonight, but nothing comes out.

When he returns, you sip on a chilled glass of water while Oliver dabs a cool towel over your face, taking care to be gentle when he places it between your thighs. You almost watch in awe, thankful that he’s being so attentive by also downright confused about his behavior.

“Feeling okay now?” He asks before placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You want anything? Hungry?”

That’s when you deflate, embarrassed by the light churn in your stomach. “A little. I didn’t really get to eat dinner...”

Oliver doesn’t follow up with a prying question this time. He retrieves one of his shirts and a pair of shorts from his dresser instead, placing them in your lap.

“Then how about you get comfy and I’ll order us something? There’s makeup wipes in the bathroom.”

You look at him with playful incredulity. “Since when do you have makeup wipes in your bathroom?”

“In case you ever came over and wanted to take your makeup off.”

He answers so matter-of-factly that you lose any rebuttal you might have had, watching as he kisses your cheek one last time before exiting his bedroom again.

Maybe there was never any pretending when it came to caring.

And what you don’t know as the two of you lounge on the couch well past midnight, you draped in his too-large tshirt and baggy shorts, fresh faced and legs draped over his lap, eating takeaway and watching bad late night TV…

Oliver has decided that he’s never going to let you go on another shitty date again.

a/n: Nepenthe (nuh-PEN-thee) is a mythological potion that relieves emotional pain by inducing forgetfulness. The word is used to describe anything that soothes grief, provides comfort, or offers an escape from mental suffering.

© aikuwuus 2026. do not reproduce, translate, or feed my writing into ai. do not recommend my writing on any other platform.

[aliienangel]

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎𝓣ruth or 𝓓are w ﾉ 𝓖eto 𝓢uguru + 𝓖ojo 𝓢atoru

𝒔𝒖𝒎. maybe you shouldn't have volunteered to help out in the university library during a friday night, but how could you predict that your two friends would get locked in a closet with you because of it?

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ── .✦ mdni (18+), university au, smut, swearing, dirty talk, threesome, taking turns, nipple play, groping, size difference, fíngeríng, piv, creāmpíes, multiple orgasms, hāndjobs, cūmpláy (tiny bit), thigh fūcking, gojo and geto are perverts, reader is cōck drunk, f!reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names used : pretty, sweetheart, sweetie. [8.1k]

This is their fault; you know it is. You know for an absolute fact that you wouldn’t be in this situation if they had just left you alone like you’d asked. How can you be so sure? Well, you’re certainly not dumb enough to lock yourself in the library archival closet of the university. It’d be one thing if you were in here alone but somehow these colossal idiots are in here with you.

The colossal idiots referring to your two friends, Geto and Gojo… unfortunately colossal in both idiocy and size. Being stuck in this small closet with two men over 6ft is so incredibly unlucky that you’re not sure whether you should laugh or yell at them.

After a long moment of silence, you’re grumbling, “I hate you both.” They’d been waiting to see how you reacted to the situation before talking, a rare occurrence in their collective world.

“Come on,” Gojo speaks from behind you, “It’s not that bad.”

You can’t even shoot him with the death glare you want to, it’d be a whole thing just to turn around properly and even then you’d have to look up. It’s not worth it, “Are you kidding? You got us locked in this stupid, small, room that’s basically a cupboard!”

Geto tries to calm you, “It could be worse.”

“Don’t talk, neither of you talk,” you sigh loudly, “I need a moment to think.”

No. You should’ve said no when they asked for volunteers in the library. It’s Friday night and you were here somewhat willingly helping them sort the older archives. Who does that? This university doesn’t even have a proper room, just this shitty closet that’s filled by shelves and boxes.

There aren’t even any students here tonight to save you, too many parties on campus and it’s close to break so those who aren’t partying are either done studying or studying in their dorms. The nice librarian isn’t here either, he left you here with these two. What the hell are you meant to do now? You can’t even call for help, you tried. Shoko isn’t picking up your calls, she’s out with Utahime tonight. They’re probably having fun… another deep sigh.

Gojo talks even though you’d asked him not to, “This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to go out with us tonight instead of being boring.”

“Don’t point that out, Satoru. She’s probably already regretting this.”

You glare pointedly at Geto, “Regretting what? Our friendship.”

“Ouch,” Gojo jokes.

“Why were you even bothering me tonight? You guys go out without me all the time,” they’ve had you at a loss all night, they should’ve just gone out and left you alone to your boring work.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Gojo leans down and rests his chin on your shoulder, it pushes you forward a bit closer to Geto, “we’ve missed you.”

You try to ignore how close you all are to each other, suddenly becoming much more aware of how little space there is, “I had dinner with you guys literally last night.”

“Yeah but that was last night,” he whinges in reply.

“Satoru, there is so little space,” Geto puts his hand on Gojo’s forehead and pushes him back off you, “stop hanging off her.”

With the new space, you shuffle a slight bit away from Geto, “You two are gigantic, what did I do to deserve to be stuck in here with you both?”

“Well, thanks sweetheart,” there’s a long pause after Gojo’s remark, “What? Am I supposed to not comment on being called gigantic?”

Geto pokes your cheek and ignores Gojo, “We were just trying to help you finish the work faster.”

Deadpanning back at him, “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

“It was our pleasure,” Gojo answers genuinely, pretending to not pick up on your tone.

“It’s not that bad, pretty,” Geto smiles politely, “you could be stuck with two strangers.”

“Two strangers wouldn’t have been dumb enough to get locked in a closet with me,” you roll your eyes at him, “plus, for some reason like all the guys on campus avoid me.”

Gojo almost talks over you, “They’re crazy.”

Geto adds, “Their loss.”

“The only guy that has spoken to me recently was someone who came to class after skipping the whole semester,” you think back on him, he was nice enough, “I lent him my notes.”

“That’s so interesting,” Gojo hums, “what’s his name?”

Geto’s still smiling, “Have we met him?”

“I don’t know, what does it even matter?” You brush them off, more concerned with how long you’re meant to put up with being stuck in here.

You can’t even sit down, nowhere near enough room to do so. Choosing to lean back onto Gojo instead, this is mostly his fault anyways so he can put up with your lounging on him. “I don’t wanna stand in here all night,” you complain.

“It won’t be all night,” Able to feel the way Gojo’s chest rumbles through you.

Geto tries to make you feel better, “Yeah, Shoko will probably see our missed calls eventually.”

“Probably and eventually are so uplifting, thank you, Geto.”

“Oh, last name,” Gojo hisses through his teeth, “brutal.”

“You’re both on a last name basis until further notice,” you’re pouting and taking it out on them. You’re not livid with them, you know it wasn’t on purpose but you’re not exactly happy either.

Geto pretends to sulk, “You’re mean when you’re grumpy.” He addresses Gojo, “Don’t you think she’s being mean?”

“So mean,” he agrees, “We just love you so much and wanted to spend the evening with you,” he sighs and takes advantage of your proximity by placing his cheek on top your head.

“You just love harassing me,” you counter.

“That’s a kind of love.”

Your mouth pulls down, “Don’t encourage him, Geto.”

They both laugh at you and then things quiet down, time passing slowly and silently. And even though only a couple minutes go by it feels like an eternity. You’re growing bored very quickly and you can tell Gojo is too because he’s fidgeting and sighing behind you.

“Stop moving so much,” you direct at him.

Geto looks amused, resting against the shelving in front of you. His attitude has you briefly wondering why he’s not more frustrated by this whole situation.

“I can’t help it, it’s so fucking boring in here,” Gojo groans, “entertain me.”

Facetious in your reply, “What the hell do you expect me to do? Dance for you?”

“Oh, I’d love that,” he purrs into your ear and you ignore the way it makes you feel.

“How about a game?” Geto suggests.

“Good idea!”

Great… of course they’d want to play a game while locked in a closet. “And what do you suggest? A game of twister?”

Geto grins, “How about seven minutes in heaven.”

Raising a brow at him, “I think we’ve exceeded the seven minutes.”

Gojo’s submission is no better, “Truth or dare?”

“Sure,” Geto shrugs.

You scoff at them, “What are we? Fifteen?”

Gojo ignores you, “Truth or dare?”

A pause and then, “Truth.”

“Suguru, that’s so boring of you.”

Geto defends himself, “It’s the beginning of the game.”

This is going to be the longest game of truth or dare of your entire life.

“Fine,” Gojo thinks on it for a bit, “when was your last wet dream?”

You’re incredulous when you look back and up at him, “How is that appropriate for the beginning of the game?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“What do you mean why? I thought we were starting slow.”

Geto pipes up while you and Gojo are squabbling, “Uh… I don’t know? A few months ago.”

You and Gojo stop at his answer and you blink at him once, “What was it about?”

“Now look who’s curious,” Gojo points out.

“I just didn’t expect it to be so recent! Also, he willingly answered,” you shrug.

Geto snickers, “You’ll have to wait your turn for that answer.” His eyes stay on yours, “Truth or dare?”

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine, truth.”

He considers it for only a split second, clearly having one lined up already, “Last person you had sex with?”

“Oh, what the hell?” You’re frowning at him, why the hell are they both so perverted, “My first boyfriend.”

Gojo adds, “Ew, I hated that guy.”

“Shut up,” you’re sulking, “If you don’t like the answers then don’t ask me questions like that.”

“That was a while ago,” Geto clearly also feels like adding his two cents.

He goes to ask another question and you make a shutting gesture with your hand, “You have to wait your turn if you have follow ups,” you’re mocking him a little. “Gojo, truth or dare,” you don’t bother looking at him to ask, still leaning against him.

“I guess I’ll stick to the theme and say truth.”

“Man, I dunno,” you hum and haw about it, “Mmm, last kiss?”

“Suguru,” he answers promptly and when you look at him in question he says, “We played truth or dare last week at that party you didn’t wanna come to.”

“Aw, now I’m a little sad I missed it,” you play.

He keeps his face completely straight as he responds, “You sick fuck.”

Taken a little off guard before Geto snorts from his side of the closet and you’re realising that he’s screwing with you.

Gojo giggles light and leans down to your space, finger poking your right cheek while he rests his face against your left, “Truth or dare?”

You whinge at him, “My go again?”

“Yup.” He sounds far too cheery and you’re terrified of what he’s about to ask.

Giving in and deciding to just let it happen, “Truth.”

You can practically feel the way his smile grows, “If you haven’t had sex since your first boyfriend does that mean your last orgasm during sex was two years ago?”

“I was going to ask the same thing,” Geto points out, praising Gojo. They both wait patiently for you to answer.

You push Gojo’s face away from you, “No.” You don’t like this line of questioning.

Gojo’s confused, “What do you mean no?”

Geto catches on too quickly, “Oh, pretty. That’s so sad,” he shakes his head.

“It was our first times!” You’re getting defensive.

“You dated him for like a whole year.”

“I remember that, Gojo,” you’re not sure how to phrase what you want to say, “I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if maybe it was my fault–”

“–Not a chance,” Geto doesn’t even consider the thought.

“Whatever,” you want to move past this, “Geto, truth or dare.”

“I’m so sad for you,” Gojo’s still stuck on your go – clearly. “Not orgasming during sex is so sad, that’s like… one of the best parts of sex.”

His theatrics are amusing and annoying, “I’m doing just fine, thanks for your concern.” You ask Geto again, “Truth or dare?”

He’s smiling happily at you, “Truth.”

You decide to try and get back at him, that and you’re curious, “Who was your wet dream about?”

He doesn’t even miss a beat, shameless in how he admits, “It was about you.”

The admission has you so flustered you have no idea how to even begin to reply to him, brain short circuiting as it really dawns on you what he’s just admitted to. Geto… had a dream about you… and he…

“Suguru, you broke her,” Gojo traces the shell of your ear very lightly and it makes you shudder. He whistles low, “wow, your ears are really hot, sweetie.”

And they probably are because all the blood in your body feels like it’s rushed to your face, feeling warm all over.

Geto laughs easily, “Truth or dare?”

You’re meant to act like he didn’t just confess to having a wet dream about you? “Truth…”

God, he must be going for an evil streak tonight because he’s now asking, “Who was your last sex fantasy about?”

You know exactly who it was about and you’re hesitant about answering, muttering quietly, “I can’t remember.”

“If you’re gonna lie, lie better,” One of Gojo’s hands is on your hip and it’s been there for a bit, only now you’re incredibly conscious of it. The vibes in the tiny closet making a sudden shift.

Geto moves forward a bit, in your space as he says, “I’m very curious now.” Spoken like a man who already knows the answer.

“I…” you move away from Geto but that just means you’re falling further back into Gojo, “You guys don’t need to know.”

“So, it was about me,” Gojo nods like he’s so sure.

You half-refute him and dig yourself deeper in the process, “It was about both of you.” You put on a brave face and bite the bullet, trying to be as confident as Geto was when he answered. “Gojo, truth or dare?”

“You expect me to just move past that?” His hand on your hip squeezes and you’re realising for – not the first time – just how large his hands are.

Pointing out, “We moved past Geto.”

Gojo pushes forward, answering like he’s in a rush, “Fine, fine, truth.”

You pause, mind still lagging behind the information you’ve learnt recently, “Uhm… I don’t know what to ask.”

“My last sex dream was a few weeks ago, it was about you, the last time I jerked off was last night and I was thinking about you in the cute dress you wore, my last sex fantasy was about you in your Halloween costume from last year when you were a bunny.” He rapid fires off answers to questions you didn’t ask and then asks you, “Truth or dare?”

You stutter over your words a whole bunch; he thinks about you this much?

“Well, if I hadn’t broken her, you sure have Satoru,” Geto comments, amused and completely unshocked.

“Sweetie,” Gojo talks low into your ear and it jolts you, “truth or dare?”

“Uh… I…” In your slightly numbed state you fumble and answer, “dare.”

“Ohh, exciting,” he’s far too happy about this, “I dare you to kiss Suguru.”

“Satoru…” Geto half-heartedly chastises him, clearly not actually indignant about kissing you.

“You get stuck in one closet with two idiots and they turn into the biggest pervs on earth,” you roll your eyes.

Gojo makes a sound, “I think if our confessions tell you anything it’s that we were already pervs.”

Geto jabs at him, “More so you than me.”

They’re bickering amongst themselves while you’re lost in thought. Unable to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, turned on by the thought of your two incredibly attractive friends thinking of you in the way they’ve confessed to. Caught up in the moment and wondering just how far they’re willing to take this.

You move that tiny bit forward and grab Geto’s face, pulling him down as you lean up and planting a kiss on his soft lips. It cuts him off from his conversation with Gojo but he welcomes it wholly, beginning to properly kiss you back. His tongue licking at you and asking for entry, you open your mouth to him and he’s kissing you so deep it makes you dizzy.

Arms looping around his neck as you indulge in how good it feels to be kissed by him, small moan slipping from you as his tongue licks at your own. His hand on the side of your face manoeuvring you how he pleases, trying to pull more delicious sounds from you. So lost in the kiss until you’re parting from him, confused and making a small sound.

Realising what happened when you feel the pressure of Gojo’s hands on your hips.

“You’re a tease,” Geto grumbles.

“Blame Satoru,” you sound breathless even to your own ears. “He pulled me back.”

Geto frowns at Gojo behind you, “What for?”

He’s shrugging easily, “I got jealous.”

You laugh a little, “I was fulfilling my end of the dare you issued.”

“I told you to kiss him, not make out with him until you whined,” he’s pouting a little.

Geto isn’t as amused as you are, “You’re such a baby.” Apparently grumpy about the kiss being cut short.

You roll your eyes and tip your head back toward Gojo, placing your hand on the back of his neck to tug him down. Kissing him just as deeply as Geto had kissed you, tongue meeting his and licking him. Sucking on his tongue until he whines, seemingly enough to completely set him off because he’s suddenly domineering the kiss.

Finger and thumb pressing into the hinge of your jaw to open your mouth for him even more. It’s wet and messy, the odd angle not helping. It hardly matters though, the kiss enough to have your pussy fluttering. Whimpering when he pulls back and sucks on your lower lip, he goes to kiss you again but Geto’s hand pushes back on his forehead and stops him from diving back in.

“Now who’s a baby?” Gojo scowls at him.

Geto’s ignoring him and addressing you, “Pretty, I’m gonna ask this now before we both get carried away,” he looks at Gojo with his emphasis, “are you okay with us touching you?”

The pretence of the game has been completely dropped now, none of you in sober enough states to continue to play. You nod at him softly, “Please.”

“Fuck,” Gojo groans, head dropped to your shoulder, “you got such nice manners, sweetie.”

“Satoru, keep kissing her.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

His lips are locked onto yours in a split second, tummy flipping at how hungry for you he is. Gojo presses into you more and you can clearly feel his erection against your lower half, achingly hard and straining against his jeans. Imagining it inside you has your pussy crying, startled and drawn-out moan disconnecting your lips.

Geto’s fingers slipped under your skirt and traced your slit through your panties, material soaked and clinging to your cunt desperately. Your legs shake a bit, not having expected the intimate touch. Gojo doesn’t let your mind roam too far from him, placing his mouth over yours. Whinging into your mouth, taken with you and your plush lips.

He moves his hands to your stomach, slipping under your shirt and feeling your soft skin. Pushing further up and lingering just below your bra before tickling back down your sides. He’s teasing you and working you up and it feels especially cruel because Geto’s using his thumb to circle your clit over the material of your panties. The friction enough to have you mewling and aching for more.

Gojo’s big hands push at your bra, forcing it up over your tits. Freeing them so he can grope at you, large hands fondling you and pinching your nipples between his digits. You need air so bad, lungs struggling to pull in enough with all of the overwhelming sensations. You’re collapsing back into Gojo and he’s still feeling you up, leaving wet kisses along your neck and shoulder, teeth scraping against you.

The distraction is taken advantage of by Geto, his fingers slip your panties to the side and he’s sliding them between your folds. Humming low at just how wet you are, every time you’re getting used to something, they switch it up on you. So in sync without even having to talk it’s scary, scary how much they want to tease you.

“Get ready, pretty,” Geto’s hand pushes your denim skirt up so he can see your cunt clearly.

You don’t know what you’re getting ready for until he’s slipping a long finger inside your hole, short squeal leaving you as he reaches so much further than you’re ever able to. Your hands look for purchase and end up over top of Gojo’s who is still groping you.

“You’re so– fuck–” Geto hisses and looks to Gojo, “She’s so fucking tight.”

He hums back, “Open her up then.”

Geto’s reply is low and spoken like he’s in awe, “Should be easy enough with how wet she is.”

“Stop– hnn– stop talking about me like I’m not here,” the commentary is embarrassing you.

He breathes out an amused sound, “I’ve gotta keep Satoru informed, pretty.”

No time for you to reply to him in any sort of way because he’s slipping another finger in alongside the first and curling them to stroke your inner walls. You must give the reaction they both wanted because you’re being grabbed at little more now, Gojo’s erection rubs against your backside and you’re shamefully aware of how your pussy gushes.

Geto’s hand on your hip is warm and holding you deathly still while he fucks his fingers into your syrupy cunt, he watches your face closely. Enjoying the way your eyes are lidded and moans are tumbling sweetly from your lips. Not lingering too long though, too enamoured by the sight of you getting stuffed by his digits.

Getting so lost in the feeling, insides fuzzy and walls pulsing as he effortlessly builds up your orgasm. Struggling desperately to not let out any embarrassing sounds and completely failing. Fingers digging into Gojo’s wrists and collapsing back into him even more, back bowing slightly. Lower half simultaneously seeking out Geto’s hand and jerking back from him.

He chuckles at you, “You’re squirming too much.”

Your little movements are halted when he hardens his grip on you once again, focusing in on the spot that has your eyes crossing and your lips parting. Moans obscene, there’s no way you’d be able to pass them off as anything other than pleasure filled.

The way you’re feeling has you restless, hands moving from Gojo’s and instead holding onto Geto’s wrist, “Wait– hah– I’m gonna– I’m gonna cum– hnn–”

Gojo’s breath is against your ear, “Go for it, sweetie.” Tongue licking against your skin and making you shudder.

Your nipples being pinched right as Geto’s fingers hit your sweet spot accurately has you folding, falling forward into Geto, and Gojo lets it happen. His hands off your chest and happily allowing your ass to push out against him. Hands now gripping your cheeks and spreading them apart, Geto’s fingers still working you through your orgasm only intensified with it.

Whines pitiful and almost sobbed into Geto’s shirt, shaking like a leaf as your high knocks you stupid. And then he’s finally pulling his digits from you, slowly and tauntingly. Gojo pulls you back so you’re resting on him again, clearly missing your body again his.

Geto takes advantage of the room and brings his soaked fingers up, drawing them over your lips before pushing them into your mouth. Making you taste the flavour of yourself, the depravity of it has you weak and you’re all too willingly taking them in and sucking. A moan from Gojo reminds you of what exactly you’ve just done, opening your mouth to try and signal Geto to pull them away.

His smile is innocent but his next action isn’t, not pulling them away, not completely. Sliding the digits on your tongue, “It feel good?”

You whine and try to answer but can’t, not when his fingers are pushing down on the muscle. He’s doing it on purpose too, smile widening as he watches you struggle.

“Here, let me help,” he places his thumb under your chin and uses the hold to nod your head up and down in response, “there we go.”

Geto shows mercy though, pulling away and letting your mouth rest. The corner of your lips are wet with how you’d begun to drool around his fingers. And because he’s just that depraved, he’s sucking on his own fingers and keeping eye contact with you. So intense until Gojo is pulling your head back and kissing you.  

Tongue exploring your mouth so deeply, like he’s trying to savour the lingering taste of your pussy that had been on Geto’s digits. You’re dizzy, this is far too much for you. already completely at the will of these two and letting them play with you how they want.

In the back of your mind, you’re somewhat registering how Geto’s pulling your panties off while you’re lost in Gojo’s deep kiss. He pulls back from it with a wet pop! Eyes glazed over and blown with lust as he lingers.

“Satoru, here,” Geto hands him something while you’re swimming in the glow of a blissful orgasm.

Gojo’s smile is large, taking what’s been given to him, “Well, aren’t these adorable.”

You’re barely catching a glimpse of your panties as they’re being stuffed into the right front pocket of Gojo’s jeans. “You can’t keep those.”

“You don’t need them right now,” he’s happy with himself. His eyes flick to Geto, “You think she can take it?”

A second of consideration before, “If you’re gentle.”

“What do you think, sweetie?” Gojo’s hands are on your thighs and trailing up, “you want me to be gentle?”

Biting your lip and smiling a little, “At first.”

“Fuck, alright,” he pushes at your upper back so you’re in Geto’s space, “hold onto Suguru for me, yeah?”

You do as he says and hold onto Geto’s shoulders, arching your back as much as you can in this position to basically present yourself for Gojo. The distinctive sound of a zipper can be heard in the room and you wish Geto would lean down to kiss you but it’s like he’s waiting for something first.

Gojo’s tip notches at your entrance and you have a brief moment of concern, just the head of his dick against you feels overwhelming. Apparently big in departments other than just his height, eyes wider as you half turn and place a hand on Gojo’s shoulder.

“Gentle, Satoru,” glimpsing down at his hard dick, length intimidating, “please.”

He actually laughs at you, “Sure, sweetie, I’ll be so good to you.”

The stretch of his cock beginning to open you up has air rushing from your lungs, head dipping forward and resting on Geto’s chest as you whine out.

“You gotta relax for him,” Geto’s hand strokes down your back and you’re twitching around Gojo at it.

Gojo’s voice is pathetic, “Got such a tight fucking cunt– hah– I’m gonna cum before I’m even half-way.”

“I’m sorry, sorry– mmh–” you mumble into the fabric of Geto’s shirt, “sorry I– hnn–”

Gojo asks, “Is she apologising?”

Geto sounds just as amused as Gojo, “Yeah, she is.”

“Cute.”

And then he’s sliding even deeper inside you, pussy squelching and bulging around his length as he stuffs more and more inside you. Inch by delicious inch he stretches you open more than Geto’s fingers could and it has you weak in the knees. A whimpering mess as you cling onto what’s in front of you – which just so happens to be Geto.

He’s so big, hot and throbbing inside your tight hole. The thick vein on his cock pulsing against your walls and making your insides thrum delightfully. Already falling apart and he’s not even all the way inside. Only made worse when Geto pulls your head back and finally gives you that kiss you had wanted earlier.

Cunt clenching down around Gojo as Geto’s tongue licks against yours.

Gojo groans, “Ooh, she likes being kissed.”

You make a noise of embarrassment and it’s swallowed by Geto, he doesn’t stop making out with you. Mouth occupied by him as Gojo just keeps sinking deeper and deeper and you’re wondering just how much of him there is. Feeling so full that you’re lightheaded, pussy crying around his dick.

Mouth parting from Geto’s messy kiss and when you’re finally able to breathe again, Gojo slams the rest of the way in, his pelvis hitting your ass with a smack! and taking the air from your lungs all over again. Left clawing at the shoulders in front of you as you pant, lower half writhing, wanting him to start actually fucking you.

“Needy,” Gojo comments, voice wrecked, “if you’re gonna beg– hah– do it with words.”

“Please,” you ask, tone sweetened and when he doesn’t immediately move you’re looking up at Geto through your lashes, “Please tell him to move, Sugu.”

He faux pouts at you, “Aw, that’s a little pathetic of you, pretty.”

Gojo grinds into you, his tip kissing your womb divinely. Now if only he’d start thrusting his hips you’d be in heaven. Having both of them tease you at the same time feels evil and so tantalisingly good that you’re getting whiplash.

“This pussy is gonna fucking kill me,” he comments, hands grabbing your ass cheeks and spreading them, “already so creamy.”

Gritting out at him, “‘Toru, please move.”

“Since you asked so nice,” you can hear the grin in his voice and you just know he’s about to do something diabolical.

It still surprises you though, just how much force is behind his thrust. Fucking into you quick, your slick dribbling down his shaft and dropping onto the floor. Clinging to him desperately, hot and cloyingly sweet around his aching hard length. His hips falter a few times at how you’re gripping him, beginning to whine a little about it all.

Gojo grabs your shoulder and pulls you, your back arching mean as he talks low, “You should show Suguru some love, sweetheart.” And then he bites down onto your shoulder, licking over it soothingly.

Your response an immediate and drawn out mewl, reaction visceral as you tremble violently. Taking yourself off guard because you didn’t expect yourself to like biting so much. Doing your best to stifle down your moans as Gojo’s hips snap quick and weighted into you repeatedly.

He lets go of your shoulder and you’re falling back into Geto who’s ready to grab you and hold you steady again. All too happy to let you claw at him and use him for purchase. Remembering what Gojo had whispered to you and trailing your hands clumsily down to Geto’s pants.

Haphazardly shoving the waist band of them down and reaching into his boxers, surprised by just how hard he is. Thick and leaking precum profusely, wondering how he’s holding his composure so well when he’s this much of a mess in his pants.

“Aren’t you a good little– hff– direction follower,” Geto teases.

And it’s true, right now feeling impossibly docile for the both of them. Happy to do whatever they ask of you because it just keeps feeling so fucking good. Quickly getting drunk on pleasure and Gojo’s fat cock, legs shaking as he keeps fucking you so well that you’re seeing stars.

It makes it hard to focus on what your hands are doing, grip on Geto uncoordinated and rhythm continuously interrupted by the shockwaves running through you from the heavy thrusts behind you. He must get frustrated with how awkward you are because his large hand is wrapping around yours and guiding you to fist his cock to his liking.

Geto’s head drops back onto the shelving as his eyes flutter, indulging in the soft feel of your smaller palm. The small closet filled with the debauched noises coming from all three of you, wet and lewd sounds of your cunt getting overstuffed loud and explicit.

Legs nearly completely giving in when one of Gojo’s hands wraps around to rest on your lower tummy and presses down, the head of his cock hitting somewhere new and completely throwing you for a loop. Cumming around him so suddenly that you don’t have enough air in your lungs to moan as loudly as you want to.

Shivering and creaming all over Gojo’s dick, your orgasm taking him by surprise. A genuine whimper leaving him at it, huffing, “Fuck– fuck, you’re– haah– what–”

Geto’s confused,  “What?”

“She– mmph– she’s cumming– hah,” Gojo’s words are spoken between clenched teeth, almost hissing as he continues to fuck you through your high.

“Already?” Geto uses his free hand to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes, his own lidded ones flashing, “Ah, this expression you’re wearing is awful cute.”

You let out a subdued and pathetic hum, head far too foggy to have anything witty to say and you certainly can’t complain. Riding out your high spectacularly, almost feeling like you’re kept on the edge with how Gojo’s hips just don’t stop.

Geto’s even more turned on by your appearance and the cock drunk look in your eyes, his hand speeding up over yours. Forcing you to jerk him off quicker, his own hips thrusting forward softly.

“You came so easy,” Gojo laughs deliriously, “never had an orgasm during sex– hff– but you came this quick.”

Slurring your speech slightly to reply to something that didn’t really need one, “It feels good– hnn– I can’t– hah– it’s never– ah!”

“Hmm, is Satoru fucking you good?” Geto’s smile is lecherous and far too attractive for the words he just spoke.

Mouth dropped open, you’re going to start drooling on yourself soon, “Uh huh.”

“‘Course I am,” Gojo’s hand trails further down so his fingers can dance over your clit, “I’m treating you real nice, aren’t I?”

The squeak you let out is shocked, the feeling of his fingers slipping over your sensitive clit making you moan loud and satisfied. Hips trying to fuck back into him, the pleasure enough to have you throwing your shame away. Beyond horny and begging for him to keep fucking you, forced to keep eye contact with Geto. His hand still holding your face up, clearly not done watching you.

The three of you all depraved moans of bliss and sinful touches, heated glances. You’re so worked up that you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust, still trying hard to focus on Geto’s hard cock in your hand. The hand you have in his shirt is slithering downwards, palm over his tip and stimulating him gently.

The reaction you get from him is one you desire, his hand dropping from your chin and reaching back to hold onto the shelf. His hips fucking into both your hands a bit more desperately now, face twisting in pleasure as he pants.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that, pretty,” slowly losing himself in it, “doing such a good fucking job, don’t stop.”

You’re not sure you would, even if you wanted to, in awe of how he’s unravelling under your hand. Features pretty as he gets closer and closer to finishing. Muttering at him a little mindlessly, “You’re pretty.”

Not even able to adequately describe the sensation that runs through you as Geto finishes. Cumming directly into your hand, seed hot and sticky on your palm as he moans through it. Shivers visibly running through him because you don’t stop your hands, not until he’s forcefully stilling it on his shaft with his own.

He’s amused when he asks, “I’m pretty?” but you don’t reply, preoccupied.

Bringing your palm up, you lick some of his cum off it. Holding it in your mouth as you pull Geto forward and kiss him deep, the taste of him on your tongue as you lick against his. He barely shoves down the whine that wants to leave him so badly, sucking on your tongue eagerly.

Gojo had watched the whole thing go down, groaning to himself. Not prepared for the kind of debauchery you’d displayed, finally letting himself cum inside your tight cunt. Rope after rope of his spend painting your walls white, continuing to fuck you through it, his cum leaking from your overstuffed pussy and dribbling down your inner thighs.

He’s letting out such small, ruined sounds and they’re setting you off, officially cumming again when Gojo slaps your clit firmly once. Mouth parting from Geto’s in a moan for only a moment, he’s immediately pulling you right back in and kissing you until you’re dizzy.

Feeling so many things at once, overstimulated and floating. Head heavy as you’re letting them do what they want to you, fucked out and ecstatic over it. Your mouth parts from Geto and they both let you come down, Gojo stays securely inside your cunt though, apparently not too willing to pull out yet.

He asks, “You have fun?” And you can’t help the way you’re fluttering around him, body responsive in ways you’ve never registered. Gojo lets out an airy laugh and adds, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Not bothering to say anything more to him, deciding to stand up straight instead. Holding onto Geto’s shoulders and pushing back away from him. You fall back into Gojo instead like how you had been resting against him earlier. His cock slips from your hole and rests against your ass, involuntary sound from you at the loss, more of his cum leaks down your leg.

You’re trying to gain your faculties when you realise they’re both still hard. Gojo painfully solid against your ass and Geto’s dick half in his pants, tip shiny as it pokes out of his waistband. And you truly must be cock drunk because you’re lifting one of your legs up and resting your foot on the shelf behind Geto.  

“You sure?” Geto’s moving that tiny bit closer, crowding you back against Gojo even more.

Looking up at him coyly, “Mhm.”

His eyes watch how your hole twitches, “You sure came a lot, Satoru.”

“You’ll understand when you fuck her,” Gojo says it like he’s proud.

Geto isn’t as slow as Gojo was when he first entered you, head of his cock lined up with your hole and a split second later he’s shoving himself all the way in. You take him considerably easier now that Gojo’s fucked you open but that doesn’t mean Geto’s dick hasn’t stuffed you to the brim. Pussy bulged and sucking him in desperately, throbbing around his cock like you didn’t just cum on one not five minutes ago.

“Fffuck– you– hnn– you got a greedy little pussy,” Geto purrs, clearly meaning it as a compliment.

“Nuh-uh,” you deny, head resting against Gojo’s shoulder shaking no.

“You sure do, sweetie,” Gojo talks against your temple, “best pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of fucking.”

And then he’s shamelessly lifting your shirt up completely and exposing your breasts, groping at them like he’d done earlier – your bra still haphazardly pulled over them. Fingers pinching at your nipples just to see what kind of reactions he can get from you with it.

“God, I wanna put my mouth on you so bad,” he’s talking low, “I’d lick you head to toe, fuck my tongue right into that tight cunt of yours.”

“Satoru– don’t talk– hng–”

“Don’t talk like you didn’t love it,” Geto snaps into you again and you’re whinging, “can’t hide anything when your hole is this honest.”

“You like my dirty talk, hmm?” Gojo’s taunting you now, “you like being told how you’ve got the creamiest cunt? How you gripped me so tight I thought I was gonna cum before getting to really fuck you?”

Geto’s position has him angled differently, hitting new and just as devastating spots inside your gooey walls. Knocking more of your braincells right out of your head with just how deep he’s thrusting into you, hips wiggling down to meet his. Craving the grind and slap of his pelvis against your clit every time he’s filling you to the brim.

“I like it, I like all of it,” you babble, “I wan more– ah!– I love it– hnn– so good– I can’t– good– mmph–”

“Look at that, Suguru,” Gojo squeezes your tits, “I think she might be cock drunk.”

“I can tell,” Geto almost snarls, pleasure overwhelming, “her pussy’s squeezing me so tight it’s like it’s begging me to cum inside.”

God, it feels so good, you can’t even deny the begging him to cum inside because you want him to so badly. You want to be leaking both their cum, stuffed full of their cocks and then their seed. A sick sort of marking that has your stomach filling with butterflies.

“You want that?” Geto asks you, clearly reading you a little too well now, “you want my cum inside you?”

Not even feeling like you’re on Earth anymore, head up in the clouds “Hng– yeah– hff– yes please.”

“Yeah, that’s good, be honest with me,” he smiles, “you’re cuter when you tell the truth.”

You feel like you’re melting, so high on your own pleasure that everything feels surreal. Gojo’s mouth on your skin is sucking marks, nibbling at your skin and lathing over the love bites sweetly. Geto leans in – still fucking you until you’re feral – and leaves more hickeys on the other side of your neck that Gojo had been neglecting.

Feeling so doted on as they both leave behind evidence of what’s happening in this closet, their attention enough to have you blissed out. Touched all over, it’s driving you up a wall. Bordering on overstimulated and still you’re eager for more.

Gojo’s hips move from behind you, unable to hold himself back and beginning to grind his aching cock between the plush skin of your ass cheeks. Dick still soaked from your slick and his own orgasm, sliding along your soft skin so deliciously that he’s groaning. Again, sinking his teeth down into your delicate flesh, stopping just short of breaking skin.

The pinch of pain has you gushing around Geto’s dick and the gentle lick of his tongue over the impression of his teeth has you quivering. The small closet smells like sex and the floor has to be messy, the whole thing pornographic and so obscene it’d make the devil blush to watch you three.

Gojo turns your head to the side and slips his tongue into your mouth, suddenly greedy for your lips on his. Kissing you deep and sloppy, not patient enough to kiss you meticulously like he had earlier. Though he was also fervent earlier too, hungry in how he devoured you.

They’re both able to read you so easily, pulling you apart so perfectly. Kissing you until you’re not able to think of anything else but them, fucking your cunt so well that you’re drunk on the ecstasy of their tips knocking against your uterus. Your legs are beginning to shake with the weight of holding yourself up.

Thankfully, Geto’s placing a hand under the leg you have balanced on the shelf behind him. Feeling more secured with his hold on you, knowing you wouldn’t have ever fallen, not with them both man-handling you. Enjoying the feeling of having two big men fuck you diabolically and also take care to have you feeling supported, able to indulge more with them doing the heavy lifting.

Gojo’s cock is still rutting into you from behind, pulsing thick and heavy as he moans into your mouth. The way you pull back from each other has a string of saliva connecting the both of you, evidence of the messy and reckless way he’d made out with you.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, “everywhere.”

He removes one of his hands from your tits and like he’d done to you earlier; he’s pressing into your lower tummy. Insides tightening down on Geto and helping him to hit more sensitive spots, grinning to himself at your subdued scream.

“That feels good, huh?” Gojo doesn’t lessen the pressure, holding his hand down so you can experience the pleasure he’s helping to give you.

“Yes, yes, yes– hnn– so good,” you’re not even certain you’re saying everything you want to, muttering a little uselessly. Only able to hope you’re conveying that you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing.

Geto’s pupils are blown wide and he’s losing his mind, Gojo had been right about your cunt. So enticing as you devour him whole, repeatedly pleading for him to re-enter wordlessly. Feeling frenzied as he lets himself get lost, wishing you weren’t locked in this damn closet so he could fuck you properly. Maybe he’d tease you a little bit more, drive you a little more insane.

You’re twitching profusely around him and he knows you’re close, insides clinging to him a little more. Trying to milk the orgasm right out of him, asking to be filled. “You gonna cum, pretty?”

Eyes barely even open anymore, “Uh huh.”

“You think you deserve it?”

That has your eyes widening, worried he’s actually going to deprive you of the high he’s been working you up to. The look on your face is as adorable to him as it is amusing, his smile patient and not like he’s balls deep inside you.

“Don’t be mean, Suguru,” Gojo chides, “she’s been such a good girl.”

Geto pretends to consider it, like he’s not really convinced.

“Please– hnn– Sugu,” you sulk, “I wanna cum.”

He mimics your pathetic-ness, “I know you do.”

Gojo adds, “If he doesn’t let you cum, I’ll just fuck you again, sweetie.”

“Don’t spoil her too much, Satoru.”

He grins, “I’m the one who’s spoilt.” Pressing soft kisses to your cheek, “fucking that divine pussy was a real treat.”

Too much, “Wait– ah!– Mm gonna– hng–”

With a well-timed thrust and Gojo’s praise, you’re cumming again. Walls trembling and snug as they suck greedily on Geto’s thick cock. Stomach flipping as you’re thrown through another euphoric high, almost feeling like you’re blacking out for a moment from how it knocks into you.

Geto’s brows pinch, he knew you were about to cum but hadn’t expected it to be from Gojo’s words. Moaning as he continues to thrust, seeking his own orgasm now. A little more uncontrolled as he focuses on how hot your pussy is, feverish as he takes in how it feels to have you cumming on him.

Dumping his load inside you not long after he savours it for a few moments, pelvis flush to you as his cock jerks. Head lolling back as he whines a little, fucking you both into slight overstimulation because he doesn’t want it to end just yet and you can’t complain. So in love with his dick that you’d let him fuck you all over again.

You’re leaning back against Gojo catching your breath, whimpering as Geto pulls out of you. Not really wanting to but your leg is shaky, he’s gentle with you as he lowers it down so you’re standing on both of them again.

Gojo leans over your shoulder, “I’m gonna borrow your thighs for a second, sweetheart.”

You nod at him, not really sure what he’s referring to but fine with it either way. His cock dragging through your folds has you realising what he was talking about, using your thighs to fuck himself. Not able to get off while Geto was doing you and needy for release. Holding low on your hips as his head buries itself into your neck and nuzzles.

His tip catches on your clit and it makes you twitch, aftershocks still running through you and so sensitive to every little touch. Letting yourself get used for his pleasure as he rocks in between your legs, the slick of their mixed cum making the glide smooth for him.

Apparently having been fairly close already because he’s cumming everywhere after barely a minute, panting into your skin as his load gets all over your thighs. He stills after letting himself ride it out, nipping at your skin one last time.

You’re spent, completely limp and a whole mess. Clothes dishevelled and probably stained with cum, you’re too lazy to even bother to fix yourself. Both Gojo and Geto tuck themselves back into their pants, straightening themselves out a bit. They’re far more presentable looking than you are.

Gojo pulls your bra down, playing with your tits a bit as he adjusts them back into the cups of it and then he tugs your shirt back into place. Geto pulls the hem of your skirt back down, clothes officially worn correctly not counting your panties. How the hell are you meant to get out of here when your lower half is covered in their cum. There’s that and then also the little issue of literally being locked in here.

Geto asks you, “You doing okay, pretty?”

“Peachy,” you grin.

After a moment of silence, you talk again, “Find a way out of here,” you plead with them, “I need a bath.”

Gojo hums, “Will you let me bathe you?”

“You got a way outta here?” you eye him.

“Maybe.”

And that’s how you all learnt that Gojo had taken the keys for the closet off the desk and forgotten about them in his back pocket.

𝒂ﾉ𝒏. thanks for reading! i hope you liked it and i hope to post more fics soon ଘ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈)ഒ

© all works are the intellectual property of divinestangel ── do not plagiarise/translate/reupload/use for ai

[sukunahs]

good game | ryomen sukuna

pairing: pro gamer!sukuna x pro gamer!reader

summary: sukuna can't stand his gaming rival, he hates the way you always beat him, hates the way you're never affected by his words and most of all he hates how desperately he wants you

a/n: I was crazy into cs:go when I was a teenager so this is in honor of that hehe

Pro gamer!Sukuna who’s been playing games for as long as he could remember, his parents completely unbothered that their six year old was loading up Call of Duty on his dad’s Xbox whenever he got the chance.

And as he grew up he got more experience on countless games until he finally settled on CS:GO as his favourite, logging on every evening after school throughout his teenage years, climbing up the ranks and becoming well known in the community. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who is probably the most toxic player you could imagine, always cursing out his teammates when they make a stupid play or fail to live up to his ridiculous expectations. But people put up with him because he’s the best, if he’s on your team then you’re sure to win, and that makes the verbal abuse worth it. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who is accustomed to people making allowances for him, with other players anxiously backing down when he barks orders at them. So he’s caught off guard when he enters a game and finds a teammate completely unwilling to put up with his shit - and a woman no less. You refuse to follow any of his commands, telling him to shut the fuck up when he starts mansplaining to you how to use the weapon you’d just picked. 

He tries not to let it bother him too much, you’re just some stupid girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing, you’ll learn your place once you see just how good he is. But to his surprise, he finds that you’re also extremely good at the game, making smart plays left, right and centre, your reaction time good enough to rival his. 

And that really pisses him off, because who are you to come in here and encroach upon his territory, with your sweet little voice that had your teammates rallying to you instead of him.

Pro gamer!Sukuna who tries not to think about you too much after that. It wasn’t too hard - between getting an offer on a top pro team and the fact that he didn’t encounter you in another matchmaking game for weeks after that, the encounter practically fell from his mind. He was just too busy with other things. 

But at his first in-person competition all of his frustration came flooding back, because at his introduction to the opposing team he encountered you in the flesh. He’d recognise that sweet voice anywhere, not to mention the fact that your username was printed on your jersey plain as day. It pissed him off to see just how pretty you were, hating the way that his heart picked up as you smiled at him, shaking his hand and asking what his name was like you didn’t remember him. 

He hissed at you that you’d met online before, and you simply shrugged your shoulders and said that you’d played thousands of games and couldn’t remember every single one. Although, the shit-eating grin on your face said differently. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who decided at that moment that he needed to crush you, to utterly destroy you until your confidence was so thoroughly decimated that you’d quit gaming altogether. 

And yet, he found that you were not such an easy nut to crack. Your team was strong, you were strong, and time after time you’d get the better of him. It would always end with Sukuna raging at his teammates, imploring them to do better while you were staring at him with that smug little grin of yours, eyes filled with a pity that made him want to kill you. 

Well, it also made his cock harden, but he didn’t like to think about that side of things too much. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who would celebrate twice as hard whenever he found a victory over your team, always hoping that you’d be crushed when he’d go to shake your hand afterwards, only to find you smiling at him, completely unbothered, congratulating him like he was some sort of child who had managed to write a sentence for the first time. 

Somehow it always took away from his victory, never quite feeling that satisfaction that he felt he was owed, meanwhile any loss would have him ripping his hair out and being consumed with hatred for you for weeks on end. 

What right did you have to impact his mind so significantly? 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who figured that he should maybe just fling himself off a bridge when his coach announced that you would be joining their team. Your contract was up at your previous organisation and you were looking for a new challenge - considering that you were one of the hottest prospects on the market, it only made sense that Sukuna’s team would want you. 

And his other teammates were so happy to have you, always doing their best to impress you because you were a girl who played games and they were a bunch of nerds, having you around was probably like some kind of wet dream to them. As if you’d ever be interested - it was clear to Sukuna that you didn’t care about that sort of thing, you were too focussed on being the best to waste your time dating some loser. 

Not that he cared about who you dated anyway. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who couldn’t work with you effectively at all, with the two of you in one constant ongoing feud over everything. In the game, he’d outright refuse to listen to your commands, despite you being appointed as the in-game leader, considering that you were the best strategist of the five players. When he’d throw his tantrums you’d just ignore him and build the strategy around the others, telling him that he could join in once he’d managed to get a grip on his feelings. 

Outside of the game was even worse.

The five of you had to spend a lot of time together with all the travelling that you had to do to attend events, and Sukuna couldn’t stand being in close proximity with you all the time. He’d argue with you over every opinion you shared, putting down all of your likes and ideas, picking on whatever food you ate, doing his best to make sure that he was making your life a misery. 

And everytime you’d just shrug and grin and look so unaffected and it made his blood boil. Why could you get under his skin via your mere existence while he couldn’t get under yours with all the effort in the world? 

And, why did he even fucking care so much?

Pro gamer!Sukuna who ends up feeling sick at the first major that you guys attend as a team, hating all of the attention you were receiving from players at big organisations. After the event he watched you giggle and bat your eyelashes up at Gojo Satoru, whose team won that weekend’s competition, and he couldn’t help the burning anger rising in his chest, wondering what the fuck was so great about that blue-eyed freak. 

He left early that night, spending the evening alone in his hotel room with the image of you and Gojo constantly popping up in his mind. He kept wondering if Gojo took you back to his hotel room, if you’re squirming and moaning beneath that bastard while Sukuna was lying here alone. 

Because as much as you pissed him off, all he could think about was how much he’d like to turn those annoying words of yours into moans, have you crying beneath him and see if you could still keep your composure then. 

He definitely didn’t want Gojo to be the one doing it. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who became even more antagonistic towards you after that, going out of his way to make life as difficult as possible for you, desperate for some kind of a reaction beyond total disinterest. And that’s when he finally turned to taking rash action. 

Pissed off by you giving him nothing, making his mind a living hell while you skipped around like you were living your best life, he decided that he needed to do something. And that involved showing up at your hotel room in the middle of the night during a competition, red eyes frustrated as he straight up asked you why you were so dead set on ruining his life.

Pro gamer!Sukuna whose eyes widened as you giggled softly and asked what the hell he was talking about. In your eyes you hadn’t been doing anything to ruin his life, quite the opposite - you’d assumed that the two of you had been flirting. 

All of his attempts to put you down and drive you mad had amounted to nothing because you thought that it was just some game. And as much as he wanted to call you stupid for that he couldn’t deny the way that he was getting hard at you staring up at him all expectantly like you were. 

It was making sense to him now why you bothered him so much. He’d never felt the need to focus on someone before like he had with you, and it was evident that he might’ve been channeling his emotion into the wrong thing.

Pro gamer!Sukuna who doesn’t say anything else, crashing his lips into yours and pushing you roughly back into the hotel room, refusing to release you until he has you on the bed beneath him, his bigger body pressing you down. 

Your eyes are blown wide but you don’t push him away, desperately leaning forward for more as he breaks the kiss, small hands gripping tightly at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, and who is he to deny you? 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who isn’t gentle as he rips off your pajamas, accepting the fact that he wants you but unwilling to yet let go of all of the built up anger and frustration that he’d accumulated over the last year or so, and he was going to make sure you felt it. Pinching at your nipples harshly, biting your shoulders, and landing hard spanks on your thighs had you whining and whimpering under him and he loved it, desperate to hear more of that and less of your complaining. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who has you in every position imaginable that night, starting with you underneath him before moving you onto all fours, and then prone bone, and then even getting you in a full nelson in front of a mirror so that you can watch yourself come undone on his cock. 

It's messy and it's desperate - a year’s worth of tension being resolved and he couldn’t imagine anything better.

He pumped copious amounts of cum into you, mocking you each time tears started to drip down your cheeks because it just felt too good, clinging to him like a lifeline as you let him use and abuse you in ways that he’d been dreaming of longer than he’d like to admit. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who realises that he needs to stop when he has you on his lap after hours of fucking, your eyes drooping, your fingers no longer able to physically hold onto him as he bounces you lazily on his cock. Finishing inside you one more time he pulls out and spends some time cleaning you up with a wet cloth before tucking you up in bed, his arms wrapped around you protectively as you drift off to sleep. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who is faced with surprise from his teammates the next day when they find him to be completely compliant and obedient, no more fighting and biting back, no more misdirected anger, just him agreeing with whatever you wanted him to do in a low contented purr.

But they all quickly became aware of just what had calmed their angry teammate down at the next competition, the thin walls at the cheap hotel you were staying at making it abundantly clear how he was spending all of his energy now that he was done yelling at them all the time. 

Pro gamer!Sukuna who thinks that maybe he likes having a rival.

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© sukunahs