𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦 .⋆♱ ⤿ summer breaks at your aunt's house in the countryside are always your favourite part of the year. though this year, there's a rather sweet surprise awaiting you. 𝗸𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗯𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼, the grumpy (and unfairly hot) southern boy who comes to help out your aunt with garden work. and you've got one new mission for this summer: get him to fuck you, no matter what it takes.
𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 .⋆♱ ⤿ southern!katsuki ⨾ countryside!au ⨾ tanning in a bikini ⨾ semi-public sex ⨾ p in v sex ⨾ unprotected sex ⨾ backshots ⨾ hair pulling ⨾ degrading kink ⨾ a bit of spanking ⨾ massages kinda ⨾ kats likes your ass ⨾ rubbing through panties ⨾ southern dialect & 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 // 𝘄𝗰: 3.4k ⤷18+ 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 , minors get out!
𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 .⋆♱ ⤿ oh boy, there go my pants. THIS IS A 2000 FOLLOWER SPECIAL BTW! thank you all soooo much, i really appreciate it. i couldn't have done it alone. i will be publising tons of fics in the next weeks, so stay tuned!😚 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧! & 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 2026 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧!
the summer heat hung thick over the countryside, wrapping around everything like a heavy blanket. cicadas buzzed a lazy rhythm, the scent of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass drifting through the air.
your aunt's old farmhouse sat nestled in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wildflowers and rows of tomatoes that your aunt tended to with religious fervor.
every summer you came here, escaping the city for the wide open skies and the slow, syrupy pace of rural life. it was always a charm—the sweet people, the sweet tea, the sweet, sweet fruits you could pluck right off the vine.
but this summer, there was a whole different kind of sweetness waiting for you.
katsuki bakugo.
the first time you saw him, you’d nearly tripped over your own feet.
he was standing in your aunt’s garden, in a white tank top that was completely soaked through, clinging to every ridge and dip of his torso like a second skin.
the water hose was in his hand, spraying a fine mist over the tomato plants, and the droplets caught the sunlight like diamonds against his tan skin.
his arms were scarred, corded with muscle, and his face—sharp, angular, with a permanent scowl etched into his features—was the kind of beautiful that made your stomach do a slow, dangerous flip.
you’d walked outside that first day in a short skirt and a tight tank top, lips glossed, hair falling perfectly over your shoulders, a wicked grin already curling your mouth.
you’d leaned against the porch post and said something sweet, something flirty, something that usually worked on every boy you’d ever met.
he’d looked at you like you were a bug he wanted to squash.
“fuck off,” he’d said, voice low and rough with that thick southern drawl that made even his insults sound like honey. and then he’d turned back to his plants like you didn’t exist.
you should’ve been discouraged.
you should’ve rolled your eyes and moved on.
but instead, something sparked in your chest. a challenge. a game. and you were never one to back down from a game.
so you made it your mission.
every day, you found new ways to get his attention. you’d walk into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel, water still dripping from your skin, while he stood there drinking a glass of water, sweat beading on his forearms from working outside.
he’d barely glance at you, grunt, and walk right past like you were invisible.
you’d leave your bedroom window wide open while you changed, making sure the curtains were just sheer enough to silhouette your body.
not even a flicker of interest from him.
you’d bend over in front of him to pick up something you’d “accidentally” dropped, wear the shortest shorts you owned, brush against him when you passed in the hallway. nothing. he was a fortress, and you were determined to break down every single wall.
and today, you had a new plan.
your aunt had gone to town for groceries, leaving you alone in the house with him. the perfect opportunity.
you’d slipped into the tiniest bikini you owned—a scrap of pale pink fabric that barely covered your breasts and a matching triangle bottom that rode high on your hips.
you’d spent a good twenty minutes making sure everything looked just right, then you’d grabbed a towel, a bottle of sunscreen, and a book you had no intention of reading, and you’d made your way out to the garden.
he was already there, of course. bent over a row of daisies, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a thin gray t-shirt that was already starting to darken with sweat across his back. you could see the muscles shifting under the fabric as he worked, could see the way his shoulder blades moved like wings.
your mouth went dry.
you laid your towel out on one of the sun chairs, positioned perfectly so that the sunlight would hit you just right, and you stretched out on your stomach, arching your back just a little more than necessary. you let your head rest on your folded arms, closed your eyes, and pretended to relax.
for a long while, nothing happened.
you could hear the snip of his shears, the rustle of leaves, the occasional grunt as he yanked a weed from the earth. he didn’t look at you. not once.
you kept peeking through half-lidded eyes, watching him move, watching the way his jeans sat low on his hips, the dark line of hair trailing from his navel disappearing beneath the waistband. and every time, he ignored you.
it was maddening.
finally, after what felt like an eternity, he straightened up, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and turned to look at you. his crimson eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight.
“the hell you doin’ out here?” he asked, voice flat.
you stretched, letting your back arch just a little more, letting the curve of your ass shift under the tiny scrap of fabric. “tanning,” you said, all innocence. “is that a problem?”
“tannin',” he repeated, like the word was stupid. “in my garden.”
“your garden?” you lifted your head, propping your chin on your hands. “last i checked, this was my aunt’s garden. you just work here.”
a muscle in his jaw twitched. “i’m the one who takes care of it. means i get a say in who sprawls around half-naked innit.”
“half-naked?” you looked down at yourself, then back up at him with a sweet smile. “this is a bikini. it’s for swimming. and tanning. perfectly normal.”
“you ain’t swimmin’.”
“no, i’m tanning. didn’t you hear me?”
he stared at you for a long, hard moment, his eyes tracing over your body in a way that was almost clinical, like he was assessing a piece of furniture. then he scoffed, shook his head, and turned back to his work. “whatever. just don’t get in my way.”
you bit your lip, fighting a grin. he was talking to you. that was progress. even if he was being a dick about it, he was engaging. and you could work with that.
you let the silence stretch, listening to the sounds of him working. you shifted on the towel, making sure your movements were slow and deliberate, making sure the light caught the curve of your hip, the dip of your spine. you let out a little sigh, just loud enough for him to hear.
he ignored you.
you flipped onto your back, letting the sun hit your stomach, your chest. you arched your back, stretching your arms above your head, your breasts pressing against the thin fabric of your bikini top. you let out another sigh, this one a little louder, a little more breathy.
the snip of his shears paused. you didn’t look, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and hot. then it was gone, and the snipping resumed.
you smiled to yourself.
“hey,” you called out, your voice sweet and syrupy. “could you do me a favor?”
“no.”
“you don’t even know what it is yet.”
“don’t care.”
you sat up, letting the towel fall away from your chest. you ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it back from your face, and gave him your most innocent, pleading look. “i can’t reach the sunscreen on my back. and i really don’t want to burn. could you…put some on for me?”
he stopped. turned. looked at you like you’d just asked him to set the garden on fire.
“you didn’t think of that beforehand?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
“i thought i’d be able to reach,” you said, pouting your lips. “but i can’t. please, katsuki? i’ll be out of your hair faster. i promise.”
he stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. you could see the war in his eyes—the part of him that wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself, and the part of him that was too damn stubborn to let you win by whining. finally, with a heavy, put-upon sigh, he set down his shears and stalked over to you.
“turn around,” he said, his voice flat.
you bit back a triumphant grin and turned, presenting your back to him. you heard him pick up the bottle of sunscreen, heard the squirt of it hitting his palm. then his hands were on you, and every thought in your head evaporated.
his hands were rough, calloused, warm. he started at your shoulders, spreading the lotion in firm, efficient strokes. his thumbs dug into the muscles on either side of your spine, and you couldn’t help the little moan that escaped your lips.
“shut up,” he said, but his voice was a little rougher than before.
you bit your lip, staying quiet as his hands moved lower. down your shoulder blades, down the curve of your waist. his fingers brushed the edge of your bikini bottom, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through you. he didn’t linger. he moved on, smoothing the lotion over your lower back, his thumbs tracing the dimples just above your ass.
“you’re real quiet all of a sudden,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “that ain’t like you.”
“just enjoying the view,” you said, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.
“view? you ain’t even lookin’.”
“i’m enjoying the view of the garden. through the reflection in your eyes.”
he snorted. “that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard.”
“you love it.”
“i hate it.”
but his hands didn’t stop. they moved lower, smoothing the sunscreen over the tops of your thighs, his fingers pressing just a little harder than necessary.
you felt your breath catch, felt your skin prickle with goosebumps despite the heat. his hands were wandering, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned over you.
“y'know,” he said, his voice dropping to something low and dangerous, “you’ve been pesterin’ me all summer. walkin’ around in towels, leavin’ your window open, bendin’ over in front of me like a damn cat in heat.”
“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice innocent.
“liar.” his hands slid lower, his thumbs brushing the curve of your ass. you felt your breath hitch, felt your thighs press together. “you think i ain’t noticed? you think i’m fuckin' blind?”
“you never said anything.”
“what was i supposed to say? ‘hey, thanks for the free show, but i’m tryin’ to work’?” his hands were moving now, slow and deliberate, massaging the sunscreen into the skin just above the waistband of your bikini. “you’re a pest, y'know that?”
“you keep talking, but your hands haven’t stopped.”
“shut up.”
he was rubbing circles into your lower back now, his fingers slipping lower with every pass. you could feel the heat pooling between your legs, could feel the way your bikini bottom was already starting to get damp.
this was working. this was exactly what you wanted.
“you’re a real piece of work,” he muttered, his voice thick with something that might have been anger, might have been want. “think you can just prance around in your little outfits and get whatever you want.”
“is it working?”
his hands stopped. for a moment, the only sound was the cicadas and the pounding of your heart. then he moved, and suddenly his hands were on your hips, gripping hard, and he was pulling you up, turning you over so you were on your back, looking up at him.
his face was flushed, his crimson eyes burning with a fire that made your breath catch. his jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. he looked furious.
he looked hungry.
“you didn’t think i’d notice?” he said, his voice low and rough. “you didn’t think i’d see what you were doin’?”
“i knew you’d notice,” you said, your voice soft, your heart pounding. “i was counting on it.”
he stared at you for a long moment, his hands still gripping your hips. then he let out a harsh breath, almost a laugh, and shook his head.
“you’re stupid,” he said. “y'know that?”
“i’ve been told.”
his hands moved, sliding up your sides, over your ribs. his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, and you arched into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips. his eyes darkened.
“you’re gonna regret this,” he said, but there was no heat in his voice. just a low, rough promise.
“i doubt it.”
he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “you’re gonna be beggin’ me to stop by the time i’m done with you.”
you shivered, a thrill running through you. “try me.”
for a long moment, he just looked at you. then, slowly, his hands slid down your body, over your stomach, over your hips, until they were resting on the curve of your ass. he squeezed, hard, and you gasped, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders.
“you’ve been askin’ for this,” he said, his voice a low growl. “all fuckin' summer. you’ve been beggin’ for it.”
“maybe,” you said, your voice breathless. “maybe i have. what are you gonna do about it, hm?”
his hands moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your bikini bottom. his fingers found the soaked fabric, and he let out a low, dark laugh.
“fuckin’ hell,” he said. “you’re already wet.”
“shut up,” you said, echoing his earlier words.
his grin was sharp, predatory. “make me.”
and then his fingers were moving, pushing the damp fabric aside, and he was sliding two fingers through your slick folds, slow and deliberate.
you gasped, your back arching, your hands tightening on his shoulders. he watched your face, his eyes hungry, as he circled your clit with his thumb.
“that feel good?” he asked, his voice mockingly sweet.
“y-yes,” you breathed.
“good.” he pressed his fingers deeper, finding your entrance, and then he pushed inside you with a wet, obscene squelch. you cried out, your head falling back, your hips bucking against his hand.
he fucked you with his fingers, slow and deep, his thumb still working your clit. his other hand was gripping your hip, holding you in place, his fingers digging into your skin. you were moaning, whimpering, your body arching into his touch.
“look at you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “so damn needy. so damn desperate.”
“katsuki,” you moaned, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.
“what?” he said, his voice sharp. “what do you want?”
“more,” you begged. “please.”
he smirked, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your vision go white. “more? you want more?”
“yes, yes, please—“
he pulled his fingers out, and you whined at the loss. but before you could protest, he was grabbing your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach. his hands were on your ass, squeezing, spreading, and you could feel the heat of his body behind you.
“you want my cock?” he asked, his voice rough. “you want me to fuck you?”
“yes,” you said, your voice muffled against the towel. “god, yes.”
“then beg.”
you turned your head, looking back at him over your shoulder. his eyes were blazing, his face flushed, his lips parted. he looked like a man on the edge, and you wanted to push him over.
“please, katsuki,” you said, your voice sweet and breathy. “please fuck me. i need your cock. i need it so bad.”
a low growl rumbled in his chest. “that’s more like it.”
he pulled your bikini bottom down, letting it fall to your knees. then you felt his hands on your hips, his thumbs spreading your cheeks, and the blunt head of his cock pressing against your slick entrance. he pushed, just a little, just enough to make you gasp.
“y'sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.
“yes,” you said, your voice desperate. “fuck, yes, just—“
he pushed inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you both groaned. he was thick, filling you completely, stretching you in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. he paused, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises.
“fuck,” he breathed. “fuck, you’re tight.”
“move,” you whined. “please, move.”
and he did. he pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mixing with your moans and his grunts. his hand came down on your ass, hard, and you cried out, your fingers digging into the towel.
“y'like that?” he growled. “y'like gettin’ fucked like a little slut in the garden, huh?”
“yes,” you moaned. “yes, yes, yes—“
he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, and you gasped at the sharp pain. his other hand was on your hip, holding you in place as he fucked you, his thrusts deep and relentless.
“you’ve been such a fuckin’ pest,” he said, his voice harsh and breathless. “walkin’ around in your little towels, flashin’ your tits at me, thinkin’ you could get away with it.”
“i did get away with it,” you managed, your voice choked with pleasure.
his hand tightened in your hair, pulling harder. “you got a smart mouth. ever thought about that being fuckin' annoyin'?”
“you love it.”
“i hate it.” he thrust deeper, harder, and you cried out. “but i’m gonna fuck it out of you.”
his pace increased, relentless, unforgiving. the world narrowed to the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his breath, the heat of his body against yours. you could feel the pressure building, coiling low in your belly, and you knew you were close.
“katsuki,” you moaned, your voice breaking. “i’m gonna—i’m gonna—“
“not yet,” he said, his voice a low growl. “you don’t fuckin' cum until i say so. torturin' me all summer..”
he slowed his pace, pulling out until only the tip of him was inside you, then pushing back in slow and deep. it was torture, the most exquisite kind of torture. you whimpered, your hips bucking back against him, trying to get more.
“please,” you begged. “please, katsuki, i need—“
“what do you need?” he asked, his voice mocking. “tell me.”
“i need to cum,” you said, your voice desperate. “please, let me cume.”
“beg harder.”
“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “please, please, please—“
he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re such a fuckin’ slut,” he whispered.
“yes,” you said, your voice a sob. “yours. your slut.”
something in him seemed to break. he pulled back, grabbed your hips, and started fucking you again, hard and fast, his rhythm wild and desperate. his hand found your clit, rubbing in tight circles, and you felt the pressure build, felt the wave rising.
“come on,” he said, his voice rough. “you can cum.”
and you did. you shattered, your body convulsing, your cries filling the air as the orgasm ripped through you. you were barely aware of him pulling out, barely aware of the hot, wet spurts of his cum painting your back, his grunt of satisfaction.
you lay there, panting, your body trembling, your mind a haze of pleasure. you felt him collapse beside you, his breath coming in harsh gasps. for a long moment, neither of you spoke.
then he sat up, and you heard him fumbling for something. you turned your head, watching as he picked up your phone from where it had fallen on the towel. his fingers moved across the screen, typing something.
“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice hoarse.
he didn’t answer. he finished, tossed the phone onto the towel beside you, and stood up. he pulled up his jeans, buttoned them, and looked down at you with a complicated expression that was part annoyance, part satisfaction.
“you got what you wanted,” he said, his voice flat. “now stop botherin’ me.”
and he walked away, leaving you there, cum drying on your back, your phone buzzing with a new contact name.
you picked it up, looked at the screen.
a single name: “katsuki.”
you smiled, wide and wicked, and lay back down in the sun.
✮ HOPPIN’ DICK! ⸺ your boss sent you on a work trip with 4 coworkers and they all want to get you pregnant.
cw. gangbang (obviously), unprotected sex, double penetration, anal sex, oral sex (m and f rec), creampie, breeding kink, degradation, size kink, overstimulation, spit play, handjob, squirting, titplay, praising.
“he just hates you.” you heard shoko say as she leaned back in her chair and shook her head. she honestly didn’t get why your boss sent you, the newbie, on a trip with four completely different guys, saying you needed to learn and get some experience.
she thought about it for a second, then frowned. “it’s weird. this never happened before. they don’t usually send new people on trips just so they can learn something.”
then she suddenly smiled really wide, narrowed her eyes, and winked at you.“maybe you’re special."
“or maybe i’m so useless they had to send four guys just to make sure i will not fuck everything up,” you said dryly, sighing as you took a sip of coffee.
well, at least you’d only see them at work. meetings, discussions, paperwork — nothing personal. that’s what you thought. spoiler: you were wrong.
because when you finally got there, you found out the company rented one penthouse instead of five separate hotel rooms, like you thought. you were gonna have to live under the same roof with all four of them.
the flight alone was already enough of a nightmare. firtsly because you were sitting next to four ridiculously hot guys — the same guys you’d thought about, one after another, on those shameless nights when you touched yourself. and on top of that, they all looked at you like they knew something you didn’t. the constant smirks, winks, and knowing looks definitely didn’t help you relax.
the worst part? they were way too nice to you from day one.
gojo and geto brought you coffee every morning and asked you to grab lunch with them. nanami would often sit next to you and help with your reports, even when you could’ve easily done them yourself. and toji walked you home whenever you stayed late because of work, joking that pretty girls like you had no business walking around alone at night.
you're not gonna lie, you were really grateful for it.
even now you sat at your desk, slowly drinking yet another coffee gojo had left for you that morning. you smiled sweetly at him, trying not to think about how much you actually liked all the attention.
and at night, when you were alone and was touching yourself, even though your fingers never quite reached where you wanted them to, you thought about them. about kento, who looked strong enough to pick you up without even trying. about toji, who wore those pants that made the outline of his cock way too obvious. about geto and all the things he could do with that long—
no. you really need to be ashamed of yourself.
those thoughts only got worse now, especially since you were all stuck in the same house. they were just being nice and looking out for you, trying to help you settle in. they had no idea how dirty your thoughts about them were. if they ever found out what went through your head every time you were alone, they’d probably be disgusted.
or maybe they would not?
this was exactly what you thought about while standing under the hot water, when you suddenly caught a familiar, barely noticeable scent — gojo’s shower gel. unable to resist the temptation to smell just like him, you decided to use it.
when you came out of the bathroom, you just wrapped the towel tightly around yourself and without even drying your damp hair properly, headed for the stairs to the second floor, where your room was. unfortunately, the way there went straight through the living room, where, of course, all four of them were.
the second you appeared in the doorway, the conversation stopped, and all four pairs of eyes turned to you.
nanami, who was holding some work documents, tried to look away, but clearly had a hard time doing it. gojo swallowed hard and quickly threw a couch pillow at geto. and a big, shameless grin slowly spread across tojis face as he openly looked you up and down, taking in your wet shoulders and bare legs.
your cheeks immediately went red, and your throat tightened from embarrassment. “good night, everyone!” you squeaked out, swallowing hard before practically running up the stairs to your room.
the last thing you heard from the living room before you slammed the door shut was a quiet, low male laugh.
𐚁
you were sitting in a cozy bar after a successful conference. there was no strong alcohol on the table, just some light drinks, since you had another important meeting tomorrow and really couldn’t afford to mess it up.
you sat right between them, two on your right and two on your left, and for the first time all day, you actually felt relaxed. after hours of work, you were finally full, warm, and weirdly comfortable. for some reason, whenever you were with them, you felt like nothing bad could happen to you.
“well,” gojo finally said, leaning back in his chair. “do you have a boyfriend?” you took a sip of your drink and shook your head “no. none of the idiots these days deserve me.”
you said it with a smile, obviously joking, but for some reason, none of them laughed. instead, nanami put a hand on your shoulder and started gently rubbing it, making you relax even more. “yeah,” he said calmly. “a girl like you deserves at least four.”
you almost choked on your drink. “for different purposes,” geto added immediately, giving you a wink. you felt your cheeks burn and hid your face behind your glass, taking another sip. for some reason, you suddenly felt way too hot.
after a while, toji gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers accidentally brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. “tell me one thing pretty girl,” he said with a grin. “which one of us do you like the most?”
by then, you were almost completely relaxed in your chair and just shrugged. “i like all of you.” you went quiet for a second before adding, “you all treat me really well.”
silence fell over the table. you looked from one to the other and caught them exchanging glances. then all four of them had the same look on their faces — bright smiles that looked way too much like satisfied smirks.
toji looked at you again and slowly smiled. “good to know.”
𐚁
the penthouse door closed behind you as you kicked off your shoes and headed into the living room.
toji and geto were already there, sprawled out on opposite sides of a leather couch that probably cost more than your rent. toji sat with his legs spread wide, one arm resting on the back of the couch, while suguru leaned back in his shirt, cuffs undone, staring toward the kitchen doorway where you could hear dishes clattering.
you put your bag on the shelf, and the second the clasp clicked, both of them turned their attention to you.
toji was the first to slowly look you over. his eyes moved over your hair first — loose now, the braid you’d done before the meeting already coming undone from the humidity and wind on the way back — and then drifted lower. the back of your blouse was sheer, sticking to the sweat along your spine. your skirt hugged your hips and stopped just above your knees. you noticed him lick his teeth, his eyes getting darker than usual.
you swallowed. geto didn’t say anything. he just watched you through half-lidded eyes, then slowly stuck his tongue out and pressed it against the inside of his cheek.
you didn’t know how any of this was supposed to happen. your only experience was one dumb ex who didn’t care about your pleasure and two awkward hookups in a club bathroom that smelled like cheap whiskey. so you did the only thing that seemed logical — you reached for the first button of your blouse.
“ah-ah-ah.” toji’s voice made you freeze. he shook his head, grinned, and wagged a finger at you. “you’re not allowed to undress yourself, baby.”
your hand froze, and heat spread up your neck. he slapped both hands against his huge thighs. “come here.”
you looked at his hands. then at his legs, spread wide. your feet moved before you could even think, because if you started overthinking about it, it'd be over. the carpet felt soft under your heels as you stopped between his knees, close enough to smell his clean skin, your heart pounding against your ribs.
“turn around.” you did, now facing geto, and he winked at you, slowly and lazily lowering one eyelid, making your pussy clench around nothing. behind you, toji moved. his fingers found the zipper on your skirt and pulled it down. he stopped at the bottom. then he grabbed the fabric on both sides and ripped it apart.
the sound was obscene — a long, wet tear that echoed through the room. cold air hit your legs. you gasped and stumbled forward, left standing in nothing but black panties and a half-buttoned blouse as the ripped skirt went flying somewhere across the room.
you barely had time to process what was happening. a quiet laugh comes from behind you, followed by heat — his breath right against the curve of your ass. “fuck,” toji breathed.
his hands came up and grabbed your ass through the thin black cotton, slowly kneading it and pressing his thumbs into the muscles. he squeezed and shifted the flesh until you gasped. then he leaned in and took a deep breath, like he was trying to memorize your scent.
a hot, open-mouthed kiss landed on your right cheek. his tongue pressed flat against your skin and dragged across it. your eyes fluttered shut. then his teeth sank into you. you cried out, “toji!” and tried to pull away, but his iron grip kept you right where you were as he bit down harder — sharp enough to make your knees buckle.
he just laughed, pressed his lips to the mark, and slowly licked over it like he was apologizing. his tongue eased the sting. “shh,” he said. “stay still.” then he turned you around like you weighed nothing. a second later, he dropped back onto the couch, lifted you straight off the floor, and pulled you onto his lap.
now you sat on top of him, wearing nothing but your blouse and panties, your pussy pressed directly against the hard bulge of his cock through his pants. a quiet moan slipped out before you could stop it.
a laugh came from the couch across from you. suguru. you didn’t need to look to know he was still watching, still slowly running his thumb over his lower lip. “you’re adorable,” he said, his voice calm, almost bored, but his eyes were dark. “i always knew that.”
toji grinned up at you, showing all his teeth. “told you. knew it from the moment she walked in.” your brain barely had time to process his words before toji’s fingers wrapped around your chin, tilting your face toward his.
“open your mouth.” you did. “stick your tongue out for me.” you stuck it out, the cool air brushing against it. you felt ridiculous and completely exposed, so turned on that you could feel yourself getting wetter, soaking through your panties against his lap.
he stared at your tongue for a long moment, like he was studying it. then he leaned closer and ran his own tongue over it, slow and flat, from the base to the tip. his taste filled your mouth — dirty, slightly bitter from the whiskey, but completely him. his tongue curled against yours, tracing underneath it, before he kissed you deeply, making your eyes roll back.
then the kiss changed. he took control of your mouth, his tongue pushing inside, hot and demanding, sliding over your teeth and the roof of your mouth and tangling with yours until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. his lips crushed against yours before he caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulled it gently, and let it snap back.
saliva gathered and spilled over. it ran down your chin, along your neck, into the hollow of your throat, and toji followed it with his mouth, leaving a long, wet trail up the side of your neck before finding your lips again. then you moved.
not on purpose — you rubbed against him, moving your hips in small, desperate circles, trying to get friction against the seam of his pants. you only got wetter, until you could feel the slick warmth spreading between your thighs.
he let out a low moan, and his hands found your ass, squeezing hard enough that you’d probably have red marks by morning. you didn’t mind. suddenly, you heard a noise from the doorway. you broke the kiss with a wet, obscene smack and turned around.
gojo stood there, loosening his tie, his jacket thrown over one shoulder. his eyes moved over the scene: you sitting on toji’s lap, saliva shining on your chin, while geto’s hand had already slipped down the front of his pants and was gripping the thick outline of his cock through the fabric.
gojo grinned. “looks like you guys started without me.”
toji’s hands settled back on your hips, and before you could say anything, he lifted you, turned you around, and pulled you back against his chest. your spine pressed against him, your legs resting over his spread thighs.
gojo dropped to his knees in front of you. seeing him there — big, kneeling between your legs — knocked the air right out of you. he grabbed your knees and spread your legs wide, opening you up to the room. cool air touched the soaked fabric of your panties, and you let out a quiet moan.
then his fingers slid up your middle, right over your covered pussy, and he felt just how wet you were. “oh,” he moaned softly. “oh, baby.” he hooked his fingers under the waistband and slowly pulled your panties down, watching as they stuck to your skin, leaving a thin string of wetness behind. he tossed them into a corner.
“won't need these anymore.” he looked up at you with a sweet smile. “right, sweetheart?” you couldn’t answer. you were completely exposed, throbbing under the eyes of three men, and gojo stared at you like he’d just found something precious. all you could do was shake your head.
he let out a low, hungry moan and leaned closer. you felt his breath against your pussy before he took a deep breath, slow and greedy, like he hadn’t eaten in days. “fuck,” he whispered. “you smell like you’ve been waiting for us all day.” then his mouth found the inside of your thigh.
at first, he kissed you there softly, his mouth slightly open, taking his time. his tongue brushed over your sensitive skin. he moved higher. one kiss, then another, his lips parting against your skin, the roughness of his stubble scratching lightly against your thigh.
his hands slid under your thighs and lifted them, spreading you even wider and holding you open. he caught the crease where your leg met your thigh between his teeth. he didn’t rush, and that was the worst part. he kissed everywhere except the one place you desperately wanted him, and every kiss pulled the knot in your stomach tighter.
“mmngh! please,” you heard yourself say. he laughed against your skin. “please what, baby?” “please!—”
and then his tongue touched you. one long, flat, wet stroke from your entrance all the way to your clit, and your whole body jerked. he moaned right against you, like he was tasting something he’d been denied for years, then did it again. harder.
he pressed his tongue flat against you and dragged it up before pushing it inside, making you cry out. he fucked you with his tongue, shallow at first, then deeper, curling it as he tasted you. the sounds were downright filthy absolutely shameless. his mouth kept working, and every time he moaned, the vibration went straight through your clit.
then he started sucking. his lips closed around your clit, pulling it into his mouth. your hips lifted off the couch, and a high, broken sound tore out of you. “haaah! ah—aahhh!”
he didn’t let up. he gave it a light bite, then soothed the spot with his tongue before doing it again. your thighs shook around his head as he moved from side to side, burying his face even deeper. his nose pressed against your clit, his tongue moving inside you, and you could barely breathe.
you cried out, arching your back, and toji’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. toji. you completely forgot he was there. he turned your face toward him and kissed the corner of your mouth — soft at first, then harder and deeper — and you gasped against his lips. his kisses moved lower, along your jaw, your chin, the line of your neck. every kiss was shameless, possessive.
he stopped at your collarbone and bit down. his teeth sank into your skin, making you whimper as he sucked hard, drawing blood to the surface and leaving his mark. then he moved lower and did it again. his hands found your blouse. he undid two buttons with surprising patience, but then that patience ran out.
“fuck this,” he growled. he grabbed the fabric and tore it open. the buttons went flying. you heard them roll across the floor, cool air touched your bare skin, and his mouth was on you again — at your neckline, then higher across your chest.
He rips off the ruined shirt and tosses it aside. Next comes the bra — unhooked and thrown to the floor. one move and his hand was already at the back of your head, pulling you against his chest and making you arch.
he covered the curve of your tits with kisses before his mouth closed around your nipple and his teeth sank into it. you screamed. your mouth fell open, the sound spilling out, but another mouth crashed into yours and swallowed it whole. geto.
you didn't even hear him come over. he kissed you hard — tongue, teeth, shared breath, no softness at all, just hunger. his hand twisted into your hair, holding your head in place while he devoured your mouth. you moaned against his lips, gojo’s tongue was still between your legs, toji’s mouth was still working at your nipple, and you felt like you were falling apart between the three of them.
toji moved to your other nipple, sucking hard and greedily, his teeth scraping against it while his free hand squeezed the tit he’d just left, rolling the hardened tip between his fingers. suguru kissed you so deeply you could barely breathe, his tongue tangled with yours, one hand still gripping your hair.
you cried out, whimpering but hardly any sound made it out. your whole body shook as you were trapped between the three men, with nothing left to do but take it all. satoru pulled back just enough for his finger to find your entrance. one thick, long finger slipped inside.
“ng— yes! mhmm!” he was huge — it was only one finger, but it still filled you, and you cried out into geto’s mouth. then he added another, the stretch making your head spin as your hips lifted on their own. toji’s palm came down hard against your stomach, holding you back in place. he pulled away from your nipple with a wet pop.
“relax that perfect body, baby,” he rasped, his voice completely wrecked. “leave it to the real men.”
gojo’s fingers started moving. he fucked you with them at a pace that stole your breath, making your head spin — from geto’s kiss, from not being able to breathe, from the fact that everything was suddenly too much and somehow still not enough. then geto’s hand moved between your legs. he pushed his middle finger in beside gojo’s fingers, and together they stretched you, making you sob right into suguru’s mouth.
they found places inside you that you didn't even know existed. deep, hidden places, hitting them again and again as the room filled with sound — the wet rhythm of their hands, your broken moans, and gojo’s low groan against your clit.
“haa—haaah!” “ahh… fuck… nghhh! please…”
your orgasm hit you in a moment. you came so hard that everything went black for a second. your thighs shook, your legs tightened, and you cried out into geto’s mouth, but they didn’t stop. they slowed down, but kept going, helping you ride it out, their fingers getting gentler as they dragged the pleasure out until you were nothing but a shaking, exhausted mess.
gojo leaned back. his whole face was wet — his lips, chin, nose, everything glistening with your juices. he looked completely worn out and completely satisfied at the same time. geto pulled his hand away, brought his middle finger to his lips, and slowly licked it clean without taking his eyes off you. a low hum rumbled in his chest.
gojo was about to do the same, but geto caught his wrist. he brought two of gojo’s fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, making gojo groan and throw his head back. then toji’s low, confident voice came from behind you.
“my turn.” your eyes went wide.
geto simply nodded. he lifted you off the chair like you weighed nothing, and you instinctively clung to him, your thighs still shaking after your orgasm rolled through you. you watched gojo toss a pillow onto the carpet, and suddenly toji was lying there on his back, his head resting on the pillow as he looked up at you with dark, patient eyes.
you were wet. so fucking wet. your pussy still pulsed even though you came barely a minute ago — a deep, aching throb that refused to go away. geto held you under your ass with one arm while his other hand brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. then his thumb wiped the saliva from your chin, and he leaned in and licked it off.
then he lowered you onto toji. not onto his face. onto his stomach, facing away from him, your bare skin pressed against the hard ridges of his abs. you could see the thick outline of his cock straining against his pants, and some distant part of your brain wondered if it hurt.
toji’s hands found your hips. he moved you back and forth, slowly dragging you over the hard planes of his stomach, leaving a slick, shiny trail across his skin. “look at the mess you made,” he growled. “fuck, baby, you’re soaked.”
heat rushed over your face, neck, and chest. you wanted to look away, but there was nowhere else to look. he pulled you higher, toward his face, and you froze. “sit on my face,” he said. “let me taste that sweet pussy.”
“i—” your voice broke. “what if you choke because of me?” all three of them laughed making your stomach make a little flip. “i fucking hope i do,” toji said. then he pulled you down.
his mouth was on you the second you lowered yourself onto him. his hands grabbed your ass and pulled you even closer, his tongue pushed inside, and you cried out, bracing your hands against his chest.
his abs tensed underneath you. you saw his hand move between your bodies, gripping himself through his pants. you reached down and pulled his pants down just enough to free him, and he was huge — thick, with a darkened head and a thick vein running all the way down. precum already dripped from him, and he felt so heavy in your hand that your fingers barely closed around him.
you leaned forward, meaning to take him into your mouth, but a hand caught your hair and stopped you. geto. he lifted your head, his eyes bright and burning. “not so fast, princess.”
with one hand, he undid his belt. his pants dropped, and his cock slapped against his lower stomach — thick and hard. he stepped closer and dragged the tip across your lips, spreading the salty wetness over them. you opened your mouth and licked it off before you could stop yourself.
a low moan came from him. he leaned right up to your face “open.” you opened. he spit, warm moisture landing on your tongue, and you swallowed it. then he straightened up and pushed his cock into your mouth.
you were filled from every side now. toji’s tongue was inside you, his hands kept you spread open, his nose pressed against your clit. geto’s cock rested heavily on your tongue, going deeper with every movement of his hips. your hand wrapped around toji’s cock, and when you felt him twitch in your grip, you started jerking him off.
slow at first. then faster. you lost yourself in it — the rhythm, the heat, the feeling of being completely full. you couldn’t think. you could only feel. then you felt another breath against your ass.
toji’s hands spread you even wider, and someone’s nose and mouth pressed against your other hole. you knew who. he licked you there, slow and steady, and the feeling was so strange and somehow so good that your whole body tensed.
you heard the wet sound of oil against skin. then one of his fingers pressed against that tight ring of muscle and slowly slipped inside. your hips jerked so hard that toji’s nose pressed even deeper, while geto’s cock hit the back of your throat as he fucked your mouth, one hand tangled in your hair.
gojo worked you open. one finger, then a second, slowly stretching and massaging you. you pressed yourself harder against toji’s face through it all, while he moved his face against you and pushed even deeper.
you moaned around geto’s cock, your hand moving faster and slicker over toji’s. “mgmm—” you sobbed around the thick length in your throat. you sucked your cheeks in making geto’s head fall back. “fuck, yes. just like that, baby.”
suguru’s hips lost their rhythm. toji moaned right against you, the vibration going straight through your clit. gojo’s fingers curled inside you, and your vision started to blur. you were full. everywhere. all of you belonged to them.
geto pulled back just enough to let you swallow his cum when he came with a loud moan. his taste covered your tongue, and you swallowed again and again while he watched you, his chest rising heavily and his pupils blown wide. “fuck, babygirl,” he breathed. “look at you. so fucking perfect.” your thighs still shook.
then toji’s cock twitched hard in your hand. he moaned against your stomach and came, hot waves covering your fingers and knuckles, splashing across your chest and stomach. he ran his face over you one last time, smearing your juices and his own release across his lips and chin. then he pulled you against his chest, his damp skin sticking to your back.
you twisted around to look at him. his whole face shone — his nose, chin, cheeks, even his forehead were covered in you. he looked completely exhausted and ridiculously pleased with himself. “sweetest pussy in the world,” he murmured, then grabbed your hips and got up from the floor.
only then did you notice gojo was gone. you didn’t even have time to think about it. the door opened, and he came back with a glass of ice-cold water in his hand. condensation covered the glass.
he put it in your hand. “drink, love.” you were still sitting on toji’s thighs, your swollen, throbbing pussy pressed right against his cock, and the touch made a quiet moan slip out of you. you tried to keep the glass steady.
your back was pressed tightly against his chest. while you drank, his mouth found your earlobe — teeth first, then his tongue, then a kiss just below it. you felt the dampness on his face against your skin, proof of what he’d just done to you. you shivered.
you finished the water and held the glass out. geto took it. “w-where’s... nanami?” you asked quietly. everyone froze. then they started laughing. gojo leaned in and kissed you deeply. when he pulled away, toji’s warm voice came from right by your ear.
“three cocks are waiting to fill that tiny, swollen pussy, and you still want more?” he clicked his tongue. “greedy little thing.” heat rushed to your face. you turned away and hid your face against his neck, and he laughed right into your hair.
“he had an urgent meeting,” geto said as he set the glass down. “he’ll be here soon.” “and he can’t wait to taste this cunt either.” gojo’s eyes dropped to where you were pressed against toji.
geto tilted his head. “are you tired?” you shook your head. no. yes? you already came twice — actually, you lost count by now — but you still wanted more. especially with them.
toji grinned slowly, dirty and knowing. “i always knew you were a filthy little slut who wanted to get fucked in every hole.” he stood up, holding you in his arms, and you felt that hot, humiliating rush again — being handled like you weighed nothing, like you were some toy they could pass between them. it should’ve embarrassed you.
and it did. but it also turned you on so much you could barely breathe. geto was lying where toji had just been, and your pussy throbbed at the sight of him, at the thought of him finally filling you.
before he moved you over, toji kissed you. he tasted geto on your tongue — you knew he did, because he moaned right into the kiss — and licked the taste from your lips and cheek, slowly cleaning you up. then he lowered you onto geto’s thighs facing him.
he guided himself into place. the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, and he slowly lowered you onto him — inch by impossible inch, and you felt every bit of it.
the way he stretched you, the sweet burn, the feeling of being completely full. “it—! it's too big— nnghh!” you gasped.
“you can take it,” he said, his voice calm and firm. “you were made for this. sit on that cock baby be a good girl.”
he grabbed your hips and moved you. you moaned, then started moving against him in a steady rhythm, every roll of your hips pushing him deeper until you could almost feel him in your throat.
then slick fingers found your other hole again. warm, slippery oil coated your skin as gojo’s fingers slipped inside again — one, two, three, all at once. “mmmh,” his voice sounded dark behind you. “so ready for me.”
then he pushed inside you. everything flashed white. you were completely full — geto stretching you from the front, gojo filling you from behind — and it felt like they reached all the way inside you, like there was no room left for air, thoughts, or anything else except them.
“ah! haaah—i can’t— get— gojo please please!” gojo’s hands found your tits. he squeezed hard, twisting your nipples between his fingers, then turned your head and kissed you.
then toji’s hand caught your jaw, pulling you away from the kiss and dragging you into his mouth instead. it was the dirtiest kiss yet — nothing but tongue and spit, not an ounce of tenderness.
gojo squeezed one breast. toji squeezed the other. then toji’s thumb and forefinger found your swollen clit and squeezed it. your hips lost their rhythm. you tried to pull away because something was building inside you, something that went beyond a normal orgasm. something you couldn’t control.
“don’t fucking stop,” geto’s voice came at the same time, his hands gripping your hips and waist hard enough to keep you in place. you couldn’t stop. the pleasure exploded, then came again — a flood, a complete rush — and you cried out as your body shook, leaving you trembling and breathless. "nnngaaahh! yesyesyesyes pleaaseee ha—aahh!—"
“good girl. that’s it, princess.” “fuck, look at her,” toji growled, still rubbing and working your clit, making you go through it again and again. “made a fucking mess of the whole room.”
“come inside her,” gojo growled, thrusting against you from behind. “fill her. i want it spilling out of both of us.” “both of us,” geto echoed as he thrust up hard, coming deep inside you. “take it. take every drop. i’ll put a baby in that perfect pussy.”
gojo followed a moment later. a low, broken moan escaped him as he came inside you, his hips jerking while his hands left marks on your thighs. “that’s it. all of it.”
“now you’re ours,” toji whispered against your lips, still playing with your clit and pulling another weak shudder from you. “every one of us will fill you. again and again. until it takes.” the room spun around you. you shook, completely spent, feeling everything spill out around them.
you were still trembling, still shaking and completely overwhelmed when the front door opened. nanami. he walked in and just stared at the two huge cocks still buried inside you, at the mess running from you. at your chest, smeared with cum and covered in dark bite marks. at your sweaty, flushed face and your head thrown back against geto’s shoulder.
"kento…" your voice was quiet, ruined, barely a whisper.
he didn't answer. instead, he set his briefcase on the shelf, smoothed his documents, neatly hung his coat over the back of the chair. every move was measured, as if he wasn't looking at you lying with your legs spread under two men whose cocks were still deep inside you.
then he was right in front of you. his fingers touched your chin and lifted your face. he just looked at you. long enough for everyone to hear your ragged breathing. his eyes slid over the flush on your cheeks, the drying spit on your neck, the tear tracks and dark marks blooming on your chest.
"hey," he said softly. and then he kissed you. his kiss was nothing like the others'. it was slow. careful. his lips parted against yours and his tongue slid inside. your arms went up, wrapped around his neck, you clung to him, the kiss deepening.
gojo pulled his cock out of your ass, and you whimpered softly right into nanami's lips from the empty, stretched ache. his hands moved to your hips, and he lifted you into the air without breaking the kiss.
next, geto's cock slipped out, and that loss felt even more — the sudden emptiness made you groan into kento's lips, and what was left inside spilled out, hot and thick, soaking his shirt where your thighs squeezed his waist.
toji's lips found your back. he kissed along your spine, open and wet, pressing one palm between your shoulder blades, then took you from nanami's arms, turning you and holding you upright against his chest.
nanami dropped to his knees. his hands slid up your trembling thighs. with his fingers he spread your swollen lips, opening you up, and looked at what they left inside — that slow leaking mess. "already so full, princess," his voice was low, steady. "i'll have to clean everything out here, won't i?"
you nodded fast because you couldn't say a word. then you slowly looked at geto from under your lashes. "you… you haven't tasted me yet." he raised one eyebrow, looking down at your wet pussy, and smirked. "aren't you a dirty little whore?"
and then both of them were on their knees, two mouths dropping between your legs at once. nanami started gentle — the flat of his tongue, long slow strokes dragging up your slit, as if savoring you. geto was the exact opposite. he buried his face in, wild and greedy, licking you deep, pushing his tongue inside to scoop out what the others left.
toji turned your head with a palm on your jaw and kissed you deep, swallowing every sound before it could burst from your throat. his tongue filled your mouth, you moaned into his lips and felt the juices dripping down onto the two men below.
gojo's mouth closed around your nipple. he sucked hard, scraping with his teeth, then worked the other nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching, making your back arch toward geto's chest.
it was everywhere. geto's tongue inside you — lapping, drinking. kento's lips wrapped tight around your clit, drawing it in with slow, rhythmic pulls. tojis tongue in your mouth, his hand gripping your hair. gojo's teeth on your tits, his other hand squeezing your butt cheek.
you came, the orgasm ripping you apart from inside — your hips jerked, your scream died on toji's tongue — but they didn't stop. they kept touching, kept licking, and then came fingers. toji's fingers slid inside next to nanami's, then more of them, four whole fingers stretching you wider, and from the sensory overload something inside broke, and you came again, sobbing, flooding their mouths.
"mmhmm— haah! i ca— i can't anymore—"
they didn't listen. they drank you until your legs were shaking so hard toji had to hold you up. then nanami stood up and kissed you again. you tasted yourself on his lips, but the hunger in his kiss was replaced with a little bit of softness.
"your pussy is completely swollen," he whispered against your lips. "maybe we should stop?" you shook your head sharply. your lips pouted against your will. "i want to feel you inside," you whispered.
that was all he needed. toji's solid forearm wrapped under your breasts, pressing you to his chest. nanami leaned in and kissed you again and while doing that, he took your hand and pressed it to the hard bulge straining against his pants.
"let it out, princess." your fingers fumbled clumsily with the belt, button, zipper. his dick sprang free — heavy in your hand, already leaking pre-cum, the tip flushed dark.
and then he was at your entrance. he slid inside and your mouth parted. he was thick — thicker than geto — and the way he stretched your used, swollen pussy felt almost unbearable. you gasped, and toji's hand rested on your throat — not squeezing, just holding you.
"too much?" he asked. his voice was strained, and you could feel him trembling from the effort not to move. you shook your head. "need more."
meanwhile toji started entering your ass — the hole was still sensitive, stretched out after gojo — and the pressure of his thrusts while nanami was already deep inside was blinding. they entered slowly, inch by inch, until both were buried to the base, and you were impaled between them, filled so completely you couldn't breathe.
"fuck," toji groaned into your neck. "you're fucking tight back here. i'm gonna fill this hole too. pump so much into you there won't be any room left."
nanami rolled his hips, toji matched his rhythm, and soon they were moving together, lifting you up between them and fucking you in a perfect, hard rhythm. your legs wrapped around nanami's waist, your back arched toward toji's chest. then the other two stepped closer.
satoru's mouth was on your clit, his tongue flicking fast and desperate, his hands squeezing your cheeks, spreading them. "look at her," geto panted, running a hand through your hair and squeezing your reddened tits. "our perfect little cum dumpster. made to be bred. to carry our babies."
nanami touched his forehead to yours. "i'm gonna fill you, princess. down to the last drop. i'll make sure of it." "me too," gojo panted against your clit. "i'll put a baby in you. watch you get round from it. you'll look so fucking pretty, all round with our cum."
toji bit into your shoulder, leaving a mark. "we're all gonna breed you, baby. fill every hole. pump you so full you'll be leaking our seed for a week. and when it works — and it definitely will — you'll be the prettiest pregnant whore in the world."
you shattered. the orgasm exploded deep inside, your body convulsed, clamping around both of them, and a scream tore out of you. nanami buried himself to the hilt and came, flooding your pussy with hot pulsing waves, and toji thrust deep right after, spilling into your ass with a low groan that vibrated down your whole spine.
gojo followed right after, groaning straight against your clit, and you felt him cumming onto the floor, mixing his cum with everything else.
they kept moving slowly. dragging out every single pulse until you went completely limp, twitching all over, with nothing left of you except the heat of four men and the wet sounds of them coming.
when they finally set you down gently, you couldn't even stand.
your pussy was totally wrecked — swollen, gaping, leaking a thick river of cum down your thighs. your other hole was the exact same way, and you could feel both dripping, mixing, running together. your chest and arm were smeared white. your hair was a total mess, plastered to your sweaty neck. every single inch of your body was marked, bitten, and claimed.
gojo tilted his head, that same cute smile back on his face. "you need a bath, don't you?" nanami scooped you up in his arms without waiting for an answer. your head hung helplessly against his shoulder, and the trip to the bathroom felt like one big blur of warm skin and cool air.
the shower stall was huge — wide enough for all of them to fit, and just realizing that made your ruined pussy throb despite everything. you thought it was over. you let your tired eyes close.
but when you opened them, turned out they were all following you right into the stall.
they looked like pure sin. toji's body was slick, his face and chest shining with sweat and your juices. geto's stomach was still wet where you soaked him. gojo's face and cock were glistening with white drops. and nanami… he was still mostly dressed, his shirt soaked through, and he was slowly undressing, never taking his eyes off you.
you pressed your face into nanami's shoulder and looked up at them through wet lashes while the water turned on, hot streams running down your back. toji took off his pants, smirking at you like things were only just getting started.
"after all," he said, "not every one of us has managed to fill your little pussy yet, baby."
nanami's fingers lifted your chin. he looked down at you, water running through his hair, and there was so much tenderness in his eyes it made your chest ache.
"you're gonna be so pretty," he whispered against your lips. "all round, soft, and full of us. we're gonna take care of you, baby. every single fuckin' day. and every night, we're gonna fill you up again."
hiromi & nanami threesome! all arts from @ thatsallitchief on X
✎ᝰ. CAN A COCKY NERD FIND LOVE ? — NERD!TOJI X READER
SYNOPSIS there's a cute nerd in your biology class, and you can't stop staring for the life of you. luckily for you, he becomes your lab partner and you can't stop running into him. after another run in, you confront what's been eating at you for the past two weeks, and turns out, the feeling's mutual. inspired by morning dew by beyoncé ⚛︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖
CONTENT WARNINGS / TAGS fluff : smut : hurt to comfort : glasses stay on : toji cocky but what's new : piv : praise kink : afab!reader : they're both losers for each other : flirting : teasing : toji is nonchalant but he's really not : banter : toji is smitten : morning sex : creamipie : aftercare
ART CREDITS @syllysmot ◞⠀ @ youka.i ◞ @ F_tality
WORD COUNT 7k
As the days of the new semester grew, you got more and more curious about the cute nerd in your Biology 101 class. He had a scar on his lips, raven hair, and these adorable glasses that definitely didn’t fit. You’ve only heard him speak a few times. He only ever spoke in class when he was called on, and when he was, he answered correctly, exuding confidence. The professor constantly applauded him for his work and even asked him to help out during her office hours. You considered showing up just out of pure curiosity, but decided against it. You didn’t want to stare at him like an obsessive loser. But an opportunity to talk to him fell on your lap on a random Tuesday afternoon.
During the third week of class, your professor announced something: everyone would sit alphabetically in the class for the next few days as she got used to everyone's names. This earned a few groans from the people who wanted to sit next to their friends, but she assured them it would be temporary.
“Everyone, everyone,” the room quieted down at her voice, “It won’t last too long. We just have one lab to complete then I should have everyone’s names down a few days after that. I’ve been struggling these past two weeks.” She looked down at her clipboard and moved to the first pair of chairs. “Now, let's start. Does anyone know if…” She called names one by one to show them their temporary seats. You didn’t know anyone in the class to begin with so you weren’t too bothered. Though, you’ve never heard of a college class that had a seating chart. That was definitely a first. And by the sounds of it, no one else had either. How bad could her memory be?
Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize when she called your name to be seated next. You blinked in confusion before realizing that she was assigning you to a seat. You mumbled an apology under your breath before sitting down. You exhaled, slightly embarrassed at your delayed reaction. Zoning out at the worst times seemed to be your strong suit. As you pulled out your textbook, you didn’t listen to hear who would be your shoulder partner. You looked up to see Toji, aka the guy you’ve been staring at for two weeks from across the room instead of paying attention to lecture, sitting right beside you. You quickly averted your gaze to recover from your shock. It was pure luck really, getting to sit next to him for the next few days, even if it was by force. He gave you a small nod of acknowledgement and you gave him an awkward smile back before quickly turning your head away. Smooth, you thought to yourself, now he’ll think you’re creepy. Professor Nolan finished up the seating chart and brought up the upcoming lab.
“Our first lab will be tomorrow, and yes, your partner is who you’re sitting next to. It’s simple and it’s on everything we’ve covered this past week and a half. I’ll pass out the procedure.” She grabbed a stack of papers and started to give a small stack to each column. She handed Toji a stack and he handed you a packet. His hand brushed yours slightly, and your stomach lurched. His face remained neutral and he turned around to hand the rest of the lab procedures to the students behind you. You spent the rest of the lecture silently scolding yourself for getting so delusional over a guy that you didn’t know. The walk back to your car was one of shame. You hated how excited you got over things, especially since you got disappointed just as quickly. Sure, he was cute, but at the end of the day, he was just a guy. You reminded yourself of this and pushed it out of your mind. Tomorrow, you’d just focus on the first lab of the class. There was no need for unnecessary distractions.
You had spoken too soon. There was a need for distractions. They were very, very necessary. Especially if it entailed your cute lab partner walking you through the lab.
“You left your lab procedure on the desk. I tried to call after you, but you didn’t turn back.” He explained with a shrug. “No worries though, if you get stuck, I can try my best to explain it to you.”
You nodded, embarrassment creeping in. No way you were idiotic enough to leave your lab procedure behind. What a horrible first impression. “I’m so sorry, I’m not usually like this I—”
He shook his head and handed the packet to you. “No need to worry, I got you.”
You nodded again, shutting up this time. Your eyes scanned the page, taking in what you had missed the previous night. It seemed simple enough, but it was your first lab. It had already started off on not the best foot… you couldn’t mess up again. A wave of determination washed over you. If he wasn’t bothered by your small slip up, why should you? The two of you prepared your station in silence before starting. It was a human cheek microscopic lab where you scrape the inside of your cheek, smear the swab onto a glass slide, add a drop of methylene blue stain, and cover it with a slip. You then observe under the microscope and take note of the structures. Simple stuff, really. The only annoying part was extracting the sample.
The two of you got to work immediately. You scraped your cheek with the toothpick, and in the process, poked it. You yelped and pressed your tongue against the spot. A metallic taste soaked your tongue and you groaned softly. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You were usually great at labs, always taking them on with intense focus. An easy one like this shouldn’t be tripping you up, but here you were. You shot a glance at Toji and found him laughing quietly to himself. You glared at him, narrowing your eyes.
“Not funny,” you mumbled, tongue still applying pressure to the area you accidentally punctured.
His grin grew even wider. “I dunno…it kind of is…How does one even achieve that?” He pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing again. Your frown deepened at his reaction. He was actually laughing in your face. This was another level of obnoxious, this was plain mean. You went silent throughout the smearing and staining process, ego a little wounded at his blatant taunting. You didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or annoyed. You went with being annoyed; he said he’d help you out, not make fun of you.
When it was time to observe under the microscope, you let him go first. You watched him closely, the different expressions he’d make, the notes he’d take, and the small sounds of content he’d let out. You found it all amusing. He acted all mysterious, but the whole time, he was really just a weirdo that got very pleased when things went as he predicted. His drawings were so accurate, it was scary. He moved away from the microscope and gave you a cocky smile. There was no way you were beating that. Not that it was a competition or anything. You snuck a glance at him. He was watching you carefully. Maybe it was a competition and you didn’t know it. You swallowed hard before adjusting the settings as needed. The cells looked cool: their irregular shapes were highlighted with a vibrant blue from the stain. You zoomed in more to be able to see the cell structures better. From there, you could start to sketch your observations. You grabbed your pencil and lightly glided your pencil across the paper, careful to write lightly enough so you could correct any mistakes. You fell into a comfortable rhythm, looking into the microscope, and pulling away to add to your paper. You felt Toji watching you like a hawk from the side, but you still took your time. Within a few minutes, you were done with your sketches. You checked your work and grinned. Not too bad.
You felt someone shift behind you. You looked over your shoulder and found Toji there, sneaking a peek at your paper. He had a bored expression on his face and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be perfect, it was a sketch after all. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and you raised an eyebrow at him.
“Huh?”
“I said, ‘not bad.’” He repeated before grabbing his notebook and walking off to start cleanup. You furrowed your brows in confusion. He was being nice again? What happened to being obnoxious and annoying? You scoffed and joined him. The two of you cleaned up your station and went your separate ways. You took the long way to your car, still in need of processing that entire lab period. The reassurance in the beginning, laughing at you making a small mistake, and giving you a half assed compliment to top it all off. You decided he was too cocky for his own good. He knew he was smart, he knew that he was better, and he let it get to his head. Sort of. He was still somewhat nice. Whatever it was, you only had to deal with him for a few more days. The first and only lab was out of the way. In retrospect, the worst had already passed.
Your stomach rumbled and you stopped in your tracks. After fumbling around in your bag, you realized you forgot to pack lunch today. You muttered curses under your breath as you turned around and headed to the college cafe. You weren’t this scatterbrained. Before today, you can’t remember the last time you forgot anything, especially of great importance like your lunch or schoolwork.
You walked into the cafe and went to the counter to order your usual: a grilled cheese sandwich with sourdough bread and the juice of the day. Today’s juice of the day was mango, Paige, the barista informed you. You paid and looked for a place to sit. The cafe was pretty much empty except for a few students on their computers. One person in the corner caught your eye though. You could recognize those scarred lips anywhere. His eyes locked with yours and you froze, quickly looking away. You snuck another glance and he was still staring. He raised an eyebrow at you and gestured for you to join him. You pressed your lips in a firm line before slowly walking over. Dropping your bag on the ground, you took the seat across from him. You felt his eyes studying you carefully again like they had less than an hour ago, making your stomach twist in knots. Trying to figure him out made your head spin. Never in a million years would you have expected him to invite you over to sit with him…it just didn't work like that. At least, not in your head anyway.
“You’re everywhere,” he said simply, taking a sip of his drink. “Oh, by the way, it’s good. Fresh and all.”
You shot him a bewildered look. “What?”
He pointed to his drink with a slightly annoyed look on his face. “The juice of the day? That’s the drink you ordered, no?”
You blinked at him, his words barely processing in your head. How long had he been watching you for? You just noticed that he was here. You frowned and nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you responded flatly. You didn’t mean to be rude, but he was getting on your last nerves. That's what you got for putting a stranger on a pedestal, they’ll always end up not meeting your unrealistic expectations and disappointing you.
He sighed, deep green eyes boring into yours. “You know, for someone who stared at me for two weeks straight without saying a word, you sure don’t have a lot to say now that we’ve actually met.” Toji chuckled as you gaped at him, taking another sip of his juice. “But hey, to each their own.”
You were speechless. The entire first week, he was at one end of the room and you were in the opposite, in a corner at that. Same for the second. How he knew you’d look at him, you had no idea. His back was to you 99% of the time too…was he bluffing? No, that was way too specific and accurate to be a bluff. Maybe you weren't as subtle as you thought.
The barista called your name for your order and you shot up from your seat. You took your sweet time: making small talk with her again, checking to see if it was your name on it, if you got the right sandwich, and sipping your juice to see how it tasted. He was right—it was fresh, the tangy taste dancing on your tongue. You needed a second to mentally prepare yourself. Facing him after him confronting you and your staring problem made you want to puke. What do you even say to that? Do you just gaslight him until he believes you? You doubt he would though, he was way too arrogant to give you the benefit of the doubt or even just to let it go and move on. You slowly made your way back to your seat. He looked at you expectantly as you took another sip of your juice.
“It’s good, you were right.” You muttered, not meeting his eyes.
“I know,” he shrugged. You didn’t like this, not one bit. He was nothing like you had expected at all. Sure, it was counterproductive to fit people into boxes based on their appearances, but you've never met anyone that carried themselves like this. Though you hated to admit it, you were intrigued. Why did he call you over here? You were classmates, he had no obligation to invite you to sit with him. And you still didn’t know how he knew you would stare at him the first few weeks…
“You were staring at me too, weren’t you?” you blurted out. For the first time ever, Toji was stunned. He didn’t know how to respond to the question—or, better yet—the right answer to it. You watched as he struggled to approach your question. You could practically see the gears turning in his head.
“What makes you think that?” He finally decided on. Safe, yes, but playing dumb wasn’t always reliable.
“How else would you know I was staring at you?” You replied. Not your strongest point, you admit, but it was what was at the front of your mind.
“Well, for starters, you aren’t the most subtle person to grace this Earth,” he shot back. You narrowed your eyes at his deflection, but this only proved you were getting warmer.
“Aw, are you saying that my presence makes the Earth a better place ‘ji?” You asked sweetly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me?” Your tone was so condescending you swore you saw his eye twitch.
“Don’t call me that,” he grumped. You giggled at his frustration and took a sip of your drink.
“Mmmmm,” you groaned dramatically. He glared at you from above his glasses. “Is this why you asked me to sit with you?” You stirred your juice with your straw, the ice cubes clinking together. His eyes followed the movement. Would he take the bait?
“...What do you mean?” He asked reluctantly. You could practically feel his discomfort. It loomed over his head, forcing him to engage in your shenanigans. It killed him to entertain your antics, but he couldn’t bear not knowing what you were going on about.
“You heard I ordered the same drink as you, so you called me over to sit with you.” You replied. Obviously, that’s not what you believed, but you had to point out how ridiculous all this was. All this game playing, and for what?
“No, of course not. Don't be stupid.” He said with a scowl, mouth turning into a frown, like just the idea alone personally offended him.
“So you have been staring at me too then? I didn’t even notice you were here until I was looking for a place to sit,” you challenged. You were regaining confidence now, determined to pull this confession out of him. He wasn’t going to get out of this. You felt like you were going crazy before, you were glad to know you weren’t alone.
“Does it even matter?” He sighed, failing to meet your eyes.
“Yes,” you insisted.
“Why?” He countered.
“Because.”
“Because?”
“Answer the damn question. Then I can tell you why it matters,” you hissed. You took a bite of your sandwich as he hesitated. You ate in silence, waiting for him to figure out what he was going to say. The sandwich was half gone and the glass of fresh mango juice completely empty by the time he finally cleared his throat.
“To put it simply, yes I was staring—when you weren't looking at least. That’s why I invited you to sit here. But—” He raised his hands up in surrender. “I swear I had nothing to do with us sitting together. That was pure luck.”
You laughed at how terrified he was. Like he actually believed you thought he blackmailed your strict professor or something to get you guys to sit together. This was ridiculous. You laughed over the stupidity of it all and he tilted his head at you in confusion.
“Well duh, I know that. It’s not like you built a time machine and changed my last name to be right next to yours on the roster.”
He let out a sigh of relief. “Okay good. I’m not a creep. It was just a coincidence. So was the cafe, I assume?” He asked, now putting you on the spot. “Or are you stalking me?”
It was now your turn to be stunned into silence. You really hoped he was joking. “Give me the same grace. It was a coincidence. I was hungry, so I stopped here for a quick bite to eat. If you hadn’t called me over, I’d have left by now.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, smirking at your bewildered state. Reality finally crashed down on you—you guys have been playing eye tag this whole time, but you kept missing each other. Even though he got on your nerves—slightly—this was the best case scenario. You were both losers with a staring problem.
“So what now?” you asked before you could stop yourself. You regretted it immediately, especially as you watched his curiosity pique. He was either going to tease you beyond belief, or be completely honest with you like he had before. It was a gamble you weren’t sure you were ready to take, but it was too late. He studied the grimace on your face and nodded.
“I mean—based on this conversation, it’s safe to say there’s a mutual interest here so…I think it would be appropriate to ask you out.”
You blinked at him. Did he just ask you out without asking you? He winced at your unamused expression and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Er, sorry, I mean…would you like to go out with me sometime?”
“We’re technically out together right now if you really think about it,” you replied, pressing your lips together to suppress the smile creeping on your face. You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. Who did you take you for?
“Well no shit, but like another time if you wa—”
“I’m just messing with you. Of course I would like that.”
He stopped his rambling and smiled at you, really smiled at you. It reached his eyes and you decided right then and there, you wanted to be on the receiving end of more smiles from this man. God knows they were scarce, but when they did come out, they made your heartbeat pound like a drum in your ears and caused butterflies to fill your stomach. You knew immediately that they didn’t show up for just anyone, and that alone confirmed any suspicion you had about him liking you too.
“Hey, you never explained why it mattered so much,” he said suddenly. Your eyes locked with him and you swore time stopped. The noise of the cafe faded in the background as the two of you held each other’s gaze. Blood rushed to your cheeks, the intensity of his gaze being too much. You were the one to break eye contact, twisting your hands in your lap nervously.
“Because,” you said pointedly, but there was no real bite in your voice. “The feeling’s mutual.”
There it was again. Another one of his rare smiles. Your eyes landed on his scar and you instinctively reached forward. He didn’t flinch or move away. He stilled as you traced it, fingertips ghosting over his skin.
“How did you get this?” You murmured softly. He avoided eye contact and grabbed your wrist gently.
“That’s a story for another time.” He said firmly, though, he didn’t remove your hand. “I’ll tell it to you though, I promise.” He swallowed hard and held your gaze. In the quiet of your own little bubble, you whispered to him softly, things only for his ears. The rest of the world faded away as the two of yours started to grow and blossom.
Your first real date was as soon as later that week after class. He walked you to your car and sent you an ominous text once you got home.
toji: I’ll pick you up at 4pm.
toji: It’ll be a little cold inside, so wear long sleeves.
toji: And pants.
You snorted at that text. Did he expect you to pull up half naked?
toji: As in long pants. Of course you’ll wear pants. Duh.
toji: Don’t laugh, you know what I mean. Shut up, stop laughing at me.
You laughed even harder. Underneath all of his cockiness and arrogance, Toji was really just a huge dork and it only came out in moments like these. Whenever you’d point it out, he’d get all grumpy and insist he’s not a dork—but if he was—that they are over hated. You always countered and said that that’s something a dork would say.
At 4pm at the dot, he picked you up in his white sedan. The inside of his car was very tidy. You wondered if it was always like this, or if he cleaned it up just because you’d be in it. You imagined a timid Toji, scrambling to make his car look presentable for a first date. The thought made you smile to yourself. Dork.
“What’re you smiling about? Like my car?” He asked, his tone a little hopeful. You were no expert on cars, but despite being very beat up on the outside, it looked nice. It was obvious he took good care of it. “Yes, I do,” you admitted. “It’s quite nice.”
“Thanks. I know,” he grinned at you, knowing that would piss you off. You poked his cheek and he pouted before putting the car in drive.
“So where is this mysterious location?” You asked casually. You were staring out the window, trying to make sense of where you were headed. It was the general direction of town, which only narrowed down the options slightly. He could be taking you anywhere from a fancy restaurant to Dick’s Sporting Goods. You hoped it wasn’t the latter, you didn’t pursue jocks for a reason…
“It’s a surprise. And if you nag me about it, I’ll just give you hints that are misleading.” He chuckled to himself, sneaking a glance at you. He was met with you glowering at him. Even after giving you basically nothing to work with in picking an outfit, he had the audacity to keep his lips sealed. You hated to admit it, but it was cute. The effort he was putting in was adorable and pushed your #TojiIsADork agenda even further.
Finding out on your own instead of being fed fabricated information sounded more appealing, so you shut up. Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of an unfamiliar building. It was huge, you stared at the building in awe and Toji smiled, “It’s the new science museum. They have this one biology exhibit, I thought maybe we’d check it out?” He looked at you for approval, and that’s when you realized. He was nervous. The cocky guy you met was nowhere to be found. Instead, a slightly self conscious one stood before you. He kept stuffing his hands in his back pockets and removing them and you swore you saw him wipe his palms on his jeans. Interesting.
“This was thoughtful,” you said. His mood immediately posted at your praise, lips curving into a smile and even more confidence in his walk. He held open the door for you with a wink. “Ladies first.”
“Cornball,” you rolled your eyes, but slipped past him anyway. The guy at the front desk smiled as you walked up together.
“Tickets for two?”
Toji nodded and pushed up his glasses. “Does that include the new exhibit?”
“Yes it does.” He typed away on his computer. “That’ll be $19.18”
Toji fumbled for his wallet before handing over a $20 bill. He waved his hand for no change. The tickets printed out of a small machine and the worker handed them to you. “Enjoy!”
“Thank you,” Toji replied and the two of you entered the exhibit.
You had no idea such a cool place was in your city, and just right around the corner too. They had everything you could think of: dinosaur skeletons, glass cases with insects, human evolution halls, a whole planetarium, and so much more. You took it all in, glancing back at Toji to see how he reacted. He didn’t look nearly as impressed as you.
“I’ve been here so many times before already," he quickly explained.
“Oh, that makes sense.” You turned back to the exhibit and read the fun facts. After you exhausted every corner of the last exhibit, you headed for the one he was talking about.
It was centered around microbiology. The exhibit walked you through the different structures and explained their functions. Some of the things rang a bell and others didn’t. Either way, it was pretty cool to take what you’ve learned in class and apply it.
“This is way more in depth than what we’ve gone over in class, or in our lab together, but I wanted to show you since you seemed super intrigued in the lesson.” He explained. “Other than in me, of course.”
You scoffed, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Last time I checked, you were in the same boat.” You bumped him with your shoulder playfully.
“I still am, but I thought it was important to remind you of your roots. Your staring problem might be worse than mine,” he teased, bumping you back.
“I didn’t listen for your cafe order and then bring it up later to make a statement,” you pointed out. “Now who’s worse?”
“Hm,” he grunted. “I mean, I guess.”
“I’ll take that as accepting defeat,” you said triumphantly. He fought back a smile and took your hand. His large hand engulfed yours, squeezing it lightly before he guided you to that last part of the exhibit. The knots in your stomach only twisted more at his gesture.
“You mentioned during the first week that microbiology really interested you, so I saved the best for last.”
You blinked at him, a bit stunned he had remembered that. The two of you hadn’t even spoken then. It was a trivial comment you barely remembered making. Before you could fully process it, a video played on the screen. It was an animation detailing eukaryotic cells, specifically highlighting their functions in humans. The two of you watched in silence and listened intently. After it ended, he turned to face you.
“Isn’t it cool that under all these layers, we're just that.” He pointed to the nucleus of a small structure on the screen. “Humans are so complex. There’s so many things that are overlooked that are fundamental for us to function. Makes you appreciate the little things, you know?” He cleared his throat, eyes darting to the ground. “But yeah, uh, the video wasn’t too bad.”
He dropped his nonchalant act temporarily to connect with you, but you feel like you just missed your window yet again. His walls went up as quickly as they had gone down. You liked his take, it was very insightful. Plus, he’d remembered such a small detail about you and it meant a lot.
“The little things are overlooked often, you’re right,” you said quietly. Fear bubbled in your stomach, the weight of the conversation crashing down on you. Last time you checked, this wasn’t first date behavior. It was way too deep, way too soon. But you didn’t feel uncomfortable necessarily, you felt afraid of being judged. Being vulnerable, even if it was about biology cells, wasn’t your strong suit. Especially with someone you liked, you didn't want them to think less of you.
Toji nodded and inched closer. You looked up to look at him, really look at him. His hair was slightly mused, the polo he wore fitted him so perfectly it annoyed you, and his eyes. His green eyes were practically shining and you knew what was coming before it happened. He cupped your cheek before pressing his lips to yours. You kissed him back, fingers tangling in his hair. It was tender; he stroked your cheek with his thumb as he kissed you like you were his oxygen. His soft lips captured yours and it felt like the rest of the world melted away. You pulled away, flustered, heart ready to leap out of your chest.
“We’re in public,” you reminded him, slightly out of breath. The museum was pretty much empty, and no one else was in the exhibit room other than the two of you. You turned your back to him to compose yourself. You had realized he was going to kiss you right before it happened, and yet, nothing could have prepared you for that. The rate your heart was beating at was alarming. You wanted to do that again, except in the privacy of a room where you could do whatever you wa—
“You okay?” He asked, interrupting your thoughts.
You turned around and found him looking at you with a concerned look on his face. His glasses were slipping off his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. He walked up to you, but still left some space between him and you. “Was that too much?”
You shook your head. That wasn’t enough, but you couldn’t just say that. “No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry I—“ You paused to collect your thoughts. You liked him and it felt good to be here with him. But the pressure in your stomach wasn’t just butterflies. It was fear. You were scared of messing this up and it was eating you alive, preventing you from actually living in the moment.
“I think I’m just scared.”
Silence. Your confession, short and brutally honest, was finally out in the open. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from your chest. You exhaled and met his eyes. They were sad. Droopy even. Was it from disappointment? Had you ruined the good thing before you even got to enjoy it?
“Me too.” His expression mirrored yours and his admission hung in the air as the two of you processed your mutual fear. It was ironic really—both of you were terrified of ruining a good thing with the other. You could pin yours to previous experiences causing you to have the doubt, but you wondered: what was his reason? The way Toji carried himself alone would make you believe otherwise…but the first thing you learned about him was to never judge a book by its cover.
“You look surprised.” He said it more like a statement than a question. You didn’t even realize you were letting your shock show on your face. You quickly made a neutral expression, but it was too late.
“Go ahead, ask me why that is. I know you want to.” You did want to, but part of you wasn’t sure if you should. Despite the obvious invitation, it felt like an invasion of privacy. Again, you reminded yourself, not first date behavior. But you were already way past trying to fit it into the box of how a first date should go.
“Why are you scared?” Your voice sounded smaller than you had anticipated. Still, you waited for an answer.
“I’m not good at this stuff. I struggled to pick a place for us to go out. I ultimately picked somewhere where I think would interest the both of us and where we could have fun, but I wasn't sure if that was the right choice I mean…” He sighed and his shoulder slacked. “I thought you’re supposed to have a fancy dinner. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that. And I doubt we could even afford it, us being broke college students and all—anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that I’m scared of doing this all wrong. It’s hard to pinpoint the balance between what I should do and what I want to do.” He was rambling at this point. It didn’t seem to bother him though. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts verbally. “Is the expensive dinner the proper tone to set? Am I being a gentleman? Am I being too nice where it waters down our banter, but too rude where you think I might hate your guts? It’s a lot to wrap my head around.”
That was a lot to take in at once. You didn’t know he felt this way. He acted so carefree about it all that he really fooled you. “All I know is that I like you, and I want to see where this goes.” He shook his head. “Wow what a first date. Feels like a therapy session.”
Your nerves calmed down and your face broke into a smile. “I like you too. And you don’t need to worry about how you think you should act too much. Just be. I like you for how you are. You’re unapologetically your authentic self. That’s something I admire about you.”
He mirrored your smile. “Oh? Well I guess saying my piece was worth putting everything on the line for,” he joked. You rolled your eyes and laughed.
“Music to my ears.”
“Ugh,” you groaned. “Gross.”
“What? I can’t appreciate your laugh? And don’t say I’m being corny. Or a geek. I’m not a geek,” he argued.
“...That’s something a geek would say.”
The two of you left the room and bickered all the way out of the museum, to the car, and the ride home to your house. He kissed you goodbye and drove off once you got inside.
A few hours later, you received a text:
toji: Okay, on a scale of 1-10, how was the first date? I’m open to criticism, but let it be constructive. No “geek” or “dork” nonsense.
you: 10/10 for the geek-ery
toji: I hate you
you: you really don’t
toji: Shut it
You giggled and rolled over on your bed. You were really happy with how the date went. You were beyond nervous, but it all worked out in the end
you: on a real note, i had a good time. thank you for nerding out with me
toji: Same, thanks for agreeing to go out with me even though I said it wrong the first time.
toji: Also, the hell is “nerding out?”
you: the nerd … doesn't know what.. nerding out is …
toji: Wearing glasses doesn’t equate to me being a nerd dumbass
you: quickly, who can recite the entire marvel series in order from memory?
toji: I don’t know but they sound pretty cool to me ngl
you: Dork.
It took a few more dates to get fully comfortable with each other, but when you did, it was amazing. He kept it up with the nerdy date ideas, which you appreciated. You got to dabble in each other’s interests along with tapping into your shared ones. You kept things in your science lab locker from each date: ticket stubs, receipts, and photos... lots and lots of photos. The more you learned about him, the more you fell for him. It was impossible not to love him, you decided.
In class, you were eventually allowed to sit wherever, but of course neither of you budged. “These seats are lucky,” you declared one day. “We can’t move away.” Instead of teasing you, Toji agreed. There would be no seating changes since he was very happy with where he was at. He had said that last part pointedly and it made you grin.
Dating Toji was everything you’d imagined and more. He was attentive, noticing things you usually missed, and also kept you on your toes. He challenged you to try your hardest and be better. Whenever you needed help with school, he was the first person you went to. You couldn’t be more grateful.
And the sex was the best of your life. You remember your first time with Toji like it was yesterday:
It was early morning and he had spent the previous night watching movies with you. He spent the night and slept in your bed. You woke up with him hard, pressed up against your ass…and you, soaking through your flimsy sleep shorts.
Of course, knowing Toji, teasing you was his first course of action. He spread your thighs open, teased your entrance with his tip, smirking as you whined for him to just put it in already.
“Toji—” you whispered his name softly. His dark brows knitted together in mock concern. “Tojiii.”
“Yes?” He asked innocently. The smirk on his face told him he was anything but innocent, but you were so needy you didn’t want to stall any longer. You closed your legs slightly and glared at him. He gripped your thighs to force them apart and your stomach dipped in excitement.
“Stop teasing,” you pleaded. “Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely, I will. Give me a sec.” He took off his glasses and reached to put it on the nightstand, but you grabbed his wrist.
“No, keep them on,” you urged him.
He stared back at you for a moment before putting them back on. The look he gave you made the butterflies in your stomach swarm. You couldn’t resist that look and he knew it. You leaned forward and kissed him. He melted into the kiss, cupping your face gently, and groaning softly before finding his rightful place between your legs. You gasped as he entered you, arching your back. Each inch was more agonizing than the last. He was just too big to take all at once.
“S-slow down.”
He stilled and pushed your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry I got too excited, you wanna take it slow?”
You nodded eagerly and he rubbed small circles on your clit with his thumb. He tried again, except slower this time. You bit your lip as you attempted to take all of him again. “So tight baby—shit—That’s all of me,” he groaned as he bottomed out. He felt so good like this—thick cock stretching you out and burying you to the hilt. You moaned his name into the pillow underneath you softly.
“Mm don’t hide from me, I wanna hear you.” You lifted your head slightly at his words. He started to move his hips at a steady pace and you let out your broken moans this time. He groaned too, lost in the way your velvet walls hugged him tightly. For the first time having sex with him, he felt heavenly. You clawed at his back, whining as you took him.
“Holy shit you turn me on so much.” His glasses kept slipping slightly down his nose and he kept pushing them up, but he didn’t take them off. The lewd sounds of skin on skin filled the room as dawn settled in. The sun rising didn’t stop either or you. Everything you needed was right here inside front of you.
“You’re taking me so well,” he groaned, causing you to flutter around him. His glasses were slightly fogged by now, each stroke stripped him of his resolve. All of his focus was on chasing both of your highs. He snapped hips and picked up the pace. Your broken cries egged him on even further and he twitched inside of you at your pretty sounds.
“Feels s’good,” you choked out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “I’m close.” Pleasure was building up in your stomach. You were so close you could practically taste it. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he turned his hips slightly. At this new angle, he drove even deeper inside your poor cunt, fucking you with purpose. The head of his cock kissed your cervix every time he bottomed out and you clenched around his length, eyes screwed shut.
“Yeah baby? You're close? Cum for me. I wanna feel you squeezing around me,” he breathed, “Give it to me. All of you.”
With one more thrust, you came, cunt squeezing his cock, milking him for everything he has, just like he asked. His name escaped your lips as your orgasm crashed over you and you shuddered at the overwhelming pleasure. He slowed down, thrusts becoming sloppier than the last, rigid before he came himself. His thick seed shot deep inside your aching cunt. You whined softly as he collapsed beside you with a low grunt.
The two of you laid there, chests heaving as you caught your breath.
“Toji…”
“'m sorry, I didn’t plan this either.”
You lifted your head to glare at him. “Oh, really? Who was humping me like a hormonal dog in their sleep last night?” You shot back.
“Fair point, let me make it up to you?” He folded almost immediately.
You perked up at this, curious to see what he had in store. “Making it up to you” entailed the best aftercare of your life, though he swore he always prioritized aftercare no matter the situation. Toji cleaned you up with a towel before taking you to the bathroom. He ran a hot bath with your favorite body wash and made sure the temperature was just right. He climbed in with you and handed you with care. Afterwards, you snuggled in bed together with you as the little spoon.
“Sometimes I wonder if I hadn’t forgotten my lunch that day. I wouldn’t have gone into the cafe,” you murmured.
Toji kissed your neck and sighed. “Yeah we wouldn’t have continued our little game.”
“I’m glad I did. I’m glad to be stuck with you.”
“Me too,” he murmured back, “I’ll always be right by your side.”
AUTHOR'S NOTE why is there nooo love for nerdji like guys plz
┃your brother would kill you if he knew how dirty you get with his best friend.
──────────────────────────────
"Shut up. It's like you want to get caught."
his mouth is clamped on your face, trying to contain the moans escaping your mouth but his hand could only do so much. You're straddling his giant quads while he thrusts up into you from below.
It's 2am. You're supposed to be sleeping but instead, you're getting fucked by your brother's best friend. Your brother is sleeping a couple rooms down, completely unaware.
"Get off." he demands.
"Wha— why?"
"You don't know how to shut the fuck up."
He's lifting you off, but you clutch on to his shoulders, gluing yourself to him.
"I-I'm sorry, I'll shut up, please don't stop." you're so close to unraveling but it's just so, so hard to keep quiet. He reaches over to the foot of the bed and grab the panties he ripped off of you moments ago.
"Open."
You open your mouth and feel your own panties being shoved in your mouth. You look at him with wide, clueless eyes that ask him, "why?", but he thrusts up into you harshly, telling you to deal with it.
squelch squelch squelch
is all you hear right now, and the occasional groan from Toji. His hands hold your arms behind your back, leaving you helpless.
He's thrusting inside your warm cunt, fast and hard, chasing his own high. His mouth is slightly open, and his breath hits your shoulder blade, making you shiver.
"You're just gonna' let me use you like this? Huh?"
His hands move down to your ass, spreading you wide open so you can take all of him. You want to tell him it's too much, but you don't dare take the cloth out of your mouth; you know how mean he could be.
You resort to slapping him harshly on his chest, but he only slaps you right across the face. You whine loudly, arching your back in pain.
"Too much? Poor baby. Too bad you can't talk, huh?" he coos.
You love it. You love it so, so much. The way he's so much bigger than you made the sex 10x better, and he's so strong, putting you in whatever position he wanted you in.
"Can I fill you up, baby? Make you all mine?" how can you say no when he's asking so nicely?
You bob your head up and down, pleading him with your watery eyes. He comes so hard inside of you that his body is twitching aggressively in pleasure; his groans turned into soft moans, making you come all over him soon after. You both stay there, still dazed.
You take your panties out of your mouth, "Asshole," but you only earn a sharp slap to your ass.
knock knock knock
"Hey, is everything alright in there? Have you seen Toji?"
I guess the panties weren't as effective as Toji thought.
Because he never made you feel like a burden. He never looked at the bruises on your arms and asked what you did to provoke it. He never sighed when you flinched at loud noises, never rolled his eyes when you cried, never told you to “just toughen up, he’s your father.”
He never said that.
But your mother did. She sat on the couch, cigarette burning down to the filter, and said, "He's your dad. What do you want me to do?" while you stood there with blood drying in your hair.
Your mother, who watched it happen for years and said nothing. Your mother, who once handed your father the belt because you'd forgotten to wash the dishes. Your mother, who looked at your split lip at the dinner table and asked you to pass the salt.
Your friends did. "Maybe if you didn't talk back so much..." one of them said once, and you learned to stop telling them things.
Everyone did.
Everyone but him.
He just looked at you. That first time. You were sitting on the curb outside the convenience store, trying to stop your nose from bleeding with a crumpled napkin. He didn’t know you then. You were hiding from a house that hated you. He parked his truck, walked over, and crouched down right there on the dirty pavement. He didn’t ask what happened. He just handed you a clean handkerchief—soft white cotton, like something from an old movie—and said, “You okay doll?”
That was it. The first time you saw him.
He’s not that well off—he works at a garage on the edge of town, the one with the flickering sign and the pit bulls chained out back. His hands are always stained with grease, knuckles perpetually split, nails lined with a permanent crescent of black. He dropped out of school at sixteen to take care of his own shit, family stuff he never talks about except late at night when his voice goes hollow and distant.
But he always brought you the things you wanted. Things you never asked for, because you learned a long time ago that wanting things only led to pain. Wanting got you a fractured wrist. Wanting got you called a greedy, selfish, bitch just like your mother. So you stopped asking. You stopped looking. You stared at your shoes and never let your eyes linger on anything too long.
But he noticed.
Of course he noticed. He notices everything about you. The way your breath catches. The way your fingers twitch toward something before you shove your hands in your pockets. The way your gaze drifted—just for a second, just a flicker—toward the white dress in the thrift shop window every single time you walked past it.
You never said a word. But he knew.
He knew the exact shade of white. The tiny lace trim at the collar. The way it would sit on your shoulders, the way it would twirl around your knees if you ever let yourself spin in it. You'd never spun in a dress before. You'd never been allowed to be that kind of girl.
He got it for you.
He got it. For you.
He worked extra shifts. He skipped meals. You didn't know that then. One night, after another beating, he showed up at your door with a crumpled paper bag in his hand.
"It's not wrapped or anything," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't know how to do that fancy shit."
His voice was rough, almost embarrassed, like he was the one who should be grateful.
You wore it the next day and he looked at you like you'd hung the moon. No one had ever looked at you like that before.
Before him, you never saw the sea.
Your parents never took you anywhere. Vacations were for other families, the ones whose fathers didn't drink through their paychecks and whose mothers didn't disappear into their bedrooms for days.
Your friends would plan trips—bus tickets, shared hostel rooms—and you'd watch them go from your bedroom window, forehead still throbbing from the night before. They'd come back with sunburns and blurry photos and stories you weren't part of.
"Sorry, we just don't want you to be... uncomfortable. You know, with money and stuff. We didn't think your parents would let you."
Uncomfortable.
Right.
They meant they didn't want you to make them uncomfortable. With your bruises. Your empty wallet. Your nervous habit of saying sorry for existing.
Guess who took you there?
Him.
You mentioned it to him once, months later, in the truck with the windows down and the radio playing static between stations. A joke that wasn't really a joke. You do that sometimes—say things with a laugh tacked on at the end so no one feels obligated to care.
"You know, I've never seen the sea."
"Let's go then."
Just like that. He pulled over at the next gas station, checked the oil, bought you a pack of those gummy worms you like, and pointed the truck east.
It was a long way. Seven hours. The seats were cracked vinyl and the air conditioning was broken, so you drove with the windows down and the hot wind whipping your hair into knots. You fell asleep somewhere around hour four, your cheek pressed against the seatbelt, the vibration of the road humming through your bones.
You drifted in and out, and in that half conscious haze, you felt it—the warmth of his hand on your thigh. Just... there. Heavy. Calloused thumb tracing slow circles against the inside of your knee, barely moving, like he was trying not to wake you. You kept your eyes closed and didn't move. Your heart was pounding. You didn't know if it was fear or something else. You still don't.
When you finally stood on the sand and watched the waves roll in, you started shaking. You had spent your whole life in a cage, and this man had simply... unlocked the door. He stood behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.
"You see?" he murmured into your ear. "There's a whole world out there. And I'm gonna show you all of it. Just you and me."
Just you and him.
That was the best day of your life.
He's the best thing that has ever happened in your life.
You always wanted to try alcohol and cigarettes. Normal teenage curiosities, the kind other kids explored at parties and bonfires, the kind your father beat out of you when you stole one of his beers. You were fifteen. He cracked your head open on the kitchen counter and told you he'd do worse if you ever touched his stuff again. Your mother held a dish towel to the wound and whispered, "Why do you always make him mad?"
But he let you try it. The first time, he sat you down on the back of his truck bed, legs dangling, the night sky smeared with stars. He handed you a bottle—something cheap, bitter—and watched you wince at the taste.
"It's okay if it's with me," he said, taking the bottle back, his fingers brushing yours. "But you shouldn't do it with other people. They will take advantage of you. Bad things happen."
Then he took a slow drag of his cigarette, leaned in, and kissed you. Smoke curled between your tongues. The taste was bitter and acrid and absolutely nothing like you'd imagined your first kiss to be.
You loved it. You loved it because it was him. Because he was giving you something your father tried to beat out of you.
He pulled back and looked at you with dark eyes. "You shouldn't do this with anyone else. Only me. Promise me."
"I promise."
You promised. You'd promise him anything.
He never lets you drink with anyone else. He's always there—leaning against the wall at the party you didn't really want to go, watching from the truck when your "friends" invite you out, texting you to check in, to remind you he's waiting, to ask if you're okay, if you need him, if anyone's bothering you.
Your friends don't like him.
They say he's broke. They say he's creepy, the way he just there, the way he never talks to them. They say he's too old for you—what does a grown man want with a girl like you? They say he didn't finish his education, that he's going nowhere, that he's dragging you down with him.
"Oh my god, why is he always there? It's suffocating."
Because he loves you.
That's why he's always around. That's why he waits outside your job at the diner to walk you home. That's why he knows your schedule better than you do. That's why he once followed a guy three blocks because he catcalled you and you never saw that guy again. You didn't ask what happened. You didn't want to know. You just felt safe.
People don't want to be around people they don't like, right? Your father never wanted to be around you. Your mother took extra shifts just to avoid the house. Your friends stopped inviting you places long before he came along.
"What do you mean he doesn't want you to drink with us? That's controlling."
Shut up.
You don't know shit.
You don't know anything.
Your so called friends are just a bunch of spoiled cunts who've never felt the weight of a grown man's fist. They've never hidden in a closet and prayed for the footsteps to pass. They've never learned to read the temperature of a room by the way a door slams. They don't understand what it means to be really alone, and they don't understand what it means to be saved.
He doesn't want you drinking with them because they don't know how to take care of you. They'd let you get sick. They'd let you wander off. They'd let someone slip something in your cup and then say "oh my god that's so crazy" the next morning while you piece yourself back together alone.
He would never let that happen.
So yeah. Controlling. Sure. If "controlling" means "would die before letting a single bad thing touch you ever again," then fine. Call the police.
They don't understand.
But he does.
He was the one who got rid of your dad's body after all.
You didn't mean it.
You really didn't mean it.
It wasn't even a conscious decision. It was an instinct. A flinch. A lifetime of fear exploding outward in one desperate motion. Your father was beating you again. With his belt. The iron buckle caught the light every time he raised his arm, and it came down on your back like a brand. It made your back bleed. You could feel the wetness soaking through your shirt, sticky and hot.
He had you by the hair. Ripping it out in chunks. Your scalp screamed. You couldn't see straight. You couldn't breathe. You never understood why he hated you this much. You still don't. Maybe there is no reason. Maybe some people are just born into the world already burning, and the flames have to go somewhere.
And you were so tired.
You'd had a headache all day. A migraine, probably, from stress and hunger and the fact that you hadn't slept more than three hours in two days. And he kept ripping your hair out, and the pain was everywhere, and your vision was going white—
So you pushed him.
Not hard. Just a shove. Just a desperate, flailing attempt to make it stop.
But he was drunk. He was always drunk. And he was standing at the top of the stairs. And his balance was gone.
And he fell.
He didn't even scream. Just a grunt of surprise, then the sound of his body hitting the steps one by one by one. Then silence.
He died.
Just like that.
The blood spread so fast. It painted the floorboards black in the dim hallway light. His neck was bent wrong, his eyes open and empty.
You couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in and your hands wouldn't stop shaking and the blood was still spreading, creeping everywhere like a living thing.
So you called him.
You didn't even think. Your fingers dialed his number before your brain caught up. He answered on the first ring. He always does.
He didn't ask questions. He didn't panic. He just said "I'm on my way." and hung up.
He came in through the back door. He saw the body. He saw you, trembling, still holding the phone. And he didn't flinch. He didn't gasp. He just walked over, stepped carefully around the blood, and pulled you into his chest.
"Hey. Look at me. Look at me."
You couldn't. You were staring at the body. At what you'd done.
"No," he said, and his hands cupped your face, forced your eyes to his. "Don't look at him. Look at me. Only me. Okay?"
Okay.
"Good girl. Now listen. You're going to go upstairs and take a bath. Lock the door. Don't come down until I tell you. Can you do that?"
You nodded. You were shaking so hard your teeth chattered.
"Good. Go."
But your legs were giving out and your vision was blurring and he had to carry you.
He ran the bath himself. Checked the temperature with his elbow—gentle, so gentle—and helped you out of your ruined shirt. You were too numb to be embarrassed. He didn't look at you with pity or disgust. He looked at the gashes on your back, the old scars layered beneath the new ones, and his jaw tightened so hard you could hear his teeth grinding. But his hands were feather light when he cleaned the wounds, when he helped you into the warm water and told you to stay there until he came back.
"I'll take care of everything," he said, and kissed your forehead. "Everything's alright."
Then he went downstairs.
You heard things. Sounds. Thumps. The back door opening and closing. The truck engine starting, then fading into the night. And then nothing. Hours of nothing while you sat in the cooling water and shivered and prayed—to God, to the universe, to anything that might be listening.
Please don't let them find out.
Please don't let them take me away.
Please don't let him get caught.
Please.
Please.
Please.
When you came back downstairs, the body was gone. The floor was clean. The bleach smell was so strong it burned your nose, but there was no blood. Not a single drop. Your father had vanished from the world like he'd never existed.
Your mother asked you where your dad was and you said you don't know. She looked at you for a long moment—too long—and you felt your stomach drop, but then she just nodded and went back to her phone. She didn't ask again. Not the next day, and not the day after. Maybe she knew. Maybe she was just grateful. You never found out.
You couldn't sleep for days. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the fall. The sound. The way his neck bent. So you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, praying to gods you didn't believe in.
And then one day, he came back. Like nothing had happened.
He wrapped his arms around you, pulled you into the heat of his chest, pressed his lips to your hair.
"Look," he whispered.
You looked.
Huh?
"I got you the shoes you wanted."
That made you break down—heaving sobs that tore out of your throat like they'd been waiting years to escape. He held you. He didn't shush you. He just let you soak his clean shirt with tears and snot, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressed flat against your spine, careful to avoid the bandages.
"I've got you," he whispered against your hair. "No one's ever going to hurt you again. No one."
You believe him. Because he's the only person who's ever protected you.
Your friends still don't understand. They send you texts about "red flags" and "power imbalances." They don't know that he's the only reason you're still alive. That if he hadn't picked up the phone that night, you might have just lain down beside your father's body and let the cold take you too.
But he did pick up. He always picks up.
He's the only one who loves you like this. The kind of love that wraps around your throat like a warm scarf and you can't tell if it's keeping you safe or cutting off your air. But the truth is, you don't even care.
It's been two years now. Your father's case is still open, technically, but no one is looking very hard. The house got sold. Your mother moved away. You moved in with him, into that tiny studio with the broken ceiling fan and the mattress on the floor. It's not much. But it's yours.
You have a ring on your finger now. It's not a diamond—he couldn't afford that—but it's silver, tarnished, old. He found it at a pawn shop, he said. Something about the way he said it made you think maybe he didn't. Maybe it belonged to someone. Maybe he took it. You don't ask.
"I'll get you a real one someday," he promised, sliding it onto your finger with those grease stained hands. "When I've saved up. When things are settled."
You told him it was already real. You told him you didn't need anything else.
His smile almost reached his eyes that day.
He works during the day. You stay home. He says you don't need to work—he'll take care of everything. He's never been controlling about it, exactly. He just says it's safer this way. That the world is full of people like your father, people who will see your softness and try to crush it. He's protecting you.
You're not sure when "I love you" started to sound like "don't leave the apartment." You're not sure when "I'm the only one who understands you" started to feel less like comfort and more like a cage.
But maybe cages aren't so bad. Maybe safety is worth the bars.
Sometimes, when he's asleep, you think about leaving. You think about taking what little money you have and catching a bus to somewhere far away, somewhere you've never been, somewhere no one knows your name or what you did. You think about starting over. Being normal. Free.
But then he shifts in his sleep and reaches for you, even unconscious, his arm curling around your waist like you're something precious.
And you stay. You always stay.
Because you love him.
You love him so much it terrifies you.
Because if he ever left—if he ever decided you weren't worth the trouble—you would have nothing. Less than nothing. You would have the memory of what it felt like to be held, and the knowledge that you could never go back to the cold. He is your everything. And the most terrifying part, the thought that keeps you awake at night when he's not there, isn't that he might hurt you.
It's that you would let him.
If he wanted to. If he decided one day that you owed him more than gratitude. If his hands, which have only ever been gentle, turned into something else. You would let him. Because he's earned it. Because you owe him everything. Because after what you did, who else would ever want you? Who else could ever look at you and see anything but a murderer?
Only him.
Only ever him.
Your friends don't understand.
But it's okay.
You stopped talking to them months ago. With his help. He said it was better this way. He said they were toxic. He said they made you feel bad about yourself. He was right. He's always right.
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 10k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, horror, trauma and ptsd, discussion of sexual assault, pregnancy, delusion, toxic relationship
a/n: this one is a bit of a mess for both characters so good luck
Your soft breaths felt warm against his bare chest, lashes fluttering every so slightly as you lost yourself in some seemingly pleasant dream. Sukuna had been watching you for a while, cradling you against him lovingly, choosing to bask in happiness for a few hours at the fact that you were there and pregnant and his.
He wanted to stay there forever, caught solely in that lovely moment with you.
But he knew he couldn’t.
He knew that he instead needed to get up and address the concern gnawing away at his gut. If he wanted more nights like that, more nights with you in his possession, he needed to ensure he didn’t lose you. That meant he couldn’t bury his head in the sand and fall asleep blissfully at your side like he wanted.
He had to understand just what you knew.
Reluctantly he slipped from your grip, laying your head softly down upon the pillows and ensuring the blanket was wrapped snugly around you before padding into the bathroom to confirm the truth of his suspicions. His red eyes went straight to the tile beneath the sink, catching his lower lip between his teeth at the easy assessment that something was amiss.
The tile had been put back in the wrong orientation, the pattern not quite matching up with the ones neighbouring it. Sukuna hadn’t shifted that tile in months, and even if he had, he always took great care to line it back up again perfectly to avoid any suspicion.
This was the carelessness of someone replacing the tile in a panic.
A heavy breath left his lips and for a few moments he’d just stared at it, leaning his palm against the sink, his mind totally blank. He didn’t want this to be happening now - he’d figured one day you’d find out, but had wanted that to be under his careful control at a time when you were more securely locked within his grip.
Right now he was uncertain where your mind lay and that was a problem.
At least you hadn’t immediately run from him. That, he supposed, was a positive sign.
Even through all your jittery anxiety displayed earlier that evening, you’d still given yourself to him, still clung to him like he was the most precious thing in your world. It meant that he still had a chance to shape your opinion on what you’d seen - still had a chance to secure your place with him.
He wondered if you’d even understood what you’d found. Perhaps you’d made up some excuse or story in your head where Sukuna came off better than the reality. It would be preferable if you had understood and had chosen to stay anyway. If that was the case Sukuna really would’ve struck upon gold.
Crouching down, he shifted the tile, finding that you’d repacked the items in the space below almost exactly as you’d found them. That pleased him, because leaving the evidence in place suggested that you didn’t have a plan to run off with it or investigate further. Or, perhaps you were just clever enough to know he’d check and didn’t want to risk him realising what you knew.
It was a thought he shoved from his mind in favour of holding faith in your loyalty to him.
Putting the tile back where it belonged, Sukuna stood up and leant against the sink once more, red eyes staring back at him in the mirror. He looked tired, with dark circles hanging on his face, and his hair a little more tousled than usual. Despite it all there was a calm quality to his expression - one that he wasn’t quite expecting on account of the fact that he should have been freaking out.
He was on the precipice of losing you, of losing everything. You’d discovered the secret that could topple everything he’d spent years building.
And yet, he felt strangely serene.
You hadn’t run. Not yet. You knew, and you were still there in his bed. That meant that there was a chance for him. There was no point in panicking, what he needed was to stay level-headed and formulate a plan to ensure that you didn’t change your mind. He needed to know where your head was at, and he needed to twist your thoughts until all your affection was directed towards him.
Assuming that wasn’t already the case.
Ideally, he wouldn’t need to do much at all.
—
Sukuna hadn’t needed to wait long to understand your thoughts on the whole situation.
A day had passed since that fateful evening, and Sukuna had made sure to come home from work as early as possible. While he was feeling calm about the whole thing, he wasn’t entirely confident that you wouldn’t scurry off while he was out of the house. He couldn’t completely comprehend your mental state and was subsequently unsure whether your currently fragile mind might work with or against him.
His gut told him that your distressed condition would probably go in his favour, since you were always so clingy with him, but that didn’t stop the flicker of anxiety over the idea that hours alone to think would have you fleeing from his home.
If that was the case it would be fine - he’d still get you back. It would just be far more difficult than he’d ideally like it to be.
He didn’t want to take drastic measures with you - he wanted you to be at his side completely willingly. But if you forced his hand he would act regardless. You were destined to be with him and there was absolutely nothing that would ever get in the way of that.
The pregnancy had really come at the right time, because he was certain that the baby would make it easier to keep you exactly where you belonged. It was something that would tie you to him permanently, something that would give you serious pause when considering leaving him. God, he was glad he’d had the foresight to steal your birth control pills and poke holes in the condoms when you’d made him use them - that was really paying off for him.
And just as he’d hoped, upon his return to the apartment he found you there as usual.
You were curled up on the sofa, all wrapped up and cozy in a blanket. The TV was on, playing an episode of Community - a show you’d often have on as comforting background noise. You weren’t watching it when he walked in through the door, your eyes wide and worried as you watched him enter, a pistol gripped between your trembling hands.
Sukuna faltered for a moment, his shoulders only relaxing when you let out a choked sigh of relief, lowering the gun down onto your lap.
“Hey,” he said, almost cautiously.
“Hey.” You rubbed your face. Sukuna surveyed you carefully, taking note of how tired you looked, with dark circles hanging beneath your unusually dull eyes. You looked sickly - sweat slick on your brow, and your lips a little cracked and dry.
“Gonna shoot me, baby?” He asked, only half joking.
“No- no. Sorry.” The apology was bashful, and you were quick to transfer the gun from your lap over to the coffee table. “You’re home so early. When I heard the door I thought maybe…you know…”
He hummed as you let him fill in the gaps. He hoped you were suggesting that you were concerned he was someone else, rather than fearing that he’d broken his usual routine with the intent of showing up to hurt you. It didn’t seem to be the latter, since your anxiety from the previous night was largely absent.
You just seemed unwell rather than scared.
“It’s okay. I like knowing that you can look out for yourself.” He caught the blush that covered your cheeks, his ego boosted by the reactions he could still draw from you. If the evidence wasn’t so clear he would’ve believed you were still totally in the dark about Kashimo, going by the adoration you still seemed to hold for him.
He hoped that was a sign of good things to come.
“Not feeling well?” He asked, crossing the room and crouching down in front of you. His hand went to your forehead, pressing against the sweaty skin. You were running concerningly hot, and he quickly moved to stroke your hair comfortingly, pressing a soft kiss of greeting on your lips.
“Morning sickness doesn’t seem to keep itself exclusive to the morning,” you grumbled with a pout. If you didn’t look so faint he’d find it insanely cute.
A smile played on his lips at your words, the concerns about your relationship fleeing him for a moment. He’d been so focussed on the Kashimo issue that he hadn’t had too much time to bask in the pleasant feeling of you being pregnant with his child. He was happy to hear you talk about something like morning sickness - some mundane part of your shared life.
It made his fears of a burning future seem almost trivial.
“Ah. Want me to make you some soup? That should be easy for you to keep down,” he suggested.
“It's okay, I’ll do it. You’ve been at work all day.” You moved to get up, but Sukuna’s hands were quick to fall upon your shoulders, carefully sitting you back down on the couch.
“Stay there. You’re pregnant, I’m not making you do anything.”
You flushed, sinking back down into the sofa as your eyes followed him. There was still a trace of something within them - a slight uncertainty that Sukuna didn’t like, but he brushed it aside in favour of pretending everything was normal. He’d make you dinner and you’d curl up at his side on the couch while you watched TV.
Just like every night.
That was your routine, that was how it was for you to belong to him.
Nothing would change that.
“One of Kashimo’s old friends called me today.” Your voice rang out after a few minutes of silence.
Sukuna hesitated for a moment, stalling his cutting of onions for a near imperceptible second before continuing. “Oh yeah?” He was curious to see where you were going to take this, because he was absolutely certain that no such friend had reached out to you.
“They said he’s gone missing.”
“Huh. Probably in some drug den somewhere if what Satoru told me is anything to go by.” Sukuna said easily, trying his best to keep his expression neutral. He’d admit to nothing until you came out and actively accused him of something. Coming out with the truth or a half-baked lie could both do damage until he understood where your mind was on the issue.
“I don’t know, I’m kind of worried.”
“Why? The guy treated you like shit. Good riddance, who cares what he’s doing?”
For a few moments you were silent, biting down on your lip. Your gaze wasn’t on Sukuna, but on the TV, pretending to be all invested in the show you’d seen hundreds of times. Sukuna knew you well enough to be able to see the cogs turning in your brain - a war raging in your mind over what you should say next.
“What if he’s dead?” You asked.
Still, you didn’t look at him. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were holding your breath. It wasn’t an outright accusation, it was nothing more than a roundabout way of trying to get Sukuna to slip up. He needed you to give him more than that, so he simply played along with your thought experiment.
It's what he would do until you asked him a direct question about your suspicions.
“Why would you think that?” He asked, adding the chopped onions to the pot, covering it and setting it on a low heat, continuing to prepare dinner like you were discussing something no more important than the next day’s weather.
To him it was no more important than that.
“I don’t-” you hesitated, freezing up. “I don’t know. Just a feeling.”
Sukuna tried to keep himself from smiling at how poorly you’d played this game with him. You’d gone in without any real plan or structure to your conversation, leaving yourself with no excuse or opportunity to understand the truth without asking the question outright. You just weren’t experienced enough at acting sly - not like he was.
It was most amusing to see you trying so hard at it though.
Cute, even.
“Baby.” Sukuna dropped the knife into the sink, his attention turning to you. You looked so sweet all huddled up on his sofa, practically drowning in one of his t-shirts. There was something about the scene that provided unquestionable proof that you were his, and he wondered if you even believed in the little investigation you were mounting.
Were you asking those questions because you really wanted to know? Because you really cared? Or were you simply asking the questions because you felt it was morally correct? Asking with the intention of weakly confirming that Sukuna had done nothing wrong, allowing you to stick your head back in the sand?
Perhaps that was why you weren’t addressing things directly.
“Lets cut the shit. Why are we talking about that guy? I don’t like thinking about him,” Sukuna said, staring down at you expectantly.
There, you could have your chance at being direct, if you didn’t want to take it then that was that. Case closed.
He watched your face evenly, taking note of your nervous, darting eyes, and of the way that your lips trembled at their corners. For a moment he was certain you’d back down from the challenge, but you seemed to miraculously find your resolve somewhere deep within yourself.
“Why do you have Kashimo’s things?” You asked quietly, and Sukuna grinned.
“Why do you think I have his things?”
He couldn't pass up the chance for you to come up with your own reasoning. He wanted to hear your thought process first before offering either the truth or a lie that would fall further from the image you’d already created in your head.
“I don’t- I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?”
Again, there was hesitation. Your gaze dropped down to your lap in a desperate attempt to escape the pressure Sukuna brought with him as he approached your position on the sofa. “No. I don’t,” you murmured quietly. “I don’t.”
There was a resignation in your voice that told him you did know, but were desperately trying to find another explanation, hoping there was something he’d say that could clear all this up for you as some big misunderstanding.
You’d find no such comfort from him.
He wouldn’t spend his whole life lying to you, not when the cat was clawing at the bag in a desperate attempt at freedom. One day you’d have to know, and you’d have to make peace with who he was.
He’d make sure you made peace with it.
“No, no. Go on, pretty girl.” His hands were on your shoulders, massaging them gently. “You’re not much of a liar, so say it. Say what you’re thinking. Tell me what’s been on your mind since I came home yesterday.”
You were rigid beneath his touch. “Did- did you kill Kashimo?”
“Yeah. I did.”
He felt a shudder run through you, your breaths picking up rapidly at his confession. Instantly, tears began to gather at the corners of your eyes and you shrugged his hands off you, scrambling away further down the sofa. Your gaze was wild and scared, fixed on him with renewed anxiety just like your body language from the night before.
You’d clearly pushed the thought aside over the past twenty-four hours - buried it deep beneath a slew of delusions. With the truth laid so plainly in front of you it was no longer possible to convince yourself that there was some reasonable explanation for what you’d found.
And that clearly terrified you.
To some extent he’d expected your reaction.
Of course you were going to panic - you weren’t like him, you were nice and soft, completely removed from the horrors of his world. But that still didn’t stop your response from wounding him. He didn’t want you to be afraid of him - he’d never do anything to hurt you, and he hated seeing you cowering away from him like you were.
Even so, he needed to endure for a while. He’d be able to bring you back around once you let him explain - he was certain of that. There wasn’t a single thing that would keep him from you. It was pointless for him to grow overwhelmed with worry or sorrow - this was his chance to make you see the love in his actions, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
Rounding the sofa, he positioned himself in front of you. His stomach twisted as you drew your knees up to your chest, as if creating a barrier between the two of you. He wanted to reach out and wipe your tears, perhaps card his fingers through your hair and coo about how safe you were with him, but he feared you’d push him away.
It was a situation that needed delicate handling.
“Why?” You choked out. “Why would you?”
“I saw how upset you were at the reunion. I saw how much he’d hurt you. I ran into the guy afterwards and confronted him about it all and things got a bit nasty. I had no choice.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily. There was little proof concerning the framing work he and Satoru had engaged in to make Kashimo look bad, so he wouldn’t admit it to you.
That would be a pointless overcomplication.
“Things got nasty?” You echoed, disbelief evident in your tone.
“Yeah. You know how you said he was going home after the reunion? Well, I ran into him in the parking lot of a bar just outside of town where he was drunk and feeling up some escort. When I cussed him out he attacked me and I retaliated. I went too far and that was that. I didn’t wanna tell you because, well, y’know…” He shrugged.
He could see confusion glimmering in your eyes as you struggled to understand the facts presented to you. Sukuna was banking on the assumption that your only evidence of Kashimo’s death came from the items hidden in the bathroom. If you had any further info then his construction could easily crumble.
“No. Kashimo wasn’t- he wouldn’t... He was never violent to me, I don’t- I don’t believe you.”
It seemed like even you were surprised to hear those words falling from your lips, an awkward guilt clouding over your face, as if ashamed with yourself for being unwilling to immediately believe the love of your life.
“Yeah, well, if what Satoru stumbled across on his Myspace is anything to go by, you didn’t know him very well at all,” Sukuna pointed out.
Again you were silent, chewing on your lip for a few moments. Sukuna was getting antsy, wishing he was a mind-reader so that he could take away the difficulty of playing this game with you. He wanted to inject the correct thoughts directly into your head to avoid any chance at losing you.
He wanted you to be his willingly. He wanted you to accept him for exactly who he was.
“That doesn’t make it okay. You killed someone, Sukuna. Even if he attacked you, you can’t just kill-”
“We’ve both killed someone. Sometimes it has to happen. How would you like it if I told you that it was wrong to kill Mahito? You’d say I was victim-blaming.” Perhaps his manipulation was a little-heavy handed there, because you looked like you’d been struck across the face. Maybe that was exactly what was needed though - some comparison to help you realise that it wasn’t all that different.
No one mattered outside of you and him.
Mahito’s worth was identical to Kashimo’s. Just as Kashimo’s worth was identical to Ryu’s. The whole world was made up of nothing more than bags of meat with the exception of you. You were the only one with a shining, glimmering soul that he so desperately had to possess.
“It’s not the same!” Your voice was all wobbly, and fresh tears started dripping down your cheeks, dissolving you into a mess of sobs. “Oh god, oh god. This is so fucked.” You were mumbling into your knees, making it hard to hear your words.
Sukuna didn’t have much interest in what you had to say anyway. It was all irrelevant, nothing more than a kneejerk emotional reaction which he was going to correct. You were just shocked, that was all.
He took your condition as an opportunity, sitting down beside you on the couch and wrapping his arms tightly around your shaking body. Resting his chin atop your head, he tucked you close against him, savouring the warmth of you pressed against his side just like always. You tensed up for a moment, but remained there all the same.
If he was right in his belief, you were just as incapable of pushing him away as he was at parting with you.
“Just breathe baby,” he murmured, listening to your sobs and stroking your hair. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll always keep you safe. Everything I do is to protect you, to keep you happy. Weren’t you glad when we killed Mahito? You were grateful to have me there then. This is no different. I’ll do whatever it takes to look after you.”
“But Kashimo isn’t- wasn’t like Mahito! He never-” Your voice came out muffled and panicked, and Sukuna cut you off before you could finish, tightening his grip on you.
“There was an axe in his car, y’know? A load of tape and rope too. We didn’t say it to you because we didn’t wanna scare you, but on the guy’s private Myspace account he’d made loads of posts about certain fetishes - cannibalism and stuff. It kinda seemed like he wanted to do it to you. I wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t a good guy.”
More sniffles sounded from you, but you said nothing. Sukuna wasn’t quite sure if you quite believed him, but didn’t labour the point any further. If he tried to over explain it would only make him look like a liar, and he needed you to retain some level of trust towards him.
“I only ever want to look after you, baby. I’ll never be ashamed of doing that. I’d dispose of anyone who hurts you, that’s what it means to love. To kill for you is an ultimate expression of my love, it's my love language, I need you to see that baby.”
For a long time you were silent, completely frozen within his grip. He took that as a win, if things were dire you’d be squirming and struggling to escape, but still you remained beneath his touch, allowing proximity with a person who'd just admitted to disposing of one of your previous lovers.
It meant you could be convinced.
“It’s your love language?” You murmured quietly.
“Yeah.”
The cogs were turning steadily in your brain, and you slowly withdrew yourself from him. Your eyes were glassy as you peered up at him, horror and worry shining through the tears gathering at your lashline.
“Kashimo wasn’t the only one, was he?” Your voice came out small and uncertain.
He wasn’t going to lie to you. Not now you’d come this far.
“No. He wasn’t.”
“Ryu?” You asked shakily.
“Yeah. Yorozu too.”
“Fuck. No. No, no, no. Please, this can’t be happening.” You began to scratch and scrape at the skin of your arms, as if trying to awaken yourself from a nightmare. Your nails started to tear at the skin, drawing shallow lines of red to the surface. Sukuna was quick to stop you, grabbing both your wrists with one hand and holding you still.
The fear that flickered in your eyes was unpleasant, paired with a clear resignation that you could do little to overpower Sukuna if it ever came to that. If he called upon even the slightest amount of strength you couldn’t escape him, let alone if he actually tried.
“Stop that, baby. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I’m already hurt, Sukuna! You hurt me, you ruined-” your tone went all high pitched as you were overtaken by a sob, brows furrowed you tried your best to continue. “Ryu’s death broke me! I spent years in a spiral wondering who could’ve done such a thing, fearing that same thing happening to me, regretting cheating on him the day he died, but it was you! You caused all my misery! You killed my boyfriend and then fucked me while his body was still warm? Oh my god, Yuki was right. What the fuck am I doing?”
Sukuna tried not to let his irritation show at the mention of Yuki, alerting you to his annoyance only via the tightening of his grip upon your wrists.
“Did I cause your misery? Because I think you’d still be with Ryu right now if he didn’t die. I think you’d have a baby on your hip, stuck at home cooking his dinner all the while wondering what woman he was out fucking instead of you. You’d be dreaming about me, about the life we have right now, wishing you had this rather than being stuck with that asshole.”
He saw your eyes widen in horror, and he couldn’t help but let the ghost of a smile slip onto his face. You were so easy to read, so painfully predictable in the things that would cut you deepest.
“I’m sorry for your misery back then, I really am. But you needed it for your own happiness - needed it to lead you into my arms. Can you really deny that’s where you belong? You’re still letting me touch you now, still let me fuck you last night, still clung to me like you never wanted me to escape your grasp. So don’t lie to me and claim you aren’t happy. That misery was worth it.”
You blinked dumbly a couple of times, your shoulders sagging in resignation. It was clear that you weren’t completely on board, but nor did you have the certainty to bite back against what he was saying. You loved him, you still loved him despite it all, and he knew it. You didn’t want to throw away what you’d built together - it was why you’d curled up at his side the night before rather than flee from him.
“You don’t know that,” you murmured.
“Oh but I do. We both do. You’re meant to be with me, we’re made for each other.”
The silence stretched out once more, and Sukuna reached for you. His fingers brushed against your face, and a tremor ran through your body. Still, you made no effort to push him away, letting him dry your tears. His crimson eyes were fixed on you with great adoration, proud at how nicely you were sitting before him.
Making no attempt to run.
It pleased him. He had a contingency if you tried to dart away - he was faster and stronger and he’d hold you down and tie you up until you were ready to listen to reason. But he really didn’t want to resort to that.
“Baby, I just don’t think you’re good at making your own decisions, so let me make them for you. There’s too many people who want to take advantage of you and your happiness and I’ll cut through them all. I’ll keep you happy and safe and I’ll give you everything. Please just understand. You don’t have to even think about it - don’t worry about a thing.”
More tears dripped from your eyes, and he caught them easily with his thumb. You looked beautiful at the best of times, but he always liked the way you looked most when you were crying. He enjoyed the sight of you all helpless beside him, your face contorted with a despair that only he could comfort.
“How can I stop thinking about this?” You asked. “I can’t- things can’t go back to the way they were before now that I know all this. We need to stop- this needs to stop.” Your hand moved to your stomach, and the sudden horror of realisation crept into your expression. “All of this needs to stop.”
“No.” Sukuna said simply.
He spoke calmly, but inside a rage was simmering. He knew what you were implying - that not only should you break up, but you should get rid of the baby too. That was simply unacceptable to him. Not when he’d worked so hard.
“Don’t be stupid, baby. Do you really think you can live a life without me? You were miserable before I came into your life, do you really think you wouldn’t be miserable after?”
He leaned closer to you, so close that his breath was fanning against your face, his lips almost brushing against yours. His hand moved down to your chest, pressing down to feel your fluttering heartbeat.
“I’m the same man I was before you found any of this out, so what does it change? I know you love me, I know you want me. It changes nothing. We’re going to be happy, we’ll be together, we’ll be a family - because I know that’s what you want.” He paused, observing the way your eyes darted nervously, hanging on his every word. “You can’t live without me anymore. Admit it.”
“But what if I can’t live with you either?” The question came out all meek, barely loud enough for Sukuna to hear it. “How do I know that one day you’re not gonna turn around and kill me?”
Your eyes were shiny with terror as you met his gaze, and Sukuna found himself incapable of holding back the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. You looked so sweet, all scared below him and yet still leaning into his touch, still making no effort to put distance between the two of you. For all your words of opposition, he didn’t believe you’d act on any of it.
Even if you were disgusted by his actions, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be anything but attracted to him, still clinging to the relationship like it was the only thing worth having. There you were, voicing a fear that he’d kill you, and you couldn’t even find the will to scamper away. God, he was pleased with himself. He hadn’t realised just how deeply he’d dug his claws into you.
“Because then my life would have no purpose,” Sukuna said. “Everything I do, I do for you. I don’t kill for sport or pleasure, I kill out of a devotion for you - a gift to make your life easier, if you like. I would sooner pluck my own eyes from their sockets before I would bring you any harm. You’re the most precious thing in my universe, the only thing I cherish. I promise you, with me you’ll always be safe.”
Miraculously, your eyes seemed to light up. A soft blush blossomed across your cheeks and you quickly lowered your face as if to obscure it from him. Still, he’d seen it, he was aware that the words had struck a chord. You were still clinging to morality, trying to put your foot down - but it was fruitless.
You loved him.
That was all there was to it.
Through the good and the bad, you still desired him.
“But those were gifts I didn’t want. We would’ve found our way together despite it all, now everything’s just so fucked up,” you murmured.
“I wasn’t taking that chance.”
Sukuna’s fingers found your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His lips brushed yours tentatively before kissing you, drawing you in close to him. You could’ve pulled back, could’ve shoved him away - you did neither. Instead, you kissed him back, parting your lips when he pushed his tongue into your mouth, letting him move on top of you - pressing you back down onto the sofa.
“I’ve always needed you to be mine.” He whispered upon breaking this kiss. “Since the day we met. When it comes to you I won’t take any chances, I want you at my side for all eternity. My soul calls for yours and I know yours calls for mine. I know you want to let this all go, to accept me as I am. So do it, just do it, baby. I’m yours as you are mine.”
“Sukuna-”
“Please, baby. I love you. Please. I’ll give you a life you’ve only ever dreamed of.” His lips were pressing kisses all over your face, practically worshipping your body. He hoped his affection was enough to convince you of his devotion and remind you just how much you loved him.
“Sukuna, was the Mahito thing even real? Was that- was that your fault too?” Your voice came out all shaky, and he got the idea that the answer to that question was pivotal in your judgement of him.
He was wounded you’d believe he’d be part of such a heinous plan.
Sure, he was a killer, but he’d never hire some psycho to rough up you and your friends - that was a step too far.
“Fuck no. Baby, I already said I’d never do anything to hurt you. I liked Shoko, and finding that house eerily silent was one of the scariest nights of my life. I wanted to rip that guy to pieces with my bare hands and I probably would’ve if you weren’t in the room.”
Swallowing, you nodded slowly, clearly grateful for the fact that he at least wasn’t responsible for that. Still you seemed nervous, eyes a little unfocussed as he continued to kiss you. He was watching you carefully, trying to puzzle out where your mind was going, but struggling to read your largely vacant expression.
He wanted to make it all better, wanted to find a way to make you understand that everything was going to be okay. You couldn’t seem to comprehend that you were currently in the midst of shock - that in a few days time you’d be able to view everything with more objectivity and weigh up how much more worth your relationship held when compared to those measly lives Sukuna had taken.
“Without you I would’ve been raped and killed by Mahito,” you said slowly.
“Yeah, baby.”
There was no telling what might’ve actually happened, but he supposed that was probably a true enough guess.
“Without you, I’d be Ryu’s depressed little housewife, or a victim of Kashimo’s fetish.” Again, the words came out slowly, as if you were trying to process them yourself. Perhaps you were trying to convince yourself of them, and that fact made him very happy.
He knew you were a little broken, but seeing you jump through so many mental hoops to justify him had his heart racing. You were so perfect, so well trained, he really did want to keep you forever.
“Exactly. You get it, baby. I’m just trying to protect you. Everything I ever do, it’s all for you.” He nuzzled his nose against yours affectionately, fingers brushing against the soft skin of your cheeks. “I love you. You’re so happy with me, I see it. We can be a perfect little family. Hell, we can start over somewhere else, get out of this dead-end town and really make it. Wouldn’t that be nice? Just you and me, no distractions?”
No Yuki, no influence from your parents. That was Sukuna’s dream scenario.
He was staring down at you like a cat who had just dropped a dead bird at your feet. He was so pleased with himself, so proud of all he’d done, so proud of his plans for your future. He understood how you could be disgusted by his actions, but he needed you to see it for what it was.
This was love.
It was love that most people were never capable of achieving or experiencing. It was devotion in its rawest form, and he knew that you’d be able to see it with just a little time.
“I love you too,” you whispered shakily, the words leaving his heart racing. “I don’t want this to end. I’ve got so little to hold on to. After Mahito I feel so lonely and hopeless, I can’t- I don’t want-” the words came out choked, and you let out another breathy sob, cutting yourself off.
Again, Sukuna dried your tears. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. All you have to do is accept me, and I’ll keep you safe forever. I’ll stay by your side for as long as you have me. I’ll love you as long as I’m still living. Just accept me for what I am. Accept my love as it is.”
And for that evening at least, you did.
No more words were spoken on the matter. You lost yourself in his kisses, giving yourself to him wholly as you had so many times before, letting his hands roam your body freely, just as they always would. You kissed him like you might never kiss him again, with a passion that had his head spinning, leaving him desperate for more.
He showed you his devotion in the only way he knew how, thanking you silently for not running from him, by lowering himself between your legs - pushing your thighs apart and feasting on you until you were twitching and whining his name. Your hands were in his hair just as they always were, winding between the strands needily.
And just like the night before, when he took you to his bed he filled you with a romance and love reserved solely for that very situation. Now that you knew him fully, he would give you everything he’d ever held back - he’d make love to you as something truly sacred, something to be cherished and loved until the end of his days.
Perhaps even beyond that.
And as he’d drifted off to sleep with you firmly in his grip, he’d been naive enough to believe that was the end of it - that you had chosen him and forgiven all that had been uncovered. You were so enchanting to him that he couldn’t even consider the idea that you weren’t fully resolved in your decision.
Awakening hours later to a cold bed had him feeling like a bucket of ice cold water had been tipped over his head.
It was a feeling that only grew at the sight of a neatly penned letter left on the dresser on your side of his bed.
Sukuna,
I'm sorry but I can’t do this. I love you, I really do, but you need serious help. I never wanted you to kill for me. I don’t want you to keep killing for me. I think it’s better for both of us if we put an end to it here. I don’t want to live a life stained by death anymore and you shouldn’t either. I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done, I think you need to move on too.
I’m sorry. Goodbye.
Sukuna stared at it for a few minutes before calmly placing it back down on the dresser. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, but he took a deep breath and gathered himself before swiftly getting dressed.
You couldn’t just leave him, the two of you were soulmates.
The note made it clear you still loved him, as did all of your actions from just a few hours prior, which meant there was no chance in hell that he was letting you slip through his fingers. You were just scared and confused and needed him to set you straight just like always.
And he could do that easily.
—
The rain had practically soaked you through by the time you reached Yuki’s place.
You hadn’t risked wasting time packing anything - hadn’t even wanted to chance the rustling of putting on a rain jacket before fleeing Sukuna’s apartment. He had never been the heaviest sleeper, and you were certain he’d been more alert than usual that evening following your conversation.
So you’d stumbled out in nothing but one of Sukuna’s hoodies and your pyjama trousers, slipping your feet into a pair of trainers and running with nothing in your possession except your phone, wallet, and Sukuna’s gun.
It was nearly 1am when you rang Yuki’s doorbell, praying that she’d answer, hoping that she’d even want to deal with you after the sour nature of your previous meeting.
She’d been right about it all. Sukuna was rotten. He’d killed and he’d killed and you were certain that he’d never stop killing. And the worst part was that there was a sick part of you that could see the romance in it all - a horrible, rotten aspect of your mind that could accept it.
Kashimo, Ryu, and Yorozu had all wronged you in their own ways - had all caused you pain that Sukuna had so lovingly culled. It was wrong, it was evil, you knew that. But that didn’t stop it from being romantic. Nor did it prevent a sick part of you from loving him for it.
Because his words reminding you of your happiness weren’t wrong. You had been happy with him. He’d given you everything you’d ever wanted, even if he’d had to take to achieve that in the first place. You’d still be happy with him now, if you closed your eyes to the elephant in the room and let him treat you as he always had.
That had been an attractive prospect when you’d laid there in his arms contemplating your escape, because you were certain that you’d never stop loving him, no matter what happened, no matter how much time passed. And you were certain that if you’d stayed there in his arms until the morning, you would’ve stayed forever.
It was why you’d forced yourself out.
For the sake of everyone else in the world, you couldn’t stay at his side. You couldn’t abide by his nature, or the sick and twisted definition he had of love when it came to you. You couldn’t allow any further corruption by his hands. This was the one chance you had to end it before it would all be too late for you, before you’d willingly allow yourself to fall into his grasp and stay there for all eternity.
Yuki looked exhausted as she opened the door, chestnut eyes widening in surprise at the sight of you dripping water all over her porch.
You weren’t sure why you’d gone to seek her out over your parents - perhaps it was a subconscious choice of safety, for you knew that Sukuna was more than capable of breaking into your childhood bedroom at your parents house, and that was likely the first place he’d go to seek you out.
Besides, you didn’t wish to explain the situation to your parents. You were far too exhausted for that.
“Are you okay? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yuki I-” you hesitated, and fresh tears bubbled up in your eyes. Yuki took stock of your haggard face, concern lining her brow. You deserved better than her - even after everything she was still worried about you. “Sorry, I’m sorry-”
“Come on, let's get you dried up. You’re gonna freeze out here.” Her voice was soothing, and her arm came to wrap around your shoulder, guiding you into her home.
She wasn’t pushy with you, hurrying about turning on lights and brewing some tea. She instructed you to head to her room and pick some dry clothes to change into, considering you were visibly shivering. You weren’t sure if the tremors were coming from the cold or from the adrenaline of fleeing your boyfriend in the middle of the night.
Your heart panged at the thought of him still in bed, the desire to run back into his arms building in your chest.
You made your best effort to squash it back down.
Once changed into one of Yuki’s sweaters and a pair of comfy shorts, you headed back down to the living room where your friend was waiting. A hot mug of tea was set out on the coffee table, and Yuki draped a blanket over you the moment you sat down in your space on her sofa.
“You look exhausted,” she said.
It was a neutral statement, one that you imagined had been picked carefully. After your last conversation, Yuki seemed wary of you - overly aware that she was walking through a minefield and subsequently straying well clear of things that could immediately sour the evening. If you weren’t in total crisis mode you probably would’ve laughed at the irony of her avoiding attacking Sukuna the one time you were open to hearing it.
“It’s been a long night.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded. You wanted to tell her everything, eager to burst into tears and rerun every terrible thing you’d learned over the last twenty-four hours. But you couldn’t. There was a loyalty to Sukuna engraved deep within you, one that wanted to preserve his safety even after everything. If you told Yuki the truth she’d make you call the police.
You didn’t want that for him.
So you changed the subject.
“Is Choso not here?” You asked. They’d been living together for a little while, and you’d been surprised when Yuki had sent you up to her bedroom to get some dry clothes, figuring that Choso would be sleeping in there. You were surprised to find an empty bed.
“No…” She hesitated. “He’s been busy lately, staying with his bandmates and stuff. Things have been a bit difficult between us since- well, you know. I don’t like being touched anymore. That can strain a relationship.”
You lowered your head in shame. You’d barely discussed Yuki and her wellbeing the last time you’d seen her - all you’d done was get angry when she attacked Sukuna. At the time that had seemed like the right choice, but now you just felt stupid. Even if you hadn’t asked him about it directly, there was no doubt in your mind that Sukuna had left Yuki to her fate back at the lakehouse.
He’d made it abundantly clear that the only person he cared about was you.
And you’d had the audacity to call Yuki a liar.
“Why are you here?” She asked, clearly no more keen to discuss the topic of Choso than you were to discuss Sukuna. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I don’t think someone ever shows up in the middle of the night for a good reason. Especially not looking as miserable as you do.”
It was clear that she’d already connected some dots in her mind, her eyes darting towards your stomach for a miniscule moment. She knew that Sukuna was the root cause of your presence, but you were certain she had little understanding of the true extent of your despair. Either way, she stayed silent, urging you to speak first before she imparted any judgement.
She’d learned from the last time.
“I’ve been so stupid, Yuki.”
She opened her mouth to respond, probably to agree, but she clearly thought better of it, remaining quiet once again and allowing you to continue.
“Sukuna- he-” you realised that you didn’t even know where to start - not unless you wanted to spill the whole story. “I can’t have his baby,” you said finally. “I just- I can’t.”
Yuki leant forward, again she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Did something happen? You seemed…happy with him the other day.” You were grateful for her decision to glaze over the details there - you’d had plenty of terrible moments throughout your friendship, but at the end of the day you’d always be able to move on and find solace in each other.
You nodded, your gaze trained on the ground. You were aware of how badly Yuki wanted to push, her desperation for details poorly disguised. It was no secret that she’d been waiting for this moment, standing by patiently until Sukuna finally slipped up and forced you to open up your eyes.
“What-” she hesitated, before seemingly reframing her question. “Why did you run from him in the middle of the night?”
“So he couldn’t convince me to stay.”
That was just the problem with Sukuna, with you. As long as he was conscious, he was perfectly capable of talking you into anything. Even now, outside of his direct sphere of influence, you were still second guessing all of your decisions, wondering if it was best to keep your mouth shut and go running back to his side.
“Why would he have to convince you?” Yuki asked, pulling at the string of conversation with great care, as if certain it would snap and you’d clam up if she said the wrong thing. To her you were a ticking time bomb, ready to blow if her actions were the slightest bit off the mark. You wished you hadn’t gained that reputation with her.
You were a shitty friend. You knew it.
“I thought you were happy.” She emphasised again, when her question was met with only silence.
Shuffling uncomfortably on the sofa, you drew your knees up to your chest, hugging them against you in an attempt to console yourself. It felt odd to have to comfort yourself like that - you’d grown so accustomed to Sukuna’s presence, to strong arms wrapping tightly around you and shielding you from any bad thoughts that would come your way. It had become so familiar that you’d almost forgotten how to look after yourself.
How could you condemn him like you were? All he’d done was be good to you.
If only you’d never found out. If only the cat had stayed in the bag where it belonged.
Your voice was shaky as you finally spoke, mumbling into your knees. You didn’t really want her to hear, but you were certain she’d be unwilling to drop the topic. “He’s done- there’ve been some bad things. You were right, oh god, I’ve just been so stupid. I’m sorry.”
“What things?” She asked, brown eyes wide with alarm. “Babe, what has he done?” She brushed aside the worry in your tone, leaning forward with interest. She didn’t want to hear your sobs and apologies, she wanted to hear the truth.
And that was the one thing you couldn’t provide to her.
“I can’t- I said I wouldn’t-” your breathing picked up, your loyalty to Sukuna crushing at your windpipe, keeping any words buried within your chest. You wouldn’t betray him. You were certain that you couldn’t even if your mind had wanted to. Your body loved him with a ferocity that was unmatched.
To turn on him was unthinkable.
“Please. You can tell me.” Yuki was pleading with you. She’d stood up from her position on the couch, kneeling down in front of you, a hand brushing against your knee. “You look like a mess. Whatever happened, it's okay, I won’t get mad at you or say I told you so or any of that shit. I’m here, but you need to let me help you.”
Yuki’s words were kind and caring. They were the right thing for her to say in the moment - exactly what you’d want to hear from a friend who you’d asked for help from in the middle of the night. And yet, a flicker of irritation ignited within you. You hated how enthusiastic she seemed about the situation, how ready she was to condemn Sukuna, like she’d been waiting for this the whole time.
She believed that he’d hurt you. You could see it in her eyes, in that sympathy that flickered within those chestnut irises. And you hated it, because she didn’t understand at all. Sukuna would never hurt you, and you’d never hurt him.
Not physically, mentally, or socially.
You weren’t going to betray him. You’d run from him for the sake of protecting those around you, for the sake of letting Sukuna heal from the obsession you’d ignited within him. You hadn’t run out of fear or hatred, but out of an awareness that it was for the best.
“Do we need to call the police?” Yuki’s voice drew you back to reality, a fresh wave of revulsion coursing through you. The last thing you wanted was for the police to be involved. You wanted Sukuna to be able to live, wanted everything to be swept under the rug because you knew his life had more potential than years of imprisonment.
It wasn’t fair.
“No, no.” Gently, you pushed Yuki’s hand away, shuffling back from her ever so slightly. She seemed a little shocked, perhaps even disappointed. “I can’t talk about it, I just- I need to get my head in order, I’m so fucking tired…”
Yuki bit her lip nervously, clearly trying to think up a way to convince you of sharing more. There was little that would be effective on you that evening. The feeling of Sukuna’s body on top of yours, filling you up with his warmth, was still overly present in your mind. You held a great fondness for him that hadn’t even begun to fade, and for that reason all of Yuki’s suggestions would fall upon deaf ears.
It had taken all of your willpower simply to leave, and that resolve was only hanging by a meagre thread. It was nothing more than a valiant attempt to cling to morality, to remind yourself that you had suffered at Sukuna’s hands. But still your heart betrayed you, begging you to go back and swaddle yourself in the happiness that your lover always brought you.
To do any more than simply walk out his apartment required a drive that you just didn’t have.
“If he’s done something you need to-”
“Yuki, please.” Your voice came out all shaky, tears once again prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Just let me go to sleep. I can’t do this right now. Tomorrow I’ll- tomorrow I’ll try. But please, just let me be for now.”
She wasn’t happy, but she relented all the same, her shoulders dropping in defeat. She offered you a sympathetic smile, and you supposed that she was trying to reason with herself that a promise of tomorrow was better than nothing at all.
“Okay. That’s okay, I get it. Get some sleep and we’ll talk in the morning,” she said, bidding you goodnight and sending you off to your room.
Heading up to the spare room, you were only able to hold it together long enough for the door to shut behind you. The second you were alone, the sobs wracked your body once more, and you flung yourself down onto the bed, hiding your tears in the sheets below. Your traitorous mind wished it was Sukuna’s chest you were buried against, your imagination summoning his scent to your nostrils, even in that room where he’d never been.
You wondered if he was still asleep - curled up in his bed all wrapped up in some nice dream in which you were still there in his arms. That was where you wished you were, where your heart longed to be despite everything.
God, what was wrong with you?
The pain in your heart felt unbearable, as though some essential part of you had been ripped clean from your chest. You were terrified at the idea of going back to him, terrified at the thought of what he might do to every person you’d ever cared for in your life. But you were also terrified of a life without him.
A loneliness would creep into that empty space in your chest, calling out for him, longing for the other half who you loved so deeply.
You were doing what was right. Staying far away from him was best for everyone. You were the one who had made him crazy - maybe without you he could live a normal life. And yet, jealousy crept up your throat at the thought of him moving on and loving someone else. You wanted his devotion, you wanted him.
Really, you were just as bad as each other.
Somewhere in your soul you’d always known there was something wrong. Always had that nagging suspicion that Sukuna was far more dangerous than he presented himself as. And you’d ignored it. You’d loved him all the same, against all warnings.
Now it had to stop.
You had to stay away before the rot that bloomed between the two of you spread any further than it already had.
So through all your tears, you turned off your phone rather than calling him like you wanted to, and you crawled into the bed. Ryu didn’t deserve his fate. Neither did Kashimo. That was what you had to keep reminding yourself of. For all Sukuna’s talk of his love language and his desire to protect you, his penchant for murder was nothing so beautiful.
It was cruel and cold. Not romantic.
You couldn’t allow yourself to see romance in it - no matter how significantly Sukuna’s explanation might have swayed you to understand it that way. Nothing he’d done was normal, and none of it was okay, and you needed to hold onto that belief and stay away so long as you wanted to retain your own humanity.
God, you were pathetic.
How had you ended up where you were? Sad and alone and pining for a man whose hands were stained red with blood.
If only you’d never met eyes with Sukuna all those years ago, perhaps you’d be living a different life. A life unburdened by death and decisions that all led to your misery.
But you knew somewhere within you that was nothing more than a fantasy. You and Sukuna had always been destined for each other - one day he would’ve found you, no matter what. He’d always find you. You were two halves of one soul, no matter how hard you tried to condemn him and deny it.
Really, you’d been stupid to even believe that you could make it through a single night apart after trying to flee from him.
He’d never let you go.
You’d huddled yourself tighter between the sheets at the sound of the window rattling and sliding open, wishing you could make the last forty-eight hours disappear if you just willed it hard enough. There was a soft thud of someone dropping into the room, quiet footsteps making their way over to the bed and hesitating beside the lump of your body hidden beneath the duvet.
Fear gripped your body, and you wished that fear was born from something primal - a fear of him hurting you or killing you where you lay. But it wasn’t. No, your fear came from the depths of your heart, because you knew that the moment your gaze fell upon those crimson eyes, all of your resolve would vanish, never to be recovered again.
And he would’ve finally succeeded at rotting you from the inside out.
A hand fell upon your body, stroking at your form through the duvet cover. It was a touch that felt familiar even with the barrier between the two of you. It was all you could do to not lean into it, to not seek out the warmth that his body had always provided.
How could the hands of a murderer be so warm? How could they feel so gentle and pleasant against your skin?
“Come on, baby. I know you’re awake.” His voice sent a shiver straight through you - one that shook your body so violently that it earned you a deep chuckle from him. You hated how attracted you were to the sound, how it summoned heat to your core.
You were repulsive.
“Don’t shy away from me now,” he purred.
Fingers gripped the edge of the sheets and tore them from their position atop you - any hope of denying him fading as his handsome face came into view. There was fury and hurt in his gaze, an anger possessing his body that he was barely keeping from seeping into his otherwise even tone.
“Come on. We can work this out.”
a/n: reader genuinely needs therapy but instead she's got manipulator prime making life harder for her :(
anyway next chapter will be the finale, so tune in to find out if sukuna gets his way or if yuki saves our girl!
hope you enjoyed and thank you for the support! comments and reblogs are appreciated as always! <3
✮ I CAN'T BE YOUR SUPERMAN ⸺ in which you had a beef with underground rapper!choso and he finally had enough.
the wet slapping sounds in the dressing room sounded loud, and the filthy moans felt damn near deafening. it almost felt like the whole venue could hear them, even though some girlie was currently out on stage screaming her lungs out about heartbreak and some asshole ex.
nobody really knew when it all started. well, maybe fans did. probably back during that interview.
q: it’s no secret fans think you and choso make a great pair. do you think there’s any chance of a collab? a: well he’s cute, sure. but i'm not really into artists whose whole lyrics revolve around sucking their own dick. sounds like music for dudes with tiny cocks tbh
or maybe it started later, when he fired back in one of his new tracks with a nasty little line: "all these pop bitches look the same, i couldn't tell 'em apart even if i fucked 'em all at once."
maybe things finally hit their breaking point tonight, at the annual awards show where you ended up presenting him an award and accidentally loosened your grip, nearly dropping the trophy, making him bend down and catch it, then you giggled behind your hand.
“oops, i’m such a mess today. who would’ve thought our favorite little rapper would throw me this off balance.”
whatever the fuck it was, it all led to this: you pressed against a table in an empty dressing room, a huge body trapping you from behind so completely you could barely breathe.
his hand moved faster than you could react. fingers wrapped around your chin, tilting your head back just enough to expose your throat. his lips brushed against your neck, then his tongue slid out, hot and wet, and you couldn’t stop the quiet moan slipping from your throat. he dragged his tongue slowly along your skin, teeth grazing your jaw lightly, and the second he tried turning your face toward him, you jerked away.
“i’ll fucking kill you if you ruin my makeup.” “such a pretty face with such a filthy mouth. don’t worry, i’ll find somewhere else to leave marks on you.”
his mouth dropped lower again, this time latching onto the spot where your neck met your shoulder. he bit down, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make you gasp. then he soothed it with his tongue, sucking a bruise into your skin while his hands found your waist. the butterfly top was thin as hell, and he shamelessly yanked it down, exposing your tits.
“fuck, look at you.” your nipples were already hard, sensitive, desperate for attention. he didn’t keep you waiting. his palms wrapped around your chest, thumbs lazily rubbing over your sensitive nipples in slow circles. “perfect tits just begging to be played with.”
you bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but then he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers with just the right amount of pressure. “ah!… hnnnh!” “yeah, that’s it. lemme hear those pretty little sounds.”
he kneaded your chest, teasing and squeezing your nipples on purpose, tugging at them until you arched back against him, your ass pressing against the huge cock straining in his pants.
“nice skirt,” he muttered against your skin. “bet you wore it for me.” “wore it ’cause it matched the top.” “doesn’t match shit. you wore it so i’d have easy access.” “in your dreams.”
his hands left your chest, and for a second you thought maybe you’d pissed him off. instead, he grabbed the hem of your miniskirt and yanked it up to your waist, exposing the wet patch soaking through your panties. the cool air hit your skin and made you shiver.
he spread your legs apart, forcing you to stand wider. one hand slid around to the front, dragging slowly down your stomach until his fingers found your clit through the fabric. he pressed down hard, rubbing over it through the thin lace, and your knees almost gave out instantly.
“ah! fuck… choso!” “look at you. already wet for me, huh?” “fuck you.” “that’s the plan.” his fingers pressed against your pussy through your panties, feeling the heat there. “jesus christ, you’re soaked. and you’re really gonna stand here and tell me you didn’t plan this?”
“my body just does what it… nnngh!… does…” “there she is,” he practically purred, working slow, torturous circles against you. “wanna act all tough? your pussy says otherwise. soaked my fingers through your panties already. guess she’s my biggest fan, huh?” you wanted to argue, but the words died in your throat while your fingers gripped the edge of the vanity hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.
his thumb sped up, flicking against your clit in fast, ruthless motions. you were so wet slick was already running down your inner thighs, and he pushed his middle finger barely an inch inside you before pulling it back out, coating his thumb with your wetness. “that’s right, baby. gonna show you just how small my cock really is."
the sound of his voice right by your ear, the wet noises of his fingers playing with you, the sight of it all in the mirror — it was too much and somehow still not enough. you heard the sharp click of his belt buckle, the rough sound of his zipper. then he freed his cock, the tip nudging insistently against your wet folds.
but he didn’t push in. not yet. instead, he wrapped a hand around himself and dragged the tip between your folds, sliding up, spreading your lips apart, pressing right against your clit, then back down, rubbing the head against your entrance without actually entering you. over and over again. slow and fucking torturous.
“wanna feel just how messy you got for me,” he muttered, almost to himself. he watched his cock slide through your pussy, collecting your slick. “look at that. you’re fucking soaked because of me. got me covered in you.”
“you asshol— choso, please…” “shh, i know, i know. but first i wanna see what kind of mess you can turn into. wanna feel you dripping all over my balls before i stretch this sweet pussy out.”
he kept rubbing against you, dragging himself through your folds for another fucking minute. every time the tip brushed your clit, your whole body jolted, muffled little cries slipping from your lips. “aaah!… just… ngh!…”
finally, when your legs were shaking so hard you could barely stay upright anymore, he lined himself up. he pushed in an inch — just the tip — then pulled back out immediately. then again, a little deeper this time.
“look in the mirror,” he ordered. and you did. your eyes were glazed over, cheeks flushed, chest rising with ragged breaths. one of his hands gripped your thigh while the other guided himself against you. “want you to watch me fill this cocky little pussy with my cock.”
then he slammed into you in one rough thrust all the way to the base, and you watched your mouth fall open in the reflection. a high, broken sound tore out of you, eyes widening when you saw yourself taking all of him. he was big, stretching you almost painfully, but your body adjusted greedily anyway, clenching tight around him.
“fuck… haaah! mmngh, fucckk, cho—” you whined, palms pressed desperately against the vanity. “look at that,” he grunted, nearly pulling all the way out before snapping back into you again. the sound of his hips smacking against your ass echoed through the room. “look how you take it. what happened to all that shit you were talking now, huh?”
you could barely think straight, let alone form words. he filled you so deep, so completely, stretching your walls while they squeezed around him greedily, and the mirror showed everything — your tits bouncing, his hand gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise. “still… haah!… still waiting for somethi— mmmh! — impressive.”
he laughed, but it broke off into a groan. he sped up, thrusting harder now, the mirror fogging up from your breathing. his hand left your thigh and cracked against your ass with a sharp smack. “yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he hissed, smacking the other cheek next. “can pretend all you want. your pussy’s squeezing me like it wants me buried in here forever.”
blindly, you reached back, grabbed his hair, and yanked his head toward you. he hissed from the pain, but it only made him thrust deeper, harder, his rhythm stuttering. “fuck— ha! ah! — you…” “already am, baby,” he shot back right against your ear, breath hot and uneven.
his hand found your clit again, rubbing tight circles over it in perfect sync with every snap of his hips. the double stimulation was overwhelming. you could feel the pressure building, your orgasm winding tighter and tighter low in your stomach. “cho… please… mmnh!” “please what?” he leaned down, licking a stripe of sweat from the side of your neck. “please faster? please harder? use your words, pretty girl.”
“please, just fucking move.” “there’s my good girl.” he fucked into you faster, deeper, and the sounds filling the room were obscene “the wet squelch of his cock sliding into you, your breathy moans, his low groans, the vanity creaking and rattling against the wall.
he buried his face in your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and you let him, because it felt way too fucking good to stop him. “gonna leave my mark on you,” he muttered against your skin. “make sure everyone out there knows whose pussy this is.” “you don’t” haaah… own m—” “tonight i fucking do.” his teeth scraped against your shoulder.
his thumb circled your clit while pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach, hot and relentless. your thighs trembled, your breathing broke into shaky little sobs. you wanted to hold out longer, just to make him work for it, to prove he was just another asshole with an ego way too fucking big, but he was so deep inside you, filling you so perfectly, hitting places nobody else ever could, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.
“choso… nngh!… i–i’m gonna.. fucckk!” “cum on my cock. cum on my cock and look me in the eyes when you do it. wanna feel your greedy little pussy milk every last drop outta me.”
your eyes locked with his in the mirror — completely glued to each other, and that was what finally shoved you over the edge. you came with a broken cry, your pussy clenching around him over and over while he kept fucking into you through it. “haaah! ah! fuckfuckfuck! choso!” “fuck, that’s it. squeeze me. squeeze my fucking cock.”
he was close too. you could tell from the way his rhythm started breaking apart, from the bruising grip he had on your thigh. you reached back and wrapped your hand around his throat. “pull out,” you said, your voice rough. “if you cum inside me, i swear to god i’ll cut your dick off while you’re sleeping.”
he froze for half a second before laughing. “you’re fucking insane,” he said, but he still pulled out with a low groan. his cock was wet and swollen, and he jerked himself off twice, three times, eyes flicking between the mirror — your ruined makeup, your fucked-out expression and your bare ass, red from all the smacks, before he came with a loud groan.
“you look so goddamn pretty, fuckfuckfuck.” his cum splattered across your thighs, dripping down onto your soaked skirt, your stomach, even a drop landing on your exposed back. he was still coming, body twitching while he slumped weakly against your shoulder, breathing hard.
you pushed yourself off the vanity on shaky legs and turned to face him. his cum cooled against your skirt, your top hanging open, your hair completely wrecked while he stared at your swollen, wet pussy and smirked. “can’t let the others see you lookin’ like this, can we? want me to clean you up?”
more ? art from @ thatsallitchief on x | sparkle from @ kthice
a/n: this is not dub-con / non-con, more like a hate-sex but without actual hate lol; wanted me some em and christina aguilera story
