summary: sukuna isn't pleased when he's forced to go to a new masseuse for his monthly sports massage, but upon meeting you he finds himself hopelessly smitten and desperately seeking more of your touch.
word count: 6.2k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, modern au, pining, yearing, sukuna is originally a bit of a jerk, confident reader, boxer!sukuna, reader is muscular, subby (ish) sukuna, piv, hand jobs, semi-public sex (in a massage room)
a/n: got this one in as an anon request I hope you all enjoy sukuna being NEEDY and stupid
Sukuna had been going to Toji for his sports massages for years.
They’d known each other since college, back when Toji would practice his craft on Sukuna for free on the path to getting his certification. Now Sukuna actually paid the guy to dig his elbow into his back once a month, certain that Toji’s impact had a lot to do with how effective Sukuna had been at avoiding silly injuries throughout his boxing career.
Toji was a rare gem amongst masseuses - strong enough and mean enough to do his job well, unconcerned by how much it might hurt to relieve Sukuna’s body of all the stress he’d put it under week after week.
He was the only person Sukuna trusted to do it effectively, and when he walked into Toji’s gym one day only for the receptionist to tell him that Toji wasn’t available thanks to a family emergency, he was devastated.
Part of him had considered cancelling on the spot, turning around and walking straight out the door, prepared to wait for a different time slot when Toji would be available. But his shoulder had been killing him lately and he could really do with some relief, so against his better judgement he sucked it up and agreed to see the other masseuse that worked at Toji’s gym.
Upon walking into the treatment room, he immediately decided that he’d made a mistake at the sight of you standing before him, all soft and pretty and welcoming in a way that Toji never was. You didn’t look like the type to be willing or even capable of inflicting pain upon anyone - he doubted he’d even be able to feel your tiny hands once they were pressed against his back.
Call him sexist, but he really believed that men were just better suited for that line of work.
Sure, a nice, relaxing massage would be better delivered by a woman, but a sports massage? He doubted you had the strength for what he needed.
“Sukuna, right?” You’d asked, peering up at him with wide eyes. “It’s nice to meet you. Remove your clothes and cover yourself with a towel, I’ll give you a few moments to get settled-”
“No need,” he said sharply. “When’s Toji back?”
You wavered. “We’re not quite sure. His daughter was in some kind of sudden accident, he might not return for a few weeks, he needs to be there for his family in this difficult time…” You trailed off before continuing, taking stock of the resignation on Sukuna’s face. “I can assure you that I’m perfectly capable of attending to your needs. Toji hired me personally and can vouch for my skill.”
Chewing on his lip, Sukuna appraised you once more. You were a pretty thing, even in the ugly green uniform that Toji had picked for his specialists. His thoughts lingered on what you might’ve meant when you said that Toji could vouch for your skill - did you mean that in a clinical manner, or was Toji using you for different means?
Sukuna wouldn’t have been surprised if the latter was the case. You were his type which meant you were probably also Toji’s type, a thought that had a fresh wave of dread washing over him because if Toji had only hired you because you’d been sleeping with him, Sukuna was in for a rough massage.
“Happy? Or are you gonna throw a tantrum?” You asked, a little impatiently, your hands firm on your hips. He was almost impressed by the bite in your voice, but it still didn't particularly convince him you’d be any good at this.
However, the flex of his arm as he moved a little reminded him just how much he needed this massage, so biting back his pride he nodded, speaking through gritted teeth. “Whatever, sure.”
You looked far from impressed, but upheld your professional image regardless. “Great, you get yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
It took Sukuna all of five minutes to realise that he might’ve underestimated you.
He’d laid down on the table as normal, half expecting to spend his half-hour session asleep, figuring he could at least catch up on that if you were no good at what he’d paid you to do. And to start with, you’d been as gentle as he’d expected, your hands running tenderly over the muscles in his back, no doubt impressed by them.
But that was where your kindness stopped.
“You’re carrying a lot of tension up here.” You spoke matter of factly, fingers prodding a knot on the upper left side of his back. “It must be painful to sleep on your side right now.”
Sukuna grunted in affirmation, uninterested in making conversation or doing anything that might make you feel praised, even if you were technically right in your assumption. You didn’t seem deterred, it was almost like you were expecting him to be difficult, and he wondered if Toji had warned you about him in advance.
Walking around the table, you positioned yourself in the optimal place to work at the knot, and Sukuna found himself caught mid eye-roll when your palm dug into his back with much greater force than before, working away at the knot with enough strength that he found his fingers curling.
That was how much of the rest of his session went.
He’d been wrong to assume that you were too weak, because you’d worked at each section of his body with more ferocity than Toji usually would, almost like you were trying to teach him a lesson. Any knot found in his back and legs had been thoroughly beaten back into place, scared off by the skilled nature of your fingers.
When you were done, allowing him to sit up, a towel still wrapped around his midsection, he felt thoroughly frazzled, his red eyes a little hazy. His back felt better than it ever had before, the ghost of your fingers still prominent against his tanned skin. He had to admit that your touch felt nicer on him than Toji’s did.
Not that he should be thinking about that.
“All good?” You asked coolly, as if this was just run of the mill for you. He supposed it probably was. “If there’s something I’ve missed let me know and we can go over it again.”
“Uh- n-no.” He could’ve died of embarrassment at the way he stuttered, emasculated even further by you grinning down at him in amusement. The worst thing was that he couldn’t really decide if he was humiliated or turned on, or maybe both.
There was one particular body part of his that seemed to know the answer to that question, and he really hoped that you wouldn’t notice the slightly raised portion of the towel hugging his hips.
“Great, then you’re all good to go. Since you only come by once a month, Toji should be back by your next appoint-”
“Actually I think I need another appointment next week. My shoulder’s been acting up.” It was almost like an out of body experience, the words leapt from his throat before he could stop them and now you were smirking harder and he hated it and maybe he hated you.
“Oh, it seemed alright-”
“Well it's not.” He snapped, red gaze unwavering. You blinked at him a few times, staring down at him like you were trying to figure him out. It was clear that you’d been fully aware of his animosity towards you when he’d walked in, seemingly both puzzled and amused by his change of heart.
“Okay, sure. I’ve got an opening this time next week?”
“Great, I’ll be there.”
Sukuna didn’t like to admit how much he thought about you throughout that week. He especially didn’t like to admit to the sheer number of times he’d awoken with wet boxers, the dream of your touch still prominent in his mind.
He wasn’t sure what it was about you that had infected his brain so thoroughly. Sure, you were hot, but so were plenty of women, and Sukuna rarely had them rattling about in his head. It probably had more to do with your physical strength and perhaps your resolve, because even when he’d written you off, you’d shown him exactly what you were worth.
That, and the fact he couldn’t seem to get your condescending smirk out of his mind any less than he could stop feeling the ghost of your touch. He wasn’t used to meeting women who would treat him like that, more accustomed to the type that would fawn at his feet, those who were vapid and boring.
And you certainly weren’t that.
In the time between appointments, he’d even seen you across the gym when he’d been lifting weights. He imagined that you were there a lot, now that he could see your muscles, unobscured by those stupid clothes Toji made you wear. It wasn’t surprising that he’d never noticed you before, tending to stay in his own little bubble of focus at the gym, but now that he was aware of you he could barely tear his eyes away.
You were strong, so strong, doing weighted pull-ups with 20kg attached to you like it weighed nothing. And based on the way that his heart sped up at the sight, beating almost into overdrive as you smiled at him upon noticing his stare, he found that shit immensely attractive.
Shit, he really hoped Toji hadn’t been fucking you. That would suck.
Sukuna visited you again, and again you gave him the best massage of his life, driving your elbow into his back with a force that had him seeing stars. His heart fluttered with each simple touch of your hands, mind hazy with need as your fingers worked on his shoulders and he found himself wishing you were working on a different part of him.
That was how things continued for weeks, in which Sukuna spent an ungodly amount of money just to have you touch him again, pretending that he had various issues which he certainly didn’t because you’d thoroughly removed all his knots and tensions during his very first visit. But he wasn’t sure what else he could do, addicted to your touch and unable to find a more effective way to be close to you.
Because he was almost certain that you didn’t really like him.
Whenever he appeared, trying to make small talk or even flirt, you’d brush him off coolly, getting straight to the point, urging him to lay down and silencing him beneath the harsh and strong movements of your hands. He had no better luck at the end of sessions either, for you’d hurry him along claiming that you had another client waiting.
The waiting room was usually empty when Sukuna left so he doubted the legitimacy of your claim, but you’d left him at something of a loss as to how to handle you.
To be honest, he wasn’t accustomed to chasing after women. Usually, he’d sleep with whatever women chose to throw themselves at him, seeking fleeting pleasure in the form of one night stands, never putting much effort into seeking out someone he liked - as long as they were hot he tended to be game.
And then there was you, throwing his whole system and all of his beliefs completely out of check, because sure, he wanted to fuck you, but he also wanted to know you, and it was pissing him off that after several weeks of coming to you unfalteringly, he was no closer to you than he had been in that first session.
What hurt even more was the one afternoon that he came in for his appointment, figuring that he’d finally bite the bullet, swallow his pride, and just ask you out, only to find Toji waiting for him in the treatment room.
“Hey man, how’s it going?” Toji looked a little tired, having spent the last couple of months helping his daughter recover from her accident. Sukuna felt a flicker of annoyance at the sight of him, frustrated that his plans for the afternoon had been ruined.
“Good.” Sukuna said warily. “I didn’t realise you were back.”
He shrugged. “Tsumiki’s mom can look after her for a bit and I was going stir-crazy. Figured I’d come back to work and get back on a normal schedule.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, figured I’d give my cover a bit of a break, I’m sure you were fuckin’ awful to her while I was gone.”
Sukuna hummed, chewing on his lip. “I mean, she was adequate, I guess.”
Toji seemed to suddenly perk up at his words, green eyes narrowing as he peered at Sukuna’s face. Sukuna tried to stay nonchalant, staring back at his friend like there was nothing more to be said on the matter.
“She was adequate?” He asked slowly.
“Sure.”
“Really? I thought you’d be cursing my name for letting some girl take care of you.”
“Well, she was decent, what else is there to say?” Sukuna snapped, wondering how he could ask Toji if he could switch over to being your patient permanently without taking a massive hit to his pride.
Clearly, he hadn’t hidden the emotion in his voice as well as he should’ve, because Toji was tilting his head to the side in question, a slowly growing smirk stretching across his face. “Got something you wanna tell me dude? You said you’d rather die than let someone else handle your massages.”
“Nothing.” He hissed quickly. “It was fine, just fine. I don’t pay you to talk, I got somewhere to be.”
“Okay, okay,” Toji said with a raise of his hands, but the grin didn’t falter and Sukuna hated that.
Toji’s massage sucked.
He didn’t think that anything had actually changed in terms of what Toji did - the issue was that it wasn’t your hands pressing against his back, it wasn't the sound of your gentle breaths cutting through the silence of the room.
It was disappointing, and he was humiliated that he actually felt that way.
He didn’t return for an appointment for a full month after that, going back to his usual schedule now that Toji had returned. He’d seen you in the gym a few times, but you were always working out with friends or sometimes guys and despite all his confidence there was something in him that felt afraid to approach you. He cared too much about the idea of you turning him down, laughing in his face like he had a chance.
So he left you be, and resigned himself to his fate.
When his next appointment rolled around, he’d gone into his usual room, waiting glumly for Toji to arrive, hoping for the entire encounter to be done swiftly. There was no joy in it now, it was nothing beyond a necessity for him to maintain his physical health.
His heart had practically leapt from his throat when you’d walked in through the door instead of Toji, greeting him with the smallest upturn of your lips.
“Hey.”
“Hey!” His words came out an octave higher than usual, and you couldn’t hide the smile it drew from you, sending humiliation coursing through him. That seemed to be a regular response in all matters concerning you, and he tried his best to push the feeling aside. “Toji back off work?”
“No, he’s here. He just gave your appointment to me, said I’m better suited for your needs.”
“Oh.”
Sukuna wanted to crawl in a hole and die, unable to stop imagining how that conversation would’ve gone down. Did Toji have a big grin on his face when he’d told you about the change? Had his tone been particularly suggestive, betraying exactly what Sukuna felt when he was around you?
“I can call him in if you’d prefer him though? He’s not got a patient right now so-”
“No.” Sukuna was quick to interrupt you, “it’s fine.”
“Just fine, huh?” You mused, seemingly to yourself. You didn’t give Sukuna a chance to admit that he was glad for the change, swiftly moving on and telling him to get undressed, sweeping out of the room for a few moments while he got himself settled atop the table, his heart racing at a hundred miles a minute.
He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed your touch until your hands were on him once more, sturdy in their feel but somehow much softer than Toji’s. You’d remained silent as you’d gone through your usual routine, quiet and even breaths falling from your lips, fingers pressing on the knots that had reformed at the base of his neck and in his shoulders. For once he actually needed to see you, having grown tense in your absence over the past few weeks.
“Is the pressure okay?” You’d asked softly, to which he replied with a quiet grunt of affirmation, because of course it was, you always knew exactly what to do to ease his strained body.
He wondered how it would feel to have your steady hands wrapped around his cock, squeezing with just the right intensity to have him unravelling.
“Adequate, would you say?” You asked, with an amused lilt. Sukuna froze up, any tension that you’d eased immediately flooded back into his shoulders at the words he’d spoken to Toji about you during his last session.
That bastard had really sold him out. He was probably in his office laughing about that shit.
“I said you were decent, actually,” he mumbled, figuring that he might as well stand up for himself. The sweet quality of your giggle caught him off guard, eyes widening in shock because he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard you laugh before. You were usually so stoic with him, never offering him anything more than a smug smile.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. Why else would I be here so damn often?”
You hummed, fingers still pressing into the muscles of his upper back. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out, since we both know there’s nothing wrong with your shoulder.”
Falling silent, he felt his cheeks warm under the question. He was usually so in control where women were concerned, usually he was the cat toying with a mouse, but he felt that the roles had been thoroughly switched now. Still, you continued stroking his back, his cock hardening with each careful move of your fingers.
He was convinced he was leaking onto the towel below him when he heard you let out a gentle sigh. “Sometimes, I’m almost convinced that you come here just to see me. But that would be crazy, right? You must’ve spent a small fortune at this point.”
Sukuna didn’t want to think about how much money he’d spent in the last two months, but he couldn't say that he regretted a single penny. Fortunately, he was accustomed to winning his matches and through competition earnings and sponsors he had more than enough to afford it.
Though, that money could certainly be better spent on you rather than half of it lining Toji’s pockets.
“Would you like it if that was the reason?” He felt like a teenager again, trying to feel out a crush before committing to something that might end in rejection.
“I think I’d be confused as to why you didn’t just ask me out.” You giggled again, hands stilling but not pulling away from their position on his back.
Well, now he felt a little stupid.
“I think I’d be flattered though. Maybe I'd even be interested,” you continued.
“Maybe?” He asked, heart fluttering. He was still staring down at the floor through the hole in the table, completely at your mercy, only able to imagine what expression you were wearing as you peered down at him, completely distracted now from the task at hand.
“Mmmm, hypothetically, if that was the reason.”
Sukuna swallowed hard, starting to catch on to the fact that you wanted him to speak the words out loud, to swallow his pride and confess his desires. He hated how you always had the upper hand with him, always in control since the very first time he’d met you. He hated how much he liked it, how much he wanted to do whatever you told him to.
“I want you.” The words came out all matter of fact, spoken more like he was listing groceries rather than confessing. He wanted to brush over it and get to the part where you were his, the moment that you’d climb on top of him and ride him until he couldn’t breathe, your hands pressing at his shoulders while you did so.
But you were something of a sadist, because instead of simply accepting his confession, you said: “more.”
And he didn’t hesitate, throwing himself over the threshold because now he’d admitted to his liking of you, what was the point in maintaining a stoic sense of pride?
He pushed himself up onto his forearms, twisting around to look at you. “I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you, hell I fuckin’ dream about you. I want you, I want you to touch me more, fuck.”
“Yeah?” Your expression was ecstatic, eyes glimmering with glee. Sukuna suddenly found himself overly aware of how naked he was and how dressed you were, feeling almost shy under this newly found attention.
“Yeah, I mean, look at you.”
“It’s funny, when you first showed up here a few months ago, you didn’t seem to like me much at all.”
His body literally sagged, wishing he could go back and undo all the rudeness from the first time he’d met you. At this point he’d been thoroughly humbled - you’d proven that women could be just as effective at giving sport massages as men, and you’d also stolen his heart in the process. He had really learned his lesson.
“Sorry. I was a jerk.”
“You were. It was cute hearing you stutter after that first session though, really adorable stuff.”
“Stop.” He groaned, his cheeks reddening.
“Pretty sure you were hard too.”
He had been, just like he was in that moment, but he hated the fact that you’d known and had said absolutely nothing for two months. He was torn between wanting to implode beneath the weight of his own cringe, and being the happiest he’d ever felt, because he was pretty sure that through all your teasing this was you accepting his confession.
“I also really liked watching you invent excuses to come back every week. My friends were sure you were gonna ask me out.”
Sukuna shrugged, sitting up properly now and trying to relax. It wasn’t often that he’d been free to peer so openly at your face like he was right now, and it was a tough task to keep himself calm because you were just so lovely and he really wanted to lean forward and kiss you. He wanted you on the table with him - on top of him, beneath him, whatever - he just needed you.
“Look, I didn’t wanna seem like a creep and overstep a professional boundary,” he confessed. “I was scared it would be one of those situations where a guy thinks a stripper loves him.”
Again you laughed. “Aw, that's actually kind of a sweet consideration. Toji told me that you were a jerk through and through, but I guess he’s wrong.”
Sukuna pouted at the idea of Toji telling you anything about him, although his buddy clearly did a somewhat decent job at wingmaning considering he’d orchestrated the current situation.
“I actually thought you’d approach me when I was working out. I was always smiling at you in the gym but you’d never come over.”
God, he really was an idiot.
He wanted to kick himself for not catching on sooner that you were open to his advances. It was something of an embarrassment for someone who usually held such confidence.
“Again, I didn’t want to be one of those gross gym bros trying to bother a girl while she’s working out,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know- I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in me so I didn’t want to risk it.”
“Well I am. Interested in you, I mean.”
He blinked at you a couple of times, red eyes scanning your face almost in disbelief. He wasn’t sure why it came as a surprise to him, since he’d never had much of an issue getting women to like him, but for some reason you’d just seemed so unattainable. You’d always seemed aloof to him in a way that suggested his chances of dating you were about the same as dating a celebrity.
And yet, here you were.
“Oh.”
There was a moment of silence before Sukuna recovered, remembering that he was usually good with women and letting his body spring into action. His hands found your hips, tugging you forward and positioning you between his legs which were dangling over the side of the table. The towel had kept its position around his waist, but left little to the imagination as he held you there between his muscular thighs.
Lips crashing against yours, his arms wrapped firmly around your torso, pulling you closer into his grip and allowing him to deepen the kiss. You tasted faintly of honey and were just as addictive, a desire for more surging through him as he explored your mouth, your tongue dancing with his as though you’d done this a million times before.
Bravely, his hands toyed with the hem of your shirt, lifting it experimentally, thrilled when you aided him in pulling it off over your head, leaving you in your sports bra which he was equally quick to discard. It was nice to have his hands on your skin for a change, running his fingers over the muscles of your back as you lost yourselves in the kiss once more. He wondered if you’d enjoy him massaging you, or if you’d find his untrained attempts rather pathetic.
You didn’t give him much chance to find out, thoroughly distracting him with the slow movement of your hands down the length of his torso, stopping only once you reached the edge of the white towel covering him. He gasped against your mouth once your hand slipped beneath, fingers brushing gently against his pubic hair before finding the shaft of his cock.
“How about you lay back for me?” You murmured, breaking the kiss, eyes blown wide with desire. Sukuna’s cock twitched in your hand at the question, more than happy for you to tell him what to do. He shuffled back on the table, laying down on his back and relaxing as you hopped up on top of him, your knees placed firmly on either side of his thighs.
Your hand was stroking his cock languidly, lashes fluttering enticingly as you stared down at him, clearly enjoying the pleasure gripping his face with each careful touch. Your other hand was stroking his thigh, slowly massaging the muscle where dark bands of ink wrapped around his skin.
“I’ve always liked these.” You hummed, eyes flickering to the tattoos. “I admire them whenever you come in.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmm. They’re hot.”
Again, Sukuna was twitching in your hand, caught off guard by the impact the simplest of compliments seemed to have on him so long as they were falling from your lips. A low groan escaped from him as you squeezed his cock a little harder, running your hand along the length of it with the same expert motions you’d use on his back.
Generally, when women had tried jerking him off in the past, it had never felt quite as good as it did to simply get himself off with his own hands - it was impossible for them to understand his body in the way that he did. And yet, under your touch he was writhing desperately, his stomach tensing with each firm stroke, trying to hold it together despite the fact he could already feel himself coming undone.
It was clear that you knew what to do - switching up the pressure and the nature of your movements, testing to see what had him shivering with the greatest intensity. Occasionally, your thumb would swipe the tip, spreading pre-cum down his shaft, all while you kept eye contact with him, your legs squeezing hard against his thighs.
“Is the pressure good?” You asked in a low tone, a teasing smile on your pretty face, speaking to him like this was just another normal appointment, like your hand was wrapped around his bicep rather than his cock.
“You know it is.” He managed to huff out, his face scarlet, only spurring you on further.
“Aw, good.” Your hand picked up speed and moments later he was cumming all over your hand, his seed dripping down your fingers, making a mess beneath the towel he was still covered with. You’d released him, and as you pulled your hand away he’d expected you to wipe it clean on the towel; instead, you raised your fingers to your lips and licked them clean of his cum without a second thought.
He was already hard again.
Fortunately, you seemed to be one step ahead of him.
Unravelling the towel hanging off his hips, you freed his cock from its confines. He watched you carefully, noting the way your eyes gazed upon it, the way your throat bobbed with a gulp at the sight. That, at the very least, restored his ego to some extent - for once he didn’t feel like he was totally on the backfoot with you.
“Impressed?” He asked, puffing out his chest with pride.
“Yeah, actually,” you responded easily. “Very impressed.”
Once again, he felt shy beneath your easy confidence, still not quite used to how easily you would say what was on your mind. There were no games, no manipulation, no pretending that you cared about something less than you really did.
He appreciated it.
“There’s only five minutes left of our session, and Toji needs the room after.” You said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Do you think that’s enough time?”
It certainly wasn’t enough time for what Sukuna wanted from you. He wanted to spend hours worshipping every part of your body, wanted to eat you out until you were crying, wanted to show you what it was like for him to be in charge. More than anything, he wanted to be buried inside of you until you were both numb and overstimulated, wanted you clinging to him in the throes of exhaustion and pleasure.
But none of that seemed fit to do in your treatment room, so it would have to wait for another time.
“I think I can be quick,” he said honestly, only to be met with a smug grin.
“Oh, I bet you can.”
“Shut up,” he mumbled, “it’s not my fault you’ve got me all riled up.”
That earned him another soft laugh, and he found that he was entirely smitten with the sound.
“Oh, how flattering of you,” you purred.
“What can I say? I’m charming.”
You didn’t respond to that, offering him nothing more than an almost shy smile as you discarded the rest of your clothes, a blush lining your cheeks for once as he took in your naked beauty. You were as gorgeous as he expected, and he found his hands trailing down your sides before coming to rest on your hips, wishing he could kiss every inch of you.
But you had speed on your mind, and leaving Sukuna in his position laying back on the table, you hovered yourself over his cock, taking it once more in your hand and rubbing it through your folds a few times before lining yourself up and sitting down on it with a quiet little gasp.
Sukuna groaned in sheer pleasure at the tightness of your walls wrapped around him, his fingers digging hard into the skin of your hips as he helped ease you down his length until he was buried to the hilt within you. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.” he groaned.
“No, I think you’re just big.” You bit back at him with some effort, your hands braced on his chest while you struggled to adjust, thighs trembling ever so slightly.
“Maybe.” He tried to hide how much your comment had swelled his ego.
After giving yourself a few moments to breathe, you started to move, raising yourself up and bringing yourself down again on his cock, sweet groans and whines pouring from you as you found a rhythm, doing all the work yourself while Sukuna supported your hips. He was gazing up at you like a man who’d just witnessed an angel, red eyes shiny with affection at the sight of you on top of him, breasts bouncing with each movement.
He couldn’t remember the last time it had felt so good to be inside someone.
Probably never.
Eager to be closer to you, he propped himself up on his forearms, encouraging you to steady yourself on his shoulders. You leant forward, hands firm against his skin, your breasts pressing up against his chest, forcing you to move from long movements of your hips to simply grinding yourself against him.
A yelp left you once Sukuna decided that he wanted to help, thrusting his hips upwards and taking you along for the ride. He picked up a brutal pace, aware that the two of you were on a time limit, chuckling at the way your fingers scrambled for purchase against his skin, finding safety in the familiarity of the shoulders you’d been massaging for weeks.
“Feel good?” He rasped against your ear, aware that your movements had largely stilled, letting him take charge in filling you so thoroughly.
“S-so good,” you stuttered, and Sukuna felt a sick sense of pleasure at hearing you falter in such a way. He’d been humiliated enough for a little while and figured it was time for the tables to turn, at least for a little while.
He was certain that if things were going to work out between the two of you, he’d find many moments in which you were in control.
But right now? This wasn’t one of them.
You’d had your fun, and he was going to have his.
Just as he’d wanted, you came before he did. You did your best to muffle your cry of his name by burning your face into his shoulder, but he was sure that you’d still be heard if there were any prying ears on the other side of the door. He couldn’t really care less about such a thing - Toji had heard him having sex plenty of times throughout college.
He’d kept up his movements, fucking you through the orgasm until you were whining pathetically against his shoulder, begging him to slow down. He did no such thing until he had reached his own peak, spilling into you with a deep groan, only registering moments later that he probably should’ve pulled out first.
It wasn’t like him to forget a condom, never having fucked a girl bareback before.
But you were something different. The moment you’d offered your affection to him his mind had gone haywire, completely forgetting important details like that in favour of having you completely to himself.
He’d buy you the morning after pill as an apology.
Cradling you against him for a few moments, he wished you could stay like that for a while longer. Your weight atop his sweaty body felt lovely, and he desperately wanted to continue stroking your hair, losing himself in the intoxicating scent of you that seemed to drive him crazy.
But reality came knocking in the form of a fist against the door of the treatment room. “All done? I do have a patient in ten minutes so I need to set up.” Toji called out. You leapt from your position on top of Sukuna swiftly as if suddenly remembering yourself, glancing at the door nervously.
Sukuna wondered how much Toji had heard, wondering if the man was standing outside grinning like a Cheshire cat, ready to quiz Sukuna all about it the moment he exited.
It was likely, since Toji had always been a nosy bastard.
Too bad Sukuna wouldn’t be telling him anything about you. You were sacred to him, and it would stay that way - he wasn’t about to share anything with Toji.
“Yeah, just a few minutes!” You called back to Toji, your voice wavering a little. It was cute, how frazzled you seemed to be - he wanted to see more of that.
Letting out a heavy breath, you looked at Sukuna, who was slowly sitting up. His red eyes were darting about your face, trying to read your expression, hoping to god that this wasn’t some spur of the moment, one time thing. He wanted to take you home, wanted you in his arms.
If he had to go back to lying about aches and pains just to see you at a scheduled appointment, he was pretty sure he’d lose his mind.
“Do you wanna come to my place later?” You spoke before he could, giving him an almost bashful smile.
“Yeah. Yeah I’d like that,” he responded, shoulders relaxing.
He was pretty sure that your words alone had released a knot in his back.
That was just how good a masseuse you were.
a/n: need him so bad my GOD
ANYWAY hope you enjoyed this little one shot while I work on the next chapter of crazy in love! thanks for reading, reblogs and comments are appreciated as always <3
in the same space (smut)
off-menu (smut)
practice makes perfect ! (smut)
“bring it on hero” (smut)
charged to the touch (smut) pt.2 (smut)
an eater (smut)
8pm and you (smut)
pillow princess (smut)
fight me, love me (angst, smut)
“let me hear you” (smut)
“speakin’ my language..?” (smut) pt.2 (smut)
“you’re not supposed to get up, kats!” (smut)
good boy!~ (smut)
“don’t hang up.” (smut)
monsterfuckin’ kats (smut)
breading with bakugo, no pun intended (smut)
out on a limb!~ (smut)
office katsuki (smut)
“i bite things i like.” (suggestive)
the concept(suggestive)
corgasm !? (smut)
virgin kats (smut) pt.2 (suggestive, smut)
showerheaddd (smut)
everybody here wants you…(smut)
arts n crafts (smut)
drunk in luv!~ (smut)
seven minutes in heaven! (smut)
sleepyheads (smut)
rut (smut)
caught red handeddd (smut)
grinderrr (smut)
dragon drabble (smut)
glasses (smut) pt.2 (smut)
lightweight (smut)
your highness (smut)
whipped cream (smut)
meow (smut) pt.2 (suggestive) pt.3 (suggestive)
honeymoon (smut)
accidental submission (smut)
safeword (smut, comfort)
happy trail (suggestive)
pick up the phone (smau) (suggestive)
hopelessly yours (fluff, smut)
valentines day (smut) pt.2 (smut)
beefy!bakugo (suggestive, smut)
food review (suggestive)
distraction (smut)
wc: ~22k (i’m sorry omg) | cw: 1k special!! fratjo! heavy smut, lots of filth, hints of fluff, possessive/obsessive tendencies, toxic relationship dynamics, lil corruption kink, jealousy, unprotected sex, oral sex (m + f), too many creampies, huge breeding kink, degradation/praise, accidental? pregnancy, contraceptive failure, use of alcohol, frat culture, gojo’s lowk evil, explicit language, use of pet names (baby, princess), dark romance vibes, reader’s dad is basically tom brady lmao
summary: the hottest frat boy at usc, satoru gojo, becomes obsessed with you and develops a kink he was never supposed to have.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
LIFE AS THE daughter of one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever step foot on a football field should’ve been considered a dream come true, and in most aspects, it was.
You grew up in the nicest suburbs of Boston, got whatever it was you wanted, traveled on first-class flights before you were old enough to spell, had a father who treated you like gold in human form.
But, that last one? Yeah, that was the problem.
Being adored feels a lot like being controlled when you’re the only daughter of a man the entire country worships. Because in hindsight, you were. Not purposely, of course. You were daddy’s little princess from day one, which meant he needed to protect you at all costs.
From the moment you entered your elite preppy high school at age fourteen, that was when his watchful eye sharpened into one that never stopped watching. As a hall of fame athlete, a New England Patriots legend, he’s seen too much of this world to know that he needs to keep his precious girl safe from it all.
And when he retired? It got so much worse. He was always there. Which basically meant you couldn’t do anything without him knowing or without his permission.
Your best friend, Blair, who lived two houses down, lived the life you wished you could. Another rich, preppy privileged girl, yes, but one with parents who didn’t give a single fuck what she did. And she’s been partying since, well…forever.
She lost her virginity in the bathroom of a Red Sox game, threw a rager so big when her parents left for Saint Barts she got suspended for two weeks, snuck out of the house so often she practically wore a path through your backyard.
She begged you to join her. To come out and have fun, be a normal teenager, but you never could. Sometimes you wondered if your father even realized he’d built a cage around you—a gilded, loving, suffocating one. And you were tired of not being able to live life to the fullest.
Which is why when the time finally came to decide on college, you knew you had to choose the furthest plausible option. You also knew that wherever you went, would have to be with Blair.
So the two of you sat down and planned it. She listed all sorts of schools, Miami, Alabama, Ohio State, Wisconsin, all known for their party scene, but they weren’t far enough in your eyes.
Then, the idea hit you. California. All the way across the country, nice ass weather with no brutal winters, huge nightlife. It ticks every single box.
“How about USC?” You suggested.
Blair’s eyes widened like she’d won the lottery, “That’s it! That’s the fucking school. We’re applying—today.”
You indeed did apply that same day, keeping all of it, every whispered dream of palm trees and frat parties, a secret from your father. He didn’t need to find out that you were plotting your escape. Only if you got accepted, would you tell him.
After applying, came the long, excruciating wait. Every notification made your heart jump, every morning felt loaded with possibility and impending doom, but then on a random Tuesday afternoon after school, Blair got an email. You were sprawled across her bed when her phone dinged and when she checked it she froze, slowly looking at you, “No fucking way.”
Your heart stopped, “What?”
She glanced back at her screen as if it might disappear, “Bitch…I got in!”
You barely had time to process it before she launched herself at you, both of you collapsing onto the bed in a fit of hysterical laughter, “Check yours,” She demanded, already grabbing your laptop.
Your hands shook as you logged into the portal and when the screen flashed in red and gold, Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you admission to the University of Southern California…
Your vision blurred, you were going to finally leave Boston and remove the shackles. Blair grabbed your shoulder, “You’re free, babe.”
The word hit differently—free. But not yet, because you still had to tell him.
You waited until dinner, when the house was calm and your father set down his fork and asked warmly, “How was your day, princess?”
You pushed the printed copy of your acceptance letter across the table, watching as he unfolded it slowly. His sharp eyes scanned the words once, twice, then a third time, as if they might rearrange themselves into something less horrifying.
“…Southern California?” He said at last, voice tight, “That’s three thousand miles away.”
“I know.”
“And…you want to go there?”
“I do. Really bad.”
There was a heartbeat, a breath, a visible internal meltdown occurring within him, until he asked, “Is Blair going?”
“Yes. She got in too.”
He exhaled through his nose like that single fact alone saved his life, though it probably shouldn’t have. She’s the last person on Earth he should want going with you, but thankfully, he’s blissfully unaware of who she really is, “Well. I guess that’s different.”
Your mother kicked him under the table, “Just say you’re proud of her, honey.”
He looked at you again, long, conflicted, and terrified, yet still soft, “I am proud of you,” He murmured, “You know that. I just…you’re my little girl. And California is far.”
“I’ll be okay.”
He didn’t believe that, not at all, but he nodded anyway, “Then I guess…USC it is.”
Just like that, you were free. You could almost taste it. And now, months later, you’re here—Move-in day.
The California sun hits hotter and brighter, like even the light feels less restrained than anything you ever knew in Boston. Your father sits restlessly in the rented SUV that’s packed full with your belongings, your mother is in the passenger seat, Blair is following behind with her mom.
It should’ve been a sweet, sentimental moment. College send-offs usually are, but this one wasn’t. Because in order to get to your dorms, you had to pass Greek Row, and your father sees everything he fears most.
A group of shirtless guys on a lawn, covered in sweat playing die on an old, warped table. Two frat brothers throwing a football back and forth across the street like they own it, a cluster of girls in micro shorts walking toward one of the houses, someone’s shotgunning a beer while blasting John Summit so loud it shakes the sidewalk. Your father’s hands tighten on the steering wheel so hard the leather creaks.
“Oh,” Your mother murmurs gently, “Look at that…school spirit.”
He does not share the same sentiment. He stares, shell-shocked, shoulders squared like he’s preparing for war. One of the frat boys looks straight at the car, lifts his chin at you through the window, and smirks. Your dad nearly swerves into the closest telephone pole, “Oh hell no,” He curses under his breath, “Absolutely not. Over my dead body—”
“Dad,” You warn softly, cheeks burning.
He tears his eyes away from the horror, but keeps muttering, “This is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. They let freshmen live near this? They let you live near this? Those boys are—They’re—”
“College students?” Your mom offers.
“Degenerates.”
You hide your smile behind your hand. Because the truth is, everything he saw that scared him? Is everything you wanted.
The noise, the craziness, the alcohol, the energy, the…boys. A world you were never allowed to touch is now directly outside your window.
Your father grips the wheel harder like he’s debating whether or not to spin the car around and drive your happy ass back to Boston himself, but he doesn’t. He continues onward; straight to the dorms, your new life, and the one thing he could never fully control—your freedom.
But freedom, apparently, also comes with an audience. The moment your father pulls into the freshmen unloading zone, heads turn. A few students stop mid-conversation, some whisper, some don’t even bother whispering. Phones lift in that sneaky, sideways way people use when they swear you won’t notice.
“Is that—?”
“That’s him, right? That’s him?”
“Dude, her dad is literally the goat.”
“Wait, does that mean she’s—?”
You feel the heat crawl up your neck, but your father doesn’t react. He’s practiced at this, years of fan interactions, interviews, cameras shoved in his face at even the most inconvenient moments. Nothing really shakes him—well, except the frat boys. Those do.
He steps out of the car and grabs your suitcase with one hand, posture straightening like he’s going on National TV. A couple of guys across the quad nudge each other when they recognize him, jaws dropping as if a God descended onto USC’s campus.
“Sir!” One of them calls out, already pulling out his phone, “Big fan! Like…huge fan!”
“Thank you,” Your father says with a polite nod, slipping seamlessly into his media smile and then, because the universe enjoys humor at your expense, another voice bursts from a group near the dorm steps.
“Holy shit, that’s his daughter?”
You want to sink into the pavement, but your mom slips her arm through yours, “Don’t mind them, sweetheart. They’re just excited.”
Blair, climbing out of her mom’s BMW behind you, practically cackles, “Oh my God,” She whispers gleefully, “You’re famous already. Do you understand the power you’re about to wield?”
You glare at her, but she’s too busy vibrating with excitement. Meanwhile, your father spots the second wave of frat brothers who’ve stopped tossing a football to stare openly at the scene unfolding, and stiffens.
His tone drops into one that is low and protective, “Stay away from boys who look like that.”
“I will,” Oh, you most certainly won’t.
Once you’re all inside the dorm lobby, even more chaos ensues.
Athletes, business majors, engineering kids with lanyards all mingling, moving, dragging various pieces of furniture; and then there’s the group of girls next to the elevators, eyes flicking between you and your father with thinly-veiled recognition.
One whispers, not nearly quiet enough, “You think Gojo’s seen her yet?”
The other girl beside her giggles, “Please. Someone’s probably already told him.”
You freeze, Blair’s head snaps toward you like a bloodhound catching a scent, “No way! You’re being talked about by him?”
“Who is him?”
Blair lowers her voice, “Okay, so—remember how I stalked USC on TikTok for, like, two months straight?”
“…Yeah?”
“Well,” She says, pushing her Prada sunglasses up her nose, “There’s this international student from Japan, Satoru Gojo. Apparently the frat guy on campus. Junior, filthy rich, shameless, hot as fuck, total slut, owns a white Porsche, finance bro who probably fails all his classses, and ends up on every ‘hottest men at USC’ list.”
You stare at her, “And you know all of that from TikTok?”
“Yep,” She says proudly, “I do my research.”
You open your mouth, then close it, “Okay, but what does any of that have to do with—”
Blair gestures vaguely at your face, “Sexy freshman girl with famous NFL seven time Super Bowl Champion quarterback dad? You’re deadass his exact type of…project.”
You almost choke, “Project?”
She nods sympathetically, “Project as in…he’d want to be the guy to ruin you for every other man on campus.”
Your father hears the word ruin and nearly breaks his own neck whipping around. Blair immediately straightens, innocent smile plastered onto her face.
“Don’t worry,” She says softly out of the corner of her mouth, “You probably won’t even meet him,” Then quieter, when she knows your father isn’t eavesdropping, adds, “You’re totally going to meet him.”
Your dorm room on the fourth floor is already propped open when you reach it. Small, bright with two twin beds and bare walls. It’s nothing like the Boston mansion you grew up in, yet somehow it’s more exciting than any bedroom you’ve ever had.
Blair lets out a delighted gasp, “We live here? Oh my God, we actually live here!”
She races inside to claim her side of the room, throwing herself onto the bed next to the window. Your father stands in the doorway, scanning like he’s doing a threat assessment, “It’s…smaller than I expected.”
“It’s a dorm, honey. Not the Ritz,” Your mother reminds him.
He hums, but does not relax in the slightest. And just like that, the four of you are unpacking boxes, hanging clothes, folding towels, arranging the mini-fridge that your father inspects with the seriousness of a homicide detective. He tests the door three times, plugs it into a power strip, unplugs it, inspects the outlet, then plugs it back in.
“Dad,” You sigh, “It’s a fridge, not a life-support machine.”
“You say that now,” He warns and you just chuckle.
It’s chaos, but the warm kind. The kind you’ll remember and cherish forever, yet also feels like the end of something and the beginning of quite literally everything else. At one point, Blair steps behind you to hang a string of fairy lights and whispers, “Okay, but seriously—imagine Gojo in this room.”
You elbow her so hard she drops a clip, your father spins around, “What was that?”
“Nothing!” You and Blair answer in unison.
Your mother laughs softly. Your father absolutely does not.
Eventually, after your bedding is on, your father stands there at the foot of your bed with his hands on his hips. A silence settles, one that says that this is real, this is happening, and this is goodbye. For now.
He checks his watch, again. He’s been doing it all morning. He has a flight to Oregon to catch—the new job he picked up right after you announced you were moving across the country. He needed the distraction, otherwise he’d be stuck in Boston all day, thinking about what you’re doing out here…and what you probably shouldn’t be doing.
He’s a commentator for College GameDay. Covering the biggest football games of the year, traveling to each host school every week, however, he should’ve left ten minutes ago. But he just can’t.
“Princess,” He says quietly, “You sure you want this?”
You nod, heart pounding with the thrill of independence, but your face softens into the kind of innocent expression that always makes him melt, and you’ve absolutely learned how to weaponize it.
“I do,” You say softly, then perfectly timed and aimed, you hit him with the, “But…do you really have to leave so soon?”
His entire chest caves in, “Oh, sweeheart…” His voice thickens immediately, “I don’t want to. I wish I could stay with you the whole day.”
Inside, you’re buzzing, thinking, please leave already. Oh my God, leave and let me live.
But outside? You look up at him with big, sad, puppy dog eyes, “I’ll miss you.”
He pulls you into a crushing hug, “I’ll miss you more,” He murmurs, “So much more. I hate the timing of this stupid College GameDay thing—I should be here helping you settle in, not rushing to the airport.”
You cling just enough to sell it, but not make him change his mind and stay, “It’s okay, daddy,” You say, ultra sweet, “You have to work.”
He sniffles, “I’ll FaceTime you from Oregon,” He promises, “Every night.”
You nod against his chest, all gentle affection while your internal monologue screams, yes, yes, yes. Commentate on football and go.
Your mom steps in next, hugging you warmly, “Call whenever you need anything. And maybe…don’t tell your father everything you’re doing.”
Your father shoots her a look of the utmost betrayal, she ignores it. Blair hugs them both dramatically, “You guys are like my second parents. I’ll miss you too.”
Then he steps away, still unwilling, still staring at you like you’re five years old heading into kindergarten instead of nearly nineteen. He wipes his palms on his jeans and breathes out shakily, “Okay. Okay, I can do this. You’ll be fine. You’ll be safe. Blair, keep her away from—”
“Boys?” She fills in the blank.
“Exactly.”
You almost laugh as he heads for the door, pauses, and looks back one last time, “You sure you’ll be okay without me?”
You nod sweetly, oh so, so sweetly, “I’ll manage.”
Resigned, he gives you one last look and disappears down the hallway with your mother. The moment they’re gone, Blair turns to you, deadpan, “Oh, you are one evil bitch.”
But you’re not pretending anymore. A slow, wicked grin spreads across your face, one you’ve been holding back for years, “Blair,” You breathe, “I am finally free.”
And somewhere down Greek Row, in a house with bass shaking the floorboards, a brother with white hair and blazing blue eyes checks his phone, seeing the group chat’s new messages.
sig chi or die
ryan: yo gojo you see the qb’s daughter?
ryan: she just moved in and she’s BADDDD
And he smiles, one full malicious intent. He hasn’t seen you yet, but he already plans to.
Blair gives you exactly ten seconds of peace after your parents leave before she turns to you, eyes manic with purpose, “Alright. Put on something slutty. We’re celebrating.”
“We literally just unpacked.”
“Exactly!” She says, already digging through her suitcase, “Sigma Chi is open for business and so are we.”
You laugh, half nerves, half adrenaline as she tosses the tiniest black skirt you’ve ever seen your way and a cropped baby tee. You catch it, then go still, because across the chest in red rhinestones it says, Let Them Eat Cunt.
“Blair.”
She beams like it’s the funniest joke on Earth, “I got it custom-made. For today. For your whore arc!”
“My dad would literally die if he saw this.”
“I know,” She says proudly, “Now put it on.”
You hesitate for only one second, then slide both the shirt and skirt on. The moment you do, Blair makes a strangled noise, “Oh my God, bitch. The guys are going to lose their fucking minds.”
You look at yourself in the mirror; skirt so short it could be considered a napkin, rhinestoned filth across your boobs, lips perfectly glossed and instead of nerves, a spark catches in your bloodstream. This is what you’ve been waiting for.
“Yes,” You murmur, adjusting the hem, “They will.”
Blair freezes, “Oh? Oh?”
“Blair,” You say, meeting her eyes in the mirror, “I didn’t move across the country to behave.”
She shrieks into her palms, “You are out for blood tonight.”
“Dick, actually,” You correct calmly, “I’m out for dick.”
Her soul leaves her body, “Oh my God—yes! Say it again!”
“I want to get drunk,” You explain, “I want a hot guy. And I want to erase the last eighteen years of being babysat.”
Blair is feigning tears, “This is everything I’ve ever prayed for. I feel like a mother watching her child blossom into a slutty flower.”
“Let’s bloom, then,” You grab your phone, keys, and head for the door without a semblance of doubt.
Blair scrambles after you, “Wait, slow down—!”
“I have places to be,” You coo, already striding down the hallway.
“We haven’t even pregamed!”
“Sig Chi has alcohol,” She laughs manically at that and follows you outside into the California heat.
The walk over is brutally short, every step feels like peeling off another layer of innocence, the music from Greek Row growing louder, deeper, and dirtier. Blair bumps your shoulder, grinning slyly, “You know…he’s probably there. This is his frat.”
You already know who she’s referring to…Gojo. Again with this guy?
You roll your eyes fondly, “Blair, you haven’t even seen him.”
“Oh, but on TikTok I have,” She says, “And trust me—foreign rich boys? They’re always the ones who fuck like they’ve got something to prove.”
That piques your interest. Maybe, just maybe you’d have to find that one out for yourself.
You round the corner and Sig Chi rises ahead of you. Three stories in all its glory, music blaring, people spilling across the lawn, lights pulsing behind the windows.
Blair squeezes your hand, wicked grin glued to her face, “Okay. Deep breath, babe. Act natural.”
“I am natural.”
“Not with you wearing that shirt.”
You scoff as you step inside and the frat swallows you whole. It’s loud and cramped, bodies swaying under LED lights, the smell of beer and flavored vape clouds hanging in the air. A table of jungle juice sits in the corner, multiple couples are making out aggressively against walls, and then, you see him.
You don’t even realize it’s him at first, you just register—absurdly tall, insanely built, ocean eyes, broad shoulders, cut-off muscle tee showing biceps carved by God himself, LA Dodgers snapback backwards on his white hair, laughing lazily with two girls hanging off him like decorations.
So, this is the infamous Satoru Gojo. No wonder why he runs USC. He’s hot as fuck and knows it. He’s leaning against the kitchen island like it’s his throne, until one of the brothers near him nudges his shoulder, “Yo, QB’s daughter just walked in.”
Gojo doesn’t react immediately, he never does. Instead, he finishes whatever joke he was saying, grinning, dimples deep, girls giggling into his ribs.
Then, slowly, he looks up. The moment his eyes find you? Everything stops. The flirting, the talking, the lazy smile—gone.
His mouth parts just a little, eyes raking down your body, the skirt, your legs, and then eventually stopping right on your shirt. For a split second, he genuinely looks stunned, but then?
Oh, he smirks. A slow, sinful curl of his lips like all of his dreams have finally come true.
You don’t answer, because he isn’t just staring. He’s studying, recognizing, and realizing. He knows who you are, everyone does. You’re the football dynasty princess, Boston royalty, a girl whose father could call the dean of USC directly and have a frat shut down in ten minutes flat.
And yet, here you are. In that shirt, in his house, looking like trouble he suddenly, desperately wants.
A girl he wants to ruin before anyone else has the chance to.
He straightens up from the counter and sheds the girls clinging to him without a second glance. They look confused and annoyed, but he doesn’t give a shit. He was never one to care about girls’ feelings anyway.
His eyes stay locked on you. Blair inhales sharply, “Oh my God—he clocked you. He fully clocked you, bitch.”
You swallow as he continues to stare, smirk, and look at your shirt like he wants to frame it above his bed. Then, he murmurs something to the guys beside him, still not breaking eye contact, and you feel it—the shift, the moment the king of Sig Chi decides he’s going to make you his next conquest.
Blair elbows you, “I swear to God if you don’t at least talk to him—”
“Blair—”
“No, shut the fuck up. I’m your wingwoman. I’m morally obligated to get you laid.”
You exhale, pulse electric, heat flickering under your skin as Gojo starts to move. Not toward you yet, but closer. Circling, watching, like a wolf that noticed the rabbit wasn’t scared of him.
You catch his eyes again, sharp blue under the brim of his backwards hat, and this time, he tilts his head. Acknowledgment, interest, amusement, and mouths something. Blair grips your arm, “What did he say?”
You gulp because you know exactly what he said. Two simple words, as clear as day, “Nice shirt.”
Her grip on your arm grows so taut your circulation stops, “Okay, holy shit. We need to get drinks right now or I’m going to pass out.”
You let her drag you toward the jungle juice table, but you feel his eyes following you. Every step you take, every sway of your skirt, his gaze is glued to it like he’s trying to memorize your movements.
Blair shoves a cup into your hand and whispers, “He’s coming over. I repeat, he is coming over!”
“Don’t look,” You whisper back.
“I’m not,” She lies, staring directly at him.
You take a sip of the juice; sweet, disgusting, perfect, and then, Gojo appears. He leans one shoulder against the wall beside the drinks table, arms crossing slowly, biceps flexing under his cut-off tee, snapback still backwards, silver-white hair falling into his eyes. He’s taller up close, annoyingly so, towering even with the casual slouch.
He looks at your face first, then your shirt again, and smirks, “Bold choice,” He drawls, voice low and painfully self-assured, “You always introduce yourself with your chest, or is tonight special?”
Blair chokes on her drink, you swallow, “It’s a shirt, not a dissertation.”
He grins, cocky and fucking lethal, “Could’ve fooled me,” He murmurs, eyes dipping to your bare stomach, your hips, your legs, “That thing’s doing a lot of talking.”
Your heart flips, but you refuse to fold so soon, “Then stop staring at it.”
He laughs, quiet, dangerously pleased, and drags his eyes upward until they lock directly with yours, “Oh, princess,” He says softly, like he already knows the nickname from his mouth will ruin you, “I’m not staring at the shirt.”
Your breath hitches as Gojo’s tongue slides across the inside of his cheek before he tilts his head, diverting conversation, “You’re new.”
“Freshman.”
“No shit,” His smile widens, “I meant new as in…no one here’s touched you yet.”
Blair coughs so violently she has to turn away, your cheeks heat, “Why would you assume that?”
He shrugs, bending slightly to dip his cup in the jungle juice bowl, filling it lazily, eyes never leaving you, “Because I’ve never seen guys on my lawn look so fucking scared.”
“Scared?”
His smirk grows, possessive and knowing, “They were staring at you like you’re a grenade with the pin half-pulled. Pretty skirt, filthy shirt, famous daddy?” He takes a slow sip of his drink, “Yeah. They’re terrified.”
You open your mouth, but he steps closer, close enough that you can smell his cologne—clean, expensive, a bit woodsy. His voice drops to something only you can hear, “But I’m not.”
Your pulse stutters and he notices, of course he does. He’s got girls’ body language down to a fucking tee. He leans in, lips grazing the shell of your ear, “You walk into my house wearing that,” He whispers, “And you really think I’m letting anyone else talk to you first?”
Your soul leaves your body. He pulls back just a bit, eyes locking onto yours again, darkened now and unblinking; his smirk softens as he nods to the crowd, “Guys are already looking,” He says, almost dismissive, “Thinking about walking over.”
He lifts your chin with one knuckle, light as a tease, heavy as a claim, “But they’re not going to.”
Your lips part, “Why not?”
Gojo smiles, wicked, "Because you’re talking to me.”
Something hot shivers down your spine. Blair, silently screams in triumph. Gojo watches your reaction like he wants to eat it almost as much as he wants to eat you.
Then he lowers his voice even further, “And if any other guy touches you tonight?” He taps the rim of his cup against your, a subtle clink, “They’re dead.”
Your heart slams against your ribs, he smirks again, “You don’t even get what that shirt’s doing to people,” He says, leaning back just slightly to give you a moment to breathe, but not space to escape, “But it’s okay. I’ll show you.”
Your mouth goes dry. He straightens up, flicks his eyes over your legs one more time, and adds softly, “Stay where I can see you.”
Then he walks off, not far, but far enough to make you watch and to tell every brother and guy in the house that you’re his.
Not yet. Not fully. But don’t even fucking try.
Blair is still gripping your arm like a talon when Gojo strolls off, leaving you breathless, dazed, and partially frenzied.
“Holy shit,” Blair hisses, “Okay. Okay. We need more alc immediately. You need to ride the confidence wave.”
“I’m…pretty sure confidence isn’t my problem right now.”
“No,” She agrees, dragging you toward the bar counter, “Your problem is wanting to climb that man like a tree, but that’s what vodka is for. Loosen up, be the slut you were born to be.”
You snort so hard you almost trip. The kitchen island is cluttered with liquor bottles, chasers, cups, and three guys already pouring shots.
Blair slaps her palms on the counter, announcing way too proudly, “This is my best friend! She is having her slut awakening tonight, if you care!”
“Blair—!”
They shout like they’ve just been told USC won the national championship. One of them, a blond with aviators on indoors, grins at you, “You taking shots or you just gonna stand there and look hot?”
Blair gasps, offended on your behalf. You roll your eyes and reach for the Tito’s bottle. Blond aviators whistles, “Oh, she’s going straight for the hard stuff.”
Blair squeals, “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”
You raise the bottle, “Wait—” Blair warns.
Too late, you’re already taking a deep, burning, reckless swig. The kitchen collectively screams and you cough once, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “Fuck.”
Blair smacks the counter, beaming, “Yes! That’s my best friend!”
Someone shoves a red cup into your hand, another chanting, “Chug! Chug! Chug!”
So you do, because why the hell not? This moment has been eighteen years in the making and the drink is warm, disgusting, and makes your head pleasantly light.
Blair hops onto the counter, already dancing, “I am so proud of you!”
Guys around you start cheering harder, forming a half-circle as if you’re performing, and you laugh—dizzy and loud.
For the first time in your life, you’re not a quarterback’s daughter with curfews and rules and expectations. You’re just a girl in a filthy shirt getting worshipped by a kitchen full of frat brothers.
One leans in, too close, grinning, “So, uh—you rushing? Because we were thinking—”
Another cuts him off, slinging an arm around his shoulders, “—thinking we should make you Sig Chi’s sweetheart.”
Blair snaps her gaze to you, giggles erupting, “Oh my God, (Y/N), they’re already trying to crown you.”
The first guy leans closer, bold with liquid courage, “You’d run this place.”
“Yeah?” You tease, voice looser than normal, “What would I get out of it?”
He smirks, “Priority at every party. Your own room. Free booze. And—”
Before you can even smile, a low voice cuts through the kitchen like a knife, “Who the fuck told you idiots you could talk to her?”
Gojo stands in the doorway, cup in hand, expression blank and walks in with the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea, “You boys drunk or just dumb as fuck?”
“Gojo, we were—”
“Don’t speak,” He snaps, stepping closer, “You think you can ‘crown’ girls now? Offer them rooms? Priority access?" He laughs once, “You can’t even organize a mixer without me holding your hands.”
One brother stiffens, “Gojo, come on—”
Gojo turns his head slowly, “You interrupting me?” The guy goes pale, Gojo’s voice drops, “As active brothers you’re supposed to know the rules,” He nods over toward you, “And rule number one—you don’t approach girls I’m watching.”
A ripple flows through the kitchen, “G-Gojo—”
“Probation,” He replies simply, “All three of you,” Their faces drop, “No parties. No tailgates. No socials. You’re on cleanup duty for two weeks with the Pledges.”
The room detonates with whispers, “And if you ever look at her again? I’ll pull your letters myself,” They stare at him horrified, “Now, get the fuck out of my kitchen.”
The brothers scatter like roaches and Gojo turns to you, “Having fun?” He asks, voice warm again, teasing the way only danger could.
“M-Maybe.”
He steps closer; his knee brushes your thigh, the scent of his cologne wraps around your spine, and the buzz of the vodka evaporates from how stupid hot this is, “I thought I told you to stay where I could see you.”
Your heart jumps, heat rushing straight into your stomach, “I didn’t go anywhere.”
His eyes flick down your body, slow and deliberate, “Oh, you went everywhere,” He says, “Guys over here. Guys over there. Taking shots on my counter like you’re trying to get a reaction.”
Blair is wheezing into her cup somewhere behind you. You lift your chin, “What—did it bother you?”
His jaw ticks, just once, but you feel it like a pulse under your skin. He steps closer, body angling into yours, hand coming down beside your hip on the counter. He’s caging you in without even touching.
“It bothered me,” He says quietly, “How much fun you were having without me,” Your stomach churns, his voice drops further, “Didn’t like seeing other guys look at you like that.”
“You told them off,” You remind him.
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
Your mouth opens, he watches you react—your pulse, your breathing, and soaks it up like it feeds him, “You’re drunk,” He says, eyes glinting, “But you’re not stupid.”
“Meaning…?”
He leans in, lips brushing your jaw, “Meaning you know exactly what you’re doing.”
Your thighs press together on instinct and he catches it, something daring flickers across his expression; hunger, annoyance, restraint, then he nods toward the staircase, “Come with me.”
“Where?”
He smirks in the way he always does before hooking up with girls, “Upstairs.”
Your breath falters, “Why?”
He takes your wrist gently, shockingly gentle for someone with such big hands, and pulls you away from the counter. His thumb slides across your pulse point, “You want me to say it?”
You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But you nod.
His eyes drag down to your shirt again, bold letters across your chest, daring the world. He lifts his gaze back to yours, “Because, princess…” He murmurs, voice an unholy whisper, “…I wanna do what your shirt says.”
Your knees nearly give and Gojo’s hand tightens on your wrist, “Come upstairs,” He says again, firmer this time, “Before I do something stupid right here.”
You don’t think or even breathe, you just let him lead you through the kitchen, past the music, up the stairs; his hand warm and unyielding around yours, every step feeling like the point of no return, and everyone watches.
Because the king of Sig Chi just bagged the coveted QB’s daughter.
Gojo hears all their whispered words, but they don’t affect him. He just smirks over his shoulder, hand still wrapped around your wrist, doing what he’s done almost a hundred times before, and keeps walking.
Up the stairs, down the hall, past guys who stop talking just to watch you go. You can feel the attention, the shock, the rumors already spreading like wildfire and the second the door to his room shuts, he’s on you.
His mouth crashes onto yours before your back even hits the door, one hand sliding into your hair, the other gripping your waist and dragging you closer until there’s no space between you. Your hands fist in the hem of his shirt; he groans into your mouth, the sound dark, low, sinful.
And then Gojo doesn’t walk you to the bed, no. He throws you onto it. One push to your hips and you fall back onto his mattress, bouncing once; he stands at the edge for a second, just looking at you, chest rising, jaw tight, like he’s trying not to pounce too fast.
Then he laughs under his breath. A quiet, disbelieving sound. He’s had all types of girls on this bed—sorority girls, party girls, girls who begged for his attention, but none of them ever looked like this.
His shirt rides up as he pulls his hat off to run a hand through his hair, eyes raking over every inch of you. The skirt pushed high, the lewd baby tee, your glossy lips parted from panting.
You’re not like the others…you’re worse. You’re a good girl, not his usual type, not ran through; temptation he was never supposed to touch, the quarterback’s daughter with the perfect reputation, and the perfect face, and the perfect body he’s dying to destroy.
His laughter fades, replaced by something darker and hungrier as he steps closer, eyes dragging over you like he’s choosing which part of you to ruin first.
“Yeah,” He murmurs, tone dropping, “I knew you’d look good on my bed.”
Then his hands, big and unforgiving, close around your thighs. He drags you down the mattress in one smooth, brutal pull, your skirt sliding up high on your hips, your breath punching out of your lungs.
Your ass hits the edge of the bed, legs falling open for him on instinct. Gojo inhales sharply like the sight of you hurts him, “Fuck,” He breathes, half a laugh, half a groan, “You’re gonna kill me.”
He doesn’t climb onto the bed, doesn’t join you, he just stands there, looming, tall and broad, with his thumbs pressed into the soft inner curve of your thighs; pushing them wider until the stretch borders on obscene.
You can feel your pulse now, between your legs, desperate and unable to ignore. He looks down at you like he’s about to pray to whatever god put you in front of him or ruin you for sport. You can’t distinguish the two.
His fingers hook into the sides of your panties, “Lift.”
You obey in an instant; he slides them down your legs slowly, savoring the reveal, until they hit the floor with a soft thud.
The second he sees you, bare and already wet for him, his jaw flexes, “Jesus Christ,” He mutters, running a hand through white strands to control himself, “You’re soaked.”
Heat floods your face at the sight, at the words, and he smirks because he can tell, “Shy now?” He teases, “You wore that shirt and came to my frat but this—” His thumb barely grazes the inside of your thigh, nearly touching where you want him, “—this is what makes you flush?”
You try to speak, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he bends deliberately slow, bringing his mouth closer until his breath hits your skin. Your thighs tense, it only makes him grip them harder, “Relax,” He coos, eyes lifting to yours from between your legs, “I’m gonna take care of you.”
You don’t get a chance to register anything, he leans in and licks one long, slow stripe up your pussy—so slow you swear he’s doing it just to see how flustered you’ll get from the first touch alone.
Your head falls back against the sheets and he laughs, a soft, smug sound that vibrates right into your core, “Taste so good,” He mutters, already going back in for more, “Knew you would.”
And then he loses himself. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting your hips off the edge of the bed, dragging you closer until your knees are hooked over his shoulders and his mouth is pressed fully against your sopping cunt.
He eats you like a man starved, deprived, one that’s been waiting for this ever so patiently, and one whose life mission is to ruin you for every man who could ever come after him. His tongue flicks and circles and presses, “Satoru—”
He groans, the sound reverberating so deep your body shudders, “Say it again,” He says between licks, “Fuck, say my name again.”
You do, over and over, because you simply can’t not.
He tightens his grip on you, holding you still as he sucks your clit with a filthy reverence, and your back arches so hard your vision spots. Your legs try to close on instinct, but he doesn’t allow it. Gojo pushes your thighs wider with his shoulders, pinning you open without even trying.
“Yeah…” He murmurs into your skin, breath so hot it makes you twitch, “Keep ‘em open for me.”
He dips his head again, sucking your clit into his mouth with a force that knocks a cry out of you and you try to wiggle away from the intensity, but he stops you.
He growls, a low warning, fingertips digging into your thighs, “Oh no, you’re not running from this,” His voice drops, rough, entertained, and mean, “Daddy’s princess doesn’t get to run.”
Your body jolts like he slapped you and he feels it; pausing for a second, his lips still brush your folds as he lifts those piercing blues to watch your reaction. A smirk cuts across his face.
“Oh my fucking God,” He breathes, “You liked that shit.”
You try to lie, “I—no.”
But you did like it. Some depraved, twisted part of you liked it.
He laughs, delighted, “Yeah? You denying it?” He gives your cunt another slow lick, “Cause your pretty pussy’s kinda telling me everything I need to know.”
Your face burns with shame, unable to stop the shrill sound that falls out of you. He groans, guttural and hungry, “Holy shit—daddy’s good little girl getting off on being talked to like a slut?”
He moves closer to whisper directly on your skin, your lashes flutter from the warmth, “Guess daddy’s girl isn’t so good anymore.”
You can’t stop yourself from reacting to that, your hands yank his hair hard and he moans straight into your cunt at the pull, “Ohh fuck yeah,” He hisses, “Give me that again, princess.”
You tug him once more, pushing him deeper into your core; your voice comes out small and shaky, “Don’t…wanna be good…” Gojo tenses, your next words fracture on a whisper that will haunt him forever, “…just wanna be good for you.”
That line sends him into a frenzy, his mouth crashes back onto you sloppily—tongue working like he wants to drag that confession out of you again, sucking your clit with a messy, perfect pressure that shatters your thoughts.
He holds you open as he devours you; there’s no rhythm to it at all, just a man fully out of his fucking mind.
“Satoru—Toru—” Your voice cracks as your orgasm slams through you with a force you didn’t think possible.
And he groans like your pleasure pleases him, licking you through the entire climax, refusing to let go of you until you collapse onto the mattress, trembling.
When you do, he pulls back slowly; face glazed, breathing erratic, eyes wild, “Fuck,” He whispers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Need to be inside you.”
He doesn’t waste a minute, lifting you by the hips again both effortlessly and possessively, he drags you up the bed until your head hits his pillows.
“Goddamn, look at you,” He sneers, hovering, “Already fucked dumb and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”
You whimper helplessly as he’s already lining himself up; thick, flushed, heavy in his fist, and pushes in, sinking inch by inch into a pussy so tight his eyes flutter shut.
“Ahh—fuck, princess,” His voice wavers, “You’re gripping me—fucking gripping my shit already—”
He tries to breathe properly, but fails miserably, “God, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Feels insane.”
He pulls out, pushes back in deeper this time, and your cry is instant. It’s music to his ears, “Yeah…that’s it. Take it. All of it.”
His pace builds, slow at first, then faster, angling to hit the spot that makes your nails drag down his back. When you clamp around him, his breath stutters, “Oh my God—don’t do that shit,” His hips jerk without his permission, “Fuck, I’m trying to pull out—I’m trying.”
But he’s not. He’s lying.
You feel it in the way he grips your thighs harder, his hips snapping deeper, the shudder that runs down his spine like he’s fighting himself.
“Toru—”
He cuts you off with a broken groan, “I’m trying to pull out, I swear. But your pussy—shit, won’t let me.”
Your walls clench around him again and he grunts, forehead pressing to your cheek, “Princess—stop squeezing, fuck.”
He tries to pull back this time. He really does, but he can’t. You’re too warm, too tight, and way too fucking wet from how good he ate you out.
“Oh—no, no, no,” He chokes out, “Fuck—I can’t, I can’t.”
His thrusts turn frantic and the filth spills right out of him, “Shit, I-I’m gonna cum—inside,” His hips slam into yours, desperate, “Can’t pull out. Fuck, I can’t—pussy won’t let me.”
Your nails claw into him now, so hard it’s certain to leave marks, and that’s what ends him, “Fuck,” He drags the word out, burying himself all the way to the hilt, and cums right inside you.
Spilling into you in long, uncontrollable pulses, hot and thick. He groans into your neck, “God—fuck, fuck, princess—cummin’ in you—so deep, shit.”
Each spurt drags another sound out of him, almost pained with a hint of reverence; his hips keep spasming and he stuffs himself deeper, like he can’t help it.
When you finally finish milking him dry, he lifts his head, looks down between your bodies, and sees it.
Where he’s still inside you, how full you are, a ring of white already gathering around the base of his cock and something shifts in him, “…Holy fuck.”
You blink, dazed, “What?”
He doesn’t hear you at all, eyes glued to the sight of you stretched around him, dick nestled in you like it belongs there. His tone drops into something low and stunned, “I—I really came in you.”
You nod weakly, out of breath, “Mhm.”
He swallows hard, but doesn’t pull out. Instead, he presses in even deeper, like he needs to feel it one more time. You gasp and he throws his head back, “Oh my God…” He mutters, almost to himself, “…it’s so warm.”
He runs his hand down your stomach, stopping right above where he’s still buried. Then he pushes gently, just enough to feel his load shift deeper, and you whimper.
“Shit…” His voice is nothing but pure, filthy awe, “I’ve never…fuck, I’ve never done that before. I don’t even fuck raw.”
You expect panic, but what hits him is the opposite. A wave of feral, possessive pleasure that lights up every neuron in his brain. He exhales shakily, eyes flicking up to yours with an emotion that looks close to worship.
“Princess…” He’s smiling, a crooked one, “That felt fucking incredible.”
Your stomach flips, because he’s right. It really fucking did.
He lifts your thigh higher on his hip like he wants to see everything and have this visual burned into his mind forever, “Fuck…” He whispers, chest rising faster, “You took all of it.”
His fingers gently spread you open around him, his cum spills out just a little, and he moans, “Ohh, fuck—look at that…” A soft laugh falls from his lips. You’ve never seen a man look so corrupted by his own desire.
But then, reality slaps him across the face, “Oh shit. Shit, shit, wait—no, no, no—” He drags a trembling hand through his mussed hair, expression fracturing between pleasure and dread, “—I cannot believe I just fucking did that.”
“Satoru—”
He cuts you off, still staring at the wetness leaking around him, “I mean…That was fuckin’ crazy—like way too good. Scary good. I get it now.”
Your pulse trips, “But also—” He finally pulls out and when more of his cum spills onto the sheets he moans again, “Fuck, okay—we need to go. Now. Like now-now.”
You raise a brow, “You’re freaking out?”
His eyes snap up to you, “Do I look like I’m freaking out?” He gestures at your pussy, “I just creampied the girl whose dad could literally shut down our chapter. Of fucking course I’m freaking out.”
But then he pauses, glancing down at you, your thighs, the mess between them, and something hot flickers back onto his face, “Not gonna lie though…it looked really fucking good.”
Heat floods your cheeks and he smirks, clapping his hands once decisively, “Okay. Get up. We need a Plan B before I start thinking with my dick again.”
You’re still trembling, the last of his load spilling out onto the sheets, and he stares at it—at you, for a second too long, chest rising like he’s physically restraining himself from going back inside.
But then he steps away, fast, a black hoodie already in his grip when he barks out, “Up. Now.”
You’re in a haze, legs barely working, but his urgency snaps you out of it. You sit up, shaking, pulling your skirt and panties back into place.
Gojo’s already dressed, hoodie thrown over his head, white tendrils sticking out, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle twitch, “Satoru…”
His sharp eyes cut to you, wide from leftover adrenaline, “Not now,” He says quietly, “We can’t talk right now.”
Because he’ll lose it and he’s hardening again, even with his cum leaking out of you, “Let’s go.”
You barely get your shoes on before he’s grabbing your hand and leading you out the room, down the stairs, and through the pulsing music, ignoring every brother who tries to high-five him and every girl who wants to touch him.
He’s too wound up and aware of the possibility sitting warm between your legs.
Outside, the cool west coast air hits, but it does nothing to help him. His grip stays taut on your hand, guiding you quickly down the sidewalk, away from Sig Chi and anyone who might see him like this.
He doesn’t speak to you, not once, but you can hear his uneven breathing and every few steps he mumbles something nearly inaudible.
“Fucking dumbass…”
“Should’ve pulled…”
“Evil ass pussy…”
However, thank God for college towns and their love for twenty-four hour pharmacies; a CVS sign glows bright up ahead and Gojo moves quicker, beelining it with you in tow.
Once inside, he pauses at the automatic doors, lifting his hood higher to shield his face, then walks straight to the family planning aisle. He doesn’t hesitate, there’s no need to browse or think, he just grabs the Plan B box so fast the air moves with it and heads for self-checkout.
No cashiers, no chance for eye contact, no witnesses. He’d rather be shot dead than caught lacking like this. If anyone found out that Satoru Gojo had a weak ass pull-out game, he’d lose all sense of power on campus.
He scans the box with tottering hands, grabs a bottle of water from the mini cooler next to the register, pays in cash, and throws the receipt away as soon as it prints. Only then, does he finally look at you, “Come on.”
The two of you make it maybe ten steps outside before he’s gnawing the Plan B box open with his teeth. He places the tiny pill in your hand and shoves the water at you, “Take it.”
He watches every centimeter of movement; the pill hitting your tongue, the rim of the bottle on your lips, and the bob of your throat when it’s all swallowed.
When it’s done, his shoulders fall, showing you how fucking scared he actually was, “Okay…” He murmurs, nodding, “Okay. Crisis averted.”
But then you shift your weight and his gaze drops to your legs, the memory of how you squeezed around him hits, “…Fuck.”
“What?”
His voice is quieter now, “You look way too good right now for someone I almost got pregnant.”
You laugh softly, but he doesn’t. There’s not even a flicker of amusement behind those bright eyes. He steps closer though, hand lifting to your face, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, “Come here.”
Gojo tilts your chin up, scanning all of your features with that same predatory focus he had right before he got on his knees for you. Then, he speaks like he’s laying down scripture. A speech he’s given to hundreds of girls before, you’re sure.
“Alright, princess. We need to set some ground rules.”
“Rules?”
His thumb grazes your lip, “Number one,” He says, tone steady, “This is just sex. Nothing more.”
You gulp as he continues, “Number two. I will never be your boyfriend.”
That one stings for reasons unknown. You nod anyway, “Number three. You don’t ask who I’m seeing.”
So he still plans on seeing other girls. Okay.
“Number four…” He steps closer, so close you think he might kiss you, “…when I want you, I get you.”
The way he says it makes your stomach flip violently, “And number five,” He adds, “You don’t let any other guy touch you like I did tonight.”
He can fuck other girls, but you can’t fuck other guys? The fuck?
“Why not?”
His eyes burn into yours, “Because you told me you wanted to be good for me…and I’m holding you to it.”
Then just like that, he steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets, hood still up, fully composed frat boy again, “Got it? Okay, cool,” He rushes, “I’ll text you.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup,” He pops the p, starts walking backward, eyes dragging over your entire body one last time, “Night, princess.”
And turns away, leaving you standing under the glow of the CVS sign like some whore he used, legs shaking, heart pounding, and the worst part about it all? You still want him and still want more.
Freedom like this is too much fun.
But you tell yourself you won’t text him back. This was a one-time thing, you needed to get it out of your system as a repressed daddy’s girl. That you’re not the type who gets addicted to a frat boy she met at a party, no matter how hot he looks or how good he fucks.
Yeah…that lie lasts about less than twenty-four hours. Because the next night, at 12:47 A.M., your phone buzzes.
satoru: open your dorm window
You blink at the message, confused, until headlights sweep across the courtyard, bright, white-blue, and unmistakable—his Porsche.
Blair is already asleep beside you, your heart’s sprinting. You slide the window open to peek out and there he is, leaned against the hood, hoodie up, hands in his pockets, looking at your window like he knew you’d listen.
He lifts his chin, “Come down.”
He doesn’t say please or explain further and you go, of course you go.
The next time you see him, it’s in your dorm room. And it starts with kissing—always kissing.
He’s got you pinned against the inside of your locked door, hands under your ass, lifting you like you weigh nothing, grinding you against the thick outline in his sweats with a low, starved sound in his throat.
“Missed this,” He mutters, lips on your neck, “Missed you.”
You don’t have time to decipher the meaning before your phone rings. Your dad’s contact photo lights up the screen.
You freeze, but Gojo doesn’t. He looks at it, then at you, and smirks evilly, “Answer it.”
“Toru—” But he’s already dropping to his knees.
Your phone quivers in your hand as you swipe to accept the call, “Hi, princess,” Your dad’s voice comes through, “How was your first few nights in the dorms?”
Gojo pushes your skirt up, your pulse skyrockets as you force a steady tone, “G-Good. Umm. Really good.”
He drags your panties down with agonizing slowness, eyes locked onto yours the entire time, enjoying every ounce of panic flickering across your sweet face.
“That’s good to hear,” Your father continues, “You settling in okay? Eating enough? Staying safe?”
Gojo’s mouth touches you and you nearly drop the phone. His tongue slides through your folds, deliberate and slow, savoring you like he’s got all the time in the world.
You bite your lip so hard you taste blood, “Mhm,” You manage, “I’m—Dad, I’m—I’m very safe.”
Gojo laughs softly against your pussy, “Good girl,” he murmurs, too quietly for anyone but you to hear and sucks your clit into your mouth.
Your voice breaks into the speaker, “What was that?” Your dad asks suddenly.
“N-Nothing!” You choke out, breathless, “Just—Just moving…something.”
Gojo looks up at you, eyes blazing, pupils dilated, and pride dripping from his smirk as he ruins your composure with the lightest touch of his tongue. You end up cumming so hard you have to mute yourself.
When you hang up, Gojo wipes his mouth with his thumb and stands, kissing you deeply, giving you a taste. Then he whispers on your lips, “Next time you say you’re safe…you’re gonna tell him that I’m the one keeping you that way.”
You don’t know whether that’s true or the biggest lie you’ve ever heard.
And the next time after that happens three nights later. You’re wearing tiny shorts and a tank top when he texts.
satoru: out front
satoru: now
You slide into the passenger seat of his 911 and the smell of him, clean and sharp, wraps around you immediately.
He doesn’t even say hi. His hand is in your hair before you finish closing the door; he’s pulling you over the console, kissing you with the same urgency as the first night.
Then he leans back in his driver’s seat, spreads his legs, and nods down at his lap, “Need your mouth,” He breathes, strained like he hasn’t gotten off in months instead of last night with some other girl, “Now, princess.”
And you give him it, because you’re somehow already gone for him and want to see what you can do. He grips your hair while you throat him deeper and deeper, until he’s cursing under his breath in Japanese and dragging a shaky hand over his mouth.
God, you fucking love it when he does that.
“Fuck—baby, baby, wait—” He pulls you off his throbbing cock, kisses you hard, and pushes your panties to the side, “Get on top.”
You straddle him and he drags you onto his dick in one long, devastating push. The car rocks as his hands grab everywhere—your hips, ass, waist, guiding you, using you, groaning into your neck.
“Mmm, that’s it—ride me,” He whispers, “Show me how bad you want it.”
You ride him until the windows fog and the V6 engine ticks with residual heat. He cums on your stomach with his face buried into your chest; a low, wrecked moan muffled against your skin.
That same weekend, there’s a night where he pulls you into a dark hallway at Sig Chi during a party. He pushes you against the wall without warning and slides into you from behind, hand clamped over your mouth.
The bass of house music is pounding, the hallway is thankfully empty, your skirt is bunched around your waist, and he fucks you slow and deep—like he’s trying to memorize the exact way your cunt clenches around him.
“You’re so fuckin’ addictive,” He breathes into your ear, “Gonna end up wearing you out every night.”
You don’t doubt it.
A week later, you’re in your communal dorm bathroom when you see it—blood. Thank the fucking Lord. The Plan B had worked.
You text him two words.
period came
Four minutes later he responds.
satoru: i’m here
You barely have time to lie down before he’s on top of you, mouth everywhere, voice rough with relief, “Good girl…” He murmurs against your stomach, “Fucking good girl.”
Then he pushes two fingers into you and you arch your back, whining. He smiles into your neck like it’s the best thing he’s heard, “Celebration sex,” He decides, “C’mere.”
Period? He does not care whatsoever. He fucks you like you’re his reward, and you let him.
But one morning, you catch him staring. Not at your tits or ass or mouth—at you and your face, something beneath your skin he’s trying and failing to deny.
He looks away fast, jaw tight, hoodie pulled up like he’s hiding from a fact inside himself and you pretend not to see it.
Because you know if you acknowledge it and name the thing growing between you, what you and him have will stop being fun and become dangerous.
Though the truth lingers in the air the next time he texts you at 1:03 A.M.
satoru: want you
And your fingers answer before your brain does.
come get me
He comes quickly.
Ten minutes after your text, his Porsche glides to a stop outside your dorm like it was summoned, and sends a text.
satoru: here
You’re already moving. As soon as you open the door, he grabs your jaw and kisses you before you can even sit down, pulling you into his lap like he’s starved. It’s harsher tonight.
“Always taste so fuckin’ good,” He mutters against your mouth, “Just for me, right?”
You don’t answer because you know he doesn’t need you to, it’s obvious. However, the next time he’s throwing you onto his bed, when you land on the sheets—something shifts.
There’s a scent in the air. Faint and sweet, a floral perfume you don’t wear. You don’t do floral, only gourmand fragrances. It hits you before you even spot the evidence.
There’s a hair tie on the nightstand that’s not yours, tube of lip gloss half-tucked under his pillow like it was hidden there in a hurry, a sweatshirt on the floor that definitely isn’t his.
And the worst part? He doesn’t even notice you noticing, because he’s too busy touching you.
His hands are already on your thighs, spreading them, his mouth dragging down your neck, voice thick with desire that doesn’t sound recycled or casual, “You been thinking about me all day?” He murmurs, “Thinking about how good I fuck you?”
You force yourself to swallow it down. The perfume, the hair tie, the gloss, the clothing, the ache blooming beneath your ribs.
But because you don’t answer, he grabs your jaw gently, making your eyes look into his, “Don’t get quiet on me now,” He smirks, “You’re not allowed.”
He kisses you again, filthily, and the sadness knots inside you in a way you refuse to acknowledge. Not now, not when he’s touching you and you want him this badly.
So you pretend.
You let him wreck you again, let him fuck you into the mattress with the haste of a man who can’t get enough. Although something tiny fractures within you when he flips you onto your stomach and you see the lip gloss again.
You shut your eyes, a yelp breaking from you as you try to imagine that it was never there.
Then four days later, you’re the one who texts first. You hate yourself for it, but you can’t help it.
you busy?
Delivered with no response.
Ten minutes pass, then twenty, then an hour.
You throw your phone aside, furious for caring in the first place. You knew what you were getting into from the moment you let a guy like Satoru Gojo fuck you.
Blair, who’s sitting in her bed beside you, glances at your expression and raises a brow, “Him again?”
You lie, “No.”
Two more hours pass and nothing. Your stomach twists with something awful and sharp because you know exactly what he’s doing. More so, who, he’s doing.
At 1:36 A.M., your phone lights up.
satoru: nah
satoru: come thru
You look at the texts, pissed off by his lack of consideration, but even more pissed by your lack of control. Because you go to him like he says.
You hear the music from the street when you arrive at Sig Chi. The house is loud and buzzing, full of energy he clearly enjoyed without you present.
He meets you at his bedroom door and the second you see him, all the oxygen leaves your lungs.
His hair is tousled under his blue snapback; his shirt is twisted, collar stretched like it was yanked. There’s a pink flush across his face, his lips look too red, like he’s been kissing for hours.
His breathing is slightly off as if his heart rate still hasn’t calmed down yet, but the room? Oh that’s the killer blow.
The sheets are tangled and half on the floor, there’s mascara smudged on his pillows, and God the trashcan ruins you. You can see multiple golden foils from where you are—condom wrappers.
And Gojo just stands there, letting you take it all in like he doesn’t even care. He watches you, blue eyes cool, leaning against the doorframe like you’re the one who kept him waiting, “You coming in?”
Your throat burns. Say no. Say no. Say fucking no.
But you step inside and the door clicks shut behind you, sealing you with the smell of a perfume that isn’t yours.
“Come here,” Gojo says.
And because you’re weak and something about him has rewired your brain, you walk closer instead of slapping him.
He hooks a finger under your chin, tilts your face up, and kisses you like he wasn’t just inside another girl before this. It’s greedy and possessive in a way he has no right to be; you let him take and take, until something within you snaps.
You push him back a step, breathing labored, “Satoru.”
He lifts a brow, already annoyed at being interrupted, “What?”
“I want…” Fuck, you hate yourself for how small it sounds, “…I want to be the only one.”
There’s dead silence in the room, but then—then he has the fucking audacity to laugh, “Oh, princess,” He coos, amusement curving his mouth as he pulls your waist against his, “That’s not how this works.”
Your stomach is in knots, the smirk is still there, “You can’t be the only one,” He says unapologetically, “But—”
His hand slides down your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp, “You can be my number one.”
Number one. Like you’re just barely good enough to earn the top spot on a team’s roster.
“…Your number one,” You echo.
“Yeah,” His lips brush your throat, “The one I fuck the most. The one I come back to. The one I call when I actually want it.”
You feel sick, “And what about me? Do I get anyone?”
He pulls back to look at you with eyes as sharp as knives, “No.”
The word lands like a slap, “No?”
“No,” He confirms, “You don’t let any other guy touch you. That was the deal.”
“That wasn’t a deal,” You seethe, “That was something you said after you—after you almost got me pregnant.”
He shrugs, “So? Still stands.”
Heat floods your entire face—anger, humiliation, desire, all tangled, “You’re allowed to fuck other girls,” You vocalize, “But I’m not allowed to—”
He cuts you off with a kiss so deep you forget how to breathe and when he breaks it, his voice is dangerously soft, “I don’t share.”
You swallow, pissed at yourself for the way your body always reacts to him, “And what if I don’t want to be your number one?”
Gojo smiles, “Then you wouldn’t be in my room right now.”
Your pulse trips because he’s right and you hate it. You shove him weakly, but he catches your wrists, pinning them above your head as he walks you backward toward the bed, “Don’t start pretending you don’t want this. Not after the way you moan for me.”
“Satoru—”
“You asked for the only one treatment?” He asks against your mouth, “Fine. I’ll fuck you like you’re the only girl in the world.”
He pushes you onto the mattress, “And then…I’ll remind you that you’re not.”
His tone is cruel, you’ve never heard him sound like this, and despite that fact, your body still betrays you. He drags your shorts down, mouth already on your inner thigh, kissing higher and higher, biting hard enough to leave a mark.
“Satoru—stop,” You whisper, but you don’t mean it and he knows you don’t.
His tongue licks up your folds and your back arches like you’ve been shocked. The reaction makes him laugh, “See? This pussy knows who it belongs to.”
You want to hit him, kiss him, run, and stay all at once. Your voice is barely a sound when you say, “I hate you.”
The words make him grin, “No, you don’t.”
He flips you onto your stomach before you can respond, pulling your hips up, positioning himself behind you—no condom, like always, “I’m your number one, too,” He murmurs, tip prodding your entrance, “You just don’t want to admit it.”
“Satoru—” He pushes into you in one long, ruthless stroke.
Your gasp shatters in the quiet room, “Fuck,” He groans, hands gripping your hips so tight you think they’ll bruise, “Every time—every time, you’re tighter.”
Then he fucks you like he’s proving a point, “Say it again,” He growls, “Say you want to be the only one.”
“I—I want—” You choke out, tears blurring your vision, “I want to be the only one—please—”
He moans, he actually fucking moans at that, as if your pain gives him pleasure, like he’s some sick sadist.
“Oh, princess,” He says, kissing your shoulder, “You break so pretty.”
And then he leans down just enough to whisper the nail in your coffin, “But you never will be.”
You cum around him anyway. Because you foolishly still want him, and maybe you’re some sick masochist too.
And when he finishes, pulling out of you with a quiet hiss, you think maybe he’ll soften—maybe he’ll say something real. But all he does is toss you a towel to clean yourself and grab his hat to shove it back on his head, muttering, “Close the door behind you.”
And like the dumbest bitch alive, you do.
You walk home at 3:12 A.M. with aching thighs and your heart bloodied. When you slip into your dorm, Blair is still awake with her laptop open. She looks up once, clocking everything in a single glance, “You good?”
“I’m fine,” You lie, kicking your shoes off.
She just stares and you stare back, knowing that she doesn’t believe you in the slightest, but doesn’t press.
You shower and scrub your body as if it can erase Gojo from your skin but you still feel him everywhere. Then you crawl into bed, praying you wake up a new person, but of course. You don’t.
The next morning, right as you wake, you open Instagram on autopilot, and Blair, sitting cross-legged in her bed eating dry cereal from the box looks over at you as your face goes blank.
Because on your feed is his story.
@.gojosatoru
Posted 32 minutes ago.
He’s at In-N-Out, with a blonde girl in his passenger seat, and her hand on his thigh. No caption.
Blair freezes mid-chew, “…Is that—?”
“Uh-huh.”
She leans closer, “Oh, fuck no.”
Your fingers go numb as you remember last night. He told you you were his number one, held you down, and fucked you like you belonged to him.
Now he’s posting publicly with other bitches? So as number one you can get the sex but you’re not worthy of anything else? Sure.
Blair sets her cereal aside, “Babe…are you okay?”
You fucking hate that she has to ask that. You swallow hard, “Yeah. Totally.”
She scoots closer, voice lower, “(Y/N)…he’s an asshole.”
You know, you’ve always known. But last night, in his bed, with his hands on you and his cock so deep—you forgot.
Blair studies you, then says gently, “You’re not this girl.”
Something inside you snaps back into place.
She’s right. You’re not. You’re not the girl who gets hidden, you’re not the girl he gets to fuck at 2 A.M. and replace by breakfast, and you sure as hell are not someone’s afterthought.
You inhale slowly, exhale sharply, and stand. Blair blinks, “What are you doing?”
You look her dead in the eye, “Remembering who the fuck I am.”
“And who is that?”
You don’t answer her with words. Instead, you walk over to your dresser and pull out the skimpiest bikini you own. Blair lets out a low whistle, “Damn. You’re gonna make someone crash their car.”
Putting it on, tightening the strings so it sits just right, you look at your reflection in the mirror.
The girl staring back at you isn’t the one crying over a frat boy. She’s someone else entirely; someone Satoru Gojo should have never underestimated.
You grab your phone, open your camera, and take the mirror selfie. Blair leans over your shoulder, “Caption?”
“Don’t need one,” You say with a smile, all you do is post the location of where you’ll be—Santa Monica Beach.
Oh, but you do decide to throw in a blue heart emoji, just to twist the knife. Then you hit post.
The likes come in immediately and your DMs explode. Blair’s jaw literally drops, “Oh my God, babe—TKE is already swiping up. Like, three different guys, holy shit.”
Yeah, that’s right. This is who you are.
Blair laughs with pure joy, “And guess who else viewed it?”
You don’t even ask, already knowing. Because a second later, your phone buzzes excessively.
@.gojosatoru: wtf is this pic
@.gojosatoru: delete ts
@.gojosatoru: answer your fucking phone
@.gojosatoru: (y/n)
Blair snorts, “Oh, he is so pressed.”
You slide your phone into your tote bag choosing to ignore it. He can scream into the void for all you care.
“Coming?” You ask Blair casually.
She grins, grabbing her sunglasses and keys, “Fuck, yeah I am. I ain’t missing this shit.”
You sling your towel over your shoulder and for the first time since you came to USC, you feel like yourself again, “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
You smile, “To remind him why he should’ve never posted that blonde bitch in the first place.”
You and Blair barely make it into the hallway before your phone vibrates again, but it’s not Gojo this time. It’s the TKE boys again.
tyler: u heading to santa monica?
zach: come slide we’re pregaming in the lot
kyle: we got room in the jeep if you need a ride
Blair leans over your shoulder, “Oh, we’re definitely taking the ride.”
You shouldn’t, but then you think of Gojo and how you’re done letting him dictate your life as if he’s the only one with power.
So you type back.
still at the lot?
The response is instant.
zach: still here. u look insane btw
kyle: pls come im begging
Blair cackles, “They’re literally foaming at the mouth, Jesus.”
You head downstairs and step outside into the morning California sun, the second the TKE boys see you, the whole group goes silent.
“Damn,” Tyler says, walking forward with a grin way too confident for someone who failed Econ twice, “You look…wow.”
You lift your sunglasses with one finger, giving him a lazy once-over, “Thanks. You driving?”
“Yeah,” Zach blurts before Tyler can speak, “You two riding over with us?”
You exchange a glance with Blair, “Sure.”
The boys practically beam; Tyler opens the passenger door for you and Blair slides into the middle seat, Zach sits beside her trying to play it cool.
The TKE boys are laughing, hyping each other up as music blasts through the speakers, and they glance at you like they can’t believe you’re actually coming with them.
You feel Blair tap your shoulder from behind, “You good?”
“Never better.”
But your phone keeps vibrating in your bag and you know exactly who it is.
satoru (16 missed calls)
satoru (24 messages)
You peep the last three.
satoru: where tf are u
satoru: stop ignoring me omg
satoru: seriously pick up
Blair sees the name and giggles, “He’s unraveling.”
Tyler leans over the center console, spotting the contact too, “Oh shit—Gojo’s blowing you up?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t matter.”
Zach scoffs, “Isn’t he like…obsessed with you?”
You smile sweetly, “Nah. He’s not.”
They seemed pleased with that answer and in less than twenty minutes, the Jeep rolls into the Santa Monica lot. Warm wind tangles through your hair as the ocean comes into view.
Everyone hops out quick, grabbing something to bring, but you? You step out slowly, letting the sun hit your bare shoulders and letting the boys stare unabashedly because they can’t help themselves. And God, does it feel good.
You eventually spread your towel on the sand, lay back, and get right to tanning. Everything is warm and golden, the boys crack open beers, Blair sets up the speaker playing Bad Bunny on full volume.
Tyler hands you a High Noon and you take a sip, laughing at something stupid Kyle says. And for one moment, you feel free again. But your goddamn phone won’t stop buzzing in your bag.
Blair nudges you, “You gonna check that?”
“Nope.”
She grins, “Good.”
“(Y/N)!” Tyler calls, tossing a football, “You play?”
You catch it one-handed despite being off guard, “Do you forget who my dad is?”
They laugh and so do you, but your phone still keeps popping off like a warning for what’s about to come next. Because not even ten minutes later, you hear it.
That sound, the unmistakable growl of a high-performance engine being pushed too hard. A Porsche 911 tears into the parking lot—his Porsche. Your heart plummets as Blair whispers, “No fucking way.”
The boys turn, heads all over swivel, and then he appears. Satoru Gojo steps out of the Porsche like he didn’t run five red lights on the drive here. His white tee is wrinkled to shit, blue shorts slung low on his hips, sunglasses pushed into his mussed white strands, jaw clenched so hard you see the muscle jump.
In his hand is his phone, the one he used to blow up yours, and he doesn’t walk over to you, no, he stalks. Across the sand, straight toward you with a purposeful, terrifying calm, the kind that makes groups of guys instinctively step back.
But you’re not scared in the slightest. You lift your sunglasses and meet his eyes; cold blue, laser-focused. He stops in front of your towel, shadow sprawled over your body, chest heaving like he’s on the verge of losing it.
“(Y/N),” He hardly ever uses your name, “Get up.”
You make him wait three whole seconds before you do; you stand, unbothered, brushing sand off your thighs, refusing to break eye contact. He takes a step closer, nostrils flaring, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Pretty sure I’m sitting on a beach.”
The TKE boys shift behind you, Gojo’s eyes flick to them—Tyler holding a drink, Kyle shirtless and smiling, Zach close enough that his knee had brushed yours.
He laughs once, “With these loser cucks?”
Kyle bristles instantly, “Bro—watch your fucking mouth.”
But Gojo doesn’t spare him a glance, he keeps his eyes on you, “Deadass?” He murmurs, “This the shit you’re on now?”
You shrug, “Looks that way.”
“You ignored sixteen calls. Sixteen.”
“Yeah,” You reply, lifting your drink again, “Cause I didn’t wanna answer.”
Kyle folds his arms, “Yo, she’s busy. Maybe back up.”
Gojo turns his head just enough to look at him, “I wasn’t fucking talking to you,” Then his eyes snap back to yours, “So you’re really out here with TKE?”
“Why not?” You ask.
He scoffs, sucking his teeth, “They know that you were on my dick last night?”
Your cheeks grow hot with rage, but he wants that reaction, so you decide to give him nothing, “Thanks for the reminder. I almost forgot.”
“You forgot?” He repeats, voice tight, “After the way you were screaming my name?”
Kyle steps forward, fists clenching, “Alright, back the fuck off—”
You lift a hand, stopping him without looking away from Gojo, “No. Let him talk.”
“You’re really gonna stand here and pretend last night didn’t happen?”
“You mean the part where you said I’ll never be the only one?” You ask, titling your head, “Or the part where you posted the blonde on your story less than twelve hours later?”
His jaw ticks, “That’s what this is about?” He snaps, “A fucking story?”
“No. It’s about you thinking I’m stupid.”
“You’re jealous.”
You genuinely laugh, “No, Satoru. You’re delusional.”
His hands twitch at his sides, like he’s debating grabbing you or strangling someone. He glances at the boys again and something cold creeps into his countenance, “Answer me something.”
You raise a brow as he gestures at the guys behind you, “You fucking one of them now?”
Tyler coughs, Kyle looks away, Zach smirks like he hopes so, “Why? You care?”
Gojo steps closer, the warmth of his chest brushing the top of yours, “That’s cute. Acting like I don't."
“Go home, Satoru.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t a question.”
His gaze drags over your bikini again, “Get in the car.”
It’s sad—that some part of you almost gives in like always. Because you know that if you left now, the argument would end. It’d end with him giving you the craziest dick of your life and you back at square one; you refuse to do that again.
So, you stand taller, “No.”
A muscle in his cheek pops, “…No?”
“You heard me.”
And because Gojo can’t win with logic and can’t bear the thought of being denied for once in his life, he reaches for cruelty, “Fine…You’re cut.”
Cut. From his roster. But your voice is steady when you say, “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah,” You say, “Good. You did me a favor.”
Gojo’s expression flattens, “Cool. I’ll replace you in an hour.”
You take one step forward and smile, “I’ll replace you in fifteen minutes. Won’t be hard.”
The collective gasp from the boys is audible. Gojo doesn't even blink, but the vein in his neck jumps and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks hurt. Real hurt.
He steps back, then once more, “Enjoy your day,” Adding coldly, “Princess.”
He turns and walks away, sand kicking up beneath his feet, and you don’t look after him. Not even when the Porsche engine snarls and he peels out of the lot so fast seagulls scatter.
Blair exhales, “Holy shit…I’m glad I came.”
Tyler whistles low, “Yo…you’re gonna break that dude.”
“Good,” You say, laying back down on your towel, “It’s his turn.”
But the beach doesn’t go back to normal after that. You tan, you swim once, you drink enough to feel warm, the boys continue to orbit you like planets caught in your gravitational pull, yet it's not the same.
Blair leans in at one point, whispering, “You know you don’t have to actually hook up with any of them, right?”
Right. That was the whole reason why you did this in the first place. To get revenge.
You hum, “I know.”
Though when the sun begins to set, casting amber over the waves, Kyle asks if you want to come back to the TKE house and you hear yourself say, “Sure.”
Not because you’re dying to fuck him, but because of everything Satoru Gojo did. The house is louder and dirtier than Sig Chi—bass rattles the wall, bodies are everywhere. Kyle leads you upstairs, respectful, a little nervous, but beyond eager.
Your stomach twists with anticipation, you’re finally getting your lick back. Kyle closes the bedroom door behind you, “Want a drink?”
“No.”
You step closer and his breath catches, “You sure?”
“Positive.”
He leans in and kisses you…It’s fine, you guess. Soft, warm, nothing like the way Gojo does. You’re unsure if that’s a good or bad thing. Kyle’s hands are on your waist and his mouth moves down your neck. He’s sweet, careful, and you should like this more—you don’t.
But you need it. You need something to hold onto that isn’t him. Kyle whispers, “You’re so fucking pretty,” And you let him guide you toward the bed.
Your phone buzzes in your bag, you ignore it. Then it buzzes again, long and insistent. Kyle notices, “You can get that if you want—”
“No,” You breathe, “Keep going.”
He nods and kisses you again, and you try, God you try to lose yourself in it. But the second his hand slips under your top, your phone lights up in the dark room. Bright enough in your bag that you both see it.
satoru: answer
satoru: stop playing
satoru: (y/n)
You go still, Kyle pulls back, “Hey…you okay?”
“Yeah,” You lie, “Just—just keep going.”
He leans in, but your eyes stay fixed on the glowing screen. Another message comes through and it’s not angry this time. It’s worse.
satoru: please
Your breath stutters as Kyle kisses your shoulder, your phone vibrates again.
satoru: princess please
Your entire body locks, because this isn’t how he talks. This isn’t a man who begs and it definitely doesn’t sound like one who moved on in an hour. Kyle’s hands slide down your waist, his lips brush your collarbone, and then you reazlie—you can’t do this.
You sit up abruptly, “Wait.”
Kyle freezes, “Oh. Uh, did I do something wrong?”
“No,” You say quickly, “No, you’re great. I just—I can’t.”
He bows his head, disappointed, “It’s cool. Really.”
You grab your phone and open the messages, staring at the last one until your chest aches.
satoru: please just pick up
Blair texts you at the same time.
blair: WHAT DID YOU DO? HE LOOKS LIKE HE’S HAVING A BREAKDOWN
You inhale sharply as the truth slams through you. You’re not over him, not even remotely. Your fingers tremble as you text Blair back.
where is he
blair: SIG CHI bro he showed up like a psycho
blair: he asked EVERYONE if they’ve seen you
Your pulse spikes so hard it hurts. Kyle is still on the end of the bed, giving you space and pretending he doesn’t see your face falling apart, “You sure you’re okay?”
You nod even though you aren’t, and stand too quickly, grabbing your bag, “I—I have to go.”
“Because of him?”
“…Yeah.”
He nods slowly, expecting it, like every guy on campus knows that whatever the hell is happening between you and Satoru Gojo is bigger than anything they could touch, “Douchebag doesn’t even deserve you.”
Yeah, he’s probably right about that but you bolt out of the room anyway, run down the stairs, and through the crowd spilling beer everywhere. Someone calls your name, but you don’t care. Your phone is in your hand, Gojo’s name filling the screen over and over like he’s clawing to get to you.
Pushing out into the street, cool evening air slams into your chest and you call him without thinking. It rings only once, “(Y/N).”
“Satoru—”
“You’re at TKE?” He blurts out. There’s noise behind him—music, voices, and footsteps as if he’s pacing through Sig Chi.
“Yes…”
“Did you go back with Kyle?” Your mouth opens, but you’re unable to speak, so he does it for you, “You did.”
“Satoru—”
“Just tell me,” He cuts you off, voice shaking with fury he’s trying to swallow, “Did he touch you?”
Your pulse slams against your ribs, Gojo keeps going, “He kissed you, right? You let him? You went into his room? You let him fucking—” He stops suddenly, breath hitching like finishing the rest of his sentence would choke him.
“Nothing happened.”
“…You’re lying.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, frustrated tears burning, “I left, Satoru. I left him. I’m literally calling you—”
“Why the fuck were you even there?”
“Because of you!”
A voice in the background of Gojo’s line says, “Bro, chill—” And you hear him snarl, “Shut the fuck up,” Followed by a door slamming so loudly you flinch. Now he’s alone and the truth crawls out of him, “I thought you were gone…I thought you actually went and—and fucked him.”
“I didn’t.”
“You almost did.”
Almost…and you would’ve too if he hadn’t kept texting, “You don’t understand,” He says hoarsely, “I’ve been looking for you for hours. I tore through the whole fucking house. I asked everyone. I—”
“Satoru…”
“Where are you now?”
“Heading toward Sig Chi.”
You hear movement and the sound of his breath catching, his shoes hitting the floor, something crashing behind him as he pushes through the thumping house.
“Stay on the phone,” He orders, “You’re not walking alone.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stay on the fucking phone.”
You listen then. Breath syncing with his footsteps as he barrels through the hallway and out the back door, onto the street. He’s running now, you can tell, “Satoru—slow down—”
“No,” He pants, keys jangling, car door slamming, Porsche engine purring to life, “You think I’m letting you walk alone after someone else had their hands on you?”
Your grip tightens on the phone, “So what? You’re coming to get me?”
“I’m already halfway there,” He breathes, rounding a corner so sharp the tires skid, “Don’t hang up.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
A long exhale leaves him, desperation blended with rage, “Tell me again. Tell me nothing happened.”
“…Nothing happened.”
He lets out a broken laugh of disbelief, “Good…Because I’m two minutes away, and if he had fucked you—”
You feel it in your bones, the relief so violent it comes out as anger, “Satoru,” You whisper softly, “Just…get here.”
“I’m coming, princess,” And then he hangs up.
The Porsche’s roar echoes down the street long before his headlights appear and once they do, he swings by the curb so fast you stumble back a step. He rolls the window down only to say, “Get in the car.”
You open the door, slide into the passenger seat and the second you’re in, he peels off so hard your shoulder hits the door, “Fuck—relax.”
“Can’t,” His knuckles are white on the wheel, every muscle in his forearm flexes with barely contained aggravation, and he doesn’t look at you once during the drive. He whips into the Sig Chi driveway, parks crooked as shit, and kills the engine.
Finally, he turns his head, eyes blazing, “Inside.”
You don’t argue; you follow him through the front door with your pulse in your throat, up the creaking stairs, through the hall, until he shoves his bedroom door open and pulls you inside, slamming it with so much force the walls shake.
“What the fuck was all of that?”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Your tone is full of bitterness, “Don’t think I forgot about the blonde you posted today. Don’t act like you didn’t show me exactly where I stand.”
“That was different.”
“Was it?” You step closer, chest heaving, “Was it different when I walked into your room last night and saw a trashcan full of condoms? When your sheets were a fucking mess? When your lips were swollen and you looked like you’d just—” You don’t finish that thought. He flinches at your words, but you don’t stop there, “When you fucked me and laughed in my face, telling me I’d never be the only one?”
His throat works, “Say something,” You snap, “Go on. Justify it. Tell me I’m crazy.”
“I didn’t fuck her,” He runs a trembling hand through his hair, “I didn’t fuck anyone,” He says louder, “Not the blonde. Not last night. Not today. Nobody.”
You stare at him, “Satoru. Your room—your trash.”
“I couldn’t even get it up…happy?” He spits out the truth like it hurts, “I kept—” He gestures violently, “—trying. With someone else. But it didn’t matter. My dick wouldn’t stay fucking hard.”
Your mouth falls agape, he keeps going, voice cracking down the middle, “I kept putting the condom on and I’d go soft. Again and again and again,” He laughs once, “That’s why there were wrappers. Not because I fucked anyone, but ‘cause I literally couldn’t.”
He steps closer, “You wanna know why?” You don’t say anything, but he gives you the answer anyway, “You.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” He says, voice dropping dangerously soft, “Can’t stop seeing your face, can’t stop remembering how you sound when you cum, can’t stop thinking about how it feels to be inside you.”
Your thighs press together involuntarily, “And do you know how fucking pathetic that makes me feel?” His voice breaks again, “That I can’t fuck anyone else because the only pussy I get hard for is yours?”
Now you’re trembling, “But sure, go ahead. Tell me again you were just being petty. Tell me again that you thought going home with that TKE fuck was gonna hurt me.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did,” He rasps, “You wanted to make me jealous,” He takes a step closer, “You wanted me to come find you,” Then another, “You wanted me to lose my fucking mind over you.”
Your back hits the wall, he cages you in with his arms, “And congratulations…It fucking worked.”
“Satoru…”
His forehead presses to yours, breaths mingling, anger turning molten, “You’re not replacing me, and I’m sure as hell not letting anyone else touch you…because you’re mine.”
Something hot flickers in your chest, “And you’re mine.”
He freezes, blue eyes turning a shade darker, “Say that again.”
You lift your chin, “You’re mine.”
As soon as the words leave your tongue he surges forward, mouth crashing onto yours with a force that feels like the room exploded. His hands are already on your hips, lifting you, dragging you toward the bed.
Your back hits the mattress, bouncing once before he’s on you, over you, everywhere; kissing you. His teeth catch your bottom lip, his tongue forcing its way in, and his fingers tear your shorts down so fast the friction burns.
“Spread,” He growls against your mouth. Without hesitation, you spread your legs wide open. He drags you down the bed by your thighs like you’re something he gets to rearrange however he wants, and when he drops to his knees—it’s over.
His mouth is on your cunt instantly, tongue flattening against your clit, sucking and licking. You arch intensely, a choked cry crooning from your throat, “Fuck—Satoru,” Your thighs clamp around his head, but he forces them wider. You try to lift your hips and he pins them down.
“Stay still,” He mutters, “Or I’ll take my time,” It’s a threat, a wonderful filthy one. He eats you until your vision blurs and you’re pulling at his white tendrils; when you cum, you break with your head thrown back, mouth fully open, moaning his name in a way that would destroy him if he weren’t already in shambles.
“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” He pants, climbing over you, dragging his mouth up your stomach, ribs, throat, “Ruined and wet and waiting for me—fuck.”
He lines his cock up without looking, he doesn’t have to at this point. He knows your body by heart, and when he pushes in it’s one languid stroke that make your nails claw into his back and his breath punch out of him, “Shit—baby, so tight—”
He locks one hand behind your knee, shoving it higher, deeper, opening you more than you’ve ever been before, “You feel that?” He grits, hips snapping hard enough the headboard slams the wall, “Feel how easy this pussy takes me after I eat you out?”
The moan that escapes you sounds like a sob, “Feel how deep I am?” He thrusts again, brutal and perfect, “Feel me right fucking there?” One of his big hands presses right on your lower belly, a helpless whimper falls from your lips; his eyes go dark, “That’s where I wanna cum.”
Your stomach drops, “Satoru—”
“I want it so bad I can’t fucking think,” Each thrust is more forceful, sloppier, desperate, “You have no idea,” He pants, “No fucking idea what it did to me the first time—seeing my cum dripping out of you. Fuck, I been thinking about it every night since.”
Your cunt clenches around him, his eyes roll back, “Yeah…” He groans, “You liked that, didn’t you?”
His hand slides to your jaw, holding your face still so you can’t look away, “You want me to fill you again? Want me to make you mine for real?”
God, you shouldn’t want it. Not one bit.
Not with him and not when the risks outweigh the rewards. But at the same time, you fucking do.
Your brain fogs, melts, almost liquifies, “I want—” You gasp, nails sinking into his back, “I want you to fill me—”
He growls, “Fuck, princess—don’t say it unless you mean it—”
You’re too far gone to stop yourself, “Make me yours,” You whisper, trembling, “I want all of it, please.”
Hearing you beg for a load would make even the strongest man fold, and for a guy like Gojo, it takes very little to get him to. He snaps, thrusts turn punishing, ragged, the rhythm of a person who has lost every ounce of sanity, “You don’t—understand what you’re asking for.”
You cling to him, eyes half-lidded, “Satoru—don’t pull out.”
He shudders, grip on you tightening painfully, “Baby—fuck. You’re gonna make me—shit, you’re gonna make me cum—”
You wrap your legs around him and pin him in place, he fails to hide the moan that leaves him, “Oh my God,” He grunts, “You want it—you actually want it.”
He convulses then, slamming into you one last time, shoving himself all the way until his tip kisses your cervix, and cums inside you with a sound that is pure, ruined surrender.
His cock is throbbing, pulse after pulse, pumping you full of hot, thick white ribbons. He stays there, trembling through it, shaking, and when he finally pulls out, he looks down.
The sight that greets him is his favorite in the world. His cum leaking out of your pussy in warm, heavy streams, “Fuck…That’s perfect.”
He drags two fingers through the load, smearing it, then pushing it back in you with the darkest smirk on his face, “I could get addicted to this,” He murmurs, before adding, “Maybe I already am.”
Your chest is heaving, the room spinning around you. He’s still hovering over your hips, transfixed on the mess he made like he can’t look away, “Should make you keep it.”
Your entire body tenses because he doesn't look at your face when he says it—he’s still staring at your legs, like the sight has rewired something fundamental in him.
He pushes his fingers deeper, you whine, “But I can’t,” He mutters more to himself than you, “I shouldn’t.”
He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on your thigh, eyes hooded and dark with something you’ve never seen in him before. Gojo sits back on his heels, rakes a hand through his hair, when it finally hits him—reality.
He actually did it. He came inside you. On purpose this time. His eyes flick up to yours, unsure, “…We need to get you a Plan B.”
You knew that was coming, but the tone is different. He sounds shaken, disappointed even, “Okay.”
But he doesn’t move. He just keeps staring at you—the bite marks blooming on your throat, the mess between your thighs he put there, and something in him cracks all over again, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
Your pulse stutters as he exhales hard, standing. The room tilts as he grabs his USC hoodie off the floor, tugging it over his head with shaky hands. He hesitates a second too long before speaking, “I-I didn’t mean to…do it like that.”
“Do what?”
His eyes flick away shamefully, “Nut in you like I was trying to get you pregnant,” He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, “Because that’s what it felt like,” Your heart skips, he glances back at you, almost pained, “But that’s not—we’re not doing that.”
Silence stretches, then he shakes his head as if snapping himself out of whatever daze he’s in, “Get dressed. Please.”
You pull your shorts back on and he hands you one of his shirts without looking directly at you—like one wrong glance, one more glimpse of you fucked-out and dripping, and he’ll pin you back on the bed to do it again.
When you’re covered enough to leave, he grabs his keys; his hand finds yours, he squeezes without thinking and doesn’t let go. He leads you out of Sig Chi through a side door because he doesn’t want anyone seeing you like this.
He walks too quick, not talking, not until you reach the quiet part of the sidewalk does he finally say something, “Don’t ever let me lose you like that again.”
You look up and he’s staring straight ahead, but his grip tightens, exposing more than he means to, “Come on,” He murmurs, unlocking the Porsche, “We’ll get the Plan B.”
But even as he says it, even as he feigns rationale, his hand won’t stop squeezing yours. The Porsche unlocks with a chirp, he opens your door for you and then slams his own harder than necessary. He starts driving, fast, silent, and focused but not on the road.
Every streetlight flickers across his face, shadowing and revealing the truth in flashes. Good. She’ll take the pill. This was just heat, adrenaline, possession.
But beneath that, something far darker hums through him. Still…fuck. I could give her what no one else can. I want that.
He swallows hard, grips the wheel tighter, drives even faster. The CVS is almost empty, thank God. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets because he doesn’t trust them not to shake, walking over straight to the aisle he was in mere weeks ago.
Gojo remembers the last time he bought it, but the last time he never wished, that for one stupid second, that if biology had given him a loophole, that maybe—maybe you’d keep a piece of him.
He grabs the box with stiff fingers and at the register, the cashier doesn’t make eye contact; something ugly and possessive in Gojo likes that. Likes that no one here knows what he just did or what he put in you and how deep you let him.
He pays the fifty dollars again, shoves the box into his pockets, and hands it to you the second he makes it back to the car as if he may take it back if he doesn’t.
You take the pill out, open a water bottle, tip your chin back, and he watches. His jaw moves once, like he’s grinding the idea to dust. Good. She’s safe. She won’t be pregnant. This isn’t happening.
Then, right behind it, a quieter, eviller truth. Would’ve been kinda nice if it was.
And the thought doesn’t fade, it festers. Even after you swallow the pill and he drives away with his hands white-knuckled on the wheel, even after he drops you off at your dorm and tells you to text him when you’re inside.
No, it fucking lingers. A wrong desire he keeps trying to destroy, a feeling he can’t outrun. Something vital within him shifted when he finished in you that second time, and it bleeds into everything that happens next.
The next morning, you’re brushing your teeth when your phone buzzes.
satoru: you got class at 10 right?
Before you can answer, another text comes.
satoru: be outside in 5
He picks you up with a coffee in the cupholder, the exact way you like it, and a muffin he claims he “accidentally bought two of”. You don’t call him out on the lie.
Gojo doesn’t drop you off at the curb, either. He walks you all the way to the building and when you turn to go inside, he hesitates, “Text me when you’re done.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know,” He cuts you off quietly, “But just do it,” And he walks away before you can fight him on it.
The night after, he shows up again in the same hoodie with the same look in his blue eyes, and that same damn inability to stay away.
He kisses you before the door fully closes behind you—soft at first, almost tentative, like he’s afraid of wanting you too much. Then he remembers your voice calling him yours, your legs wrapped around him, your cunt squeezing around his dick while he came inside you, and suddenly? He’s not soft anymore.
He lifts you, carries you to your bed, lies you down like you’re fragile, but unravels you like he’s ravenous. He fucks you slow and deep, way too deep; breathing into your neck, voice shredded, hands quivering on your thighs.
At one point, he stops entirely. Stops moving, buried all the way inside you, hips pressed flush, eyes squeezed shut like he’s in physical pain, “Princess…” His forehead presses to your jaw, “If I move, I’m gonna cum in you again.”
You shiver and he doesn’t pull out, not yet, only when he finally forces himself; finishing on your stomach, staring at your body the way a sinner stares at temptation—ruined, in awe, and absolutely starved for more.
In the days after, he starts acting like your boyfriend. Though neither of you ever say the word, and acting like your boyfriend also apparently includes spoiling you rotten, but he’d never admit that’s what he’s doing.
It starts with him handing you his card one afternoon, “Here. Go get your nails done. Want your hands lookin’ nice around my cock.”
You choke on air, but he won’t meet your eyes, pretending it’s not the sweetest, filthiest thing anyone's ever said to you. Next thing you know, he’s paying for all kinds of appointments. He sends you money for your facial along with a text claiming, “i could give you a better one but idt you’d like it as much”.
Then he’s bringing you on routine mall runs. He takes you straight to Sephora, Aritzia, Zara—anywhere you so look at or mention and buys everything you touch. You tell him he’s insane, but he just shrugs, “It’s not a big deal. Gotta keep you pretty for me.”
You don’t buy the reason for a second.
Then comes the dates. Real ones at fancy places. The first time you’re confused when he tells you to “dress nice”. The second time, you’ve learned that “dress nice” means he’s dropping a stupid amount of money at a restaurant where the menus don’t have prices.
From sushi restaurants in Beverly Hills to Italian spots in West Hollywood, the dinner always goes the same way. With him watching you the entire time like the sight of you sitting across from him looking so beautiful is doing things to his soul and paying the bill without giving you any time to even pretend to pick it up.
“Don’t insult my manhood, princess,” He jokes, already placing his card down, “I’d rather die than let you pay a dime.”
But the worst parts aren’t the dates or the ridiculous instances of spoiling you. It’s what happens after.
One night, you’re sitting in his bed when he removes his silver chain he never takes off, the one you’ve seen in every photo and TikTok. He’s hooking it around your throat while you protest, “Toru—”
“Shh,” He hushes, “Just try it.”
It settles against your collarbone, cool and heavy with a distinct weight to it. His eyes drag over your neck, slow and hungry, like the sight of something that’s his on you does something violent to him, “Mm,” He hums, thumb grazing the metal, “Looks real good on you.”
Your pulse stutters and he kisses you before either of you can process what it means.
And then there’s the night where you’re laying on his chest, tangled in the sheets after he fucked you senseless, when you ask, “What’s Japan like?”
His voice softens in a way you feel in your ribs, “Depends where you go. Tokyo’s crazy. Kyoto’s pretty. Snow up north is perfect.”
You smile into his skin, “Sounds amazing.”
“Yeah,” He replies, adding way too casually, “I’ll have to show you one day.”
You’re quiet for a second before saying, “Teach me something.”
His eyes are warm, melting, “Okay…Say this—suki.”
“Suki,” You whisper; he exhales slowly, almost shakily, “What does it mean?”
He hesitates, choosing to lie gently, “It means…I like this.”
You believe him, but the truth is written all over his face. He doesn’t mean he likes the moment, he means you. Then he looks at you with his chain glinting on your neck, wondering when wanting you turned into needing you—and he’s terrified he can’t stop.
And the need for you only grows.
He picks you up every day from class, keeps snacks in his car that he only buys when you’re around, gives you his favorite sweatshirt when he notices your cold, opens your door every time. On his wrist sits your hair tie, although he says it’s for you, part of you thinks he wears it just because it’s yours.
When you’re walking together, he switches sides so he’s closest to the street. When guys stare, he sees it before you do. One afternoon on the quad, a guy from your lab waves too eagerly at you. Gojo’s voice is flat, “Who the fuck is that?”
You elbow him, “He’s just in my class.”
Gojo scoffs, “Yeah. Don’t like how he looks at you.”
You try not to smile, yet you do.
His frat brothers also start to tease him, “Gojo doesn’t even talk to other bitches anymore.”
“Bro’s whipped.”
“He’s in love with the QB’s daughter.”
He throws a pong ball at their heads, but doesn’t bother denying any of it.
Then, the sex between you? It starts to evolve into something precarious. He no longer fucks you like some sleezy, fuckboy frat bro chasing a climax. The tempo is slower, sensual, intimate in a way that makes your blood curdle.
There’s a night in his room with the lights low and music soft, where you’re riding him, moving slow, his hands gripping your hips like you’re sacred.
His head falls back against the pillow, he’s too sensitive, too close, “Baby…” His voice breaks, “Don’t…don’t do that unless you want—”
But you roll your hips anyway and he loses it. His fingertips dig into your thighs, eyes rolling back, breath catching in a strangled gasp, “Fuck, princess—stop, stop—if I cum like this it’s going inside you.”
And the terrifying part is that he doesn’t sound scared of that. He sounds desperate for it.
He pulls out at the very last heartbeat, just barely. His cum splashes across your chest in hot, heavy ropes and he stares at you like he’s memorizing it. He touches it, swipes some with this thumb, smearing it over your skin. He whispers, almost reverently, “God…would’ve looked better in you.”
Then his gaze glosses over his chain around your neck, and he wonders what it would be like to give you something more permanent.
Next weekend, there’s a tailgate at Sig Chi for the USC football game. It’s loud and crowded, red solo cups litter the backyard and Don Toliver is blasting from a blown out speaker Gojo keeps threatening to throw over the fence.
You’re sitting in his lap in a tiny red skirt you probably should’ve reconsidered, but he hasn’t stopped touching you since you showed up. His hand rests on your thigh at first until it slithers its way to the curve just beneath your ass; thumb rubbing slow circles like he’s publicly claiming territory.
Every time you shift, you feel how hard he is under you. He’s shameless in how he pretends not to care, but his brothers definitely notice. One of the Pledges walks by and does a double take, though Gojo doesn’t look up. He just tightens his grip on your waist and says, completely casual, “Yo, Pledge. Flick me up with my girl.”
My girl. The words strike your bones, “Your—your what?”
Gojo finally lifts his eyes, jaw set like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and that he hates the entire Pledge class, “My girl,” He repeats, patting your thigh once, “C’mon, hurry the fuck up, idiot.”
The Pledge blinks and scrambles to grab his phone, you try to move off Gojo’s lap, flustered, but his arm locks around your waist, “Sit still,” He murmurs into your neck, “Wanna see how pretty you look sittin’ on me.”
Your pulse skitters and he doesn’t even look at the camera—he looks at you, hungrily, lazily possessive, like he already knows he’s gonna post this shit.
When the Pledge sends over the photo, he’s immediately plugging it into his feed on Instagram, which is something he never does. His feed is reserved for himself, thirst traps, aesthetics. So when he posts you with a caption, “me and mine”, all of USC sees it and implodes.
He brushes a kiss onto your jaw, “Let them talk.”
And that same night, you barely make it inside his room before he has you against the wall, kissing you like he’s been deprived of it. Your skirt is on the floor already, your top has been shedded. He lifts you, legs locking around his waist, and thrusts into you so deep your vision spots.
His entire body is shaking, “Princess—fuck, slow, slow, if you keep—”
But you’re too cockdrunk to stop. He grips your ass, burying himself inside you to the hilt, moaning into your shoulder like he’s rupturing, “I’m not gonna…baby—I can’t, if you don’t let go.”
You tighten your legs around him and he falls apart. For one horrifying, heart-stopping second, he doesn’t pull out. He stays in your pussy, groaning into your neck, the two of you trembling against each other.
Gojo only yanks himself out at the very last fraction of a second, finishing in thick, desperate ropes on your inner thighs; he stares at the mess like it’s his masterpiece, but also like he wants it somewhere else.
He strokes your thigh with the back of his fingers, voice impossibly soft, “I can’t keep doing this. I’m trying. I swear I’m trying. But every time—every fucking time, I almost stay inside you.”
Your heart skips a beat, “And the worst part?” He looks at you, eyes blazing, “I don’t even know if I’d stop myself next time…”
And it happens two nights later, when things between you have settled into this terrifying, intoxicating rhythm. You’re already falling asleep in his bed, cheek pressed to his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your lower back like he’s locking in you place.
He whispers, “Come here,” Pulling you into his chest so your thigh slots between his and you feel him instantly—he’s hard, achingly so.
You look up at him through sleep-heavy eyes and he caves. He rolls you onto your back, slow, like he’s been waiting for an excuse to fuck you.
His mouth finds yours, hungry and unhurried; your breathing is barely steady when he finally pushes his cock into you and it’s different. All of it is. Far too deliberate, delicate, deep.
He groans into your neck, voice already wrecked, “Fuck…I’m obsessed with you.”
He’s still sliding himself in when you clutch his biceps, arching up into him with his breath catching in his chest, when he loses the last piece of control he had. His hips snap forward sharply, burying his cock fully inside, and curses low like the feeling of being right where he is now knocks the sense out of him.
He does try to pull out once, you feel it, the hesitation in his hips. But for reasons unknown, you wrap your legs around his waist on pure instinct rather than purpose, and he can’t stop what happens next.
Gojo collapses into you with a broken sound, forehead to yours, thrusts morphing sloppy and desperate, “Baby—fuck, don’t—” His voice cracks, “I can’t—if you do that—”
But you’re already tugging him closer, nails digging into his back, those pretty little cries spilling from your lips send him straight past rational thought.
His hands clamp around your hips, dragging you flush against him, “Oh…God—” He chokes and thinks maybe for a second, he’ll try to pull himself back, but the moment he feels you tighten around him, he breaks with a sound he’s never made before.
A desperate, helpless moan punched out him as he bucks his hips and stays there—buried, locked to you like he couldn’t move even if he tried.
“Fuck, I’m cumming—inside…shit,” And you feel it, hot spurts filling you so completely full that it steals your breath. He can’t even stop, his entire body spasms against yours, quaking through the release, his forehead lodged into your throat as if he’s holding onto you while he falls apart.
It’s a lot. More than the last time. More than either of you expected. So much, it’s leaking around him even while he’s still stuffed deep, twitching through the last waves. He doesn’t move, he just stays there, even when he pulls his face up to look at you with blue eyes blown, “…Fuck. I didn’t pull out.”
Your heart sits high in your chest, he watches your expression like it’s life or death, “Honestly…I didn’t even try.”
But that’s when it hits him. He should tell you to go on birth control. He knows it. That it’s the responsible, sensible, smart thing to do; the normal thing guys in college say when they don’t want their lives derailed.
Though, truth is? He doesn’t want normal, not with you. Because birth control kills the possibility, the danger, the fucked up little thrill that coils low in his stomach every time he pushes in deep and realizes that he could claim you in the one way no other guy has.
If you were on the pill, there would be no risk. No moment where he hovers on the edge, shaking, wondering if he should pull out or just stay, and he lives for that moment. That heartbeat of insanity right before he cums, where he thinks, if I don’t pull out, she’s mine for real.
So that’s why he never says the words, “You should get on birth control.”
And as deranged as it is, he doesn’t want to eliminate the one thing that makes fucking you feel holy, catastrophic, and fate-altering.
But…little does Satoru Gojo know that you’re already on it. You got on it right after that second time he finished in you.
Because that night scared you—you couldn’t trust him anymore, you couldn’t trust yourself either, and the recklessness was going to ruin you both.
You weren’t an idiot. Despite being a sheltered good girl your whole life and being inexperienced with sex, you know the consequences. And after watching his hesitation to pull out disappear night after night and feeling him stay inside you longer each time you fucked, you knew you made the right call.
However, you kept it a secret. You figured it was what was best for the both of you. You were protecting yourself all while letting him play out his little fantasy or whatever sick game he gets off on, letting him think every time might be the time he gets you pregnant.
It was smart, it was calculated, it was you being safe. Or…So you thought. Because of course, life had other plans, cruel and ironic ones. The kind of plans that are in motion before you even realize anything is wrong.
The Plan B you took after that second time he finished in you? Yeah. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work when you’re ovulating. And that night was exactly when you were.
The symptoms creep up on you so sneakily that you don’t even notice them. At first, it’s just fatigue. A bone-deep heaviness that sinks into your limbs on a random Monday morning, although you chalk it up to Gojo keeping you up until 3 A.M. again—him pinning your wrists above your head and whispering “one more round, princess”.
But then the smell of breakfast the next day makes you nauseaous, an odd twist within your gut when you catch a whiff of Blair’s bacon egg and cheese sandwich, “Girl, you good?”
“Fine,” You lie, "Probably just dehydrated,” Though you’ve been drinking water all day and still feel wrong.
Then your boobs hurt, really hurt. Tender in a way you’ve never felt before and Blair notices when you flinch throwing your tote bag over your shoulder, “That bad?”
“I think I’m getting sick.”
You’re not getting sick. You know what your body feels like when something is off and this feels different. The next morning you’re brushing your teeth when Blair says casually from the sink beside you, “When did you last get your period?”
“Last month,” But then your hand stops in mid-air.
Last month. You haven’t gotten it this month yet and it should’ve come by now. Your blood runs cold, “Wait…what day is it?”
Blair checks her phone, “October 27th.”
No. No, no, no. Your toothbrush slips from your fingers and clatters into the sink as realization cleaves through your ribs. It’s been three weeks since that night. Three weeks since the Plan B. Absolutely enough time to pass to start experiencing...pregnancy symptoms. And you already know it has a reputation for not always being effective.
“(Y/N)…?” Blair frowns, “What’s wrong?”
You lift your trembling eyes to hers, “Fuck class, we’re skipping. I need to go to CVS.”
She nods at that and the two of you urgently walk together to the CVS of doom and despair. Except this time, there’s no adrenaline buzzing within your veins, only fear.
You’re in the family planning aisle once again, but not to grab a Plan B, instead it’s a box of three pregnancy tests that feel far too heavy in your shaky hands. Blair hovers behind you, pale, “You really think—?”
“I don’t know,” You whisper, voice breaking, “I don’t know.”
But you do. You do know. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it. Your hands continue to tremble as you pay and walk back to the dorms and shut the bathroom door. Blair waits outside for you, “(Y/N)…I’m right here, okay?”
You nod, barely breathing, your reflection in the mirror looks like a stranger—pretty, terrified, wearing his silver chain around your throat like a brand or prophecy to something more.
You open one of the tests, take it, and set it on the counter. You wait two minutes, only two, and grip the sink and pray. For what, you’re not sure. That it’s negative? Or that it’s positive so you don’t have to keep pretending you aren’t already half in love with Satoru Gojo?
Negative. Yeah, definitely negative. You’re only eighteen, in your first semester of college. You moved across the country for this experience. Your dad would literally murder you for fucking it up.
You squeeze your eyes shut, then you look, and everything inside you falls, collapses, and rearranges.
Two pink lines. Bold and immediate. You’re fucking pregnant. That can’t be. You rip open another test and force yourself to pee again. False positives happen all the time, right? Right?
You wait another two minutes, only for the result to be the exact same…pregnant. Yeah, there’s no denying both. But fuck it, might as well take the third.
Another test, another positive. Three positive fucking tests, “Oh my God,” You whisper, “Oh my God…oh my fucking God—”
Blair knocks lightly, “(Y/N)? You okay? What’s happening?”
“He…” Your voice cracks, “He got me…pregnant.”
The word tastes unreal in your mouth, “But didn’t you take a Plan B? Aren’t you on birth control—?”
“I must’ve been ovulating or something,” You hiccup, tears brimming, “I-I did everything right.”
“Baby…open the door.”
You open it, numb, and Blair pulls you into a crushing hug as the three tests shake in your hand, “Oh, sweet girl…” She coos, “What are you gonna do?”
You shake your head, tears hitting her shoulder, “I—I have to tell him.”
As soon as you make it back to your dorm room you text him.
toru come over
now
please
He replies instantly.
satoru: omw what’s wrong
satoru: princess ??
You don’t answer, but minutes later you can hear the rumble of his Porsche pull into the dorms’ parking lot and not even seconds pass before his frantic knocking rattles your door. When you open it, he stops breathing. Your eyes are bloodshot red, your entire body is quaking, and his chain, of course it’s still on your neck.
“(Y/N),” He exhales, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him with trembling fingers, “What the fuck’s going on? Did someone—did a guy—? If someone touched you I swear I’ll—”
“It’s not that,” You whisper and hold out the three tests.
Gojo goes utterly still. He looks at the tests, then at you, then at the tests again. His throat bobs, “…What are those?”
“You fucking know what they are.”
“They’re…positive?”
You nod once, he inhales sharply like someone punched him, “Fuck,” He says it again, quieter, “Fuck.”
You watch his whole demeanor short circuit. At first it’s shock, but then something within him settles, something darker, something like acceptance wrapped in possession. He’s already thinking, you’re pregnant. With my baby. Mine.
His throat works once, hard. His mouth twitches, barely but unmistakably, because he tried to smother whatever expression is trying to surface.
“C’mere,” He murmurs, pulling you into him like he can fold the entire world away. You break immediately, tears spill hot and fast, your hands clawing into his hoodie as you shake uncontrollably.
And Gojo holds you, arms wrapped around your waist, palm pressing the back of your head gently into his chest, and behind your hair, unseen, his lips curl with a quiet, corrupt satisfaction he can’t suppress.
He does feel bad that you’re crying. He really does, but he also doesn’t care in the way he probably should. Because at the end of the day, you’re carrying his baby, and no one else will ever be able to say that.
He keeps rubbing circles into your spine, shushing you softly. His voice is warm, soothing, everything he thinks he’s supposed to sound like in this moment, “It’s okay, princess…breathe. I’m here.”
But really, ever since you said the words, he’s been reminiscing. Which time was it? After the third time he came in you, he’s stayed in you more often than not. He’s lost count of the nights he finished deep inside, hand fisted in the sheets, moaning your name.
Was it the night on his couch? The night he fucked you in the bathroom of his frat formal because he couldn’t stand the way his brothers were looking at you? Was it when he pulled you onto his lap and didn’t even pretend to pull out? Or—
You sob, “I don’t—I don’t know how it happened—I thought—”
He pulls back slightly, thumb brushing your cheek, “Well, we stopped buying Plan Bs. So we weren’t exactly being…safe.”
Your chest tightens, oh, right. He has no idea that you’ve been on the pill, “Satoru…I need to be honest with you.”
His thumb stills against your cheek, petrified for whatever you’re about to say, “…Okay,” He says slowly, carefully, “Tell me.”
Your bottom lip trembles, “I…I’ve been on birth control.”
Everything in him freezes, “…What?”
“I started it…after that second time, the night we fought,” You whisper, tears slipping fast down your cheeks, “I couldn’t trust us anymore. I knew we were being stupid and I just…needed to do something. But I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want things to change.”
Gojo stares at you like the entire universe just rearranged itself behind your eyes. Birth control. You were on birth control and still wound up pregnant. It wasn’t the nights after. It wasn’t the couch or the bathroom, it wasn’t the time he came in you so deep he saw stars behind his eyelids.
No, it was that night. The one where he called you his and you called him yours, the one where he finished inside you on purpose and you wanted it. The night you took the Plan B after he watched his cum drip out of you like it was the eighth Wonder of the World. Of course it was that night; a night that ended up being prophecy.
Gojo isn’t even upset with you for not telling him about the whole birth control thing, either. Matter of fact? Some twisted, fucked up, and deranged part of him feels satisfied. Because you really tried, you tried so hard not to get pregnant.
But fate already made its decision long before either of you pretended you had control and the idea of that makes something warm and primal settle in his chest, “Oh my God…it was that night.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, fresh tears dribbling down your cheeks, “Satoru, I—I don’t know what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I took the pill, I was on birth control, we—we should’ve been fine—”
He shakes his head immediately, firmly cupping the back of your skull. What he wants to say is that this was always supposed to happen, but instead he opts for, “Hey. Stop. No. This isn’t on you.”
Because it isn’t. If anything, the blame sits squarely on him—he’s the one who kept cumming in you like he was trying to write your future with his body alone. You were the one taking precautions and trying to keep things under control. He was the one who didn’t stop.
So, of course you got pregnant. He practically begged the universe for it with the way he fucked you, “I should’ve been pulling out,” He murmurs, thumb brushing away the tears, “But I didn’t. That’s on me.”
Your breath breaks, “How come you don’t you look upset?”
Gojo stiffens at the accusation. He doesn’t look devastated or destroyed and he definitely doesn’t look like a twenty year old frat boy whose life got flipped upside down.
He looks…eerily calm, “I don’t know what I’m feeling yet,” He lies; he knows exactly what he’s feeling and it’s not something he can say out loud without disrupting whatever fragile world you’re clinging to.
You turn away, pressing your hands to your face, shoulders jerking, “My whole life is screwed, Satoru. My dad—my classes—everything. I don’t even know how to breathe right now.”
His stomach twists, he hates that his lack of fear and panic makes him feel like a monster. He steps closer until his chest brushes your back and wraps his arms around you from behind, tugging you into him.
“Princess,” He murmurs against your shoulder, “I know you’re terrified. I get it. You have every right to be. But I need you to hear me,” You don’t look at him, but he tilts his head, voice dropping into something achingly soft, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Your lips quiver, “Then why does it feel like everything is falling apart?”
He exhales slowly, forehead dropping to the curve of your neck. Everything is falling apart for you, but for him? It feels like everything is falling into place.
The girl who arrived to USC that every guy wanted, the girl who has always been good until she met Satoru Gojo, had been claimed by him. He closes his eyes, swallowing down the feral pulse in his chest, “It feels like it’s falling apart because you’re shocked. It’s big and sudden. Anyone would feel what you’re feeling.”
You shudder and he tightens his hold, protective in a way that feels instinctual, “But you’re not alone in this. Not for one second.”
You sniff harshly, “You’re taking this way too well.”
He almost laughs at how easily you see through him, “I’m taking it the only way I know how.”
Quietly, privately, his mind says a different thing, because some part of me knew this was coming the second I didn’t pull out. He presses a soft kiss to your temple before you can see the flicker in his expression.
“Talk to me,” You whisper, voice rasped, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He hesitates, because the real answer is, you’re pregnant because of me. Because you told me to make you mine and I did. What he says to you is gentler, “I’m thinking that we’ll figure it out and that you’re safe with me.”
But beneath it, humming like electricity in his bloodstream, I don’t regret it. Not even a little. It was always gonna be us. You were meant to be mine.
You don’t even get a chance to respond to what Gojo has said when the universe decides to fuck you over for a second time. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing—his hoodie. A single buzz, then another. You still instantly, Gojo’s hands pause on your waist, “Who is it?”
You pull back just enough to fish your phone out, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. Your vision blurs as you blink at the notification. And when you see the name on the lock screen, you freeze entirely.
Gojo’s brows knit, “Baby?”
“…It’s my dad,” You swipe his message open with tottering fingers and the text hits you like a brick to the sternum.
dad: Hey sweetheart! Good news! College gameday is in USC this weekend so I’ll be seeing you in a few days.
dad: I can’t wait to see you, princess. Love you.
Your throat swells, he leans in slightly to read the message himself because you can’t find your own voice, and for the first time tonight, Satoru Gojo breaks, “…Oh fuck.”
Your dad is coming in three days.
And has no idea that his daughter is knocked up by a frat boy.
SYNOPSIS: you’re megumi’s best friend first, but you can’t help also being his dad’s biggest mma fan
PAIRING — mma!toji fushiguro x uni!reader
CONTENT — MDNI, angst, NSFW, filthy, age gap, nsfw, thigh riding, pet names, MAJOR spit kink, virginity loss, corruption kink, spanking, cheating, daddy kink, pussy slapping, cunninglingus, creampie, unprotected, dacriphilia,
A/N — end of fic for informational + donation links 🍉
you were just a girl. and being a girl you obviously fangirled over silly things.
it varied really. you fangirled over one piece, aot, video game characters, film characters, peaky blinders, game of thrones, k-dramas, and of course sports. you had silly crushes on soccer players, but the one athlete who truly dominated your heart was the best mma fighter of all time and that was none other than, Toji Fushiguro.
“megumiiii!” you run over to the boy, throwing yourself on his back making him stumble, just as yuuji came, also jumping on megumi.
nobara was running as well with her shopping bags and boba before gasping for air by the time she reached the doorstep of the fushiguro household.
“we missed you!” yuuji whines. the three of you decided to pay megumi a visit after his weeklong absence due to his cold.
“get off me.” he grunts.
“it’s okay! we don’t care that you’re sick!” you dramatically cry out, yuuji crying as well as you kiss megumi’s cheek—
“It’s not because I’m sick, but because you idiots are heavy!” megumi shoves you and yuuji as he stumbles back. his vein was throbbing on his forehead, only making the three of you bark with laughter.
“y/n, and I will cook for you!” nobara was already shoving her way inside as you trailed after. taking over the fushiguro kitchen as yuuji dragged megumi back inside, crashing in the living room. everyone making themselves at home, as if they’ve lived here for years. megumi didn’t say anything. only commenting about not burning their hands again, because the truth is megumi missed them too.
snuggling into the blanket, yuuji played the new game megumi had bought. nobara had maki on speaker as she tried to give instructions on the new curry recipe. while you lounged on the counter scrolling through your phone—
“smells good.” the deep voice sent shivers down your spine. you glanced up to see the man you fantasized about, before even meeting megumi. you’d known megumi since your first year at university. but it wasn’t until you made a joke about how him and the mma fighter have the same last name did everything click.
“ya, he’s my dad.” your fate was sealed. you could never ever ever have sex with your idol, because he was your best friends dad.
how the heavens have cursed you.
but that didn’t stop you from always trailing behind the man. smiling brightly, rambling about your classes, telling him about how the professor hates you but loves megumi. you’re happy he never noticed the way your cheeks would sting every time you’d speak to him, or when he’d look at you, or when he’d pat your head, or when he’d-
“nobara is about to burn it though,” you mutter, behind your hand, toji looking over at nobara who’s sweating bullets as she tries to figure out how long she should be cooking this.
“so you’re not doing anything?” he muses, your lips part.
“I was! she just doesn’t need help right now,” you retort, sitting up, but toji’s hand lands on your head, beckoning you to follow him. “I need help moving some things.” a furious heat rushed up your body, the feeling of being needed by him sent you spiraling.
“oh okay!” you immediately perk, bouncing off the seat as you follow toji. his lips turning when he sees you trailing so quickly behind him like a cute puppy.
“why’re you throwing this stuff?” you frown seeing the boxes stacked in the basement.
“not throwing it, I’m moving it to the gym.”
“oh, good,” you smile, bending down to lift the boxes—
“woah, sweetheart.” your skin burns as toji pressed a hand to your waist. “I just need your help holding the door and opening the trunk.”
his chuckle made your cheeks warm. “I’ll still help!” you turn back around, but toji stops you with a sigh.
“fine, grab these,” he hands you a single framed picture, and nudges forward to get the door. you were ready to complain before you noticed the photo in your hands. “door.”
“sir, this is like the best photo ever! this is the original one right!?” you suddenly gush holding the door open. toji hums, carrying three stacked boxes as he walks out of the basement, heading out to the driveway.
“this was when you beat Kenjaku in a knockout and finally won your first title!” your eyes were fixated on the photo as you rambled on and on about how you’ve never seen the real thing, and how you remember your dad flipping a table out of how excited he was.
toji sat the boxes on the ground, turning to look at you.
“how long have you been a fan?” he was curious. i mean he trains yuuji after he opened his gym, ready to retire in a year, but the rest of megumi’s friends were never as interested in him as you were.
“since this fight,” you beam, finally looking up. your heart thumps at the look he’s giving you. “you’re just cool,” you mutter in embarrassment, cheeks flushed beyond measure. you lean into the trunk, sliding the framed photo carefully. your sweater riding up as you stretch your arms…
tojis eyes trail down to the bare skin, his pupils dilating at the sight.
“what’s this?”
his thumb suddenly caresses the skin of your hip making you jump. turning sharply, toji looks at the mark that peaks out of your pants.
“oh, i got a tattoo,” you lean against the trunk, lifting your shirt a bit. the tattoo was an olive branch that started from just outside your hip, and with your finger you motioned over your pants where it ended, the inside of your thigh.
“I didn’t know you liked tattoos,” he mutters, still brushing the top of the tattoo. your ears were burning, his hands were so big, you liked how rough his thumb was against your soft skin.
“don’t tell anyone,” you lower your voice, motioning toji to glance up at you as you talk behind your hand, as if someone were actually here. it was endearing. “but kyo was afraid of getting one himself, so he begged me to get one with him.” he clenched his jaw.
kyo…the low-life scum that megumi always had the pleasure of telling him about, mainly about how he was dirt compared to you. how you deserve better. how nobara hates him to death. and yet you’ve now been dating for almost two full semesters.
toji’s voice dropped. “so he forced you?”
“no!” you shook your head, almost breaking into a laugh. “as if anyone can force me to do anything.” you wave off the older man, still laughing as you head back to the basement.
toji hadn’t noticed how warm his cheeks were until you walked way. swearing under his breath he picked up the boxes shoving them in the truck. what was it about you?!
“yuuji you keep dropping your shoulder after you kick!” you whine, leaning over the ring as you watch yuuji spar toji.
“I’m not!”
“you are!”
“am not!” yuuji receives a blow to his dropped shoulder, toji finally hitting it on the nail that yes, you were right.
“told you,” you mutter, yuuji huffs, glaring over his shoulder at you.
“stop picking on him, y/n.” toji unwraps his gloves, noticing the way your eyes avert.
“how about you spar him, since you’re so good,” yuuji spits, his cheeks flushed and slightly out of breath.
“no, we have to go. we’ve been here long enough,” kyo groans from his position on the bench. he came to pick you up, but you told him to wait, wanting to see how much yuuji has improved. it was also the second time toji has met him. the moment kyo stepped into the gym, he was on his phone, only leaning down for you to peck his cheek before you came rushing back to the ring. arrogant prick, thought toji.
“five more minutes,” you reply, pulling your sweater off as you rush into the ring. you bounce up to toji grabbing yuuji’s gloves who almost laughs at kyo’s irritated expression.
“you ever spar before?” toji helps you put the gloves on. your lips part—
“she has!” yuuji interrupts, before you can lie.
“just a little martial arts,” you frown at yuuji, who grins even wider.
“nah, she’s like a black belt in Jujutsu—“
“taekwondo,” you correct with a spit.
“either way, don’t hold back on her!” yuuji cackles, sticking his tongue out as you move to lunge at him, but toji wraps an arm around your waist pulling you back to him. he notices kyo glance with a raised brow, his hand was splayed on your stomach, gently calming you. your cheeks flush, as you hum. toji pulls away, side-eyeing kyo briefly, turning his attention back to you.
“okay okay, let’s see what you got,” toji fixes the helmet on your head, before stepping back. you pound your fists together eyes glinting as toji immediately sees what you’re trying to do. he does his signature start, pounding his fists twice, creating a booming clap with each one.
“okay,” you smile, getting into your start. your hands are up by your face, blocking off your body as you stand to the side instead of squared off in the middle.
“FIGHT!” yuuji shouts, you immediately shift inside, throwing your leg up to catch the top of his helmet.
“whew!” toji brushes the kick off with a whistle, a grin spreading across his lips. “not bad.” he fixes his hands up. “keep going, sweetheart.”
you’re smiling too bright. cheeks flaming as you rush in for another kick. you completely lost track of time as you sparred the renowned fighter. he easily blocked or dodged your kicks, his fists were light taps as he got you a couple times. nothing compared to the harder blows he gave yuuji. he obviously held back, but he still entertained the living hell out of you. fueling your blood as you went harder, and with a little luck, and toji getting distracted by the sweat trickling down your full bouncing chest, you landed kick to his stomach.
“oh shit.” you mutter.
“oh shit!” yuuji repeats stunned. megumi and nobara sit up noticing the sudden silence.
“ohhhhhhhhhh fuck yeahhh!” you scream, jumping up and down as you toss the helmet off and yuuji joins you as you celebrate the tiny victory that felt like the most incredible win in the world!
toji is cackling, rolling his eyes as he takes his gear off. megumi quirks a curious brow when he notices the way toji’s looking at you.
“settle down,” he pats your head. his expressions shifts once you glance up at him, your pretty lips all wet as you heaved, sweat rolling down the tops of your smooth tits. his green eyes glance away, clearing his throat, a sting spreading across his face. “next time you can spar yuuji.”
your face brightens as you turn to your friend. nobara was already leaning into the ring as she started laughing, recording her entire bit. “y/n will definitely beat your ass!!”
“as if!” the three of you start arguing, until after a moment you look up.
“where’d kyo go?” the bench was empty, your bag laying there by itself.
“left awhile ago,” megumi answers. toji glances over, noticing the way your cute brows pinched together, clearly upset.
“cmere, lemme give you some pointers,” toji calls you over. your feet carrying you easily. the three friends huddle around as they do their work. nobara occasionally glancing up to see you sitting on the mat as toji casually sat in front of you.
“y/n is the only person that can get mr. fushiguro talking.” Yuuji looks up after nobara’s comment. humming in agreement.
“ya he said the funniest joke ever when y/n asked for one yesterday. Damn what was the joke again?” yuuji taps his chin thinking as megumi looks over, his father seemed deep in conversation. it wasn’t like you were rambling, no. you were listening attentively. engaging with small encouraging nods as toji spoke. your lips would part as you gave the most animated reactions, clearly enjoying his company on a different level.
interesting.
toji had weaknesses. the first being money. if his manager and megumi weren’t handling it then his bank accounts would be empty in a flash. his second weakness was definitely a need to eavesdrop, especially when you were over.
“no, i told him no,” your words were quiet. you and nobara sat in the living room while yuuji and megumi went to pick up some snacks from the store.
“thought you said you were ready?” she questioned.
“i am, but like…he’s like…” your voice trails off, burying your face into the cushion.
nobara groans with you, hitting the top of your head with light slaps. “you’re so confusing. if you don’t wanna have sex with him just break it off. he’s a dick anyways.”
“you don’t understand.” you whine. “i wanna do it, im ready, but whenever he starts—“ a glass crashes to the floor. startling the two girls as they glance to see toji picking up the broken cup.
“mr.fushiguro what are your thoughts on kyo?” nobara suddenly belts. your head snaps to her, eyes wide. what kind of question?!
“he’s arrogant,” toji cleans the spilled beer. “a prick, and doesn’t respect anyone other than himself—“
“how would you know?” you cut him off. toji looks up.
“cmon he’s just saying what everyone else has been. you said it yourself,” nobara is desperate. she wants you to finally acknowledge how fucking crappy your boyfriend is, if you can even call him that.
“ive only ever heard shit things about him. and you don’t deserve that. that’s all I’m gonna say,” toji excuses himself. he was pissed. pissed about how upset you got when he made a comment. you never spoke that way to him. nor did you cut him off and vise versa…
however later that night, he hears a small creak on the steps. looking over his shoulder he see you coming up the steps into his second living space on the estate. he was watching his own movie with a beer resting on his side.
“don’t you have a fight?” you mutter, coming over to the man. “you shouldn’t be drinking that.” the light from the screen shines against your exposed skin as you walk in front of the man, taking a sit beside him on the couch. you’ve done this a couple times. usually when everyone has fallen asleep and you’re still wide awake, you’ll lounge with toji watching his shows until you also knocked out. but this time felt different. you sat closer. your head was bowed to your chest as you fiddled with the ends of your boy shorts.
“i treat myself to one every couple weeks,” he answers, taking another sip, his eyes locked on the tv. “they all asleep?” you hum.
toji enjoyed silence. especially at night. but this silence was somehow eating at him. he was aware of your little glances, the way you suddenly shift and move. he needed you to talk—
“next time, don’t say anything about kyo…” you mutter, it was so soft, he could barely hear it. but he did. and it irked him.
“so I shouldn’t say the truth?”
your eyes glare up at him, a scowl forming on your lips. “no you shouldn’t.” you snap. “it’s none of your business.”
“you were in my house. so that makes it my business.” toji meets your glare. his jaw looked sharper against the flickering lights, his collarbones peaked from his white t-shirt, his hair tousled over his eyes accentuating how fucking attractive he is.
“well…that’s not fair,” your legs come up, burying your face in it. your heart was beating so fast, your body heating up. you just wanted to be close to him. you couldn’t cross that line, you couldn’t! but toji’s hand slide up and down your back.
“okay…I’m sorry.”
his words sent a certain warmth spreading deep into your core. you didn’t answer, but toji still pulled you into his side as he stroked your hair, letting you rest your head on his chest. he heard your sniffles, but was silent. but then your small hand started playing with the one on his lap.
his felt his heart jump.
you pressed his hand against your damp cheek, leaning into it.
“what is it?” his voice was so soft, like honey as he gently turned your face up. your lips were open as you stare up at the beautiful man. eyes glossed over. “stop crying.” he sighs, making more tears slip down your adorable cheeks. “awe sweetheart.”
toji leans down, holding your face, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. you should be satisfied with that! but you wanted another one, your eyes were dilated and filled with unshed tears as you hummed so quietly that only toji could hear. he understands you, understands the way your eyes linger.
“don’t cry,” he kisses your temple, then your eyes, feeling the salty tears coat his lips. your chest was filled with water as you let out small quiet sniffs, fists clenching his shirt, still begging for more. “babygirl,” he sighs, his face lowered. brushing his lips so close to yours. you can feel his breath.
then, out of nowhere, he presses a kiss to your lips.
your heart stops. he pulls away your tears still flowing. his heart aches at the expression on your face. it was like he completely shattered your heart. but you still held onto him, burying yourself closer to his side, ultimately falling asleep to his strokes.
the next morning you woke up beside nobara tucked under the blanket. you buried your face even deeper, ignoring nobara’s comments about it being the first time you don’t kick her in your sleep.
if toji was expecting not to see you because of what happened, he was very wrong. you still came to watch yuuji practice in the gym, you still lounged around the fushiguro household, you even joked with toji as if nothing was wrong. toji was happy you were doing okay. but he felt his stomach churn when megumi mentioned.
“ya supposedly they got into it yesterday.” toji closes the fridge, turning to look at his son sitting at the counter eating. by they he means you and your dick faced “boyfriend”.
“what about?” megumi glanced up, toji noting the look. “you’re the one that brought it up.”
megumi swallows his food. “something about never being alone together. so they started arguing at todo’s place and he ditched her. now she’s giving him the silent treatment, but last night they got into another fight in the car. nobara and maki came rushing out to—“
“did he lay his hands on her?” toji suddenly starts up. not realizing his complete attention is on the kid. megumi quirks a brow, shaking his head.
“no, but…” he swallows again. “everyone’s telling her to break up with him. there’s zero redeeming qualities about the guy. he treats her like shit. flirts with every other girl when she’s not around. I don’t know why she’s still with him.”
toji didn’t know why he cared so much. why he’d carefully guide any conversation he had with his son to you. wondering how you’re doing, checking in on something megumi had told him last week. megumi wasn’t an idiot, but toji couldn’t even realize what he was doing to know how to not do it. especially when megumi stated.
“you never ask how nobara is doing.” the weight of the statement sent the room into a momentary silence. the only thing that could be heard was the characters talking on the tv in the distance.
when toji failed to respond it left the two simmering in silence.
but toji couldn’t help the small jitters that filled his stomach when he heard the familiar footsteps late at night. of course he knew you were over, and of course he made a show downstairs grabbing a drink to show that he’s staying up. all he had to do was wait an hour until time the rest fell asleep, to enjoy your company alone.
“did i miss anything?” you slid onto the couch, curling up as you hugged the pillow. toji briefly explained the last episode, before sinking back into silence. toji didn’t mind the silence, but he also knew that usually during these nights you both would talk for hours. but he knew this time was different. his eyes focused on the screen. but he could feel your eyes on him. drinking in his beautiful face, his sharp jawline, his damp hair. everything about him was perfection in your eyes. you knew it was forbidden which made it more exhilarating.
he liked when your eyes were on him. he also hated the small victory that lit his being when he reclined even more, spreading his legs wider and opening his arm up. an invitation.
you gently slid closer, cuddling up to his side. he was always so warm, a personal heater, and you were happy to be wearing shorts and a loose tshirt, smiling to yourself. you couldn’t help but lean closer, blushing at his natural scent mixed with the forest body wash.
“you smell good,” you mutter, making the older man chuckle lightly.
“thanks, sweetheart.” he rests back, settling in again, arm tightening around you.
your heart was pounding, lips parted as you glance up. his neck gave easy access, but you had to bite your lip. your legs closed tight, your thoughts swirling in your head causing your body to react to things he’s never done to you! yet, you also have a mouth that seems to act on its own too…
“do you hate me?”
toji’s brows shot up. “why would I hate you?”
your ears sting, burying your face in his chest. toji sighs, pulling you even closer, his hand gently tracing small strips up and down your arm. an odd occurrence followed, one that surprised him, but nonetheless he did.
“i like your company. spending time with you isn’t so bad.” the truth that slipped his lips was something he hadn’t done in awhile. he spoke to you often, that’s correct, but talking about his feelings, that took something more. however, his stomach churned when he felt your body tense. turning his head, he glances down.
staring right at him are your big doe eyes filled with unshed tears, your soft wet lips trembling gently. his heart skipped a beat. “what’s wrong?!”
“nothing.” your ears sting, immediately covering your face. you sniffle, desperately trying to collect yourself. toji chuckles, landing a hand on your head. the rough treatment immediately softens, coaxing you to slowly pull your hands away.
“are you embarrassed?” his voice was so deep, which didn’t help your flustered state. his hand slides to the back of your head once you look up at him again. his half lidded eyes made your cheeks flush. the shadows that highlighted his features, his own lips parting showing you his tongue as he licked his lips. his body heat making you sweat. he was definitely not from this earth. “you’re so cute.”
your breath hitched. did you say that? no, that was definitely him. your throat is dry as he gently massages the flesh of your thigh. he laughs again. “don’t pretend like you don’t know. is that why you’re always crying in front of me?” he knows that isn’t why, but still. “batting your big eyes at me.”
“i…” your cheeks flush a deeper crimson. he smiles in victory. hes left you speechless.
“that’s my weakness.”
“girls crying?” you mutter, upset.
he massages your thigh, leaning further down, giving you no escape from his eyes. “seeing you cry.” you mouth went dry. “are you embarrassed?”
“no.”
he licks his lips. “good.” he smiles. “you don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”
you can smell his musk more clearly, clouding your senses, but still mutter. “same to you.”
he smiles again, but this time it’s more tender. “whys that?”
“i like it when you’re being yourself.” your words are even sweeter than your voice, causing a light flush to spread across the man’s cheeks. “you’re really funny…and I like when you’re having a good time. it makes me happy.”
his eyes grew bigger. heart beating faster.
“what?” you’re looking at his shocked expression, ready to throw yourself out the window for embarrassing yourself—
“nothing.” he tilts his head, eyes softening. “i missed your voice.”
idiot! who says that. you try to look away, but he’s so close, your eyes can’t help but dart around like a lost puppy. “whatever.”
“you were quiet this whole time, but now you’re saying such adorable things.” he lightens the air when you bite your cheek. “i like hearing you talk too.”
“really?” you mutter.
“it’s nice.” your finger lazily twirls around the hem of his shirt. “you like it when i say you’re nice?” you nod. he clicks his tongue. “i wanna hear you.”
“yes.”
“good girl.” he coos, massaging your thigh with his big hand, crawling it further between your legs, having noticed earlier how much you were keeping them closed. you whimper so softly when he squeezes the inside, your skin so soft in his rough palm. “you like that I’m praising you or touching you right now?”
what’s going on? why is he acting like this? he laughs again! “cmon…you come here at night and pretend to be all quiet.”
your jaw is weak, staring at him.
“is it because i kissed you?”
your breath catches.
he leans closer, hand falling deep between your legs, grabbing your inner thigh, your warmth spreading from his hand all the way to his pants, feeling his bulge start to lift his sweats up. ah how much he liked that feeling. when you’d make him feel his heart beat a little faster.
“do you want another kiss?”
you nod your head immediately, hair falling down in eagerness. he waits, raising a teasing brow.
“i want you to kiss me.”
“good girl,” he leans even closer, the small space between you felt like hours instead of seconds. the tension building as you felt his breath fan across your wet lips.
as if he could feel your staggered breath, he leaned forward. his lips curl up watching your eyes flutter just before he meets your lips.
it felt different then your first kiss. he was much more confident, and so were you. so warm and wet. he kisses your bottom lip, caressing it with his tongue and holding your thigh, his eyes half-lidded as he watches your features contort in pleasure.
his hand travels a little higher, continuing his slow caresses, smiling even more when he pulls away, noticing your leaning further in awaiting some more.
“eager, now.”
you hum, shamelessly. sending a wave of blood rushing into his hard-on. he captures your lips again, biting down on your lip, a silent punishment for getting him so worked up. but the gasp you let out gives him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, caressing your tongue with his. your hand falls on his wrist, the way he’s squeezing your soft flesh has your panties completely soaked, and the only thing running through your dizzy head is the thought of his long rough fingers playing with your pussy.
toji pulls away again, this time to catch his breath, your tongue hanging out and your hazzy eyes had him smiling. “you like it?” he kisses your tongue. “you taste good.” he licks your tongue. “want more?” he pulls away just a bit once you let out a little moan. he doesn’t know how far he’s pushing it, but when he carefully tilts your chin, thumb stroking your bottom lip before pulling it down, you suddenly felt a rush of hot white heat.
his tongue came out to spit into your mouth.
and his cock almost burst at the moan that escapes the back of your throat.
you lean forward, kissing him again, your hand holding his wrist as you press his hand to your cheek, desperate for more attention.
toji pulls away, your lips part, but a gasp escapes when your back hits the cushion. laying across the couch, he leans down between your legs, resuming the makeout session. it was wet and messy, all thoughts thrown away as you both got lost in the others lips. the longer it went on the more toji started pushing the very big red line that’s he’s been slowly crossing.
with caution, he slowly began to lower his hips, closer to your open legs. his tongue playing with yours had him grabbing the cushion beside you, finally pressing his bulge right against your clothed cunt.
your jaw dropped. pussy tightening as he gives another cautious role of his hips. you can feel him so clearly, the sweatpants and your shorts weren’t doing much as he rolled his hips again and again. blood flooding your cheeks as you felt the outline of his cock. he was big. the stimulation on your clit had you gasping quietly. tongue falling out for more of his wet kisses. he swore very quietly, only enough for you to hear as you bucked your hips up. your legs came up to the back of his thigh, then up his torso as he continued to rub himself between your legs.
a wet patch slowly began to emerge between your grey shorts and his white ones. he was getting himself worked up, and your little gasps and moans were enough for him to start to lose all control.
his fingers slid between your bodies, playing with the waistband of your shorts, creeping a hand into the front, his head spinning as he watched your pretty lashes bat up at him, tongue sticking out awaiting his fingers to touch the place you were so needy for.
“dad?”
time stopped.
toji immediately froze as you tensed up, eyes staring up at toji in horror. the slow steps up the staircase, gave toji enough time to pull away, cursing at the wet patch between your legs, then noting his own. he tosses a blanket over you, as he grabbed another blanket throwing it over his lap.
“pretend to sleep.” he shot at you, even though you were still overwhelmed by the sudden shift, you listened. closing your eyes.
reaching the top of the stairs, Megumi shuffled lazily towards the couch, rubbing his stomach under his shirt.
“dad.” toji looks over his shoulder, grunting a response. “need your phone.”
toji holds his phone up. megumi comes closer, taking it, that’s when he notices the second person in the room. “y/n?” toji shushes him immediately.
“she’s sleeping.”
“why here?” that’s when you and toji both realize that not everyone knew you came up here when everyone fell asleep. it almost felt like some dirty secret getting revealed now.
“she couldn’t sleep, I don’t know,” toji shrugs. “why do you need my phone?” he pretends like megumi can’t read him, even though toji never questions megumi for wanting his phone.
“can’t find my phone.” Megumi gives one last look between you and toji before heading down stairs, his dad’s phone in his hand calling himself. once his feet disappear, you’re sitting up, but toji presses a hand to your thigh.
“he’ll come back up.”
the room falls into silence. your eyes looking over at toji who’s attention is now back on the tv. his cheeks still slightly pink, especially with your attention focused on him.
you can’t help but mutter. “should I go?”
“if you want.”
“do you want me to stay?”
“i don’t care.”
your throat bops. suddenly feeling horribly uncomfortable. was this a mistake. should you ask if it was a mistake? but if he says yes, then you’ll definitely cry.
“is kyo coming tomorrow?” he’s never called your boyfriend by his real name, nor has he ever bring him up in conversation with you.
“why are you talking about him?”
“he’s your boyfriend, am i not allowed?” he’s still not looking at you.
“like you care.”
“you’re right. I don’t.” he tilts his head, so clearly agitated. you don’t know how to respond. you don’t think he’s ever spoken to you with such edge.
you disobey him and sit up, your eyes swirling with confusion, and the second your hand lands on his, everything melts.
your hand was so warm on top of his. his eyes met yours as you peer up at him. not only is he a man, but he’s older too, so why is he acting like a jealous fucking teen?
“I’m sorry.” you words feel like absolute heartbreak. a pit of ugly guilt rages deep inside him, especially when he doesn’t respond, allowing you to stand, wrapping the blanket around you, leaving him.
megumi is startled when you suddenly appear at the bottom of the steps. he screws his eyes in the dark, were you crying? but you mask it with a fake yawn, rubbing your eyes as you fall beside nobara, burying the comforter over your nose.
“your dad is so boring.” you mumble, unconvincingly.
“are you ready?” yuuji nervously leans over megumi as they all huddled around the fighter as he sat on the bench. “are you hydrated? should i get more water? are you angry? the dude was yapping a lot before the match! he’s definitely talking shit about you right now, I can only guess what he’s saying—probably saying how you’re getting old and your punches are slower than snails!—“
“yuuji!” nobara elbows him. maki is coordinating with shiu, as toji continues sitting in silence, wrapping his hands.
“it’ll be great.”
toji feels his heart beat. glancing at you as you kneel in front of him. a soft smile on your lips as if last night had never happened. it was toji’s final match of his career. all of his son’s idiot friends were huddled in the locker room. but you also were here.
you were dressed all pretty, he had to suppress his thoughts when you came running into the locker room, afraid of being late. your hair so fluffy as your skirt danced around your thighs. you rarely wear skirts, he thought. your tight long sleeved shirt had his eyes zeroing in on how well it hugged your pretty tits. his cheeks ran hot as he remembered the way he rolled his hips up between your legs, the hot pulsing of your clothed pussy. fuck he regrets not slipping a hand up your shirt and squeezing your tit—
“how are you feeling?” your eyes fell soft. holding no animosity in them as you gently reached out to help him hold his gloves as he continued wrapping it around.
toji felt a burst inside his stomach, the good kind.
“ya you’ve got it! we’ve trained a lot!” yuuji is ready to interrupt some more before megumi grabs the back of his collar, holding him back. all because he saw the softness in his fathers gaze. his once pinched angry expression, was tender and gentle as you spoke to him. the conversation wasn’t in whispers, but it felt intimate. nobara looks over, also noticing megumi’s lingering eyes.
nobara wasn’t an idiot. at least not in the love department. she always knew, I mean she also found megumi’s dad hot as fuck. but finding someone attractive is different than the look you were giving him. like he held the entire world in his hands. it was definitely a look she’s never seen you give kyo. how didn’t she notice this before?!
“thanks, kid,” toji pats your head, tenderly. the aggressiveness of it, absent. he didn’t ruffle your hair, but the weight atop your head sent a fury of emotions swirling inside you. he ignored the brief moment of hurt that flashed across your face when he called you kid.
you glance up when he takes his hand away. his cheeks flush.
“anytime.” your smile was a puncture to his heart. no words came to his mind, so instead he brushed your hair, his thumb unconsciously caressing your cheek. your eyes swam with need, begging him for anything, but his hand drops. standing up and moving past you, following shiu’s directions.
kyo was already waiting at the vip seats. the rest of you joining once the lights began to dim for the athletes entrances. you were still in an argument with kyo, but he still held your hand when you sat beside him, his lips pressing to your cheek sweetly, smiling when you hum in acknowledgment, but it’s all thrown out the window once toji steps into the cage.
the arena immediately shifts, his energy resonates throughout the entire stadium.
this was your second time seeing toji’s match in person. however, knowing this was his last fight meant something different. yuuji was screaming his lungs out, as was nobara. toji was up against some young prodigy nicknamed ‘the honored one’, also known as gojo satoru.
your cheeks filled with blood as you screamed for toji’s victory. flinching and looking away when gojo sent a violent blow straight to his ribs. kyo glanced at the tremble in your eyes, brows creasing as you clutched your chest, as if grabbing at your heart. his jaw snapped.
“y/n, let’s go,” he suddenly stood, grabbing your arm.
“what?” you stumble, surprised by the aggressive pull. nobara and megumi looking over at the commotion. immediately stepping in to hold you back.
“what’re you doing?!” you struggle, wincing when his grip tightens on your wrist. the fight in the cage was getting more intense, but the grip kyo had on you made your stomach churn. his eyes filled with rage as he glared at you. “get…off—nobara,” you call to her, realizing that his grip really is tight.
“fuck off, kyo! megumi,” she looks over her shoulder but megumi is already gripping kyo’s wrist, making him loosens his grip on you. the scene was insignificant compared to the fight in the stadium, but being close to the cage, it caught toji’s attention.
his expression darkened, blocking gojo kick, as he immediately spun, hitting gojo right in the ribs knocking him back. toji glanced again to see you back in your seat clapping and cheering. what happened? were you okay—
“eyes here old man!” the white haired kid cackles. itching a sore spot in toji.
“what’s happened I can’t look anymore!” Yuuji cries covering his eyes as you clutch his collar, shaking him like crazy as you scream. nobara is biting her nails as megumi winces. gojo landed another violent hit straight to toji’s already bleeding eyebrow.
“stop it, he’s gonna win!” you cry, heart pounding and gaze fixed on toji. your lips trembling as toji stumbles. somehow, you feel butterflies breakout the second toji glanced briefly in your direction. you don’t know if he’s looking at the group or you, but still, you couldn’t help yourself from smiling, putting two thumbs up encouragingly. even though you were scared seeing him bleed so much, you couldn’t describe the amount of confidence you had in his victory.
the stupid smile almost had toji scoffing in amusement. you really are adorable.
so when toji’s name rings out throughout the entire stadium as the victor, your screams were deafening. yuuji crying from happiness as nobara shakes megumi and you’re…you’re completely in tears. choking with joy as you all scramble into the cage to congratulate the victor. however just when you’re about to reach him, a bunch of press speakers and cameras block your path.
nevertheless, the afterparty at the gym was enough time to celebrate the winner. everyone was there. drinks and music blasting as you all congratulate the man.
you were babbling to toji, your lips curling once he pats your head affectionately. answering your unending questions as he continued talking. it came easy to him, having you listen to him.
“I told you this story already?” he realizes midway.
“it’s okay, i like hearing you talk,” you smile tenderly, triggering a deep flush on his cheeks, something that’s become more and more familiar. clearing his throat, he pets your head, so you wouldn’t catch his expression.
“y/n.”
your heart drops, turning to see kyo. “we need to talk.” he glared past you at toji, who raised a brow, testing him back. you set aside your drink, apologizing to toji.
a hand stopped you.
“break up with him.”
his thumb caressed your wrist gently. but his words only did the opposite. your expression reminded him of the day he told you his feelings about kyo. why did you look at him like that?
“he’s a dick…you deserve better.”
your jaw clenched, the ground occupying your pretty eyes, toji waited for you to think. but when glanced back up, he inhaled sharply, your lips wet as a few tears lined your waterline.
“I’ll never have better.”
you rip your arm away, turning on your heel. he watches you exit the gym, meeting kyo outside. he can’t describe the ugly twist that he felt deep in his gut. he drank some more, and some more, until he realized that getting drunk was nothing and that he’d rather head home. he didn’t want to think about it, or about his feelings, none of it. his gaze fixed on the tv as he waited for sleep to take him.
unfortunately the rest of the kids were black out drunk. so toji had to hear the commotion downstairs as they crashed into things and yuuji’s whispering was more like yelling. after a couple of minutes it was finally silence again, except for his show…
“what’d I say about sneaking around?”
toji heard the creaking. recognizing your soft footsteps the moment you stepped up the staircase, clearly trying to conceal your presence.
“thought you were sleeping…” your voice was meek, as you stare at the back of his head. your heart thumping loudly once you saw his arm raise lazily, two fingers motioning you forward.
of course, you obeyed. sucking in some air to calm your nerves as you round the couch, slowly. toji watched your bowed head, that’s when he heard the quiet sniffles. his brow pinched high as he sat straight.
“did something happen?” he was on alert.
you don’t respond. only feeling your cheeks flush and heart clench, why is he so concerned?
“did the prick lay his hands on you,sweetheart?”
sweetheart….he really picks his moments, you scoff. “he didn’t.”
he settles back. but you raise your head, tears sprinkling out like beautiful jewels.
“why did you ask me to break up with him?” you hiccup. toji is left speechless. why was he so mesmerized by your emotions. his pretty girl, crying so vulnerably. “answer me!”
“I don’t know.”
he cringed. it was evident you disliked that answer.
you bit your cheek, grasping at your megumi’s shirt. you felt your cheeks run hot, lips wet as you spoke. toji could read your lips before he heard the words. his stomach churning in disgust.
“he wants to have sex with me.” your face is burning, but you don’t care anymore. “kyo has been begging me. we’ve kissed me, he’s sucked my tits. I’ve given him handjobs. but he wants to have sex with me now.”
his jaw was locked, veins straining his arms and neck. “I don’t like knowing that shit.” his voice was deep sending even more nerves down your throat.
but you don’t care anymore. you swallow thickly. toji didn’t know if he was prepared to hear about your sexual relationship with that shithead. knowing he laid his dirty hands on you, kissed your pretty lips, played with your full beautiful tits that he loved to stare at. his blood was boiling.
“toji,” your lip trembles. cheeks hot knowing this is the first time you’re calling him by his first name. toji also noticed, especially as you inched closer. your tears still full in your eyes, making his chest swell, unable to tear his gaze away from you. “I don’t want him touching me anymore.”
his arms instinctively reach out, and pull you onto his lap. his arm circling your back as he cups your neck with the other. “i only want you.”
“fuck.” his lips crash into yours.
your hands instinctively go to his hair as he licks your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open, pushing his tongue to meet yours. you felt your stomach explode, eyes filing with tears as you kissed him back passionately. cheeks stinging as he caressed his wet tongue against yours, groaning as you arched into him. his rough hands pulling your hips forward, groaning as you slide against his bulge. you gasp, pulling away for a second, but his lips move to your neck, licking a strip up to your ear.
“be a good girl, start rocking on me.” your body shivered, humming as you started rolling your hips down on his hard bulge. “just like that. feel good?” he nips at your skin, helping your pace as you hum softly. the cotten shorts you wore slide with each grind making toji feel more clearly the heat radiating from your pussy.
“you can’t cry like that. it messes with my head.”
you moan gently as you feel his hands slide up under your shirt. eager to listen, you helped him pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. your cheeks aflame the second he saw your bare chest. you liked it so much, his attention all on you. you wanted him to touch you so badly. a deep groan resounded from the back of his throat .
“you know how many times I’ve imagined seeing these,” he grabs a handful of your tit, licking his lips at the weight in his palm. you watch him lean forward, tongue sticking out to run from the underside, licking a long tantalizing strip up, pressing down when he got to your nipple.
“i thought i was seeing things,” you moan gently, hand tugging on his black locks. “i didn’t know if you were staring at them.”
“how could i not? you made it pretty hard,” he drools on your nipple, your eyes dilating at the lewd sight. “dreamed about sucking these pretty tits. you purposely wore flimsy bras in the gym so I can see them bounce?” your cheeks flush as you pout looking away. he groans again, more frustrated. “you let that asshole touch you like this?” you whine when he bites meanly down on your nipple, tongue swirling to ease the pain before he does it again, his other hand helping you rock a little quicker, your shorts sliding to the side, as your pink panties come into view. completely wet as you whine.
“only a few times,” you mutter.
“few times.”
“he’s my boyfriend—ah!” you cry louder, the bite he gave much harsher, tears trickling out. you feel pathetic as you cry just from the stimulation of your tits, toji was growing more annoyed.
“you didn’t break up with him?” your lips part, grasping his hair, whining when he pulls away, looking up at you. you were lost, your lips hanging open as you stare down at the man.
“i—“
something strange surged inside him as he quickly went back to your lips, cutting off any response. his body hugging you closer to his chest as he slid your shorts and panties to the side, a low groan slipping once he felt your arousal coat his fingers. “your pussy’s crying too,” he coos.
“finger me, please, please,” you gasp, whining even more as he circled your cute little clit. his senses running haywire the more you begged.
“you’re so needy.” he groans, pinching your clit making you cry. “has he fingered you? shoved your cute cunt with his disgusting fingers?”
“mmm….he has,” you cry out feeling toji shove two fingers inside you without warning. his teeth biting down on your nipple as you tremble all over. “i like it….like it….” you moan, jaw dropping as he abused your pussy, stretching it out with his fingers, only to curl them right on your squishy part, grinning at the shocked expression that flashed across your face.
“he make you cum?” toji grunts, glancing down at the arousal that slide down his palm, licking his lips.
“he did….made me cum…” your words only fueled a dormant emotion that he thought he’d never feel again. jealousy.
toji curled his fingers, biting your lips as he sent you over the edge. your entire body shook, clinging onto him as you came with a shocked gasp. tears sliding down your hazzy eyes. “toji…mmm…” your soft little voice resounded in his ear as you pressed your cheek to his shoulder still shaking. however, toji only gave you a moments rest, before he was lifting you with him.
“I’m not done.”
your body hit the unfamiliar bed, your eyes briefly glancing around you as your vision cleared. It was a spacious master bedroom, your eyes catching the minimalist dark furniture, and the large balcony windows briefly open. “”ah!”
your hips jumped, legs closing around his hand after feeling the harsh slap to your pussy. you glared up at him.
“ow!” you cry, pouting once toji kneeled on the bed, shoving your legs open.
“i was talking to you and you weren’t listening.” he rubs your pussy again, his expression was sinister, dark…fuck he was so hot. your cheeks went pink when he aggressively pulled your shorts and panties off, spreading your folds apart. “you’re telling me…” his jaw locks. “the prick saw your pussy?”
you bit your cheek, nodding your head. a wave of arousal rushed down to your pussy once toji dropped his head back, groaning in frustration. his hand coming up, laying another harsh slap to your pussy.
“i answered you!” you cry, holding his wrist, not admitting to him how turned on this was making you.
“well I’m pissed,” he huffs, giving another slap, now getting a moan out of you.
“why are you pissed?” you cry, another slap making your hips buck. his eyes no longer shined green, but instead were encompassed by a dark black shadow.
“because he touched you.”
“so?”
“so, it’s annoying. he’s not allowed too.”
“and whys that?”
“because you’re mine.”
toji was heaving. his nails having dug into your knees, only now realizing his words. your reaction absolutely priceless. the stunned expression and wide eyes sent his heart racing.
“fuck, don’t look at me like that.”
his tongue licks your lips, groaning as he felt your tongue meet his, a satisfied whimpering slipping from the back of your throat. your hips bucking as your own nails racked through his hair. his fully clothed body made you even more turned on, bucking your hips up as he began to grind down on your pussy.
“can you eat me out?” you mutter, rocking your hips up. toji chuckles, sliding down your body as he licked and kissed your nipples, licking down your tummy, as he sucked a dark bruise on your pelvis. your cheeks flush, your fantasies slowly unfolding before your eyes. toji brings your hand to his hair, looking directly into your eyes as he licks a bold strip up your pussy.
his own eyes roll back, groaning as your arousal floods his tastebuds. he takes another lick, swirling his tongue deeper between your folds, playing with your pussyhole, purposely avoiding your bud.
“tojiii,” you whine, tugging his hair. he grunts. “you’re being mean.”
“I’m being mean?” he smirks, parting from your wet folds. “because I’m not kissing your little clit.”
you nod, flustered. “but it’s all swollen and pink, I don’t wanna hurt you.” he feigns concern, making you look away, ears hot.
“you won’t hurt me.”
he didn’t know if it was the combination of your voice and that expression that made him nearly cum in his pants, but he broke.
your back arched off the bed as he sucked your clit harshly into his mouth. the sudden stimulation had you crying, your hand coming up to your mouth as the other held his dark locks with a vicious grip. it was a pleasant surprise to toji, though he fantasized about his son’s close friend being shy and somewhat of a prude, he was practically drooling seeing you so aggressive and needy with him.
encouraging you to tug his hair, he lapped your clit, biting down whenever he felt you loosen your grip in his hair. fuck, this was definitely a kink. his arms wrapped around your thighs, lifting your hips up onto his lap as he bent his back eating you out. you’ve never seen anything like it.
the dark bruise on his eye, the cut on his nose, the cracked knuckles gripping your flesh….your eyes rolled back as he pulled out, spitting a big wet glob right on your clit, his jaw aching, but seeing the way you twitched, and tugged his head back, he felt how drenched his boxers were.
“toji…keep…going,” you pant, your grip doesn’t loosen, which was enough for him to continue. the knot inside your core, starting to tighten more and more, edging you closer as he slurped your arousal, the lewd sounds, clouding your senses as he pulled your hips higher to his face, your heels pressing on his shoulder blades as you bite your hand, the broken cries and aggressive tug had toji moaning into you.
“gonna cum… ‘m…hngh close…” your voice cracks, eyes rolling back as toji feels your body tense. his tongue flattening on your clit, sucking your bundle.
your eyes widen, suddenly loosening your grip as you push your palm on his forehead trying to push him away.
“toj-m-move I-i—“ you were gasping, moans choking your words as you shiver. toji aggressively hugs your thighs, keeping your body still against his face.
“if you don’t cum on my face, then don’t ever think about doing this again.”
it was a lie. but you didn’t need to know that. you cried, eyes filling with tears as your legs began to shake uncontrollably.
“b-but tojii…”
you bury your face in your arm, which he notices right away, biting down on your clit. your back lifts as you squeal.
“hands off.”
you shake your head, so toji unwraps an arm to grab both your wrists, holding them down against your tummy as he sucks your clit between his teeth, the sounds of his mouth had you crying immediately punching the coil as your hips stutter up and a drawn squeal comes from the back of your throat as a wave of relief washes over you, releasing a flow of pleasure…. hitting toji.
“shit.” he utters, jerking back when he feels the splash hit his face. your wrist wiggles in his grip as you gasp. “fuck…” his groan is low as he slaps your pussy, making a bigger mess as you continue to release a stuttered flow.
“mess—ahnghh-“ you cry, not even able to finish your sentence.
“ya its fucking messy,” he chuckles, “and hot.” his eyes darken as he latches his lips back on your pussy, drinking your arousal with more pleasure than he can bear, eyes closing briefly as you cry a little louder. “that’s it. ngh all over my face, puppy.” he’s panting, “ya good girl.”
toji doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so attractive. the twist in your face, the drool coming from your lips, the tears filling your eyes, your tits high up in the air, all from his mouth. he’s so sloppy, circling your overstimulated clit as you shake and stutter, quiet sobs slipping out.
finally, he lets go with a wet pop. your pussy clenching in spasms as you gasp. tears blocking your vision until you feel the relief of your hands being free, rubbing your eyes lazily, leaving your hands over your face.
“why did you do that?” you sniffle.
“are you embarrassed?”
you’re quiet.
“have you ever squirted on that shithead?” your legs rest on either side of his torso as he lazily strokes your thighs and hips. large hands soothing you.
your fingers split apart as you look at toji. his eyes immediately finding yours, softening a bit at the dried tears.
“we’ve only ever kissed.”
silence. his face drops.
“what….”
your stomach twists when you see his brows start to come together, looking at you more sternly. his grip tightens around your hips, your body cringing, as he slowly realizes what you’d just done.
“you lied to me?”
“i extended the truth.”
he laughs. “that’s an understatement. so he’s never touched you? your tits—“
“that wasn’t a lie.”
“so you admit you were lying.”
“no!” your hands fall, staring back. that’s when you really clock in on the state he’s in. his face wet with your arousal, shirt also being victim to your pleasure, his hair was a mess, not realizing how much tugging you’d done till now. his arms bulging as he held your hips. and his cheeks were so pink!
is he mad? the longer he stares the more you feel blood rushing up to your face. “the part about kissing, playing with my tits, and um handjobs, was for real….everything after that….no.”
you’re looking away now. biting your cheek nervously, because yes, he’s older and definitely much scarier when he’s all serious.
“are you mad?” you mutter.
his hands travel up your torso, thumb caressing the warm skin, making you more nervous.
“mad…” he repeats, like he’s thinking it over. you glance back at him, lips parting.
he takes the invitation, kissing you deeply. you hum in surprise, tasting yourself immediately which sends your body burning again. he presses himself over you, trapping your arms between your chests, his lips part, your tongue coming out making him grin. “you knew how much I hated that douche and used it against me.”
you flush, licking your lips as he continues to stare down at you, much closer now. “i wasn’t sure if it was gonna work.”
“well it did.”
he kisses your cheek, dipping closer to your ear to whisper a gentle. “at least, now I know I’m the only one that’s seen you like this.” he licks your ear to conclude, sending a shiver up your spine. his arm sliding up your thigh, moving down to grab your ass, kneading the flesh, before laying a slap. a yelp slips in surprise. “you like making me loose my cool?”
he slaps your ass again, your head shaking as you manage to free your arms, trying to hold his shoulders, just for a harsher slap to send your hips bucking up, pressing into his shirt. “getting my dick hard just for your little games.”
you’re not even trying to hide your moans anymore. each slap sending another wave of pleasure down to pool in your pussy.
“my puppy likes being all dirty,” he growls, biting your lips as he holds your body off the bed, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs crossed behind his back as he rocks his cock into you, kissing you so passionately it’s making you dizzy again. this time when he pulls away, the string of spit connecting you guys has you loosing all cool, all to utter the silly command.
“spit in my mouth.”
toji freezes.
you’re staring up at him, with big dumb eyes. lips open softly. now he’s the one that’s blushing. his cheeks bright red as he stares at you.
“fuck me.” he drops you on the bed, unwrapping your arms, as he sits up. your heart is beating rapidly, frozen because now you’re scared you’ve done the wrong thing. was that it? is he gonna leave—no he’ll kick you out—
“since when did you start acting like a little virgin, who wants to get her pussy ruined?” he snaps. his voice deeper than before. your eyes wide when you see him stripping his shirt, your lips closing as you see his muscles flex, then his beautiful abs right in front of you. the bruises from todays match looked painful, especially the one on his ribs, remembering the harsh blow his opponent had given him. but your mind is swept away when his biceps flex, leaning forward, hand holding your face tight, he tilts your face up. “open wide.”
you feel like cumming just from his command. but you submit immediately, opening your mouth, tongue hanging loosely as you blush, waiting for him because he makes you wait, just enough for him to capture this image before him. his son’s pretty little friend, sticking her tongue out for him, her pussy hot and messy, and her tits covered in his spit. and it was all for him.
he leans forward, gathering a nice amount in his mouth, lining himself over you. he stays a distance away.
you’re panting like a cute puppy, desperate for any attention. drool slipped down your chin, as he felt it roll down his wrist.
you’ll be the death of him.
he spits.
the low groan was deep seeing your entire body shake as his heavy spit lands on your tongue. your hips bucking as you roll his spit in your mouth, whining so audibly in pleasure.
“swall—“
you already do. your body suddenly rehydrating like that was the first drink you’ve had in days.
“what a dirty fucking pup,” he grabs your jaw again, crashing his lips on yours. you whine, flushing at how loud he’s kissing you. it was so messy, and sloppy, your hands holding his wrist as he moved your jaw up, deepening the kiss, tongue pushing inside your mouth as more spit collected between your battling tongues.
“can you fuck me now?” you push away, panting in his mouth as you try to slide your heel into his waistband from behind.
a sudden thrill takes over your body at the deadly smirk he gives you. laughing into your lips. “you’re not shy are you?”
“you’ve already made me squirt,” you look away. “that was embarrassing.”
toji doesn’t laugh, his eyes boring into your face, making your skin warm. “I’m jealous.”
“huh?”
“I’m jealous that you can give me something so special.” your cheeks heat up, you can tell by his eyes that he was being serious. “I want you to give me more.” he dips his head, kissing your chin, moving down to your neck. his lips trail down to the tops of your tits, kissing his way down, distracting you as his thumbs hook under his sweats and boxers, pulling it down.
your head is tipped to the side, letting out sighs of pleasure.
“mmm, toji,” you squeak, hips jumping when you feel his two fingers inside your pussy.
“fuck, you’re too tight,” he mutters more to himself. that’s when you realize what he means. he’s sitting between your legs completely naked. you feel your breath catch when you follow the dark hairs of his happy trail all way down to the well-groomed but still hairy base of his thick cock. fuckk. your mind cannot wrap around how big he is. it was shiny which meant he’d already stroked his pre-cum around, now it was hanging between his large thighs, too heavy to stand fully erect. you couldn’t stop the drool from slipping out.
kyo’s didn’t look like that.
“No kidding.” toji meets your puzzled eyes. you’d just said that out loud? and now he has the most shit-eating grin ever.
toji pushes a third finger inside, making your jaw drop, reaching out for him. “it okay princess, I’ll make it fit.” your eyes kept falling down to the monster between his legs, your head going cloudy just thinking about it how that’ll be possible.
“want it now… put it inside me.”
toji clicks his tongue, still fingering you, his brows pinched in concentration. his tip was an angry red, leaking even more.
“you’re too tight. haven’t fucked a virgin in awhile.”
“it’s fine. I just…” you whined bucking your hips to the rhythm of his skilled fingers. “just want your d-dick inside me, please. please.”
toji slaps your pussy. hard. “stop being a fucking brat.”
you bite your lip only to start whining again as you keep eyeing his heavy hanging cock his tip drooling making your pussy tighten around his thirsting fingers. his dark pubes made your pussy cream even more. “toji.” you draw out his name. he meets your gaze, clearly frustrated, but suddenly you give him that annoying look. the one where your eyes get all big, dumb, and wide, and you bat your lashes up at him, your lips all wet and pouty. his jaw clenched. you could even see the vein on his jawline, only making you more needy. it was the same look you would innocently give him when he’d scold you about walking home alone at night.
“can’t even let me open you up,” he slaps your pussy. “crying like a whiny little brat.”
“please.” tears swell up, gently making your eyes sparkle.
he rolls his neck. “you’re killing me, sweetheart.” your hands reach for him, making him click his tongue as he grabs his base, pumping his cock harsher than you’d expect. your lips fall open, salivating at the sight. your mind remembering all his matches, how every hit he threw looked like he was breaking cement in half. you swallow thickly, eyes glancing up to see toji’s flushed cheeks as he jerks himself off. his eyes staring at how close your pussy is to his dick.
your stomach twists, a stupid feeling swelling in your belly as you become jealous of his hand.
“in me. toji toji—“
“I needa teach you a fucking lesson about patience,” he grabs your face, immediately seeing how dilated your pupils are, as you lean up, meeting his lips. you were fucking adorable, the desperation made him twitch even more. he couldn’t remember the last time he’s leaked this much pre-cum where it looked like he basically came already. “gonna take it slow.” he utters, rubbing his tip between your folds, collecting all the messy slick.
you moan into his mouth, soft little sighs as he continues his teasing actions, your fingers brushing his nape as you lick his bottom lip waiting….waiting. when his tip catches onto your clit, you let out a quiet cry. “to…jj…stop playing with me…”
“it’s all swollen though,” he coos, smiling when you flush, humming with him. “was I too mean on your poor clit?” you shake your head quickly. “want me to fuck y’r pussy now?”
“mhm, inside please, want it deep,” you add to his lewd words, making him chuckle. you always were a talker, but he’s still surprised how fucking dirty your mouth is. the same one that was always so polite with him, even if you guys did joke around, you always called him sir.
“eh, is that right?”
you nod, biting your lip, blushing when you hear him groan. he slides his tip down to your hole. your heart pounding a little faster, a small pit of fear dawning on you watching toji’s broad figure hover over you. his entire form covering you as he gently pushes his engorged cock head into your awaiting entrance.
you suck in sharply, gasping at the unknown feeling as he gives you your first real stretch, neck craning as your nails dig into his shoulder and nape.
“relax, sweetheart,” his hand runs up and down your thigh, squeezing your sweaty skin. as he runs a hand up your stomach letting you take some deep breaths. his jaw is clenched, biting down as he feels your vice grip on his cock, absolutely suffocating him. “fuck baby, y’r too tense, deep breaths.” he chokes out.
“o..okay.” you’re trembling. trying to take a deep breath, but it felt so weird, your pussy could feel his fat tip. his eyes fall to your scrunched up face. the only thing on your mind was simply. toji’s inside me. toji’s inside me. megumi’s dad is inside me! the chanting had you going dumb and unintentionally doing the worst thing you could do to a man struggling to hold his patience: you clenched around him.
“fuck baby!”
toji’s growl had your stomach tightening, squeezing him even harder as your back arched. “breathe baby!”
“i am,” your face is warm and sweaty. “help…it hurts.”
toji freezes, staring into your big doe eyes. his heart melts, cupping your cheek as he speaks gently.
“don’t cry,” he coos, “i’ll take care of it,” he strokes your cheek as you sniffle, nodding. “I’ll handle it.” you suddenly gasp feeling a familiar stimulation. his thumb swirling around your swollen clit making you whine in pleasure, he groans feeling your body start to relax a bit more. giving his cock some relief.
“just like that, good girl, shit,” he coos feeling you clench around him from the praise. “we’re not done yet sweetheart.”
“mmm, okay.” you’re so cute, but he sees the mischief in your eyes, that’s when he feels you start to rock your hips up. “want it all.”
“slowly.” he says sternly.
he pushes a little more, leaning back when you begin to act up again, his hand falling down on your pussy making you giggle in pleasure, his tongue peaks out to lick his teeth.
“don’t start acting like a spoiled brat again.”
“I’m not,” you whine, tongue coming out as you continue rocking your hips up. his stomach clenches, eyes falling over your sweaty figure. your tits bouncing with each buck. it would be so easy to slam into you right now. have your pretty lips cry out as he took your virginity so meanly.
“what a pretty girl,” he runs his hand up under your tits. smiling when you arch up for him. he continues to push his cock deeper inside you, your moans shifting into a quiet cry. “never had a pussy this tight. ya ever put anything inside?” you shake your head.
“no,” you blush, biting your lip trying to decide if you should say what you wanted.
“spit it out.”
“i wanted you to be the first person to touch me down there.”
you whine feeling his big cock twitch inside you. he’s pulling out, sliding back in getting your slick to run down his cock.
“ ‘s that right?” he lifts.
“mhm, didn’t wanna finger myself either.”
“so you only played with your little clit?” you nod.
“you’re so cute.”
your cheeks sting, opening your mouth to respond, but the stretch started to sting. he was going too slow.
your hands lift off your chest to reach for his shoulders. “too slow.”
“watch it,” he meets you lower, your hands running around his shoulders as you pant so softly at his agonizing pace. slowly stretching out your little pussy hole. “you’re gonna regret your words in a sec.”
“fuck me,” you command. the snappy voice making his jaw tick. you’re a fucking handful, and now seeing how much of an attitude you catch when you’re horny made him even more turned on.
“baby.” he warns.
“cmon, please please.”
his patience fucking breaks.
your breath catches when his arms are grabbing your thighs, pulling you forward so easily, immediately slamming his entire length inside you.
a strangled cry rips from your throat. gasping as he pulls out again and slams his burning cock deep inside you hitting your cervix and leaving it in there so you can feel just how full he’s making you.
“is that what you wanted? fuck!” his cheeks are red as he groans from the drag of his cock. you were absolutely suffocating him. his eyes glancing down at the blood mixing with the creamy base of his cock. his dark pubes all wet and sticky as the slick covered your thighs as well.
“g-goo…d…” you’re in tears, gasping as he slams his cock slow and hard. letting you feel him, every curve and vein of his cock. your mind going hazzy as you look up at his sweaty face, holding one leg under his arm as the other runs up your pelvis, pressing down on your stomach.
“feel that baby?”
you moan loudly when he presses on the bulge his cock was making. you nod, eyes looking up at him with hearts. his own chest beating rapidly, cock twitching as you clench around him.
“who’s making you feel good?”
“you are.” your hands fall to hold his on your tummy. “toji’s inside me.”
“that’s right, baby.” he groans again, thrusting into you again, and again. your gasps and cries making him start to lose his cool.
he leans back on his knees lifting you up easily, sitting you on his lap, his arm caging both your arms behind your back as his mouth immediately latched on to your tits, suckling on them as they hung right in his face.
“toji!”
he smiles, biting harshly on the buds as he held you close to his chest and started fucking up into you. the squelching of your sexes had you whining and crying. drool falling down your lips as he sucked bruises on your gasping tits.
“tell me how much you like getting fucked dumb.”
“I-i love it!” you cry, arms bound behind you only helping you arch closer to his chest as he held your wrists tight.
“you love?” he laughs loudly. “you came up to me because you knew I’d fuck this virgin cunt raw if I saw you, that right?”
“yes!” you’re definitely gone. “always thinking about you, sir!” his lips suck a harsh tug making your eyes roll back at the stimulation.
“what would that dumb head of yours think about?”
“a-about angh hngh your hands…” you break into moan when he slaps your ass at your hesitation. “and I thought about your dick.”
not surprising, but it still makes him grin widely.
“thought about how y-youd fuck me, and how you’d taste.” you whimper as his finger circles your little rim from behind. teasing you as he slows down each thrust so it was slow and sensual, wanting to catch every word.
“was your head always filled with sex when we talked?” he laughed. “poor virgin.”
“it was filled before we talked too. i love it…” your head forward, tongue sticking out as you press your head to his. “you’re perfect sir.”
he groans loudly. opening his mouth as you spit so generously. his arm caged your body tight as he started fucking you fast and hard, so unbearably rough you we’re seeing stars.
“big…ahh. toji,” your tongue hangs out as he goes harder. his eyes clenching as he feels his own orgasm starting to edge closer.
“tell me what you want baby,” he pants.
“p-put me….in a mating press.”
he snorts, loudly. “and how does my princess know that.”
you whine, feeling his cock nuzzle inside you again. “tw-twitter.”
toji laughs, freeing your arms to lay your back on the mattress. he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulder as he leans over you. his big toned thighs press under your ass as he spreads his legs apart, sinking his cock deeper into you. “this what you want.” his voice shakes, only feeling your grip tighten around him again. “baby.”
“s-sorry.” you’re panting, his face was so close to you as he calmed his mind, fuck he needed to cum the second his pushed his tip inside you. he hadn’t realized how long it’s been. but he was going to take care of you first. your eyes rolled back as he pulled back, slamming his hips back in, he easily started picking up the pace, this position was all he needed to lose all sense.
“fuck, taking me all like a good fucking girl.” you clench. “like that baby?”
you moan in response, tits bouncing between you as he pushes down you so you can feel more of his weight. your pussy clenching and twitching around him. the lewd sounds of his cock fucking into you were loud. the slick, his thighs clapping into your ass in a relentlessly fast pace.
your tongue hangs out immediately making him lean down to lick your tongue. a moan coming out of him as you responded. you’ve never had an experience to compare this too, but was it supposed to be this messy? you couldn’t care. it was so hot. his big body handling every single part of you, he controlled the pace, the kissing, the touching—you loved it.
his fingers were digging into your thighs and his mouth was letting out so much spit that had you bucking and squirming drinking from his lips until you started crying. the sounds of your pussy producing more arousal had toji going faster.
“you’re gonna squirt all over me.” his command had you panting and moaning, tongue lulling out like a puppy. “got it puppy?” you flush.
“messy….big-“ your words were so scrambled, but he didn’t care. his pace was going faster, his biceps flexing around your thighs. oh how you wished this was being recorded, suddenly desperate to see his back muscles straining and moving as he was fucking you fast and hard. that sudden image in your head was enough to have your head falling back, eyes fluttering with tears as your orgasm crashes.
“fuckk fuck puppy,” his eyes are dilating as he looks down to see you gushing around his fat cock. the sounds of your pussy spraying as he continues to fuck more out of you has his ears ringing and stomach clenching.
you cried his name as he continued to pump his dick in and out, the clear liquid sprayed his thighs and the bed.
“that’s it, ah fuck , ungh fuck, fuck—“ toji was so vocal, grunting and moaning with how much you were squirting it seemed endless.
you were drooling, eyes crossed, vision white as pleasure consumed you. toji knew you lost all brain capacity when you began uttering the repeated sound of his name followed by little babbles of “want your cum.”
“you want my cum?” toji grins, showing his teeth as his thursts turned sloppy, losing his cool at your blessed out face.
“fill me up.”
fuck, toji really hated you. his hand grabbed your jaw, his thumb hooking inside your mouth, your tongue falling out. “telling me to fill this nasty pussy up wit’ my cum?” toji tsked feeling you clench at his words. “you don’t deserve it, being a brat the entire time.”
your drool coated his thumb as it ran down his wrist. along with your tears filling your eyes at his rejection. your hips bucked as you whined. “want it. want your cummy.”
cummy? if it was under any other circumstance the man definitely would have cringed, but you were absolutely fucked dumb, and hearing you slur your words had his whole body running hot.
“you’re not on the pill.” toji bites, jaw clenching as you licked and drooled on his tongue, eyes filled with tears.
“i am!”
his eyes sunk ten times darker. you were making him lose all sanity.
“shit.” his head dropped, hand grabbing the back of your knees, his entire body pressing down as he leans up, fucking his cock deep until you were absolutely knocked. the sight of his cock bullying your virgin pussy was making his head dizzy. your clit all puffy was like a magnet, drawing his thumb to fall on it in harsh circles. your body jerked, crying as you gripped the sheets.
“fhuck my pretty girl, squirting all over daddy’s cock.” your pussy clenched. “ya? like daddy’s cock filling you up?” his jaw clenched as your tongue peaking out shaking with each vicious thrust.
“daddy,” you repeat, head empty. “fill me up.”
you moan together. he was completely under your spell. his eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.
“never had this pussy filled, have you?” his thrusts are sloppy, his jaw clenched. “tell me why you deserve it?”
“g-good girl hngh!” your face was so cute, his laugh masking his groans.
“good girl eh?
you cry, nodding your head. “please!”
“who do you belong too?”
“you!”
“who?”
“t-toji…” your eyes are crossing, pretty tits shaking as his entire weight drives each thrust. the thought of his heavy cum filled balls bursting inside you…you tighten around him, his jaw clenching.
“who makes ya feel good?”
“you do, daddy!” his cock is twitching, abs clenched as he forbids himself from giving in just yet. the edging making his mind heated and the pleasure longer.
“no more boyfriend,” he pressed your knees down a little harder, almost suffocating you in this mating press. “you’re mine.”
“yesyes—“ the mindless chanting had his head spinning. the built up adrenaline from the match consuming his veins as he fucked out every last bit of it. your precious little body was the most generous outlet. his cock was so unbelievably painful, his moans were getting a little more vocal until finally he gave one final thrust until the first large burst of his cum painted your gummy walls. your mind went white, forgetting if you were even orgasming or not as you felt his cum gush inside you. his moans were unlike anything you’ve ever heard. so deep and strained. his body covered in sweat, muscles flexing as he shook with each thrust, filling you up until the cum started overflowing and coming out. he was stuttering above you, body shaking as he felt the most pleasure release him.
you were completely spent.
your vision was hazy as you drifted out.
“babygirl.”
you felt the gentle hand stroking your cheek as he leaned over you, his lips softly meeting yours. you sigh, opening your mouth automatically, inviting his tongue so you could suck on it, his thumb brushing your warm cheek as the other stroked your side, your legs lazily around his hips.
“you okay?” he pulled his lips away. “I wasn’t too hard?” he was still out of breath, which made you blush.
you shake your head. “not too hard. felt good. your cum is all warm inside.”
“ya?” he smirks, rubbing your thigh as he leans back. your pussy lips parting, all sticky as he watches his cum still seeping out. “you look so pretty like this.” his hand traces the olive branch tattoo on your thigh. “with my cum inside you.” he slowly bends down pressing a kiss to your sternum, your nails lightly scratch his nape, earning a satisfied hum. “do guys usually cum this much?”
toji blushes, lifting his head to look at you. “no, that’s why mine is more special.” he smiles, making you flush. “i mean it.” your lips part, but he looks back up, eyes meeting. “no shitty ass boyfriend.” you swallow.
“are you gonna be my boyfriend then?”
“yes.”
“you can’t just tell me what to do and—“ your breath catches, heart suddenly beating a lil faster, hyper aware of his long gaze. “what?”
“you said you’re mine. so that’s that.” toji moves up, just inches from your face as he watches every dart of your eyes, every breath that comes out…his lip tugs up. “you were only dating him because you didn’t have me.” your eyes look away.
“that’s that.” you repeat softly. your face is burning, an urge crawling up inside you. he wanted to be with you. he wanted to be with you….toji…wanted to be with you, but, “megumi.”
toji brushes your cheek. “don’t think about that. okay?” he kisses your warm cheek.
“okay.” he sits up fully now, gently dropping your legs. his face shifts slightly, his hand falling on the dark bruise on his ribs.
“does it hurt?”
his lips part to reassure you, but you lean over, laying your small soft hand on his ribs. “I’m sorry i asked you to go harder.” your lips meet his bruised skin, knowing it was a childish thing to kiss a bruise as if it was medicine. but toji’s face went bright red. his stomach fluttering as he stared down at you. your eyelashes so soft…
“don’t apologize, baby.”
your gaze meets, and he watches your eyes squint up as you smile. your thumb softly caressing the skin, sitting up. “but I’m sorry.” you tilt your head, giving a little pout. he raises a brow, his hands falling on your hips as you begin wrapping your arms over his shoulders, kneeling between his legs. “i was being a brat.” he knew exactly what you were doing. the playful glint in your eyes, the little teasing you only do with him.
“taking accountability?” he tilts his chin up, meeting your pout with a tilt of his own.
“mhm, i learn quick.” you smile. “did i work you hard? it’s okay we can go slower next time.” his jaw locks.
“oh ya?”
“mhm, it’s okay t-o-j-i, we’ll go at your pace.”
“you fucking minx.” he grabs a handful of your ass, pinching it. “you could barely take it.”
you squeal. “nuh-uh, you were trying not to bust a nut when you went inside me.” you squeal at the harsh slap.
“you’re a fucking talker ya know that.”
“you like it though.” you cry out a laugh as he grabs your face squeezing your cheeks to prevent you from yapping.
“making fun of an old man for controlling himself around a pretty little virgin. i would’ve hurt you, sweetheart, if i went too hard from the start. would’ve had you crying.” his eyes glanced over your face.
“i was crying already.”
he smiles. “that’s the good crying, baby.” he licks his lips. “would never actually hurt you intentionally.”
your stomach is bursting with butterflies. toji has always been kind to you and the others. he always kept his circle close, which really meant you were his own. but you didn’t expect such raw emotions from him. megumi rarely mentioned his long deceased mother, but when he did, it was always followed by how much toji had loved her.
the words slipped out before you could think. the green eyes suddenly grew lighter as his face went still.
“you’re a good man, toji.”
the warmth from his body spread to your cheeks as his arms loosened just slightly. not that he was pulling away, but that he was taking in your words. both of you so vulnerable at this moment, completely naked for everything to see, it felt more intimate than when he had his dick driving so deep inside you, giving you waves of his cum because this time his eyes grew softer, and his smile was as delicate as a dandelion.
“kiss me.”
you did.
you could feel the smile in his kiss. his lips wet, but soft. he was holding your chin, pulling away, his breath fanning your face.
“you’re an angel.”
your cheeks set on fire. lips breaking into a shy smile making him laugh.
“wanna shower?” you only nod, burying your face in his neck, clearly still embarrassed from his words, he laughs at your reaction, petting your head as he coos. “my little angel is embarrassed now.”
“am i your baby, sweetheart, puppy, or angel?” you mumble into his neck. “it’s too many.”
“is it too many, should i just stick with your name then?” he says your name. your body reacts, burying your face deeper into his neck. he barks out, laughing. “that’s your name, princess.”
princess now?! “shut up! you’re so doing this on purpose.”
“I’m just talking to you, puppy.” this fucking dick! you huff pulling away, you knew you looked flustered so you pushed his face away from you, not caring that he was wincing from touching his bruised eyebrow. “ow pup.”
you stumble off the bed, wobbling just so briefly before standing up straight. “puppy is a degrading one!”
“you came hard when I called you that. opened your mouth so wide—“
“ahhh shut up shut up shut up!” you cover your ears as you speed walk across the large master room to the bathroom. toji immediately jumps off the bed, scaring you. your eyes widen as he chases after you, making you squeal running faster.
“cmon, don’t act shy now. you were a pretty dirty angel when i had you stuffed full.” he grabs your wrists pulling them away from your ears. you shake your head. “stop it no, no—no bedroom talk when it’s not happening. what happens during sex stays in sex.”
“so ‘puppy’ is your sex name then. what if i want a little kiss?” you pause. “my mouth is so wet.” your eyes lock on his lips seeing him purposely collect the spit around. your body reacting immediately, stepping forward, as you lean up to meet his lips. “cmon puppy, open up.” your lips part, his pride swelling seeing you submit so fucking easily. his thumb comes up, pinching your nipple making your eyes flutter and moan drop your jaw. he spits directly into your mouth. “sex name?”
“shut up.” you lick your lips. cheeks hot as you turn your head. “are we gonna shower?”
he smiles.
next thing you know, you’re leaning against his arm, hugging it close as his other arm is slotted between you, fingers thrusting inside with such force, talking so dirty in your ear as you let out broken moans.
“you like getting finger-fucked by your friends dad, huh?”
your chopped moans had you drooling on his arm. eyes fully rolled back. “like daddy stretching this cute pussy?” your only replies were moans.
“come for daddy.”
“cu-cum-anghh.” your legs shake, knees giving out as you cum hard. he easily wraps a strong arm around you, holding you up.
you couldn’t wrap your mind on how you were even able to cum again, but when toji laid you under his bed covers, pulling you to his chest. you could feel the long night weigh your body down. “are you actually okay?”
your hand lays on his chest, fingers brushing his bruises.
“just tired.” he sighs, pulling you closer, an ease consuming his body the closer you pressed yourself to him. the comfort your touch brought was unlike anything. the memories of his past no longer a feeling of constant grief and sorrow.
you leaned closer, burying your face in his neck snuggling close. your lips meeting his warm skin as he sighs, arm wrapped around you.
“I’m scared megumi is gonna hate me,” you softly whisper. no clue why you were ruining this moment, but your anxiety was still creeping back in.
his eyes are closed as he answers. “because we fucked?”
“because i fucked his dad.”
“does he have a crush on you?”
“no!” toji laughs, turning his head to look at you.
“i said it’ll be okay.” his arm pulls you close, leaning his forehead to yours. your body growing warm. “do you trust me?”
“I do.”
“then go to sleep.”
and you do.
little did you know poor megumi was a little more sober than the rest and when he couldn’t find his phone in the middle of the night, he decided to go up and fetch his dad’s phone. was it because he was tired that he wasn’t picking up on the slight gasps and cries until he slid the door just an inch all for him to witness the millisecond of his dad’s bare ass drilling— SLAM
megumi was frozen. the door immediately shut. he didn’t want to decipher what he’d witnessed but why did your voice have to be so recognizable! Sadly the poor boy had to run away with hands covering his ears, only to run into a shocked nobara standing by the stairs.
“Is that y/n!!?” megumi ran covering the the girl’s mouth.
“shhhhh!”
in other words it wasn’t a big shock when you were all having breakfast and yuuji decides to speak.
“so are you like megumi’s mom now or?”
you choke on your cereal as megumi coughs violently. toji was still upstairs. your face was on fire. you couldn’t lift your head.
“look what you did, idiot!” nobara elbows yuuji hard. then your bottom lip shook, and worse a tear slipped. they all froze completely. you don’t cry easily. you don’t!
“please don’t hate me, m-megumi…” your eyes filled with more tears. you really are an idiot, you knew what would happen if you ever crossed that line. but…toji was different. your heart ached without him, and it swelled whenever he looked your way. when you were upset you wanted to see him, when you were anxious you wanted him to rest his hand on your head. when you didn’t want to talk, you wanted to hear him talk….he was different. but he’s also…
“your dad.” you swallow your tears, sucking it up. but when you decided to lift your head, megumi’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, pressing you tight.
“it’s fine.”
your mouth was dry, eyes wide, but you buried your face in his shoulder as he hugged you—which he never does—and calmed you down.
“you’re not mad?” you wipe your face as he pulls away.
megumi lets out a heavy sigh. “i knew this would happen.” everyone raises a brow. “all he does is ask about you, what’s y/n doing? where is she? did she finish her work? is she coming today? on and on and on—“ megumi groans. “at least now I don’t have to be a middle man.”
your cheeks stung. nobara couldn’t help but giggle, she’s never seen you so flustered. kyoi sure as hell never made you feel like that.
“what else has he said?” you bite your cheek.
“he told me he likes sparring you!” yuuji chimes in. your cheeks run red, remembering what he told you last night.
it did take some getting used to. toji randomly coming over and wrapping an arm around your shoulder was fine, but when he’d lean down and kiss you deep, megumi couldn’t help his gagging. do that was a no. but other than the slight pda (on toji’s part) it was all the same. except for something only megumi noticed, which was how much happier his dad looked.
he couldn’t explain how oddly perfect the relationship was. you fit him perfectly and him to you. so megumi bared his teeth at the awkwardness, and went about his weird life.
ALL EYES ON RAFAH!!
ALL EYES ON RAFAH!!!
I’m attaching some informational links and will also add some donation links!!
STAY INFORMED! STAY ACTIVE! This is not a war, this is a GENOCIDE!
info: link // link // link // link // link // link
izuku letting katsuki fuck his girlfriend ⭑.ᐟ mdni ᭝ threesome, unprotected p in v, creampie, brief cum play, lots of praise from izuku in the cuck chair
your cheek's pressed into the sheets, hands fisting in the fabric as katsuki fucks into you from behind. low grunts under his breath, jaw tight, pace relentless. his hands are rough on your hips, dragging you back into each thrust, hard enough so you feel every inch, every grind, every low, deep press of his cock as he fucks into that same aching spot over and over again.
izuku's curled close, lying on his side just... watching. one hand resting light on your thigh, the other tucked under his head, soft eyes flicking between your face and down to where katsuki's cock keeps disappearing into you.
"you're taking him so well," he murmurs, thumb brushing a little higher, just grazing the edge of your ass, the curve of your hip. his voice is soft, too soft for how filthy it makes you feel. "look at you, angel... you're so full, he's stretching you out so pretty."
you nod meekly, eyes glinting as a sharp gasp slips past your lips when katsuki fucks into you harder, as if he's punishing you for forgetting who's inside you.
izuku hums, dark eyes flicking to katsuki's before returning to yours, smiling. "i know, sweetheart... it's too much, huh?"
katsuki growls low behind you. a quiet, "shut the fuck up," as he slides a hand up to the back of your neck, palm warm against your skin as he presses in so deep you let out a choked, ah— katsuki
"that's it," izuku coos, completely unfazed. "just breathe through it. you're doing so good."
his hand smooths up your back, soothing and warm like he's trying to calm you down while he let's katsuki fuck you stupid right in front of him. like he's not hard under his sweats, cock pressed tight, precum spotting the fabric as he bites the inside of his cheek every time you moan.
"he's so mean, isn't he?" izuku murmurs, low near your ear. "but he always gives you exactly what you need. you should say thank you, baby," he encourages, lips pressing to the side of your neck. "go on, tell kacchan how thankful you are."
katsuki's cock twitches inside you with every word as you stutter out a quiet "t-thank you."
he lets out a curse under his breath as he drags his cock out, eyes focused on your slick coating him before he slams back in—hips flush to yours.
"you're gonna make him cum," izuku says sweetly, sliding one hand down between your thighs, fingers gentle and warm as they dip past where katsuki's cock is still fucking into you, slow just for a moment so neither of them miss the way you jerk when izuku touches you there—firm pressure pressing into you, brushing past katsuki's cock where it's stretching you out, slick and messy and so tender it makes you cry out.
"that's it," izuku murmurs, thumb catching right over your clit, a teasing flick, "there you go. we've got you."
katsuki groans as he lifts your hips a little more to angle deeper. "shit—" he bites out, "she's squeezin' me so tight."
you sob into the sheets. izuku's hand doesn't let up, while katsuki's pace stutters hard, hips snapping into you.
"keep talkin' to her like that, she's gonna cum. can feel it... keeps clenching every time you talk." katsuki mutters, eyes fixated on his cock glistening every time he pulls back just to hear you beg for more.
izuku just hums, "she wants to," he says, his own fingers coated in your slick as they keep moving slow against your clit now. "she's being so good for you kacchan. letting you fuck her that deep, letting me touch— being so brave, don't you think?"
katsuki drags you back onto him, hard, and it knocks a broken little sob out of your chest. "you hear that, baby?" katsuki grits, leaning in, mouth hot against your spine. "you're our good fuckin' girl, yeah?"
"y-yeah," you gasp, voice trembling as izuku presses a little firmer against your clit. "wanna be good for you both..."
"we know, sweetheart," izuku coos, soft and breathless, curling a little closer to you, nose bumping into your cheek as he presses soft kisses there. "you're doing so good. we know it's a lot."
"is it too much for you?" katsuki mumbles, pressing his own lips against your skin, "or you just like whinin' for us?"
you shake your head fast, fingers fisting tighter into the sheets, "no! don't stop, please... i-i'm gonna—"
"yeah?" he growls, fucking you through it harder. "you gonna cum all over my cock, baby? gonna let me feel it?"
"she's right there," izuku whispers beside you. "let it happen. we've got you."
it hits hard—blinding heat sparking deep and low as your body goes rigid, pussy clenching around katsuki so hard he swears, stutters, and slams in once, choking on a groan as he cums with you.
"fuck— i'm cummin'—" katsuki gasps, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hips twitch, cock pressing deep and grinding through it as he spills into you in warm thick pulses.
izuku hums beside you, his fingers wet with your release coming up to stroke your thigh, before pressing a kiss to your temple and muttering, "that's it... that's our girl."
katsuki's grip trembles against your hips when he exhales against your skin. chest rising and falling against your back, hands smoothing up and down your sides before he pulls out.
still braced as he drags his cock free—covered in your release, flushed, and still twitching a little. he watches the way your pussy flutters from the loss. watches how wet and ruined you are. how his cum spills out of you, dripping past your thighs and pooling where your legs are still spread.
"fuckin' hell..." katsuki mutters, fingers reaching down to drag through the mess, smiling when your body twitches from the sensitivity.
izuku's fingers are still brushing lightly over your skin. "she looks pretty, huh?"
you try to hide your face in the sheets, body still too shaky to move, still panting—and izuku leans in to press another gentle kiss to your cheek, "did so good for us," he whispers.
"too good," katsuki mutters, rubbing a hand over your ass and squeezing gently, watching another thick drip slide down and groaning under his breath. "fuck, look at this mess..."
your body twitches again at the roughness in his voice, involuntarily, over-sensitive, and izuku just watches it happen—eyes dragging slow between your thighs where katsuki's cum still glistens across your pussy and drips out of you in lazy trails.
he hums, thoughtfully. before shifting closer. lowering himself a little. hands gentle as they slide over your thighs to ease them apart again, despite the way they tremble in protest. despite the soft noise you make when the cool air hits.
katsuki catches the movement from the corner of his eyes and snorts, still breathless, "you're such a fuckin' perv."
izuku just smiles, pretty and flushed and way too focused on the mess. "mhmm," he hums, breath ghosting low, just before he leans in, "i'm just cleaning it up."
you barely have time to register the first warm press of his tongue—slow and gentle, licking a stripe through the slick mess between your thighs of both yours and his best friends' release, the tip of his tongue brushing your clit—before he hums low in his throat, hands tightening around your hips like he's settling in, like he's not stopping until there's nothing left.
a/n a repost from my old & inactive blog eikyuunimain (mariinktg) so if it looks familiar, that's why! likes and reblogs are much appreciated! | mha masterlist
HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS 𑣲 gojo x reader masterlist
synopsis ⟢ you've ran out of things to publish for the school's magazines, that is until your friend brought up an amazing suggestion after seeing another friend get absolutely heartbroken, you all figured it would only be appropriate to have an article for what not to do for dating. so you take up the role of the annoying clingy girlfriend with none other than Satoru Gojo. but things go south when he's not taking the bait and actually falls for you instead.
pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖ uni au soccer player! gojo x journalist! reader
warning / tags : 18+, fem reader, angst, fluff, second hand embarrassment scenes, jealousy, he falls first she fell harder, cursing, eventual smut, tba ...
a.n : TAGLIST IS CLOSED ! and yes I'm still going to be writing for afycso while I also write this so it'll be like taking turns in updates . this series is inspired by 'kickoff' @/celestie0 and 'How to lose a guy in 10 days'
HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS - PIN IT 𑣲 gojo x reader
synopsis ⟢ you've ran out of things to publish for the school's magazines, that is until your friend brought up an amazing suggestion after seeing another friend get absolutely heartbroken, you all figured it would only be appropriate to have an article for what not to do for dating. so you take up the role of the annoying clingy girlfriend with none other than Satoru Gojo. but things go south when he's not taking the bait and actually falls for you instead.
pairing ⊹ ࣪ ˖ uni au soccer player! gojo x journalist! reader
warning / tags : 18+, fem reader, angst, fluff, second hand embarrassment, jealousy, he falls first she fell harder, cursing, gojo is a total sweetheart, eventual smut, tba ... art @/naomiiocha series masterlist here
Chic of the week.
It’s everything put onto a magazine. Fashion, culture, love, diets, anything you can think of that will help out the girls of New York University. You blink repeatedly at your dry eyes that have been staring at your computer screen.
“I’ve got nothing.” You placed your hands to the back of your head, slugging back at your desk chair with a groan. Even after hours of thinking about your next issue, nothing came to mind. Utahime leaned over, peeking at the blank screen, watching as the cursor blinked. “Oh sweetheart, you’ve got writer's block?” You nodded, poking your tongue against your cheek.
“I just wish I could write about something other than how to properly wax your armpits, or how to lose weight in 5 days. There’s real world problems out there that I would love to bring awareness to.”
“Yeah well, this is a chic magazine, not a political magazine. Once you have your career and you’re out of this hell hole, write all about what you want.” Utahime reasoned. She was right, this wasn’t a job, it’s just a club that writes for the school.
“Where’s Miwa when you need her?” Your voice came out in a whine, slamming your fingers at your keyboard. Utahime glanced around the room, looking for the familiar blue hair. “She’s late. The meeting began over half an hour ago.”
She sighed, stepping back when you pushed off your desk. “Look what came into my mail this morning.” You grumbled. Utahume’s ears perked up, reaching for the envelope. Inside were two tickets to the world cup. USA versus Paraguay, middle seats, perfect view. “Woah ho-ho, what are these?”
“Remember that editor from the sports magazine I had a drink or two with last week? Guess he mistook my kindness for flirting or maybe he really appreciated me being the sweet girl I am.”
“Must be nice.”
You both turned to the voice behind you, making you and Utahime jump in fear.
“Miwa! Jesus.” Your hand grabbed onto your chest, feeling your heartbeat accelerate. There were dark circles underneath her eyes and the ruined mascara evidence of tears. “What happened to you?”
“What didn’t happen?” She sniffled, dragging his hand over her stuffy nose. “He dumped me. Oh my god, he dumped me.”
“Get her a cigarette.” Utahime whispered. You hurriedly digged into your purse, taking out the box of cigs, handing them over to Miwa. “You guys didn’t make it past two weeks.” You hit Utahime’s stomach with your elbow, making her wince.
“I know. And it was the best goddamn week and a half of my life.”
“What even happened girl?” You opened up your arms to comfort her in a hug that she happily accepted. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”
You nodded, rubbing her back.
Then, she broke down again. “He said I was ‘too much’ and I didn’t understand because I thought everything was going great! It was great and I blew it all up because I moved too quickly.”
“What do you mean?” Utahime rested against the desk after trying her long hair into a ponytail in hopes of escaping the hot weather. “Don’t tell me you said ‘I love you’, that’s common sense.” She snickered.
“Well..”
“Miwa.” You and Utahime scolded.
“The sex was really beautiful!” Miwa added, as if that made matters better. “And I cried and I said it, it just slipped out!”
“That’s why he ended it?”
“I think. Or maybe it was because of the amount of times I called him while he was “busy” or y’know, it’s probably because I’m fat.”
“You’re not fat.” Your voices came out in unison once again. As you continued scolding Miwa for her poor choices in the ephemeral relationship, a lightbulb turned on inside Utahime's head. She clapped her hands in order to get your attention. “There it is. There’s your page.”
“My page?”
“Uh huh. Think about all those girls on this campus who are struggling just like Miwa. Ones that have problems hanging on to relationships. You can write about these classic mistakes most women do that drive men away.”
You stood up straighter, all kinds of ideas popping into your head. “That’s not bad at all. I can ‘date’ a guy and see how long it takes until he snaps.”
Your friend nodded, squealing. “Yes!” She clasped her hands with yours, jumping up and down. “It’ll be titled ‘How to lose a guy in 10 ways..” Utahime looked over to her fourth wall, moving her hand to the side to picture the title.
Miwa blew her nose loudly, reminding you that she was still here.
“How about ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days?’ That’s the total you guys were together right?” You cringed when Miwa threw her used tissue on your desk. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Perfect. Now all that’s left is to find the guy.”
The windows in the classroom were open, letting the slight breeze pass in. Outside, a whistle blew along with some yelling. “I can’t focus with all the chatter, what’s even going on?” You all made your way towards the window, peeking out. The soccer team was lined up, some doing reps while others stood by, discussing some very serious matter.
“They’re getting ready for an upcoming game.” You leaned forward, hair blowing all over the place. The field was buzzing with energy, cleats full of the freshly cut grass. Miwa walked away, crying once again. “I saw him just now.”
“Oh my god Miwa.” Utahime followed after her.
You stayed put, skimming through the small crowd until someone stood out. His white hair almost blinded you from the sun’s reflection. The guy was tall and well built, you could tell even from a distance. “What about him?”
“Who?”
“Number 10.”
Utahime immediately groaned. “Oh absolutely not. He’d drive you insane before you even got to try your little experiment first.”
“Do you know him personally?” Your eyes never left him.
“Satoru Gojo. Went to high school with him, worst guy ever. He never knows when to shut up.” You finally left the window, deep in thought. “Then I guess I’ll be the one to change him up.”
⋆˚꩜｡
The team was still outside having practice games, taking turns shooting at the net. A boy with hair thrown up into a bun kicked harshly only to miss, earning a groan from others. “Yo man, it’s like you've got two left legs!”
“I’ll shove them both up your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
Yikes. You lingered a moment before going over to the bleachers. There he was, standing with both hands on his hips, getting ready to catch the ball.
“How do you plan on talking to him?” Miwa leaned over to whisper into your ear. You hushed her, about to scold her for her attempt at whispering when suddenly, the ball came flying directly at you, hitting you straight in the face.
A sharp pain struck across your nose, making you bring your hands up to cover it.
“Oh my god!” Miwa’s voice jumped an octave, grabbing your arm to gently tug it off your face. “Hold on, let me see!”
Another voice appeared, one that was breathless and panicked. “Shit, I’m so so sorry! Are you okay? I have a super bad aim today for some reason.” Your eyes widened when they met him, it was Satoru, looking down at you with a worried look on his face.
He was even more oddly beautiful up close.
“Uh.. it’s fine.” You managed out.
“Are you sure? You don’t look fine.” He chuckled, wiping the small drop of blood that dripped out your nostril. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.” If it wasn’t for your article, you would've punched him repeatedly to break his nose. “I’m sorry again.. Uh I can go get you ice-”
“No, no it's fine, seriously.”
Miwa gave you a look, one that was urging you to ask him for his number or anything. “You can make it up to me some other way..” Your words slipped out suddenly. Satoru’s brows lifted. “Yeah? What way are we talking here?”
Summary: He doesn’t care anymore. His past won’t haunt him. Toji let you go so you could fulfill your duty and get married off to the head of the Gojo clan, he doesn’t care whether you live or die– But he must say it is kind of weird that the brat next to you looks like his carbon copy.
one: birthday blowjob and bad backshots | chapter index
you left him before. can you leave him again with a baby on the way?
synopsis: divorcing a stubborn dickhead like Ryomen Sukuna was probably the most difficult thing you ever had to do. but what were you supposed to do when your husband had practically become a stranger considering most days he spent more time at work than he did at home? and when he was home, half the time he'd rather sleep on the couch than in your bed? you didn't hate him. but you didn't love him anymore either. maybe you would have moved on. but when one last night together ends up with more than just a memory after you get two little lines on a pregnancy test, you discover you might not be able to get rid of him after all.
pairing: ex-husband!sukuna x pregnant!reader (also featuring best friend!geto)
content: mdni, smut and angst, some domestic fluff, divorced-to-remarried, complicated relationships, messy feelings, accidental pregnancy, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pining, so much regret, misunderstandings, breaking up and making up, gruff and grumpy sukuna who misses his wife, soft geto trying to steal her from him, reader feeling neglected
a/n: lovely art by @winterrbluess !! part of my community event <3
"Wrong hole."
That was really what you got for fucking your ex-husband two months after the divorce.
His dick prodding at your asshole, his mouth warm on your neck as he groaned a slurred sorry into your skin. How many times, exactly, had you heard that before?
It was all the same with Sukuna.
He wasn't exactly the sort of man who could change.
And yet, you were still on all fours for him, on the plush mattress in his new apartment, letting him re-angle himself against your unfortunately still-slick pussy before shoving it in all the way.
It burned.
Blurred the lines of the past and the present, threatened to break you when he split you open with his messy thrust, fat tip smushed and grinding against your womb as he dragged his tongue across a sensitive spot he'd been sucking on earlier.
This was really a new low.
You couldn't recall the last time the two of you had even fucked. Was it his birthday?
Back when he came stumbling home from another late shift, grumbling and bitching about an idiotic investor that he refused to suck up to? You vaguely recalled sucking him off on the couch instead, his thick thighs spread apart as his girth kept bumping into the roof of your mouth, nodding along as he complained. He crashed right after he came down your throat, falling asleep with his head tilted back, tie not even completely taken off and his zipper still down.
You had just tossed a blanket on him before brushing your teeth and going to sleep back in the bed. The fancy dinner you cooked him already put up in containers in the fridge. His birthday cake untouched, candles left unlit.
Yeah, you guessed that had probably been it.
If it counted.
You filed for separation not that long later. Moved all your stuff out into your own apartment without a word, neatly split up all the accounts and left the papers on the counter for him to find with a card for your lawyer that he could contact with any questions.
No kids to argue over. No pets. Nothing but a house that had stopped feeling like home forever ago.
His number was blocked. His photos were erased.
All the albums were left behind, from the first year where you were both still stupid teenagers who thought the future was so far away to the ones of the wedding you now wished had never happened. All the sentimental stuff you'd been saving stuck in his custody, stacked in boxes to collect stale air.
You wanted a fresh start.
Not to get fucked by him in the fancy penthouse you guessed was his brand new bachelor pad.
He tried to leave you the house in the divorce, offered you a frankly ridiculous amount of alimony when it didn't work, making bids like it would get you to talk to him, letters he had delivered through his lawyer to yours that you never read.
But you were sick of being tied to him.
Not that anyone would believe it when you were being stretched past the brim by him now, the filthy fucking smacks of his balls against your skin and the thumps of the headboard hitting the wall drowning out the sorrow you were still stewing in.
The sex was starving and sloppy, all that big tough talk and bravado from the Sukuna you used to know replaced with drunk, sappy bullshit you didn't believe.
"I fuckin' love you, baby," he groaned, grinding his molars before he bit down on the nape of your neck, holding you there while you went stiff at the words. Pointedly aware it would probably be the last time you'd hear them. Making another promise to yourself that you wouldn't be in this position again. "I missed you so goddamn much."
The silence was palpable.
Painfully present underneath the rough sound of his hips slamming into your ass, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying anything back.
It would be a lie to say you loved him back.
You didn't remember the day you stopped.
Your affection died a slow death. Pieces of your heart chipped away with each missed date, each day that passed where your messages were missed, every damn time he forgot to kiss you before he went to work. Distance just sort of did that.
And Sukuna was simply a hard man to put up with even when he wasn't around. You weren't exactly easy either, but you knew when to call it at least, when to stop clinging to something that obviously wasn't working.
"Why the fuck did you leave me?" He grunted, rutting in faster, as if this was the time to talk about the dissolution of your relationship. You guessed maybe he was thinking about it too. Replaying the good and the bad trying to find a way to deal with how things were.
"Don't act like you don't know," you hissed back, biting your lip hard as you felt his teeth skimming back over your throat, his greedy hands gripping your hip harder as he tried to remind you what every ridge of his cock felt like.
"I just fuckin' came home, and you were gone."
You wished you could believe he was half as gutted as he sounded.
He probably just missed having his laundry done and food ready for him even if it was cold by the time he ate it. You wouldn't be surprised if it had taken him a week or two to even piece together that you weren't there.
"Surprised you noticed," you sarcastically mumbled, and he let out a low ha that ate at you more than it should. Clawed its way under your skin as you ignored the hurt in it.
"God, you're so fuckin'-" He started, groaning as he tried to shift his fingers down to your clit, rubbing it with no real rhythm. You flinched at his touch, sucking on the inside of your cheek.
"What?" You dared him to finish.
"Frustrating," he spat.
His fingers twitched over the sensitive bud, your knees digging deeper into the mattress and threatening to buckle as he buried himself even deeper into your pussy, the one that used to belong to him before everything ended up so screwed.
He finished in his own way, warm ropes of cum filling you up no matter how frustrating he thought you were. Still playing with your clit, massaging it in harder, faster, and you just let out a fake moan, content to play along to fulfill what he wanted once more.
For old times' sake.
You didn't really blame him. Not totally.
A lifetime ago, you'd taken each other's virginity in the backseat of his car, listening to him grunt and grumble while he clumsily tried to make his dick fit inside you. Neither of you had any other partners. Slept around to see what you liked, what you wanted. Just did what you could to make what you already had work.
And now you both knew that it wasn't that easy.
So what if he didn't make you cum?
Sukuna pulled out, his cum still leaking out, his tip smearing what dripped against your ass as you tried to hide your disappointment.
"Was there someone else?" He asked, his thumb running over the thick stuff. "Some asshole try to steal you from-"
"No," you crudely cut him off, your thighs aching and muscles tensing as his weight shifted off the bed.
"I don't fucking understand," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as you rolled off the other side.
You felt out-of-place. Not totally understanding yourself either as you shuffled on your feet. He was already starting towards the open door of the attached bathroom.
Maybe finally starting to see this stalemate for what it was.
"I was gonna clean you up," he gruffly muttered, and you weakly shrugged your shoulders, brushing past him to turn on his shower.
You didn't answer him when you stepped inside it.
Just let the warm water wash away his cum, scrubbing your skin like you could remove any sign of him being there.
He got in behind you, his hands trying to sneak back onto your waist, to drift across your stomach and use the bar of soap as an excuse to touch you more, but he still seemed to miss the obvious.
You couldn't go back.
Even if you allowed yourself to sleep next to him in a new bed, curled up on the blanket as far from him as you could get, ignoring his whispered attempts at reconciliation in your ear as he tried to tuck you back against your chest, dozing off to the sound of him asking for a reason you were sick of spelling out.
This was the most attention you'd get from him.
He was too selfish to see that you couldn't let your world revolve around him again. Too conceited to accept that you didn't view your relationship the same way anymore. Didn't need him how he needed you.
And when the morning came, it was you who was sneaking out of his bed, throwing on your clothes and glancing back over your shoulder at him.
You hated how nostalgic you felt watching him snoozing, the sun on his tanned skin, tattoos starting to fade with time as he slept with his forearm half covering his face. Just the shape of his mouth, the tip of his nose peeking out beneath it. His wedding band glinting gold, still marking him as yours when you were trying to snip every tie.
Your own ring was sitting in the bottom of your jewelry box, hidden underneath old necklaces and bracelets, somewhere you didn't have to see it.
Shutting the door softly behind you when you left, purse slung over your shoulder as you scrambled to return back to your own apartment.
He tried to text you. Almost every day, actually, all sent from random numbers like he finally fucking figured out for sure that you blocked him. Funny, wasn't it, that he probably realized that faster than you moving out of your old place?
But leaving him in the past was harder when you missed two periods in a row and had to face the two fucking lines on the four different pregnancy tests you'd taken.
You took the fucking plan B just for it to fail at the worst possible time.
It wasn't like you were stupid enough to think a baby would have ever saved your marriage. But you sincerely doubted it would resurrect something already dead.
Pregnant.
Like, a real fucking fetus growing inside you, one that was half a man you had sworn you wouldn't see again.
What the fuck were you supposed to do?
You poked the croissant in front of you, glaring at the chocolate drizzle like it was responsible for the fact you wouldn't be able to stomach it without getting sick rather than Sukuna's.
Calling in reinforcements in the form of your friends who were already sick of hearing about your ex-husband, sitting in the corner of a coffee shop while you mourned the overpriced, over-caffeinated beverage you were craving.
"What's your problem?" Shoko snorted, rubbing the exhausted rings from her eyes before she brought her coffee to her lips.
"I'm pregnant," you bitterly mumbled, just for her to almost spit it out. Might as well finish ripping off the bandage. "And it's Sukuna's."
Shoko's brown eyes darkened, hand reaching out for the pack of cigarettes on the table before she hesitated and pinched the bridge of her nose instead.
"How far along?" She frowned, pressing for another detail you were embarrassed to confess to. You shrugged your shoulders, like you hadn't done the mental math a hundred times by now. Two months since that night you made the grave mistake of sleeping with him? Give or take a week? "Have you told him?"
"Of course not," you huffed.
Sukuna was insufferable even when he didn't have a reason to be.
If he knew-
"Tell who what?" A warm voice chimed in, a hand grazing over your forearm before Suguru claimed the seat next to yours.
Shoko snorted, and he shot her a half-annoyed glare, dragging his chair closer as the feet of it scraped on the linoleum.
You glanced up at him, already peeling the skin off your cracked lips as you tried to work out how to tell your best friend that the man he told you was bad fucking news far before you ever married him had knocked you up.
But Shoko beat you to it.
"Guess who got her pregnant?"
reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3
You've been promised to marry no other than Naoya fucking Zenin, after your sister was smart enough to run away. Knowing your life is essentially over, you still don't bow down easily, no. You'll fight him every step of the way - and maybe he finds the only woman who's not wanted him stupidly hot.
pairings - Naoya Zenin x F!reader
warnings - Oh boy lmao - Naoya being a mysoginstic dick, reader being a bad bitch and kinda psychotic? spanking, blow jobs, snowballing 💀 power play, making him MAD, humiliation, spitting, fingering, they hate each otherrrr
part one
part two
"Go ahead. Get on your knees," you raise a brow at your new husband Naoya, standing there and taking off his robes, as if he's unwrapping a gift. "I know you can't wait to serve me."
"Yeah... no."
He sputters, scowling at you now, warm brown eyes glowing with his anger. You'll admit he has a nice body when he's just in his thin pants, cock already straining even though you are still in your bridal gown, several layers of satin robes.
"What?" He scoffs, biceps flexing as he comes up to you. He turns you suddenly, and ever so slowly removes the silky strings from your dress that are binding it together. "Let's get you naked first, pretty bride."
"Not sucking your dick, that's not a wifely duty. Only making heirs." His teeth clench together, letting the wrap around your waist fall first, before shoving the material down, exposing the gentle curve of your spine.
"Women beg to serve me, to suck me, fuck they line up just to tie my sandals," he tilts your chin to face him, angry at how pretty your goddamn face is. He loves beauty but you are infuriating in your disrespectful nature. "Should I let them?"
"You should," you smile, ignoring the fact that his hands feel good on your bare skin. "I sure won't do that."
"Insolent fucking brat," he turns you and those layers fall until you're naked, he leaks so much pre it hurts. Hands clenched into fists at his sides he can hardly handle how fucking gorgeous your body is. "Your tits, knew they were perfect."
"Icky compliment," Naoya glares, you just grin. "Is that what you think women wanna hear?"
"You should be honored to hear any praise from me," he comes up and grips your throat now, leaning low, breath hot on your lips. "Have you no sense of self preservation? You want to disappoint me as a wife?"
"What you'll kill me?" You step closer, taking his wrist and pushing it further against your throat. "Better than kneeling to you."
He squeezes harder, backing you up until the backs of your thighs hit the bed.
Your scowl deepens, biting back a sharp gasp when his hands grip your breasts, huge palms cupping them, thumbs dragging across your nipples. His lidded eyes dart to where your nipples perk up, breasts heaving up and down with your rapid breaths.
"You love when I handle you like this, don't you?" he murmurs, smirk playing on his lips. "Your mouth says one thing, but this..."
"Ah!" Naoya gives your nipples a sharp pinch, rolling them between his fingers until you're gasping out against your will, cunt dripping, making you fucking furious at yourself.
"Your body, she's beggin' for it, isn't she?" You scoff, shaking your head, body betraying you.
"You're delusional," his thigh presses between yours, hard muscles pressed firmly against your overheated cunt.
"Am I?" He lifts you like it's nothing, you barely manage to protest when he damn near tosses you on his bad with a soft bounce, the dark silk sheets cool against your skin, but the heat emanating from his body has you burning.
"You are fucking delusional, I don't want you for shit," he chuckles now, stripping away his pants in one quick slutty motion, his cock jutting out. You wish it wasn't so goddamn thick, leaking pre from his pretty tip when he glides back that bit of foreskin, his cock leaking on the bed.
"See something you like?"
"Not you," you swallow nervously as he leans back on his knees, panicked then. Surely a man like Naoya just shoves his cock in, and you're unfortunately a virgin due to your strict ass upbringing.
Should have fucked the guards or something first.
"Look at you. Legs spread, your cunt drooling and being messy," you roll your eyes, laying flat then.
"You just do it then, don't expect me to help you any," he glares once more, why does he care suddenly if you want it? Why does he want so badly for you to beg him?
His whole life women clamored to suck him off, eagerly let him take them whenever he wanted, then there's you, stiff and unmoving, but your body tells him all he needs to know. He knows damn well he could get you to cum for him.
"You're ready to be bred, aren't you? That is your duty, after all, your great honor."
"My great honor," you burst into laughter, earning his fingers around your throat again. "Ah, you like choking women? That tracks. Just stick it in I guess."
"What the..." He shoves you further up the bed, you wriggle just a bit, trying to get your bearings as he climbs over you, barring you with his arms on either side. "Insolent girl, you have no clue what an honor it is to be underneath me."
"Such an honor, god I'm so excited!" You're laughing even with his hand around your throat, even with his pressure. "I am not sucking you so get one of your little fans to do it."
"I don't need you on your knees," he murmurs, lips just a breath away from yours, tickling them, tasting like the sake he'd consumed at your wedding ceremony. For a moment you admit to yourself the choking is making you fuzzy, making you wetter with his weight on you.
But just a moment.
"So you gonna choke me out? Please do, I can sleep through this," he releases your throat but grips your chin instead when you catch a breath.
"I just need you under me, taking everything I give you," his words don't have the right to make you that wet. "Let me come inside your slutty little hole until you're swollen with my heir."
You say nothing, reaching down between you both to run your fingers down to your clit, running in circles to his angry gaze. "Prepping myself for this surely boring sex."
"Yeah?" He leans back a bit, watching you play with your cunt and biting back a moan. "You're real sure I can't make you come."
"I don't need to, just need it to not hurt," your fingers glide into your own hole and he's fucking dumbstruck.
"You're the sluttiest virgin I've heard of," your lips twitch with amusement. "Are you one?"
"I am, but doesn't mean I don't get off, mnh," you're so insolent, touching yourself and looking like that, as if to torture him. Naoya snatches your hand up, your eyes narrow at him. "Can I not get myself off?"
"Not allowed to touch what's mine without my permission," he leans down, his breath ghosting over your lips. "I told you, you'll learn your place."
"Maybe you should learn yours." You bite back a moan when two long fingers slip in your hole. "Don't bother, you won't do anything for me. Just put it in and come."
"You think your tiny, pathetic cunt can take all this cock? You're dumb too, huh?" You smack the fuck out of him, earning his psychotic grin when you accidentally split his lip open. "Aw, did I hurt your feelings?"
As he speaks he presses up on that spot, the one that has you blinded, whining out at the pressure, the stretch as he works them mean in slick walls. "F-fuck you."
"I'm going to," he moans when you grip him like that, so goddamn tight, dying to shove his cock inside. "And you're going to thank me for it."
"I'll n-never thank you for shit," he hits something that makes your eyes roll back, the squelching of your cunt loud in these rooms you must now share. "Fuck... stop being... stop being good at it you loser."
"Loser, me?" He glares and yanks his fingers out right before you cum, sucking them off and lapping his tongue greedily at the syrupy arousal coating them.
You didn't expect that.
You stare in shock, mouth parted, your eyes dilating when the sticky strings lap from his fingers to a stupidly long tongue, his cheeks hollowing when he sucks more of your juices off him. "Mmm, something wrong?"
"No," you look away, last thing you need is to find this asshole of a man hot. Your body is already pissing you off, when his fat tip lines with it, and he lays back over you.
"Open your mouth, pretty little slut."
"Fuck you, I'll bite your dumbass lip." He just pries your mouth open, spitting your own juices in your mouth, closing your jaw.
"Swallow, be good hmm? A good, dumb little girl for me."
"Oh fuck you," you shove him until he's falling off the bed, laughing then at the angry naked man on the floor. "Call me dumb one more time."
"You're a complete idiot, clearly," he stands as you do, your fists clenched, his hand comes to tangle in your hair. "Wifely duties mean nothing?"
"I said you could come inside, not talk shit and touch me," you shove him again, then smile, feigning innocence as a plan sinks into your brain of how to really piss him off. "Aw I really do want to suck y you, Naoya."
He grins. You're seeing reason, and god your mouth is pretty.
"Oh, why the switch?"
"I just um..." You giggle, faking it, kissing his lips and earning his moan. "Maybe I need a little guidance, I've never done it."
"I can be generous if you just learn how to serve," he shoves you down by your shoulders, you open your mouth eagerly, the sight of you down there ruining him. "There, listening, you're pretty when you listen."
You hate this man.
You can't wait to see the look on his face.
He shoves his cock in your mouth, salty pre dancing on your tongue - here's where you're not inexperienced and just lied to his pretentious ass. You can absolutely suck a dick, you'd snuck out with your boyfriend enough to have done this before, and you can take one all the way down your throat.
When you do it and gag on his cock he whimpers, so pathetic you actually get wet - but you'll never admit it. You hate this man, and anything you can do to pay him back is worth it, even kneeling and letting him think you want this.
He's so pathetic when he loses control, stammering and fucking your throat, his hands tangled in your hair tugging at the roots, tip gliding into that snug channel that's choking around him.
"Oh my f-fuck... this is what you're meant for, hah - to serve me, to take my cock, huh? Good little slut on her knees." He's lost now, just babbling nonsense, he's never felt something like this. "Do y-you have no gag reflex? You're s-so - fuck..."
Your nose brushes against his blond pubic hair, gagging around his length as he thickens, sensitive when you swallow, reflectively tightening.
"G-god you're so... you..." He is about to say some bullshit, what are you doing? He almost tugs you off so he doesn't praise you too much, which his dumb brain is about to.
That your eyes are pretty.
That you feel perfect.
That your cunt is on his tongue, mixing with copper where you split his lip open.
That he liked you smacking him.
"Stop, w-wanna breed you," he sucks in a breath when you keep bobbing, gliding your mouth around him, lips wrapping his length as you move. Your tongue doing wicked things that make him think there's no way you haven't done this. "Wanna... come inside that cunt, break you, make you learn my sh-shit..."
You suck harder and he gives up, fucking into your throat, balls smacking on your chin as drool spills down your lips and down them, heavy with his seed. He can't stop himself when he busts those white ropes into your mouth, pulling back with a hiss, suddenly so dizzy as you drain his balls he can hardly stand up.
You pull back with a messy wet pop, standing then and pressing him against a nightstand, until he's lower than you, bent over.
That's when you go to kiss him and spit his cum right in his mouth.
The fuck!?
You're laughing now like a psycho, wiping your mouth off and smirking at his shocked face. "Swallow, be a good boy."
"I swear to God," you're too busy laughing your ass off when he bends you over the bed, hand smacking the fuck out of your ass cheek. "I'll beat your slutty ass until you can't walk."
"You did it to me," you lick your lips and grin at him. "You didn't like it, Naoya? Swallowing your own - shit!"
He smacks you again, but damned if it doesn't feel good, mixed with the adrenaline of making him furious you're damn near sensitive. He smacks harder, tugging at your hair so hard it hurts. "You are the worst girl I've ever met. Horrible, bratty, slutty, sadistic."
"Aw, thank you," you bite back a whine when he smacks you even harder with a huge hand, pulling your hair back as he finally lets your ass get a break. "You compliment me so much dear husband."
"I hate you, utterly despise you," he grips your chin now, kissing you so you taste his cum again, mixed with the blood on his lip. "I'll go fuck every concubine I have, would you like that?"
"Less work for me, please do," he lets you go now, eyeing your ass littered with his hand prints, cock already back on hard.
You're a terrible, horrible bride, the worst thing he's ever heard of, spitting his release in his mouth, and turning around to just smile right at him. "You are nothing like your sister."
"No I am not," you clear your throat, bending over to grab your robe, slinging it over your shoulders. "Is there to be no consummation tonight?"
You hope you've disgusted him, but his cock is pulsing, making your eyes widen.
"Tonight you can stay in your room and think of how lucky you are to have me, and all day tomorrow, until you come to your fucking senses," you gasp when he dresses and storms out, locking the door with a loud click.
Well shit.
Naoya Zenin has locked you up.
You lean against the door and slide down, a satisfied smile on your face despite it all. You just made Naoya real mad.
Meanwhile he's later that night desperately jerking it to you again, cumming over and over until he's raw, picturing the moment you spit his own cum in his mouth.
What a terrible wife.
****
ahahah this was SO CRACKED OUT, I'll def be doing more of these two if ya'll want hehe
pro-hero! izuku midoriya who's not as sweet and innocent as you remember him, especially when he's pinned you beneath him.
↳ 1.9k - au-based, izuku never lost ofa and became the number one hero.
↳ cw: p in v, slight teasing, dirty talk, marking, multiple/implied multiple orgasms, fingering, reader gets called princess/baby/good girl/sweetheart, aftercare, general nsfw content.
🍑 masterlist | 🍒 ꒰ cross-posted on @/springismss ꒱
Looking around the semi-crowded street, you let a soft hum of annoyance pass your lips as you continued forward. Due to there being hardly any criminals for the past few days, you had found yourself, yet again, on patrol on a slow day. Not only were you patrolling, but you also caught glimpses of three other pro heroes who were in the area, looking as bored as you were.
A sudden chime in your ear made you stop as you looked at the other heroes, noticing they were still patrolling and talking to citizens. How odd. Lifting your finger, you tapped on the device and placed your free hand on your hip as you continued to scan the area out of habit. "What’s up?".
"Hey, can you come back to the office? We have someone coming and we want our best hero here when they arrive". Furrowing your brows, you glanced in the direction of the voice, opening your mouth to question the communication when they spoke again, seemingly reading your mind.
"And yes, it's been cleared. We've heard it's another slow day, so there's no need for you all to be out there".
Letting out a hum, you turned on your heel and began to make your way back to the agency you were working at. "Sure you're not trying to butter me up there? I'll be there in ten".
Walking through the doors, you stretched and sighed softly, the cool air of the air con lapping against your skin felt refreshing. You had a few spare moments before heading to the meeting room, so you opted to grab a drink, making your way to the meeting room not long after.
Opening the door with a click, you noticed quite a few of the other heroes you worked alongside already there. A sea of murmurs greeted you as you greeted them back, taking your place at the side while you all waited for whoever they had made you come back for.
Up front, you saw the owner of the agency standing there with another figure by their side, most likely their assistant, who called you back. "Ahh, there you are! Now that you're here, I can introduce you to the newest hero to join us-". Your boss lifted a hand and motioned to the door as eyes followed, looking at the door that was clicking open again.
Green was the only colour you could focus on as your eyes widened. You had to be seeing things; this couldn't be real, right? You had to be in some sort of dream. Yeah, that's right, a stupid dream. You and the rest of your classmates thought he'd disappeared, seemingly moving away to the other end of the country or beyond.
No one had heard from him in years. Yet there he was, walking past you as everyone followed with their gaze. "-The number one pro hero, Deku". A confident wave and bright smile replaced the once timid movements of the young boy you remembered.
As you tried to wrap your head around what you had just seen, a group began to form around the hero with words of excitement buzzing in the air.
By the time you had managed to somewhat comprehend things, the group had disappeared, giving you the perfect time to go over and say hello to an old friend. Would he recognise you? You'd doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to see. "Well, if it isn't Izuku Midoriya in the flesh".
The sudden intrusion of your words, and the fact that his name had been used, seemed to take him by surprise as he took a closer look at your face. It took him a moment longer than usual to put the pieces together, but he got there, eyes widening as you smiled brightly at him. "Sweetheart? Is that you?".
Ever since that day when you had both been reunited, the two of you had been virtually inseparable. Spending more time together, be that on missions or in general, had resulted in the two of you becoming close again. Closer than what you both had been before.
Then came the rumours that surrounded you both, some sweet and innocent and others downright dirty. Of course, the latter made Midoriya blush. He couldn't imagine people saying those things, and yet there they were, plain as day. You were nothing more than a friend to him.
Sure, it had been a good few years since he last saw you and the rest of your friends, but he couldn't deny it even if he tried; you had become a beautiful young woman. Foreign feelings stirred deep inside of him, feelings that caused his body and mind to react in ways he hadn’t had since he was a teen. Sure, he'd had partners, but none of them fired him up the way you did.
Feelings he thought he had buried were starting to resurface all over again. Starting to increase each time he was with you until he couldn't handle them any more, the way he felt became too much to bear. Doing the only thing he could think of at that time, acting on how he felt around you, something he should have done back when you were both younger.
Everything seemed to move in a bit of a blur. One minute, you were sitting on the couch in Midoriya's house with him, TV on in the background as you both sat talking about various things. The next minute, you were on your back, pinned to the cushions as you both shared a hot kiss. The feelings that poured out between you both during that kiss had been pent up for some time.
A dark blush covered his face as he pulled back, trying to catch his breath, frame hovering over your panting form. "I can't take it anymore, princess, I need to do something".
In what felt like mere seconds to you, articles of clothing had been scattered all over the floor before thick digits thrusted into your wet cunt, walls stretching deliciously, making you whine out at the burning desire you felt again. "Hah, Izuku, please. I need you".
His fingers disappeared, causing you to whine out from the sudden emptiness before his stout cock began to press deep within you. Pressing past the ring of resistance, as desperate moans sounded.
The overwhelming feeling of Midoriya stretching you made your back arch, hips wriggling as he buried himself deep inside. The pro hero took a moment to savour the feeling of your walls pulsating tightly around his cock, your needy cunt desperately trying to keep him there.
“Shit, you’re gripping me so good, princess. Like that pretty pussy was made for me”. Those words alone had you moaning out, hands grabbing any part of him you could. You had to keep yourself sane.
With the slow pull back of his hips, you gasped slightly as the emptying feeling until you felt him thrust hard back into you. You swear if your eyes could roll any further back than they were already, they would. Bringing your legs up, you wrapped them around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as you pulled him closer to you. Your fingers dug into his forearms, nails leaving crescent moon marks as you tried to ground yourself.
Green eyes glanced at the fucked out look on your face, before dragging down your body, watching the way your tits jiggled with each desperate thrust. Watching the way your body bounced in time with his movements, and the small sheen starting to cover your body. He was eager to show you how much he needed and wanted you, even after all these years. "Fuck, why did I wait this long to get in this cunt of yours?".
The words caught you off guard as a loud mewl slipped past your lips, hands flying to his back before you dragged your nails down, red marks being left against pale skin as you arched further into his body.
You could feel that knot in the pit of your gut tighten, and you knew, knew it wouldn’t be too long before you were crying out from the pleasure. You could already hear how wet you were; messy sloshing noises only added to the way you were feeling. "Izu, fuck, I'm gonna...".
His rough thrusts never ceased as he reached between you both, pad of his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his fingers pressed against the small bump he was creating inside you. “Come on, baby, let go for me, want to feel you all over”.
All it took was a few more harsh thrusts to have you lose your sanity, to have your back arch beautifully as you gasped out. Broken cry of Midoriya’s name sounded from your throat as your vision blurred. You were almost sure you felt some of your slick squirt out, no doubt coating not only his cock and thighs, but the sofa beneath you.
The overwhelming feeling of feeling full took over your now overly sensitive cunt, breathy moans sounding louder. “That’s a good girl, but I'm far from done, princess".
Before long, you’d lost all sense of time as you continued to be fucked senseless by the man above you.
Your legs were numb, your clit and cunt were overly stimulated, and your body began to grow tired. Despite that, you felt another wave of euphoria nearing, gripping Midoriya's arm as you anchored yourself, a strangled sob left your throat as tears slipped from your eyes. Your nails were sure to leave more marks, marks that would no doubt bleed, not that the pro seemed to mind.
Deep moans sounded from above you as you turned your watery, glassy stare to the man responsible for the state you were in. You could tell he was close as his thrusts became sloppy, desperately rutting into you as he chanced his own euphoria.
After a few more sloppy thrusts, Midoriya let out a guttural moan, hips stalling as he filled your cunt with his cum. “Fuck, that’s it, baby, take it all. Going to fill you so full you’ll be dripping me for days”. The hot fluid seeping deep within you as sparks of his quirk flashed around you both.
Lifting your arm, you brought a hand up to his face and cupped it, guiding him down to your lips as you held him close. You took a moment to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, humming softly as you mumbled against the skin. “I love you, Izuku”.
The words took him by surprise, green eyes widening as they looked down at you, face still flushed as hair clung to you, offering his own sweet smile a moment after. “I know you do, and I love you too, princess”.
Wrapping his arms around you as best he could, he pulled his cock out of you. A moan of loss sounded from you before you felt yourself being moved, held close against his chest as he carried your sore body to the bathroom, helping clean you up once you were settled in the hot water.
A thumb rubbed the small of your back in a comforting manner. No words needed to be spoken, but at that point, you both knew what you were to each other. The feelings you both held were finally shared for the other to feel.
Although you had both been caught up in the throes of pleasure a few minutes ago, nothing could have prepared you for the words that were uttered next.
"Next time, I’ll show you that blackwhip is good for something other than restraining villains, sweetheart".
some cute (and sexy) small drabbles to sweeten up your holiday season!
content: smut smut smut! light fluff + sprinkle of angst in a couple ;3 unprotected piv sex, creampies, restraints, kissing, confessions, mostly just filthy fun little pieces ft our favorite jjk men!
12.05. gift wrapped (with a bow on top!)...starring boyfriend!gojo
halloween is far past over - so how come there's a mummy in your bed? one eagerly waiting you to unravel the wrapping paper to discover your favorite present inside?
12.12. under the mistletoe...starring best friend!geto
it's just one little kiss. it's not like it could change your friendship that much.
12.19. coal for christmas...starring rival!sukuna
good girls get gifts. bad ones? well, sukuna is more than happy to show you the way around the naughty list!
12.25. santa claus is cumming to town...starring ex-husband!toji
the kids loved him. you hated him. but even when he's dressed up in a stupid costume and making sleazy comments under his breath, you still can't stay away.
planning the holiday work party is hard enough. who could blame you for getting drunk at it after getting stuck working on it with your perfectionist coworker? or worse, waking up afterwards in his bed?
a/n: won't be much, but wanted to still do something festive this month <3
pixel background by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more + div by @/lilacgraphicsx
fake dating sukuna for your brother’s wedding was supposed to be harmless—until he starts acting like he actually wants you, and you can’t tell where the lie ends and the real thing begins.
content warnings ⫶ fake dating, jealousy, tension-heavy dynamic, drinking/alcohol, eventual sexual content (minors dni), light angst, misunderstandings, teasing, hotel room sharing, one bed trope . . . more to come!
serena's note ⫶ like i said i wanna move more into long-ish form work so here's my first attempt <3 i suck at committing to things so this is new to me lol i'll try my best !!
prologue.
chapters.
the drive
act like you’re mine
the reception room key
epilogue.
[ TAGLIST OPEN ]
if you commented on my other post already dw i got you!!
↷ A/N ─ happy belated birthday to light and me !! i hope you enjoy this :) again, this is NOT rape/non-con. the reader is as sober as light here. written by a zombie-me at 4am. also im sorry if the camera topic is overused, i just couldnt help myself fantasizing about this
★ PROLOGUE ─ your boyfriend punishes you for almost letting slip his real identity
SMUT, 18+, MDNI
The dim glow of the television cast shadows around the room. You had been at your high school's farewell party, and had too many drinks there to stumble back home in one piece. It was almost midnight, so there was also no way your boyfriend, Light Yagami, would have let you out of his sight, especially with how tipsy you were. He was quite protective of you, but he was right. You let out a drunk sigh and looked away, silently accepting the fact that you'd have to meet his parents in the morning and share a few awkward exchanges.
Light had had more drinks than you at the party, but he looked far from as drunk as you currently were. He was quietly watching a movie on the TV, stroking your hair lightly. Your gaze went up from Light to the flickering screen. A sudden surge of courage rushed through you.
"Light," you whispered, breaking the silence with your hoarse voice.
"No, you're not going home tonight," Light replied without looking at you.
"No, it's not that," you said frustratedly.
Light raised his eyebrows, hearing you slur your words due to the effects of the alcohol. Still, he did not look at you.
"How much did you drink?"
"Less than what you drank," your throat burned, your eyes drooping slightly.
He ignored you, seemingly engrossed in the movie, but you knew it was all just an act for the cameras L had set up.
You continued, "And it doesn't matter how much I drank, because either way, you refuse to give me attention."
Ryuk snickered in the corner.
Light frowned, finally turning his attention towards you as his eyes trailed down your body. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the redness of your cheeks, and the slight swaying of your body.
He looked at you for a few more seconds with a calculating look before sighing and setting the remote on his table. He stood up, "You should really get some sleep."
"No," you repeated.
"I-" Light was starting to get annoyed. "Are you crazy? Don't you want to go home tomorrow?"
"I just- I-" You sighed again, leaning back against your chair and almost falling off.
"Idiot," Light muttered, catching you before you fell. He carried you to his bed and lay you down gently before covering you with his blanket. "Are you comfortable? Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"
"No, no, I need cuddles," you smiled drunkenly, completely forgetting what you were going to say back when you had gotten some "courage".
"Of course, you do," Light said proudly. "You need my cuddles to sleep."
You hummed in response. As he snottily took his shirt off before lying down next to you, you closed your eyes slightly. They were burning, as if trying to stop you from both closing them and keeping them open.
His hands made their way to your back, gently pushing your neck to his bare chest. You finally shut your heavy eyelids and snuggled closer to him. This was what you always wanted. Just you and Light. Alone.
You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes still tightly shut, your face pressed against him. Alone? It was laughable that you thought even for a moment that you two were alone right now. Well, for one, there was a God of Death in the same room as you, trying not to pass out from the lack of apples in his digestive system. Second, a great detective was watching the two of you, possibly along with your boyfriend's own father.
Light pulled you even closer to him, inhaling your scent deeply. Soon, the two of you drifted off to dreamland, and L was left questioning whether the seventeen-year-old star student really was a murderer.
You woke up, limbs tangled with Light's. You checked your wristwatch. About four hours had passed, and as you tried to sit up, your head felt heavy from an early hangover. Light's eyes jerked open. He had always been a light sleeper.
"Hm?" he mumbled in his sleep, no longer feeling the presence of your head in the crook of his neck. "What's the matter, honey?"
"I... had a dream," you said slowly.
"Nightmare?"
"Kinda."
Light sat up slowly and reached out for a glass of water to hand to you.
You peeked into the glass, rubbing your left eye until you saw stars.
"Vodka?" you said hopefully.
"Water," he replied calmly.
You pouted pleadingly; more alcohol was what you needed right now, but you eventually had to resign to your boyfriend. You drank the water, and instantly felt much more sober than you were before. Your sleepy eyes fell on Ryuk, his legs and hands in a rather uncomfortable position, perhaps due to not having apples for such a long time.
For a moment, you, for the second time that night, completely forgot about the existence of the cameras.
You turned to Light. "How long is he going to go without apples?"
"Who, honey?" Light's eyes flashed warningly, but you were far too sleepy to notice.
"Ryuk, your Shini-"
Your words were cut off by a sharp kiss. Light had completely thrown himself at you, and you fell back down on the bed due to the sheer force of his abrupt kiss. The empty glass landed on the floor with a loud clink, but he ignored it. His hands reached under your shirt, his nails digging into the skin of your hips as if daring you to talk further.
You attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows, to gain some kind of control over what was happening. But Light pushed you back down, pulling you by your hips and roughly throwing your head down on the pillow.
He pulled away eventually, the pupils of his eyes completely red, and you cursed yourself mentally. This was not your Light. This was Kira.
He leaned away from you, got up to pick up the thrown glass and filled it with water again, but as he offered it to you, you rejected it. "I'm sober enough for this, Light."
"Very well then," Light whispered and leaned in closer to your ear. "I hope you remember you're being watched. Make sure you put on a show."
You nodded slowly, letting his hands roam around and make their way to the hem of your skirt, twirling the fabric around his fingers. He brought another hand to your top and slid it under the cloth, feeling the material of your satin bra.
"The one I gifted to you?" he raised his eyebrows, a little smirk on his face.
"Yes," you whispered, pulling his bare chest against your clothed one. "Strip me, Light."
"What's the magic word?" he teased, hand slipping under your bra and cupping your breast.
"Please," you whimpered when he pinched your nipple.
Ryuk snapped his eyes open and tumbled out of the room clumsily, perhaps to give you some privacy.
"Good girl," he didn't hide his smirk this time as he pulled your top off completely, throwing it to the side where it landed on his chair next to his own shirt. He ran his hands down your back, grabbing the zipper of your skirt and slowly pulling it down. Light slid the skirt down your legs, leaving you in a matching set of satin underwear and bra.
"Pretty," he murmured, his hand grasping his growing bulge tightly.
"Let me help you with that," you sat up on all fours and leaned in closer, a hand stretched out to touch his crotch.
You rubbed him lightly, slowly increasing your pace before unbuckling his belt and slipping your hand under his boxers. Your constant touching of his tip made him groan, hand reaching out to yank you by your hair and push you back down to the bed. You grabbed his hands and brought them to your breasts, pressing them against your chest.
"Take my bra off."
"I'm not a man to be told what to do," he said, bringing his lips down to your neck. "But I will allow it this time."
Light freed his hands from your grip and brought them to your back, unclasping the hook of your bra and letting it fall to the floor. He cupped your breasts in his hands, lowering himself so that his mouth sucked on one nipple while his hand squeezed the other.
"Fuck," you moaned, pushing his head against your chest.
He grabbed your hand and brought it once more to his crotch, letting you feel the bulge in his pants again.
"You're not the only one who's needy right now."
"You're so- god, I can't wait to feel you inside me," you said, rubbing his dick through the fabric.
"Patient girls are rewarded," he said, dragging his lips from your neck to your collarbone, his free hand ripping your panties off.
"Hey!" you whisper-screamed.
"I'll buy you another set," he said calmly, sliding two fingers inside you, curling them up and hitting your g-spot.
"Yes," you moaned, pushing his hand against your pussy. "Faster."
He brought his other hand from your nipple to your clit and started rubbing it in circles, simultaneously fucking you with his fingers.
"Fuck, I'm going to come," you whimpered after a few minutes, feeling your orgasm build.
"Mhm, do it, what a good girl," he said, rubbing your clit faster, aiding your release. You came hard on his fingers, arching your back, bucking against his hand and moaning loudly. Your legs shook, while he pulled his fingers out of your pussy and brought them to your mouth. "Clean them."
You nodded, sucking on his fingers, your teeth digging into his skin. Light smirked.
"Don't you think you should be punished?"
"Huh-? For what, Li-?"
Your words were cut off once again when he pulled you onto his lap so that your ass faced him and you lay on your stomach, pussy pressed against his crotch.
_ _ _ _
"L, I don't think we should be watching this," Soichiro Yagami kept his eyes away from the screen, where his son, his perfect little son, was busy fingering his girlfriend. He hadn't even known he had a girlfriend, let alone the fact that they were so... intimate with each other.
"There has to be some meaning in what the girl said," L racked his brains, eyes scanning the scene, now showing you in Light's lap and his hand rubbing your ass. "Apples?"
"For god's sake, it may be some sort of safeword for when they- for when they do- this," Soichiro yelled, his eyes on the floor.
"It's not a mere coincidence, Mr Yagami," L said thoughtfully. "Apples? Kira told me 'Shinigamis' loved apples earlier. This is not a coincidence, Mr Yagami."
_ _ _ _
"You're going to be punished for fucking everything up," he whispered in your ear before smacking your ass hard. "Count."
"One!" you yelped, feeling the sting of his hand on your ass. "Two!" "Three!" "Four!" "Five!"
He kept spanking you, alternating between your ass cheeks. You could feel his dick hard against your stomach, and ignoring the pain in your ass, you started to grind against it.
"Six!" "Seven!" "Eight!"
He spanked you harder, and you could feel your ass getting red. You were breathing heavily, and your pussy was so wet that it was dripping onto his lap.
"Nine! Ten!"
_ _ _ _
"Can we stop watching this now?" Soichiro groaned.
"There has to be some hint," L traced the screen with his fingers which showed you getting spanked hard by Light now.
Soichiro let out an uncomfortable sigh.
"Mr Yagami, you can close your ears and eyes," L said without looking away from the screen.
_ _ _ _
"Good girl," Light said, rubbing your ass. "Now, a reward."
He slid his pants and boxers down to his legs and wiggled out of them. He brought his dick to your pussy, rubbing its head against your clit and earning a moan from your pursed lips. He flipped you over, pinning you under him on the bed again as he continued to tease you.
"Please, Light," you begged, trying to reach out for his dick so you could push it in.
"Please what?" he said sweetly and you groaned in annoyance.
"Please fuck me."
He smiled and pushed his dick inside you slowly, savouring every inch of your tight pussy.
"Oh!" you wailed, feeling his cock stretch your pussy.
He started bucking his hips in and out, fucking you harder as his balls slapped against your clit, doubling the pleasure. He was careful not to make a sound, but he didn't stop you from letting your strangled moans out. This would be your punishment, facing his mother in the morning after getting fucked so hard by him at night.
You tried very hard to suppress your lustful sounds, eyes welling up at the thought of facing his family in a few hours, but you couldn't. He was too good. He knew just how to get under your skin. Slowly, you felt your second orgasm approaching.
"Ah, ah! I want to come," you clasped your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. He was going so hard on you, of course, his mother and his sister would wake up if he continued.
"No, you're not. Hold it in," Light commanded. "You're going to come when I say so."
He kept fucking you harder, and you could feel your orgasm building. This was torture. There was no way you could hold yourself in when he was going so hard on you.
"Please, Light," you begged, feeling your pussy clench around his dick. "I can't hold it in anymore."
"Hold it in, I said," he said, flipping you over again and spanking your ass hard. He increased his speed, and you buried your head in a pillow to muffle your screams. "I'm going to come inside you now. Understood?"
You could feel his cock twitching inside you, and you knew he wasn't lying about his orgasm. You nodded slowly, voice still distant because of the pillow.
He let out a long, satisfied groan as he released his juices inside you, pushing his dick deep inside you. You could feel his cum filling your pussy, and it sent you over the edge.
"Now, come for me, pretty girl," Light said in a hoarse voice.
"Yes!" you screamed, feeling your orgasm wash over you. His cum was dripping out of your pussy, and you could feel his cock softening inside you.
"Good," he said, pulling his cock out of you. It was scary how calm and composed he was when a minute ago, he had spanked you so hard. He grabbed a towel and wiped your pussy clean.
_ _ _ _
Soichiro blinked at the abrupt ending of the sounds. Still refusing to look up at the screen, he asked, "Is it over now?"
"They're both still naked," L said, analyzing the place, feeling his own dick harden at your bare figure, panting and sweating as Light got off you and laid next to you, throwing the towel somewhere insignificant.
"Well then?" Soichiro said.
"Well what?"
"You made me watch my son... doing- doing stuff with his girlfriend," Soichiro said in a shaky voice, his hands behind his back to avoid pulling his hair out in frustration. "What have you understood from this?"
"What I've understood?" L said thoughtfully, his gaze unconsciously reaching his growing bulge. "Your son is quite romantic, I suppose."
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿ mello x reader headcanons pt 2 ( some domestic!mello ) ‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
a bit suggestive ?? fluff mostly . . . gosh domestic!mello the things that u do to me. tags: @peaktora 💞
𓏵 he cooks shirtless. not only for you—he also just hates grease on his clothes. bites into a piece of food and feeds you the next bite off his fingers, still licking his own. “here. taste.” you do. his eyes stay on your mouth.
𓏵 doesn’t cuddle, but sleeps on you. head buried in your stomach, hand wrapped around your thigh. if you try to move, you get a warning groan, half-asleep: “don’t. i’m comfortable.”
𓏵 watches you get ready every. single. morning. not touching, not speaking—just leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed, chewing his bottom lip. you look over your shoulder and raise an eyebrow. he doesn’t flinch. “keep going.”
𓏵 won’t help fold laundry but gets handsy when you do. runs his fingers up your legs while you’re trying to stack shirts. pulls you back against him, murmurs into your neck. “we don’t need clothes anyway.”
𓏵 walks past you in the hallway and swats your ass like it’s a reflex. never even looks back, it’s just another switchblade on his belt.
𓏵 locks the door when you shower but doesn’t tell you. just leans back on the bed and listens. steam, water, skin. if you call for him? he’ll pretend to ignore it—until he walks in, towel already in hand, face unreadable. "need something or you just want attention?"
𓏵 doesn’t “ask” for space. just grabs your thigh and pulls your leg over his lap while he scowls at case files, eyebrows raised and nose slightly scrunched in concentration. still has the gun on the table. but you're right there, always against him.
𓏵 always opens jars for you, even if you didn’t ask. just sees you look at one too long, and it’s already in his hand. cracks it open like it offended him. places it back down silently, smirking. doesn’t even say “you’re welcome.” just expects the look you give him.
𓏵 you sleep in his shirts, and your favourite lace. he sleeps in nothing but sweats. and, he's shirtless at home. always. walks around with his cross chain against bare skin and low-slung joggers, eating chocolate straight out the foil. you try not to stare. fail.
𓏵 quiet physical touch. his palm on your thigh under the table. his fingers looped lazily into your waistband as you do dishes. chin on your shoulder, breath warm against your neck as he watches you cook like he’s thinking about more than dinner.
SYNOPSIS: you get in trouble with the law for hate speech (totally bogus; like, hellooo, Freedom of the Press, anyone?), and, in a way to get you out of further repercussions, the president, himself—whom you went to college with—proposes a deal: be his fake wife. totally preposterous, but, then again . . . your news column could use a little more publicity, and you were in need of a [pseudo] sugar daddy.
ⓘ MDNI; enemies-lovers; smut (every chapter); fake marriage trope; each headline will be additionally tagged on their respective posts.
| A/N: the table of contents below is subject to change at any time.
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈 : MAN of the HOUR ▷ preview. you've slandered his name all across your blog's public column since you got your master's degree, but tonight's gala is the first time you're seeing him face-to-face since your college days—ladies and gentlemen: Sukuna Ryomen, or, better yet, Mr. President.
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈 : MIMOSA MONDAYS ▷ preview. would ignoring your work and avoiding paying taxes still be as bad if it meant joining the Mile High Club . . . ? when Sukuna drags you along on a business trip, there's only one way to find out.
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈 : RED LIPS & RED BOTTOMS ▷ preview. to prevent any rumors, you two arrange going on a date—in public, where anyone could see. but, it's also so you two can finally get to know each other better, if that was even possible . . .
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕 : FIRST LADY ▷ preview. years have now passed since that fateful encounter at the gala, and Sukuna's first term as president has come to an end; could the same be said about your fake marriage, though?
