you insisted on going to the horror movie night with your new boyfriend, sukuna, after overhearing his idiot frat brothers whispering about you.
“she’s really soft.”
“i've never seen ryo with a girl like her.”
“watch her piss herself at the first jumpscare.”
laughter all around.
and maybe it was stupid, but you wanted to prove them wrong. prove you could handle the same things as the girls he usually kept around. cool girls. confident girls. mature girls who didn’t cling to their boyfriend’s sleeve every five minutes.
so you sat beside sukuna and in that freezing theater, chin lifted stubbornly, pretending your stomach wasn’t already twisting from the opening music alone.
for the first thirty minutes, you held it together.
barely.
you got by closing your eyes at the scarier parts and subtly whispering to sukuna to tell you when it was over.
then the movie hit you with the most horrific, satan-spawned jumpscare imaginable.
you shrieked so loud the entire row flinched.
your hand jerked violently.
and your ice cream launched directly into satoru gojo's face.
silence.
then satoru yelling, “WHAT THE HELLY?”
suguru and toji snickered.
and suddenly you were crying.
partly because you’d just assaulted sukuna's friend with matcha soft serve after you'd spent a whole minute outside the theatre convincing all of them you weren't scared in the slightest before you'd gone in.
partly because that was some really good ice cream you'd just wasted.
partly because everyone was staring.
but mostly because that movie was fucking terrifying.
sukuna immediately grabbed your wrist and stood up. “aight, we’re leaving.”
you hid your face in his arm while his friends snickered behind you. humiliation burned hot in your chest as he guided you out of the theater, your legs still shaky.
outside, the cold night air hit your cheeks.
“sorry…” you mumbled miserably.
sukuna snorted. “it's fine, baby. gojo deserved it, he was being an asshole."
you whined, covering your face. "i wasn't talking about that!"
he laughed under his breath, but there wasn’t an ounce of cruelty in it. just amusement. then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, “i’ll take you home, yeah?”
you sniffled and nodded. “that was scary.”
“i know, babe. i'm sorry,” he opened the passenger door for you, buckling your seatbelt himself with surprising gentleness. “should’ve known that shit would freak you out.”
“it was my idea…” you hiccuped.
“i still shoulda said no.” he shut the door and rounded the hood of the car.
the few seconds you sat alone were awful. your eyes immediately darted to the rearview mirror. the backseat looked way too dark. you stared at it, fully convinced some horrifying demon woman was about to crawl over the seats and kill you.
the driver door opened and sukuna slid in and caught you staring.
“…you looking at your little friend back there?”
you gasped, “kuna, don’t SAY that!”
he barked out a laugh while starting the engine. “you want another ice cream?”
your watery eyes widened hopefully. “…yeah.”
“thought so.”
by the time you reached your apartment complex, you were clutching a drive-thru soft serve with both hands while sukuna walked beside you toward your door.
you were finally calm again.
until he kissed your forehead, patted your ass lightly, and turned away. “see you tomorrow, babe.”
terror immediately flooded your face. you grabbed his arm so fast he almost stumbled back.
he looked down at you with a blink. then sighed. “…should’ve expected that.”
your eyes welled up again. “y-you’re leaving?”
“nah.” he unlocked your apartment and walked in beside you. “just wanted to see your face.” sukuna lied smoothly.
you blinked. “…oh.”
“cute reaction though.”
you huffed at him before setting your ice cream on the counter. “um… i need to pee.”
“okay?” he said, lifting a questioning brow, not quite sure what this has to do with him.
you awkwardly twisted your fingers together before looking up at him nervously.
a beat passed.
then sukuna sighed the sigh of a man accepting his fate.
a minute later, he was inside your bathroom aggressively yanking the shower curtain open .checking the cabinets. looking behind the door.
“there.” he deadpanned. “no demons.”
you stood in the doorway anxiously. “is it safe?”
“yes.”
“…promise?”
“baby, if something attacks you while you piss, i’ll personally beat its ass.”
you considered that seriously.
“…okay.”
you stepped inside cautiously.
“stand by the door.”
“stand by the—” he repeated in disbelief, before he stopped himself with a long exhale. “fine.”
“and turn around.”
“baby, i’ve literally seen you naked—”
“TURN AROUND.”
“bossy as hell,” he muttered, turning around anyway.
“and cover your ears.”
he stared at you over his shoulder in disbelief. “why?”
"i don't want you hearing me pee!"
sukuna sighed slowly. then lifted two resigned hands to his ears.
“not all the way though,” you continued nervously, “or you won’t hear me scream.”
sukuna closed his eyes and covered his ears, “that all, princess?”
“mhm!” you chirped brightly, kissing his cheek. “thanks honey. you’re sooo brave.”
he looked up at the ceiling like he was asking the universe for strength.
using you to get close to his target seemed like a good idea - until toji ended up the one with a bullseye on his heart instead
synopsis: you were paid to pick up after Satoru's messes. toji was paid to put a bullet in him. but doing his job is a lot more difficult when the lines between personal and professional get blurred. just how far will he go to get the job done without losing you too?
pairing: hitman!toji x f!reader
wc: 10.6k
content: smut, light angst, YANDERE TOJI, he's a hitman so murder lol, stalking, obsession, jealousy, oblivious reader, falling for each other, he's lowk crazy lol but he is hot!!, mentions of drinking, flirting, he wants us bad, semi-public sex, fingering in a bar bathroom, making out, shower sex, light spanking, pulling out, toji is a problem solver lmfao, comfort
a/n: toji art is by @ackshuallyvalerie !! this was a commission for the lovely @chewiebee
For a pretty penny, he could put a bullet in anyone.
Toji had been doing it long enough now that pulling the trigger didn’t bother him. The things that did were dulled with booze, gambling whatever he was given and riding on the high until he crashed and couldn’t afford shit anymore.
Then he did it all again. And again. And again.
“This one is-” Shiu started, and the hesitation in his voice irritated the shit out of him. Like he couldn’t fucking handle the same job he’d been doing for years.
“How much?” Toji interrupted, bringing a lukewarm beer to his lips, watching some boxing game on the bar’s tv. The sound was muted, but it wasn’t like anyone would be able to hear it over the rumble of drunken girls giggling and grown men arguing over which athlete was better.
Shiu slid over the contract, tapping over the amount being offered.
It was more than his past six jobs combined.
“I’m in.”
Shiu made a weak attempt to try and talk him out of it. Tell him he’d end up in jail at best, or buried six feet under at worst. That the target was high profile.
Toji didn’t care who it was a death sentence for. It wasn’t like there was much worth left in living anyway.
Flipping through the file, headshots of some smarmy-looking CEO, the kind of guy who made millions in a day just by existing, probably spending more time spinning around in his office chair than actually doing a shred of the work he was paid for. Blessed from the time he was born to be rich and beautiful, rolling around in dollar bills and women with big tits.
Satoru Gojo had never known a single day of struggle. Of suffering.
Honestly, he’d probably do the job even if he wasn’t being paid for it just to see the look on his face when the gun went off. Watch the life drain from him out and stain his custom-made suit.
He spent a few days doing research he hated. Copying down schedules and figuring out the holes in his security system. When he worked, who he spent time with, where he liked to frequent.
To find the answer to the question: how did a man who thought he was untouchable like to live?
Lavishly.
He went to the nicest gym in the city, the kind that probably cost more than Toji's rent did every month. Followed it up with treat shops, always leaving with a bag of desserts with enough sugar to give him cavities. No trips to the dentist though.
But the most interesting part of his routine was one that hadn’t been in any of the notes he was given. Not a blip on anyone’s radar, apparently.
You.
“I got you a coffee,” you offered, your short little pencil skirt riding up your thighs as you chased after your boss through the lobby of his fancy office building in the center of the city.
“Thanks,” he grinned at you, grabbing it just to place all the papers he’d been holding in your hands instead, pushing even more on top while you awkwardly opened and shut your mouth to stop yourself from saying anything.
He took a small sip, scrunched his nose up while Toji struggled not to scoff out loud from where he was pretending to read a magazine in the corner next to the other waiting clients, all of them eagerly hoping to meet with the not-so-great Satoru Gojo.
“It’s not sweet enough,” Gojo criticized, masking his attitude with playfulness, acting like a child while you apologized to him as if you’d done something wrong by thinking of him.
He wasn’t listening. Just kept moving towards the elevators, pulling his phone from his pockets to make a phone call to some other prick, probably.
You scrambled behind him, folders stacked up in your arms, the coffee cup precariously balanced on top of the pile.
God, what kind of fucking loser didn't carry his own stuff?
His pretty little assistant he used more like a pack mule.
It didn’t take long to find out your name.
From there, everything else was easy.
Finding out where you lived was as simple as following you from your car to your shitty little apartment, poorly paid and scraping by while your boss lived in his luxury penthouse on the opposite side of the city. Figuring out what foods you liked from what you spent too long looking at in the grocery store before you sighed and tossed a bag of rice in your cart instead. Snapping photos of you from afar like a fucking secret admirer through your window once you got back home, time stamped and saved to a special folder on his laptop, watching you shed your coat and clothes, trading them in for t-shirts and pajama pants.
Toji wasn’t a stalker though.
Of course not.
He was just doing what he was paid for.
And what easier way was there to get to Gojo than through his cute, clueless assistant?
You weren’t even aware when he trailed behind you on the street, head trained forward, always in a rush, scampering from place to place without stopping. Running errands for a man who couldn’t care less about you.
And in this city, you might be the only person as alone as him.
Toji couldn’t put his finger on when studying you had become less of a chore and more of a habit. Day four? Week two?
Watching and waiting for the right time to approach?
For all his expertise, his ability to move through the world unseen, unnoticed, it worked against him for once when you ran straight into him trying to leave your usual coffee shop, turning when he hadn’t expected it and smacking into his chest at full speed.
The coffee – something cold and sugary and sweet – splashed over both of you, your white shirt soaked through to see a pale pink bra underneath, your face flushing for the wrong reasons as you immediately started rattling off apologies.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to use the few napkins you grabbed to dab at his t-shirt, rubbing uselessly despite the fabric already being black. “I wasn’t paying attention, and-”
“S’fine,” he grunted, yanking one from his hand to wipe off your shirt instead.
You didn’t stop him.
Just froze, standing completely still as he dragged the napkin over your chest while it heaved, listening to you suck in a sharp breath.
When was the last time you’d even been intimate with a man if him cleaning your shirt had you practically pressing your thighs together in that prissy skirt of yours?
Admittedly, there was a distinct disgust churning in him at the image of you being intimate with someone else, despite how quickly he rejected it.
It wasn't like you were more than a mark to Toji.
He squinted, eyes narrowing as his attention shifted to your face just to find you openly gawking at his broad chest, lips still parted mid-apology.
“Oh, um, thanks,” you practically squeaked, looking up at all with big, surprised eyes.
“Whatever,” he tch-ed, digging out his last ten dollar bill from his wallet and holding it out despite the urge to just toss it at you to see what you’d do.
You shook your head, oblivious to the fact he was well-aware just how strapped to cash you really were, biting your bottom lip. “I can’t, I mean, that was really my fault, and-”
“Don’t make me put it in your purse, doll,” he huffed at you, even if he almost said bra. Tempted to tuck it in, wondering if you’d let him.
Did you even have it in you to stand up for yourself?
How the hell did a pretty thing like you survive so long on your own like this?
“A-are you sure?” You stuttered, glancing back over him again.
His pride took a fucking hit at your uncertainty.
Did he seriously look like he couldn’t spare a ten dollar bill? Was it the sweatpants?
He showered this morning, bothered to spritz on cologne when he usually couldn’t give a shit. Toji ran his fingers through his hair, jaw locking as his eyes narrowed.
“You got a pen?” He grumbled, wagering that you definitely did. Maybe he hadn’t seen the inside of your purse, but he’d been watching you long enough to know what its contents were.
In a not creepy way.
“Yes?” You blinked, somehow cuter when you were confused.
Still though, you were obedient, anticipating him asking for it and just digging it out from your bag to hand to him. The tip of it had been bitten, another little hint of how nervous you were by nature.
He took it from you, his calloused fingers brushing against your much softer ones, a jolt of electricity traveling up his arm at the simple touch, the soft way your breath paused. You had to feel it too.
Toji scribbled his number down.
His personal cell.
You were beaming before he even finished writing the last number, standing up straighter, sticking your chest out more.
“I’ll buy you a new shirt,” he grunted, giving you the pen before the dollar, holding it out over your head, your stare flickering from his face to the money. “Text me.”
He wanted you to reach for it.
To chase him.
But three more days passed – and he hadn’t heard a peep.
Toji knew what you were up to, tracking you instead of his target, taking notes on everything you did instead of texting him. You stared at your phone at home though, left the dollar bill sitting on your kitchen counter, running your fingers over his writing as if you weren’t sure what to do.
He supposed he’d have to help you figure it out then.
Especially considering Shiu was starting to get on his ass about getting the job done.
Because that was what this was supposed to be about – a means to an end.
Faking a name tag was easy. Digging up the old utility overalls he’d seen some of the other maintenance workers wear at your office, the sort of position no one ever paid any mind to until they were needed for something. He didn't get much sleep, trading in his night shift watching you go to sleep for snooping around your office. And in the morning, after going back to his car to put on some cologne, he walked back in through the lobby like he was supposed to be there, not even getting courtesy nods from your coworkers.
Toji had memorized your schedule.
So he knew to be in the third floor break room at ten, pretending to fix something in the ceiling when you walked in to make a cup of coffee.
For yourself this time.
He was climbing down from the ladder he stole from a storage closet when you sighed and started cleaning up the mess the last person had left by the coffee machine. You didn’t notice, didn’t even turn until you went to grab a mug from the shelf, frowning when you realized they had all been moved to the top shelf.
A nice touch, in his opinion.
Setting everything up to be the one to take care of it for you, stepping behind you, close enough for you to feel his chest on your back as he reached up to get it for you.
“Here,” he grumbled, and you slowly spun around to face him.
Stuck between his sturdy body and the cold counter, frozen in surprise at him being here. He wondered if you’d be scared, suspicious.
It was funny to watch you get so flustered instead, completely frazzled as you tried to find the words to say.
“Um, you, uh, work here?” You finally managed, and he just raised a brow, the scar over his mouth twitching as he gestured towards the name tag on his belt.
You blushed again, your attention drifting to something else by it, the bulge he hadn't meant to be sporting.
“Mhm,” he hummed, a low drawl that made you smile at him.
It was sunny. You were. Bright, not bitter. Absolutely unaware that the world revolved around you.
“Sorry,” you apologized, even though you had no actual reason to. Maybe for not messaging him back. Maybe for stealing glances at his dick.
He paused, a weird strained feeling taking over his chest, constricting his lungs when you tilted your head to the side.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” you added, holding your breath.
“I’ve seen you,” he shrugged, and your entire face practically lit up at the idea someone had been paying attention to you.
You swallowed hard, trying to stifle it. To keep it contained, to make yourself smaller in front of him, like he wouldn’t like you if you weren’t soft-spoken.
“Do you think you could take a look at the phones in my office? Well, Mr. Gojo’s,” you corrected yourself, toying with your fingers before cringing. “Only if you're available, of course. I put in a ticket but-”
“Sure,” he grunted.
As long as the actual maintenance guy didn’t come, you’d never know the difference. After all, that was why he’d broken in last night. Disconnecting the phones himself, creating a couple issues with a few of the computers in the sales team downstairs that the real department would be too busy to handle any of your problems. If you ever pieced together he didn’t actually work there, it wouldn’t be until long after he was gone.
He'd prefer it if you never knew any better.
And Shiu never said he couldn’t have some fun first.
He followed you back to your office, not hiding his stare, enjoying how you were already squirming, nervously shifting and looking over your shoulder at him every few feet.
“You didn’t have to do it now,” you mumbled, embarrassed, but he shrugged.
Rolling his shoulders back to remind you how broad they were, catching the flash of you biting your lip before you faced forward again.
Everything about you was far more fucking adorable than it had any right to be.
Toji had never really gotten the appeal of stuffed animals. He never had any when he was a kid. No softness, no warmth, nothing small and sweet to hug. But you reminded him of one.
Or maybe that was just the urge to pick you up and squeeze you hard.
“What’s wrong with ‘em?” He gruffly asked, gesturing ahead as you hit the button for the elevator to take you both to the top floor.
“They just ring, and um, nothing happens,” you tried to explain, smoothing down your skirt self-consciously.
He nodded, like he knew what the problem could be, and he did, actually. Because he caused it.
The elevator doors opened, thankfully empty. There was something annoying about the idea of sharing you – even for a minute.
Toji told himself that you were just less irritating than other people. That it had nothing to do with you in particular, just how disgusting the rest of the world was.
But he was still observing how you pushed the button, how quickly you went back to fiddling with your fingers and picking at your cuticles. Clasping your hands in front of you, maybe just remembering the fact you forgot your coffee back in the break room. Left it by the pot you brewed, your lip gloss staining the rim from the single sip you'd taken and the drink inside growing cold.
Did you confess?
Admit you wanted to go back and grab it?
Nope.
He knew you wouldn’t. All that meant was another excuse to go back and get it for you himself, maybe make you a fresh one to cement his spot in your good graces, to get your guard down.
The elevator dinged, opening up to wooden floors and soft lighting. Wall art he had briefly contemplated stealing the night before, although he skipped since it’d be a bitch to sell.
Besides, he’d have more than enough money to cover anything he wanted to buy soon enough.
“Um, the phone’s over here,” you shyly said, leading him over to your desk.
Toji nodded, a low grunt of acknowledgement leaving his throat while he pretended to work on it, messing around with cables.
You were watching him, taking your seat and clicking away on your keyboard despite your eyes constantly flickering over to his.
He pretended he didn’t notice. Setting his jaw in a firm line while he unplugged stuff just to put it in different outlets. He considered tapping the lines, just to listen in to whatever you were saying during the day, but then he'd have to justify that expense to Shiu, and he really didn’t fucking feel like getting a lecture.
His handler would tell him just to take out the target already. Stop wasting his time getting close to a liability.
But of all the risks Toji had taken, you were the easiest one of all.
Would you let him find an excuse to get under your desk? Maybe catch a peek at whatever pair of panties you picked out today?
Your personal phone rang – and you were scrambling to pick it up and answer.
“Hello?” Your voice lilted up, all pure and sweet, and Toji immediately loathed whoever you were addressing.
It wasn’t anything he could control, just instinctual irritation, a cheese grater to his patience watching you sit up straighter in your chair while you listened to whoever was on the other end.
“Of course, sir,” you chirped. He had to stop himself from snapping the cord he was holding when he caught how you were subtly twirling your hair. Glancing down at your lap and sucking in a sharp breath before you mumbled, “Sorry, Satoru.”
Toji had to look down to make sure he didn't somehow electrocute himself when the edges of his vision tinged with red, annoyance rolling into a tight ball of anger. The hard kind that couldn't crack, just rolled around in the pit of his stomach, demanding something be done about it.
“Okay, see you in thirty.” You smiled. A soft one, biting it back before plastering a practiced expression of professionalism, probably remembering Toji was still here.
He scowled at the realization Gojo coming back meant he should probably skip bringing you that coffee. Didn't want to risk running into him too soon.
You hung up, and he shoved the last cord back in the correct place.
“Try now,” he growled, picking the phone up from the receiver and passing it to you.
You took it from him, your fingertips brushing against his again, all gentle as you cradled it between your shoulder and ear, nails clicking on the keypad. Relief flooded your face when it worked, looking up at him like you were thankful.
Gratitude wasn't something Toji knew how to receive.
He was used to the exchange of cash, of cold demands that ended in death. Your warmth was alien.
What had a guy like Satoru Gojo ever done to deserve it?
Was this jealousy? Bitter and begging to be addressed, his skin itching at imagining the man getting your company all day long, having you at his beck and call.
Whatever it was, Toji was going to fucking squash it.
“Thank you, it was really nice of you-”
“What are you doing after work?” He interrupted before you could finish rambling, making all the reasons why you were easy to take advantage of excruciatingly obvious. You were too sweet. Too nice. Acting like he was a saint for fixing your phone, unaware he was the sinner who broke it to begin with. Who'd break your boss too, the second he got the chance.
“Um, nothing?” You blinked. Your lips were still parted, but you didn't say anything.
“Wanna grab drinks?” He grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. Toji wanted to lean across the desk, put his palm flat on top of your useless papers and peek at your cleavage, but you were the sort that scared easily.
The confusion on your face was cute.
“Like, as coworkers?” You were clueless. “Are other people coming or-”
Did you seriously fucking think you were just getting left out of some after work hangout?
“Like a date,” he clarified, struggling not to contain his urge to bend you over your desk and show you just how not-platonic his interest was.
“With me?”
You were gawking, but there was an unmistakable air of giddiness to your face, a grin you couldn't suppress even under all that shock.
“Did I stutter, doll?” Toji gruffly said, walking around your desk until your eye level was at his mid-riff. Your hand tightened around the armrest, slowly dragging your stare up like you could see the truth in his face.
“Um, sure,” you nodded, still unsure of how serious he was. “If you want to.”
“I want you,” he easily shrugged, making his point clear.
He wasn't delicate. Wouldn't skirt around shit like your Satoru did. Being blunt was the only way to get it through that pretty skull of yours anyway.
“I'll be waiting for you out front at six.” That was when you usually scampered out anyway, frazzled and exhausted from handling a man child's chores all day.
“Okay,” you spoke softly, betraying your feelings by covering your mouth with your hands, hiding a smile behind them.
He turned to leave, but he kept his eyes on you all the way to the elevator.
You watched him too. He might have a job to do.
Toji was just going to fuck you first.
Was this how it felt to have a crush?
Well, one that wasn’t hopeless and unattainable?
You’d been wasting years wishing Satoru noticed you. And in a matter of days, someone else had snuck up on you. A spilled coffee. A phone number. And now, a date.
When was the last time you'd even been on one?
You frowned at your reflection in the mirror, fingers working to undo another button of your shirt and hike up your skirt a little higher. Half of you was disappointed that he hadn't asked you out on a different night, or given you enough time to go home and get changed into something a little more sexy and less like you just stepped out of an investor meeting.
But the rest of you was just glad he wanted to go out with you at all.
You tried to tell yourself you had less time to overthink this way. That you wouldn't be distracted for days until the date, waiting for him to cancel.
But when you walked out of the building at six, leaving a sticky note for Satoru whenever he stepped out of his office letting him know you couldn’t stay late tonight, Toji was true to his word, waiting for you in a beat-up black car.
It wasn’t sleek, wasn’t shiny and freshly glossed like Satoru’s, but it looked fast. His window was rolled down, his arm resting on it while his defined jaw unclenched at the sight of you standing there and staring.
“You comin’?”
Was it wrong to hope he’d make sure you did by the end of the night?
You scampered over, glancing around to see a few of your coworkers looking your way before you pulled open the passenger door and climbed in. His eyes raked over you, that white scar that ran across the corner of his lips twitching up as he smirked.
He was broader than Satoru, stockier. All muscles, all man.
His dark hair was shaggy, not carefully styled, his sturdy fingers running through it as he measured you the same way you measured him. He must’ve gone home and changed, in a dark shirt that clung to his chest, made you take note of his biceps bulging underneath his sleeves, probably big enough to make them burst if he strained hard enough. Wearing jeans, no name tag hanging on his belt now.
But you already memorized his name.
Toji.
It had been on the forefront of your thoughts all day, right there with the rest of his words. He saw you. He wanted you.
Invited you out like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
You were so distracted by, well, everything about him that you forgot to buckle your seatbelt until he stretched across the center console and did it for you. There was something kinda funny about a gruff guy like him taking care of something so small like that for you, grunting under his breath as it clicked into place.
Maybe just an excuse to be close to you, to touch you again.
You didn’t mind.
His attention was nice.
You didn’t know what to say though, awkwardly glancing between him and outside the window, wondering what a typical conversation looked like on a first date.
“So, um, do you like your job?” You heard yourself ask, almost immediately wishing you hadn’t just from his soft scoff, the subtle arch of his thin brow while he pulled out onto the road.
“It pays the bills,” he shrugged, and you tried to nod sympathetically. You were about to spout out something polite, but then he opened his mouth to talk again, giving you that dangerous bit of side eye that made your heart skip a beat. “But it ain’t so bad. Gotta meet you because of it, didn’t I, doll?”
And there it was again.
Doll.
Satoru sometimes called you sweetheart, but that didn’t send a shiver down your spine, didn’t have that low rumble to it that gave you goosebumps. When he said it like that, you wouldn’t really mind being a pretty toy for him to play with.
“Y-yeah,” you stammered, blushing hard as you tried to swallow your anxieties.
You were overworked. Exhausted. Barely making it by on caffeine and four hours of sleep most days. But you were here. In a hot guy’s car being flirted with on the way to a bar.
He briefly looked at you before turning back to face the road, but you could see the satisfaction in the crook of his smile.
“Relax a little, baby,” he hummed, reaching over – and for a second, you thought he was going to grab your thigh. You hadn’t realized it was hope until he just turned up the radio instead. But with a second flash of that scar and that smirk, you were smiling back at him. “We’re gonna have fun tonight."
It still took two glasses of wine for you to start to unwind, a pleasant buzz floating around in your chest, coloring your world in warm hues as he leaned in next to you, his barstool dragged close enough for his muscled thigh to be constantly brushing against yours. A massive palm casually resting on your side, pulling you in every time someone got into what could be considered your personal space.
He didn’t talk about himself.
Or that much, really.
He’d ask a few questions, then let you ramble. Sometimes, his expression would shift, his harsh and blunt edges softening when you talked about the future, about how you wanted to quit someday, find a job that wouldn’t burn you out. But it hardened a few times too, scowling when you mentioned Satoru, glaring when a drunk guy bumped into you.
And yeah, you got it. Your boss was a bit of an…acquired taste.
It didn’t surprise you that he managed to piss off one of his employees, especially when you spent most of your days cleaning up the messes he made.
“When did you start?” You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject back to him. To get to know him properly. To be the best date you could be – or at least good enough that he might want to take you home.
“A while ago,” he shrugged, another vague answer as he polished off the last of his whiskey.
He didn’t even seem buzzed.
“I feel like an idiot for not noticing you there before,” you admitted, tugging down the hem of your skirt self-consciously, shyly looking up to meet his open stare.
“S’fine,” he grunted, unbothered.
You didn’t know what to make of him past the fact he was ridiculously attractive.
Toji was abrasive. The rough side of the sponge scraping up your silverware, the hard counter edge you bumped into when you weren't expecting it, the sharp rock that sliced open the soles of your feet when you forgot to wear shoes outside. But being around him left you hoping to get cut by him. Fingers crossed that he’d be interested enough to peel you apart and stay long enough to stitch you back together – even if it was sloppy.
After being surrounded by people who only ever plastered on fake smiles and feigned politeness, he felt like the first breath of fresh air you had in forever. Something raw and real in a world full of plastic.
He wasn’t polished. Wasn’t perfect.
But you’d never been either. And you were tired of pretending and playing along.
You took another long sip of your wine, the last drop lingering on your tongue as you pushed your empty glass forward too.
He chuckled, almost appreciatively. Snagging the drinks menu and sliding it back over to you, letting his fingers linger on top of it like he wanted to remind you how large they were.
“Pick your poison.”
“I think I should probably get a water,” you murmured, a little worried he might think that was lame.
He ordered you one anyway though, chuckling when you wiped away the ring of condensation from the counter after they took your glass away.
“Don’t wanna get drunk with me?” He taunted, butterflies in your stomach fluttering when he cocked his head to the side. “I’m hurt.”
He wasn’t, not really. But you got the feeling he liked teasing you.
“I just don’t wanna think this was all a dream tomorrow,” you laughed, forcing it to sound lighter than it really was. You really just refused to let yourself get so wasted that you might black out an entire date or embarrass yourself in front of him.
His eyes narrowed, like he was the one that couldn’t discern if you were being serious.
“You callin’ me dreamy?” He dryly mocked, and that pretty jaw of his clenched, like it was a joke.
“I mean, it’s just kind of hard to believe a guy like you wants to go out with someone like me,” you murmured, offering a small smile to the bartender when he pushed a glass of water over to you.
“A guy like me?” He challenged, and you cringed at your ability to stick your foot in your mouth. You didn’t know if you actually offended him, if that was even possible, but you slipped your hand over his.
“Y’know,” you drawled, tracing your fingertips over his veins, holding your breath. “Attractive and-”
He snorted.
“So what does that make you?” He raised a question you’d never really been able to answer. There were labels you assigned yourself, but all those really amounted to was what roles you played for other people.
Lately, all you felt like was Satoru’s assistant.
Barely your own person.
“I dunno,” you shrugged. “Just me?”
“I like you,” he easily said.
“You don’t know me,” you pointed back out, bringing your water glass up to your lips to take a sip. Maybe he thought you were pretty. Maybe you’d caught his eye. But there was a difference in that and knowing what your favorite-
“You stay late even when you’re exhausted. You think of everyone else when no one gives a shit. Show up with coffee and pastries for other people when you can barely afford to pay for your parking pass. You never take your lunch break-” He was listing facts like he was bored, proving his point with the overhead lights glittering back in his green eyes. You almost choked on your water, and he slipped his hand out from your other one to drag his thumb over your lips.
It felt scandalous. Like he was just waiting to commit some grave sin with how slowly he brushed it over your bottom lip, pulling it down just enough to make you wonder what his mouth would feel like, how his taste would compare to his touch.
But then he let go, dropped his hand down just to make you miss it.
“You kinda sound like a stalker,” you giggled, unable to stop yourself from grinning at being seen.
There was some faint alarm bell you knew should be ringing, but your head had been emptied out to make room for more thoughts of him.
He chuckled, and your chest tightened.
“What’d you think I was giving you my number for?” He sarcastically asked, dark eyes narrowing under the dim lighting as he brought his own glass up to his lips.
You stifled another smile. “To pay for my shirt?”
“I was thinkin’ about getting you out of it.”
Toji was shameless.
And every flirt, every searing gaze of his that stuck to your skin and stoked that fire in your stomach? You were falling for it. For him.
Would you be a whore for sleeping with him on the first date?
Maybe, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it mattered.
You were about to suggest maybe returning to your apartment, but your phone started vibrating, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back your disappointment.
“Hold on one second?” You nervously asked, and he nodded.
“Sure,” he barked, all gravelly, not helping the simmering heat still burning under your skin. You pulled your phone out, glancing around the bar for some semi-quiet spot to take the call.
You settled on a hallway that led to the bathrooms, heels clicking on the floor as you hurried over, grateful that Toji had chosen a hole-in-the-wall sort of place, one that wasn’t packed with people to navigate through.
“Hello?” Your voice waivered, face flushing at the mental image of what your boss was probably doing on the other end. Scowling down at the note you left him?
“The hell are you?” Satoru whined on the other end, apparently not happy at your absence.
“I’m on a date,” you whispered back into the speaker, just for him to scoff back. The sound of it, even tinny and crackling through the line, fucking stung.
As if it was actually so absurd that you could be with someone.
“I need you here,” he huffed. “We’re supposed to be preparing for tomorrow’s meetings.”
You tapped your foot, glancing back to the end of the hallway, picturing Toji sitting on the stool waiting for you.
“I already prepared all your slideshows. Anything you need should already be labeled and on your desk,” you muttered, doing your best to still sound professional. Collected. Calm. Put-together instead of just a weak-willed pushover.
Toji wasn’t wrong. You spent all your time thinking of Satoru when he really couldn’t care less. You were just convenient to him. That was what he paid you to be.
“I can’t find it,” he grumbled. Lied.
“I also emailed everything to you,” you added, and he didn’t bother to hide his whine of annoyance.
Irritated that you had a life outside of him. That your existence wasn’t solely devoted to making his easier.
“Who are you even ditching me for?” Satoru was pouting. You could hear it in his voice.
“If you really must know, he works in the maintenance department and-”
He laughed at you.
“Leave that loser.”
Was that what he thought? That the best you could get was a fucking loser?
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Satoru.” You hung up on him. Slipped your phone back in your purse, looking up just to see Toji leaning against the wall across from you.
Startled, you stepped back, blinking and trying to figure out how someone as big and broad as him managed to sneak up on you.
“He botherin’ you?” Toji grunted, gesturing towards your purse.
“No, um, just work stuff,” you lied.
You didn’t want to tell him the CEO of the company basically called him a loser. It felt mean, and you were worried he’d somehow think you shared the same impression.
“Yeah?” He angled his head down to look at you, and his proximity made your pulse race, wild thumps roaring in your head as he took two steps closer.
“I hung up on him,” you admitted, even though he hadn’t asked. Feeling bold just by being with him, as if you were already getting away with something.
“You wanna give me all that attention instead, baby?” His voice was deep, a gruff purr that had you nodding.
Your obedience earned a pleased hum.
And even better, a kiss.
The kind that knocked the air from your lungs, his calloused hands cupping your face as he claimed your lips for himself. You kissed him back just as hard, craning your neck up into it, tethering your fingers through his dark locks while you sucked on his lower lip.
He tasted like whiskey. But his lips were soft enough to make you overlook the feeling that came with wondering if this was a mistake.
If Satoru would fire you for wanting to get fucked instead of running back to fuss over him.
Toji wasn’t the sort of guy who’d let you linger on silly worries though. No, his canines were already tugging at you, nipping at the spots you’d bitten out of stress, one of his rough palms travelling down your body, settling on your waist to pull you flush against his hard body.
You wanted to touch him.
To pull off his shirt and trace your fingers over all his muscles, map them out and drag your tongue over them. His was busy, already in your mouth, muffling your surprised gasp when his grip on your side suddenly squeezed tight.
“Fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, an intangible thread in your stomach pulling taut at the sound.
He dragged you back inside the bathroom, the employee one, like he wanted the thrill of fucking you in public with less of a risk of being walked in on.
It was sleazy.
But the exhilaration of his hand now on your hip, the way his fingers dug in and wrinkled your skirt as he pulled you through the door, your back being pushed against the cold sink as his mouth latched onto your throat next, it outweighed any rational thought your brain could conjure up.
You wanted him.
The world could wait.
This was more real than anything else your reality had to offer. His tongue licking a clean line up from your collarbone to your jaw, going back to leave messy hickies, claiming you as his. For tonight, at least.
Hopefully longer.
But you kept that thought to yourself, only letting small whines escape as his hand ventured under your skirt, toying with your panties underneath, slipping two fingers underneath it, testing how much the band could give.
You didn’t want to scare him off. Push him away before he'd even put his dick inside you.
He seemed like he specialized in one-night-stands. Like he was used to getting who he wanted when he wanted. And really, you were just so fucking sick of being single.
Of being lonely.
The hand that had still been on your face moved back, suddenly cradling the back of your neck, squeezing enough to make your head tilt back and give him easy access to more of you.
There was a vulnerability to it, letting him sink his teeth into your throat, marking you up enough that the bruises would bleed through your concealer tomorrow.
But then Toji was tearing your panties off, easily rolling the flimsy fabric that you truthfully paid too much for, shoving what was left of it in his pocket before prying your thighs apart.
You spread them further, your lungs freezing half-full of air as you watched him drag his eyeline down to your exposed cunt, already embarrassingly wet after just a couple hours spent in his company.
He hiked your skirt higher, appreciatively admiring it, clicking his tongue as he shoved a thick finger inside you. Clearly, he’d taken note of how much you noticed them.
You were gasping before he even made it down to the knuckle. Eyes widening, your hands immediately shifting to claw at his shoulder blades for some stability when you tried to contain your reaction.
But Toji wasn’t going to let that slide. Refused to let you hide every lewd reflex – shoving another finger inside to join the first just to force out a strangled moan at the feeling of him stretching you open.
Scissoring you at a tempo that bordered on lethal, only pausing his onslaught of kisses to watch your face when you said his name, all pitchy, almost pathetic. Putty for him with just a couple fingers.
“Ya’ like that, pretty?” He grumbled, fraying with impatience, already itching to add another – or maybe trade his fingers out for something bigger.
“Mm, mhm,” you murmured, nodding as you reclined your head back, the cold edge of the counter digging into your skin as he pulled you closer to him just to make you jolt again at the next pump of his fingers.
“You wanna tell me why you’re runnin’ from me then, doll?” He dared, his eyes dark, his lips pulled into a thin line as you shook your head the other way.
The intensity he came with was a double-edged sword. Drawing you in one second and threatening to spear you the next. Chasing the high of being fucked full just to run from the burn, the stretch, the pleasure when he pushed you right on the edge of a cliff the next. Finding yourself teetering a tightrope you never meant to walk on.
“S’too-” You sounded slurred, even though the only thing you really felt drunk on was him.
“Hm?” He waited for you to finish, stalling his next thrust with his fingers buried deep enough to reach a spot that was a little too sensitive, knowingly swirling against it while you squirmed.
You were a wreck and he hadn’t even managed to make you cum yet.
The too much that had been about to leave your lips replaced with a desperate plea for more.
Your skin was hot, sweat sticking to your brows as he dug his fingers deeper, felt the sinful way you squeezed them, panting as tears started to form in the corners of your eyes.
There was no running. Being spread and stuffed on a bathroom sink by a handsome man who might as well be a stranger, fingers poking and prodding at all your sensitive spots, readjusting his hand so his thumb could rub over your clit.
“Thought you had something to say?” He wryly mocked, and you were pretty positive you’d forgotten everything except his name.
“T-Toji,” you whined, body stuck, all your muscles wound too tightly, hips arching up to meet his hand.
He kissed you again, harder, rougher. Crashing into you like a tidal wave, dragging you under, lost between him and the pleasure, being tossed around with each thrust of his fingers. Climaxing without even meaning to, not even a conscious choice, just being pulled into the motions as he massaged rough circles over your needy bud.
And then you were sucking in air, his fingers pulling back out with a filthy pop! before he brought it up to his mouth and took a taste. Sucking on them and groaning at the second-hand flavor of you on his tongue.
“Do you wanna come back to my place?”
You should’ve known making you cum once wouldn’t satisfy him.
Or twice.
He had you up against the wall of his shower, your face pressed against the cool tile as his hips smacked against your ass, pounding into it as he continued to leave more hickies.
“That’s it, pretty,” he grunted, his thick cock throbbing inside you, swollen tip nudging and grinding against your cervix like he owned it. Dragging himself along your walls, making sure you felt every vein, every ridge, warm water pelting both your bodies. “Look how good you're takin’ me.”
His hand ran over the curve of your ass, softly patting it. It wasn’t a spank, but you wanted it to be.
You shivered as he bottomed back out, leaning against him, mostly held up by him by now. “M-more.”
“Greedy fucking girl,” he chuckled, but his voice was raspy too, running his hand back over your ass. “You want me to spank you?”
You nodded, embarrassed to admit it.
“Say it,” he groaned, and you squeaked. Surprised at the sudden stall of his cock, feeling yourself squeezing and squirming for him to keep going.
“Please?”
His hand came down, leaving a harsh smack that made you clench around him more, a moan escaping that echoed in the cramped space.
Toji rubbed back over it, his fingers still damp, murmuring something low you couldn't make out under the shower running. But then he was back to thrusting, faster now, like he wasn't finished imprinting the shape of him into you.
It was all moans, all skin-on-skin, lewd sounds and heavy pumps, his strokes only getting sloppier when his hand slipped over your clit. Intent on making you cum for him again, his jaw clenched when you tensed up. Planting kisses up your throat, teeth marking you with an unspoken mine when you shuddered and finished, white splotching across your vision as your limbs threatened to go limp.
Toji pulled out, finishing on your back just for the water to wash his cum away. Down the drain with the soap suds.
He whispered your name into your neck, soft lips tracing back over the mess of hickies he'd left. You were in a haze, brain foggy and chest still full even after your cunt was empty again, leaning against him when he cleaned you up.
You never would’ve guessed he used the same brand of shampoo or conditioner as you. It was funny how many products you mutually had. Even the hand soap was a familiar bottle, new too, hardly used.
He dried you off with a patchy towel, wrapping it around you and shutting off the shower. Pulling you back to his bed, half-made navy blankets in a mostly-barren room. The lamp by his bed was crooked, but there wasn't all that much personal stuff laying around. No posters decorating his wall.
Nothing else to learn about him from his possessions.
“Tired?” He grumbled, tossing you a t-shirt of his.
“Mhm,” you yawned, dropping the towel to pull it over your head. No panties, but you figured you didn't really need any to sleep in anyway.
You still felt nervous getting into his bed, waiting for him to get in with you. He hesitated, staring at you strangely before he grabbed a pair of boxers from the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled them up his thick thighs.
Toji got in next to you, stiff, awkward, before holding out his arm, like he was waiting for you to snuggle up beside him.
Maybe he wasn't as much of a man whore as you initially thought.
He was acting new to this, holding his breath when you scooted closer, laying your head on his arm.
You wondered if he’d ever been soft before. If he was capable of it.
Even now, you were left with the vague impression this…tenderness wasn’t exactly that. An impression. A mask, maybe, something he wasn't used to wearing.
But the afterglow was warm. Wrapped in the heat his body radiated, his strong arms sheltering you from the rest of the world as you sighed in contentment, resting on his bicep as you looked up at him.
Your phone started buzzing inside your purse on the floor, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.
“Sometimes I wish he’d just fucking disappear,” you mumbled, sighing as you tried to push off his chest to answer it.
“Stay,” he growled, grabbing your waist to keep you in place.
You pressed your palm flat against him, pushing your lips together in a pout. “I have to answer him.”
Or he’d throw a fit and make tomorrow hell for you.
Toji begrudgingly let you get up, glaring when you bent over to fish your phone from your bag, his scar twitching down as he frowned. “You ever think you’d be better off if he dropped dead?”
You laughed, staring at the name on the screen as you shrugged.
“All the time.”
You were trouble.
Fucking you was supposed to make it easier. Satisfy the stupid urges he’d been plagued with since he saw your face. Since he heard your voice and felt your fingers on his skin.
Instead, it sealed his fate.
Yours too.
Because laying in bed the morning after, watching the subtle rise-and-fall of your chest, finding himself tracing shapes on your skin for the excuse to keep touching you, a fuzzy feeling he couldn’t snuff out was suffocating him.
Smothered in the scent of soap and sex and your sweet perfume. Sniffing the shampoo in your hair, sighing at the way his heart beat faster every time you tossed and turned.
How long had it been since he slept next to someone?
Shared more than a fast fuck? A quick make-out session that never made him feel anything?
He snuck out of bed first, readjusting your head to rest on the pillow and pulling up his blanket to cover you before he caught himself.
What the hell was he doing?
You weren’t his girlfriend.
But maybe you could be. If he played his cards correctly.
And really, was there anything better than making a bet he knew he’d win?
He found his phone in his jeans, a few missed calls from Shiu waiting. He deleted them. Walked out into the kitchen, opening the door to his mostly-empty fridge, staring at the eggs in there, the few cans of energy drinks, before moving to the pantry. There wasn’t much there either. Rice. Ramen.
Stuff for a single guy who didn’t give a shit about taking care of himself.
“What’re you doing?” You yawned behind him, all sleepy and sweet, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see you walking over, clutching his blanket to your chest.
“Lookin’ for something to make you breakfast,” he grunted, folding his arms across his chest.
You giggled, like it was fucking cute.
“Got any coffee?”
He made it a week of pretending to be a normal guy in a normal relationship before the fractures started forming.
Donning his fake uniform and driving you to work and to your place, narrowly avoiding being spotted by your boss and undermining all those pesky security systems to set up for what he was really planning. Using a couple of his contacts to get his hands on something that couldn’t be traced back to him. Moving all the pieces into place while playing boyfriend.
He might’ve dragged it out longer – went another few days, pushed back Gojo’s death date again – but Shiu wouldn’t shut up.
Toji was supposed to be waiting for you outside, wishing for a cigarette and reading your message that your boss was making you help him with one last thing then you’d be down to get lunch with him when his own handler called.
“The hell is taking so long?” Shiu scoffed over the phone, almost as annoyed as he felt.
“Covering our fuckin’ asses,” he growled back.
There was no way he was risking his fucking neck this time. He wasn’t going to jail for this shit – and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you either.
“The client expects this done-”
“I’m handling it,” Toji interrupted him, a gruff growl from the back of his throat.
He had the stuff with him, everything he needed to make you his – and send Satoru Gojo to an early grave.
“Take care of it.”
Shiu hung up on him.
The soles of his boots were heavy on the ground, tapping his foot as he checked the time again. Two more minutes, and he'd call you. The seconds tended to drag by without you there.
He heard your voice, faint, still far away, but he turned anyway.
You were walking out the main doors of the building, Gojo walking close behind you, his brows drawn tightly together, scolding you. He grabbed your wrist, but you shrugged him off, Toji’s blood boiling at how handsy that asshole was, touching something that didn't belong to him.
All the stares of people passing by, coworkers or not, shifted towards the two of you.
Your sad little pout, your chest puffed out and trying to stand straight, while he glared at you.
“Maybe I should just fire you,” Gojo scoffed at you, and you flinched. Toji could feel the vein in his forehead throbbing, fist clenching while you did your best to bite your tongue.
But then you surprised him – and Gojo – by beginning to speak up, “I’m-”
“You’re replaceable.”
Your face crumpled at how sharply he cut you off. Struggling not to cry, to hold yourself together while he turned on his heel and stormed back inside. Other people pretended to not be eavesdropping, avoiding eye contact when you walked away. Head hanging low, rubbing your eyes, barely paying attention to where you were going until he caught you.
You didn't even say anything when Toji pulled you in for a hug, squeezing you against him as you automatically hid your face in his chest.
He was shit at comforting people. Had never really known what to say. How to make anyone feel better.
But you didn't seem to mind, a few muffled sobs snuffed out when your mouth was pressed against his broad muscles.
“H-he said he’s gonna-” You tried to choke out, but Toji just softly patted your head.
“Don't worry about him,” he grunted.
He wouldn't be alive long enough to actually fire you.
Toji didn't say that though. He let you cry in his car, listened to you vent about your latest argument, wiped away some of your tears with the calloused pad of his thumb.
And when your break ended, and you were supposed to go back to finish off your shift, he walked back in with you. Made up some excuse about putting off taking care of the next maintenance ticket, like he hadn't already disabled all the cameras in the building earlier.
Usually, he preferred a bullet and brute force. Didn't see the point in a delicate touch and careful preparations. But he'd make an exception for you.
This one time.
“I think I'm gonna make him some coffee,” you murmured, still sniffling as you grabbed the stuff you needed for it.
Like it would be a truce instead of a death sentence.
You didn't know any better. Just scurried around the break room, not noticing when he poured a little packet of powder into the cup the moment your back was turned.
“You’re too good for him.”
You glanced back at Toji, smiling even though it didn't reach his eyes. Not really believing it, but still appreciating the sentiment.
“You're probably the one person that thinks that.”
You picked up the cup of coffee, pouring a ridiculous amount of sugar in, enough to cover the slightly bitter powder. You even snagged a can of whipped cream from the fridge, swirling it on top as if your efforts would be appreciated.
Two birds. One stone.
Or really, two fools and one cup of coffee. That was all it'd take for you to be his and both your problems to be solved.
And if it didn't?
Well, his gun was still tucked inside the band of his jeans.
“Are you sure you're not going to get in trouble?”
Toji had gotten on the elevator with you, his hand still slung too low on your waist to be purely polite, brow arched up at your concern for him slacking off.
“Just wanna make sure you're alright,” he grumbled, huffing and looking back at the buttons lit-up on the elevator.
You weren't really sure what he was to you.
A boyfriend? A lover?
But you didn't mind. His proximity was nice. His presence in your life was welcome.
Even if it was causing problems with Gojo – who had made it clear he couldn't stand sharing your attention at all. Hated you having a life.
You weren't delusional enough to think maybe he'd change his mind if he met Toji.
But your fingers were still unsteady as the elevator dinged and let you off on the top floor.
Gojo was sitting at your desk, legs propped up and feet on your paperwork. He was pretty as always, white hair tousled, one of those sharp brows of his casually raised as he glanced between you and Toji. “Is this seriously the guy?”
He laughed like it was an insult. Ignoring your frown when you walked over to hand him his coffee. He took it though, bringing it up to his mouth but not before scoffing again.
“Satoru,” you hissed out his name, a low warning that he was rolling his eyes at.
He took a long drink, whipped cream sticking above his lips like a mustache before his face paled. The next few seconds slowed, crawling by as you watched him drop the mug, ceramic shards shattering as he choked.
You were staring, your brain refusing to process what you were seeing, Toji’s voice registering behind you but the words not making any sense.
What the hell was happening?
Somewhere, the vague thought hit you that something was seriously wrong, that Satoru was dying, but nothing would connect, your body refusing to respond to even the notion of it.
Your mouth fell open, but your scream was muffled by Toji’s hand. Knees buckling, just for him to catch you in his arm, one arm wrapped around your midsection to hold you up.
“Hey, hey, I'm here,” he gruffly muttered, and you clung to that.
“W-we need to call someone,” you stammered, your panicked gasps turning into hyperventilating. This was bad. Really, really fucking bad.
“It’s okay,” he soothed in your ears, turning around so you couldn't see Satoru anymore. Wouldn't have to look when-
You couldn't even finish the thought.
“Just breathe, baby.”
“I-I can't.” You were trying, but no air would enter your lungs, throat constricting more with each attempt.
Toji paused, his palm pressing harder against your back before he stiffened.
“We need to go.”
You let him lead you back out, his hand on your spine still guiding you forward. One step, and another. Focusing on the rhythm in them, the pattern of the elevator carpet, a crack in the sidewalk, whatever was beneath your feet to stop the image of Satoru from flashing in your head.
Was he dead? What could even cause it? An allergic reaction? Poison?
Oh God no.
He led you back to his car.
Toji had parked it further down the street than usual, opening the door for you to get in and buckling you in again. It didn't feel quite as romantic as the first time.
“Where are we going?” You asked, voice cracking as you forced the words out. All you really wanted was to sleep, to go somewhere that you didn't have to think anymore.
“Don't worry about it, doll,” he casually said, shutting the door behind him and walking around to the driver’s seat.
“Is he-”
You couldn't get the question out, and he didn’t answer.
“The cops are gonna think-” You started, only just starting to swallow the bitter pill that you were screwed.
“They’ll frame you for it,” he scoffed, and you recoiled. Surprised at yourself for forgetting what you already knew about the man in front of you.
He wouldn't sugarcoat it.
Make fake promises to you that this would be fine.
“But I-”
“Do you want to spend the rest of your fuckin’ life behind bars?” He growled, and you hated how much of a point he had.
You shook your head, fingers trembling as he stilled them with his own.
Gojo had a lot of enemies. Any one of them would be happy to let you take the fall.
All you'd done was give Gojo a fucking cup of coffee – and now he was dead.
“There’s cameras,” you murmured, ones that would catch you running away from the scene of the crime.
“They've been down half the day,” Toji grumbled, and you had no idea if that was even a relief.
Your feelings were all jumbled, guilt, horror, disgust, regret, even affection and adoration tangled up in there with Toji trying so hard to keep you safe.
You stared at him, still shaking, and he leaned across to spare you a heated kiss. Grounding you here with him, his calloused palm caressing your cheek as his pretty eyes narrowed.
“I'll protect you.”
Toji meant it.
The motel was shitty, far enough from the city you dozed off on the drive, but there weren’t any cameras.
No one to watch him carry you from his car and no one to care after he tossed enough cash to cover a room at the strung-out receptionist.
You woke up still in shock. Reeling from what you’d seen – or rather what you’d done.
“Someone’s gonna come-”
“No one’s gonna find you, baby,” he promised, and it was one he intended to keep.
You curled up on the bed, and he crawled in next to you, letting you bury your face in his chest to muffle the faint sounds of crying. Stroking your hair at first, eventually untucking your shirt from your skirt to trace soothing patterns over the bare skin of your back. Maybe you were scared right now, that was natural.
The first kill was always the hardest.
Once you were somewhere safe, once you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, you’d relax. After the news cycle covering your former employer’s death died off, and the investigation went cold, you'd realize that you wouldn't get caught.
And if you adjusted better than he hoped, maybe you could be his assistant.
Or if not, maybe he could leave this life behind. Find something more stable. Part-time work, or something he could do from home to spend more time with you.
You fell back asleep on him, lashes fluttering as he ran over his next steps.
He'd gotten rid of both your cells and tossed your wallet on the drive, slipping the sim cards out and destroying them when he got gas and paid in cash. Someone had probably found the body by now. He'd need to switch cars to pick up the payment from the drop off point, but that wouldn't be a problem.
There was a payphone outside, one he could see from the window. He'd call Shiu from it in a few minutes, let you dream on him for a bit longer.
The pay for this would be enough for fake passports, to buy some place off grid – and install a state of the art security system. To keep intruders or officers investigating out.
And more importantly, keep you inside.
There was nothing better than a bonus for a job well done - especially one as pretty as you.
toji fushiguro has your body naked in front of the mirror and his warm hands groping your hips. he lets his pinky slide up your puffy, wet slit—just a graze, just over your clit—and he doesn’t let your eyes leave the mirror as he draws back his pinky dripping with your slick.
“go on, princess,” he rasps into your neck. “m’listening.”
but he’s not just listening. your boyfriend is still in his boxers—unfair, really, because you’re clad in nothing & the room is too warm & your thighs are trembling from both the heat and the pressure. he wraps himself around you and slides his hands up to your tits. he gropes your breast once and lets his hands fall away.
your mouth dries. “i can’t.”
but your hips are bucking into him. rolling against his clothed cockhead as your pussy drools from the anticipation. toji laughs, chest warm against your back as he pinches your clit, forcing your hips to stutter & a whine to leave your lips. “y’got a pretty mouth, dollface. wanna hear you use it.”
in the mirror your thighs are still aching, chest heaving, and toji fushiguro has slipped his cock out of his shorts. you’re not sure you heard his waistband snap but his cock is there, flushed and swollen and dripping with precum.
"you see that ?" he murmurs, breath hot against your neck as he pumps himself in his fist all heavy & slow. "see what you do to me, sweetheart? standing there all pretty and wet?”
he lets the soaked head tap against your ass—once, twice—before dragging it lower between your thighs, letting it slip through your slick folds without pushing inside. your pussy flutters at the teasing, & toji watches your chest heave in the mirror through bleary eyes.
"you want this?" he murmurs, cockhead nudging your throbbing folds from behind. "want my cock in this pussy, baby?” he lets his precum smear over the folds. “start talking.”
you swallow, eyes glazed with lust and hips stuttering as you force the courage to speak. “i…i have nice tits.”
“breasts,” toji growls into your neck. “breasts, dollface. say it properly.”
your thighs squeeze. your eyes are teary when you look in the mirror, face flushed, tits heaving. "i have nice breasts."
"mmh," toji slides a palm up your side. he lets his thumb brush against your aching nipple, before twisting and stretching the pebbled peak between his fingers. you arch into him on instinct. "so nice, dollface. and what else? look at this pussy in the mirror, baby. tell me all about it."
his thumb presses into your clit. but then he slides it away.
you moan, loud, slick dripping down your thighs. toji’s cock twitches against your ass, but clearly he’s got the self control of a god.
your lashes are tear rimmed. “i have—i have a pretty pussy!”
“so pretty,” he murmurs, tugging your clit before pressing his thumb against it, rubbing slow circles over the bud. “prettiest pussy i’ve ever fucking seen. so wet and noisy for me. tell me more, sweetheart.”
“my pussy is so tight,” you rasp, breathless and hips twitching as toji rubs his thumb against the sensitive bud. “hnngh—so tight and wet for you, toji.”
"yeah?" he murmurs against your ear. his cock nudges your slick folds, pulsing and throbbing at the entrance. "love this fucking pussy, you know that?"
you can only whimper in response.
"love how puffy it is," he continues, dragging his swollen cockhead up your slit, only to drag it down again. "love how it tries to swallow me. see that, baby? see how it slobbers all over my cock?” he pushes his swollen head in as your cunt flutters around him. “fucking perfect.”
“toji—“ you gasp, “please—“
“please what?” he growls, pushing his hips into you. his thick cock swells between your folds, pulsing and stretching your puffy cunt. “want me to play with this pussy, baby? fuck you so hard your tits bounce in the mirror?”
“mhm—“
“words, sweetheart.”
“want you to fuck me,” you gasp out, hips bucking back to chase his cockhead and push him deeper into your folds. “want you to play with my pussy and fuck me till i’m dripping—“
“fuck,” toji groans, slamming into you, hard. “thaaaat’s my fucking girl. see how easy it is to please me?”
'Till death do us part, hah,' your number one top fan! Satoru Gojo can't help but stroke his thick, veiny cock as he recites those vows he'll have for you soon, blushed tip just dripping all that milky pre cum drippin' from that little hole on the head.
Oh, he'd say them very, very fucking soon indeed.
You, the pretty OF star on his screen, bent over and giggling right at him, he swears it. You're surely not looking at any of these other losers' names, no, you must be looking at his.
'Gonna f-fuck...' Satoru's stroking his cock faster, whimpering out as you glide that dildo he bought you in and out of your pretty little cunt, stretching it out and whining as you take it.
Well, it was a direct replica of his cock, so of course you couldn't stuff it all. But don't worry - when Satoru gets you finally, and he folds you in a mating press, fingers pressed into the backs of your thighs? Oh, he'll have you take all of him.
'Till I can see my print inside,' he's chuckling again, lost as he takes some of that messy pre and licks it, moaning and gliding it across his lips. He's fucking his fist in time to your sad attempts at fucking yourself with his veiny replica, he can't help but smirk, using one hand to type.
Having trouble takin' cock, sweetheart?
Well you are indeed, you've never had something so big and long trying to fit inside you - in fact, this was the first time you've used more than a cute little plug or a wand on your pussy on cam. Yet, when it's from your top fan, you can't help but want to show off for him.
Your puffy lips are pathetically trying to fit around it, no matter how wet you are, you can't even get half - the tips are just rolling in, but none like him - like DigiMaster89.
truly -what a fucking name. Yet you know that he loves when you spread wide, and you truly want to be a good girl for him.
Even if you don't even know what he looks like, you'd love to make him proud, taking more and more of that cock and shaking, thighs trembling as your cunt is spasming, begging for a little reprieve with how full you're stuffed.
'Ngh!' You're crying out now, as Satoru leans forward, remembering his vows.
he got distracted.
'Oh, where was I?' he caresses the screen, before spitting down his cock again, letting it slip to the base. 'Ah, I remember. To fucking cherish that slutty lil' cunt. Ah, baby I solemnly swear and all that sh-shit....'
White locks fall across a brow as you squirt all over for the first time on camera, clear fluids just gushing out, just in time for his white to squirt right on the screen, right against his future wife, some of it even smattering against his glasses. He can't help but whimper out your name, hand just trembling, taking his glasses off to lap a bit of his sticky mess.
God, imagine when you're squirting all over his glasses?
Satoru can't wait to finally have you all to himself, don't you know you're already his future fucking wife?
Your first-time Owner Nanami, uses a clicker on you, and you don't know what to think. If anything, it's slightly annoying. It took you a while to catch on to what he was doing. But now, even seeing the clicker got you excited; he had trained you so well that even a single click had you falling apart. What you never expected was for him to use it as a punishment. When you were acting up in public. When he needed to overstimulate you. Or when he was getting you into trouble. "I hope you know what you've done, puppy." click " I can't put up with this behaviour any longer." click "I think you need a real punishment." click
Was out for dinner with my dad and for dessert he got me one of those fancy yogurts where you get to pick your own sauce and toppings. While we were driving home, I turned to him and said, 'Thank you~' all sweet like, then we started talking abt getting rat traps and bug spray. THEN out of nowhere I started thinking about Bratty!Reader who’s a total spoiled princess with her dad—like, 'Daddy I want this now!!'—but with the JJK men she's suddenly the softest, kindest, most patient little angel 😭😭😭 the dual personality is INSANE.
GOJO SATORU
Who’s That Man? feat. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Gojo had finished his mission early and decided to surprise you. He knew you said you had errands—but when he spotted you across the street from a café, you weren’t alone.
You were with some older guy.
Tall. Handsome. Wearing a crisp suit, silver streaks in his hair, and a gold watch that screamed money.
And worse?
You were clinging to his arm, looking up at him with those big, bratty eyes.
Gojo paused.
“...Huh.”
He ducked behind a tree.
You reached out, tugging on the man’s sleeve. “But Daddyyy, can’t you just talk to the manager? I want that table. It’s sunnier.”
Gojo’s brows flew up.
Daddy??
His soul left his body.
This wasn’t like you. His sweet, soft-spoken girlfriend who got flustered asking for extra ketchup.
Now you were pouting? Demanding? Using that voice?
Gojo squinted. “...Is she sugar-babying a CEO or some silver fox mob boss?!”
You and the man strolled inside the café, your voice faint through the window.
Gojo followed.
Sat at a far booth, behind a menu.
He texted you:
“whatcha up to angel 😇?”
You didn’t reply.
His eye twitched.
After your meal, you kissed the man’s cheek, and Gojo snapped.
He walked up right as the man stood to leave.
“Hey, old man,” Gojo grinned way too wide. “You bothering my girlfriend or what?”
You blinked. “Satoru?”
Your dad blinked back, calm and mildly amused. “Girlfriend? Ohhh. So you’re the reason she’s been smiling at her phone like an idiot.”
Gojo stunned. Processing. “…DAD?!”
You dying inside. “He’s my dad, Satoru. My actual dad.”
Gojo stared, then immediately sat down next to you, sliding an arm around your waist, tight.
“Oh. I see. Haha. I was chill the whole time. Totally normal,” he lied.
You buried your face in your hands. “You stalked me.”
“Not stalked,” he said, smug. “I followed you. Out of love.”
Your dad sipped his espresso, watching him like a hawk. “And you’re the Gojo brat from the school?”
“Yessir. And I think your daughter’s amazing. Also—I totally support her being a brat only with you.”
Later…
“You thought I was being a sugar baby?”
“You kissed him on the cheek!! What was I supposed to think?”
“He’s my dad!!”
“...A handsome dad.”
“Satoru, shut up.”
“You got a type, huh?”
You threw a pillow at him. He caught it and kissed your forehead.
“Next time I’m joining the errands. Can’t risk my sweet baby girl turning into a brat again without supervision.”
NANAMI KENTO
Brat Alert: Code Raccoon
feat. Nanami Kento x Reader
The boardroom was quiet. The air was thick with corporate tension and expensive coffee. Nanami sat straight, hands folded neatly as he listened to the presentation with polite disinterest. He was good at keeping a professional face, especially around clients.
One of them today was the chairman of a long-time partner company. Nanami had met the man before—stoic, successful, sharp-eyed. The kind of man who expected everything to run like clockwork.
Then the door slammed open.
“Daddy!” you burst in, out of breath and wide-eyed, “I saw a raccoon outside and I want it—like now!”
Everyone froze.
Nanami blinked.
No one moved.
You, in your cute little outfit and pouty lips, stomped into the room like you owned it.
“I want it, Daddy. It was so cute. I want to keep it. Please make someone catch it for me.”
Nanami’s brain short-circuited.
You?
You—the girl he’s been lowkey dating? The one who blushes when he compliments your handwriting? Who once took ten minutes to work up the courage to ask him to hold your hand?
The entire boardroom turned toward the chairman, expecting a scolding.
But instead, the man calmly looked up from his notes. “Darling, not now. We’ve talked about barging into meetings. Be patient, sweetheart. I’ll get someone to look into the raccoon.”
You pouted harder. “But I want it—”
Then your eyes locked with him.
Nanami Kento.
Sitting at the far end of the table.
Staring right at you.
Expression unreadable… except for that tiny, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.
Your soul left your body.
You went dead silent.
"...Sorry for the interruption," you mumbled, backing up slowly like a raccoon yourself.
The door clicked shut.
After the meeting...
Nanami found you sulking by the hallway, face buried in your hands.
“I can explain,” you groaned.
“No need,” he said, voice calm. “You were... very passionate about the raccoon.”
You peeked through your fingers. “You’re never letting this go, are you?”
Nanami gave a rare, amused chuckle. “Absolutely not.”
You groaned louder.
He leaned in close, brushing your cheek with his knuckle. “Though... I have to admit. I like knowing there's a side of you only some people get to see.”
You pouted. “You’re judging me.”
“I’m admiring you.”
You blushed. Again.
Soft girl restored.
TOJI FUSHIGURO
Wrong Office, Wrong Time feat. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Toji hated meetings.
But this one paid well, and the guy who hired him—some rich CEO type—wanted a “specialist” for a corporate security thing. Whatever. Toji didn’t care. Money was money.
He sat lazily on the leather chair across from the man’s massive office desk, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
Until the door burst open with a dramatic
“Daddyyyy! This isn’t fair—I said I wanted the pink one, not the ugly white one!”
Toji looked up.
And there you were.
Storming in.
Pouting.
Dressed in a soft sweater, phone in hand, full-on tantrum brewing.
“I showed the assistant the exact one! I want that one! Can’t you just buy the whole store or whatever?”
Toji blinked.
Tilted his head.
No. Freaking. Way.
You—his shy little thing. The one who got nervous calling him “handsome” out loud. Who blushed when he wiped food off your cheek. Who wore his hoodie and whispered “thank you” like it was embarrassing.
The same girl was now throwing a brat-fit... in front of a CEO.
The man just sighed like he was used to this. “Sweetheart, we’re in a meeting—can we talk about the bag later?”
“I don’t want later,” you whined. “I want it now.”
And then it happened.
You turned your head angrily.
Eyes met his.
Toji Fushiguro.
Leaning back in the chair.
Watching you with that feral little glint in his eye.
Smirking.
Slow. Evil. Knowing.
Your entire body froze.
“...I—uh. Sorry,” you mumbled, immediately shrinking like a deflating balloon. “I didn’t know you had... people.”
You bolted.
Later at home...
You were avoiding him.
Silently putting away dishes. Not looking him in the eye.
Toji leaned against the counter, smug as hell.
“Thought I was the only one you called daddy,” he drawled.
You dropped a spoon.
“I will literally throw myself out the window.”
He grinned. “Nah, don’t do that, princess. Who’s gonna throw tantrums at me when I don’t buy them snacks?”
You huffed and turned away.
“‘I want the pink one, not the ugly white one~’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “That’s wild, babe. Here I thought you were all shy and polite. Turns out you’re just a spoiled little brat.”
You turned red. “It’s different! That’s my dad!”
Toji walked over, lips brushing your ear.
“Sure, sure. Still wanna act like a good girl now?” he murmured.
“Or you gonna whine at me too, beg for what you want like a needy little—”
You slapped a towel in his face.
He just laughed.
HIROMI HIGURUMA
Objection: She’s a Brat??
feat. Hiromi Higuruma x Reader
Hiromi was in his zone.
Professional. Focused. Calm.
He was in the middle of presenting legal strategies to one of his firm’s VIP clients—the type with old money, legacy stocks, and a reputation so high up even judges tiptoed around him.
What Hiromi didn’t expect… was for the VIP’s daughter to storm into the room like a hurricane in heels.
“Daddy!” you wailed, pushing past the assistant. “You said I could take the private jet this weekend! Why is it in Milan?! What am I supposed to do, fly commercial?! Like some peasant?!”
Hiromi froze.
...No way.
You—his sweet, reserved girlfriend.
The one who fiddled with your sleeves when you were nervous.
Who once whispered “Can I hold your hand?” like it was a confession.
You were now whining about private jet scheduling in front of half the firm.
Everyone stared.
Your father didn’t even flinch. “Darling, we’ll sort it out later. I’m in a meeting.”
“But I want it now!” you huffed, slamming your phone on the table like it was court evidence.
That’s when you saw him.
Hiromi.
Sitting at the far end.
Blinking in shock.
Mouth parted slightly like what the hell is happening.
You made eye contact.
Immediate regret.
The silence was deafening. You stood there, face slowly turning redder than a legal pad.
“I… I didn’t realize you had company,” you stammered, voice shrinking.
You turned and ran.
Later that evening...
You refused to speak to him the entire ride home.
He finally broke the silence, voice gentle but teasing.
“So,” he said, “...first class not good enough for you, princess?”
You groaned. “I’m never showing my face again. You saw everything.”
Hiromi chuckled softly. “I thought I was dating the quiet type. Sweet. Patient. Turns out you’re secretly a spoiled menace.”
You covered your face. “Stoppppp.”
“‘Daddy, I want the jet now~’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “Impressive delivery. You should’ve gone to law school. Dramatic flair.”
You smacked his arm, face still buried in embarrassment.
He leaned closer, voice dropping to that low, warm tone.
“I like both versions of you, by the way. Just... don’t go calling anyone else daddy in front of me again, yeah?”
You: (dies on the spot)
SHIU KONG
Daddy's Little Secret
feat. Shiu Kong x Reader
Shiu wasn’t easily surprised.
He dealt with corruption, backdoor deals, and shady billionaires before breakfast. So when he got called into a private meeting with a wealthy executive who wanted “personal protection for his daughter,” he was already halfway bored.
The only thing keeping his interest was the paycheck—and the fact that the guy’s assistant mentioned the daughter was "a bit of a handful."
He didn't expect you.
You—his soft-spoken, flustered girlfriend who always blushed when he complimented you. The one who wore oversized hoodies, tiptoed around his office, and mumbled sweet nothings when asking for attention.
You.
Storming into the room like a whole hurricane.
“Daddy!” you whined, stomping toward the desk, phone in hand. “I told you I hate that driver! He didn’t even open the door for me—like, what am I paying him for?”
You tossed your purse onto the table dramatically.
Shiu blinked.
No—no way.
You were that girl??
Your dad gave a calm smile. “I’ll talk to the agency, sweetheart. Not now, though.”
“I literally almost DIED of embarrassment,” you kept going. “I want a new one. Today.”
And then—bam.
You spotted him.
Shiu.
Leaning against the wall.
One hand in his pocket, the other adjusting his cufflink.
Eyebrows raised, smirk locked in like a loaded weapon.
You froze.
Eyes wide.
Heart dropping.
“Oh my God.”
You backed away slowly.
“I… didn’t realize you were—uh. Okay. Goodbye.”
You fled like a guilty little cat knocking things off a shelf.
That Night…
You were laying low.
No texts. No calls. Just a half-hearted attempt to avoid the teasing you knew was coming.
Until your phone buzzed.
[Shiu]:
Thought I was the only one you whined to, sweetheart 😉
You groaned, clutching your pillow.
[Shiu]:
"Daddy, I want a new one today"
...so demanding. Never knew I was dating a princess.
You:
I will literally block you
[Shiu]:
You wouldn’t dare. Not when I’m the only one who knows your real voice.
The bratty one.
You:
STOP 😭
[Shiu]:
Say it for me next time, baby.
Just once.
I’ll buy you the damn jet.
You screamed into your pillow.
He was never letting this go.
RYOMEN SUKUNA
The Brat Reveal feat. Mob Boss Sukuna x Reader
The meeting was supposed to be simple.
Sukuna leaned back in his leather chair, fingers covered in silver rings tapping against the dark wood table, a glass of whiskey in hand. Across from him sat one of his oldest business partners—a clean man, a little too polished for the world they worked in, but reliable.
Sukuna liked him.
Trusted him, even.
Just didn’t know the man had a daughter.
Until you barged in like a hurricane in heels.
“Daddy!” your voice echoed through the massive office, high and demanding. “Why didn’t you tell me the bracelet was limited edition?! It’s already sold out!”
Sukuna blinked.
His eyes tracked the sound.
Then—
He froze.
There you were.
In full spoiled-princess mode: expensive perfume, hair tossed over one shoulder, lip gloss shining, that dramatic pout on full display.
“Ugh! This is the third time this month you’ve forgotten to remind me about a drop! I told you I wanted the rose gold one with the heart charms—now it’s gone!”
You didn’t even notice Sukuna at first, too busy whining.
Your father let out a nervous chuckle. “Honey, we’re in a meeting—”
That’s when your gaze flicked to the other end of the room.
Your eyes met Sukuna’s.
And his expression?
Shocked.
The Ryomen Sukuna—the man feared across the underground world—literally tilted his head and stared at you like you’d just slapped him with a Birkin bag.
You?
You were the girl he had wrapped around his finger every night? The one who blushed when he so much as looked at you? The one who got shy and soft-spoken every time he teased you?
You blinked.
He blinked back.
Your soul left your body.
"...I’ll come back later,” you said quickly, voice now tiny and panicked as you spun on your heel and dipped faster than a getaway car.
Later That Night…
Silence.
Dead silence in the penthouse.
You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito of shame.
Sukuna stood by the window, sipping his drink, still visibly amused.
Then he broke the silence:
“So. That was quite the performance.”
You groaned and threw a pillow at him. “Don’t.”
He caught it mid-air, smirking. “Daddy, the rose gold one’s gone~!” he mocked in a sing-song voice.
“I will literally jump out this window.”
Sukuna chuckled. “You had your hands on your hips. You were pouting. Where the hell was that when I asked you to tell me what you wanted last week, huh?”
“I was being good for you, okay?!”
He walked over, crouched in front of you, smug grin still painted across his stupidly handsome face.
“So the quiet little thing I’ve been spoiling was just an act, huh? Guess I should start calling you my brat.”
You looked away, red-faced. “Shut up.”
He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.
“Nah. Not after that. I want to see it again. Maybe even make you say it for me.”
˚ ༘ 🍼𖦹⋆｡˚ a pledge to keep series masterlist ˚ ༘ 🍼𖦹⋆｡˚
summary: getting knocked up by your older brother’s fratbro wasn't exactly apart of your five year plan. least of all with notorious fuck boy ryomen sukuna.
pairing: frat!kuna x reader
content: everything in this series is considered 18+ so not minor friendly! contains mature content such as rough sex, breeding, spanking, spit play, lactation kink, descriptive child birth, postpartum depression, probably more
dividers by: @petalpxl | series moodboard | art by lorinmower
chapter one: how you met \ chapter two: of course it's yours, you fucking idiot!
chapter three: meeting the itadori's \ chapter four: hospitals and hot dad walks
chapter five: fratuncles \ chapter six: more than co-parents
chapter seven: graduation \ epilogue
series oneshots/drabbles:
1. stinky feet bandit ❀ 2. late night feeds ❀ 3. daddy's little poop monster ❀ 4. baby carrier experiment ❀ 5. yuji loves his baby cousin
I am a creature of habit and I tend to stick to "said," "says," "spoke," and similar when doing dialogue. I have to Google and look on Pinterest for other ideas. There is a pin on Pinterest titled something like "Said is Dead" that I revisit a lot.
Blunt
Booming
Breathy
Whisper
Cryptic
Drawling
Gasped
Droning
Sing-Songed
Whiny
Formal
Gravelly
Hoarse
Mumbling
Groaning
Screaming
Precise
Quaint
Rambling
Roared
Sighed
Quoted
Growled
Rapid-fire
Slow
Squeaky
Repeated
Choked
Stuttering
Sputtering
This is list is ever growing as after a while, they all start to sound repeatitive.
Thoughts on ferret hybrid reader with larger predator hybrid 141, cause I think its hilarious  🤣
Oh my stars, yes
(fist-fought demons to get this out, smh)
-=-=-=-
Picture this: the 141 are a task force made up of entirely large predator hybrids- creatures you wouldn't want to tango with even without factoring in the human intelligence and possibility of holding a grudge
I'm thinking Tiger Soap, Alligator Price, Grey Wolf Gaz, and Polar Bear Ghost; each of them strong, regal, and terrifying in their own right
So when they got you added to the team, a small(er) and springy Ferret Hybrid, they had absolutely no clue what to make of it.
Was it an elaborate prank from Laswell? Were you secretly a super soldier? They had no clue what to expect, especially since none of them had ever been around anyone who owned a pet ferret
So once you had gotten settled in, Soap had excitedly dragged you to the gym, demanding a spar as the other three just shook their heads in exasperation. They expected to later hear all about how he took you down in two seconds flat, or maybe get a report that you've been landed in the infirmary after the scot got carried away again. Instead, a few hours later, they found him laying on the couch of the rec room, looking baffled as if someone had just proven that the sky was actually green.
"They just.... flipped out- one sec'nd we're gearin' up, tae next they're all over tae place an' I'm flat on mah back, I dunno wha' tae fook happened," He sounded confused about his own words even as he spoke them, hands gesturing about as if trying to mold invisible clay like it'd make anything make any more sense.
At the time, the rest of the men had just laughed it off. Soap getting taken down by a little ferret like you? Had to have been some kind of joke, or Soap was just off his game that day
At least, they thought that up until they finally had a team training session, with each getting paired up and sent onto the mats to spar and get their forms critiqued, whatever the hell excuse they fed to the higher ups to justify getting to clobber eachother for a bit and get paid for it
They paired you up against Gaz first, the wolf shaking out his limbs and readying up, trying to hide his cocky little smirk- no doubt thinking it'd be over fairly quickly as you readied up across from him
With a glance between the two of you, Price called to begin, and-
Before Gaz got a chance to move, you were darting up to him, light on your paws as you got right up in his space. Gaz reared back, going to take a swipe at you, his fist meeting empty air as you ducked and rolled under his swing, bouncing back up onto your paws and darting up into his space again
Gaz backed up, trying to get space, but you just kept bouncing around, ducking and rolling and doing spins- at one point he swears you did a spin like a breakdancer, only to do a roll back onto your feet and immediately spring into a cartwheel
It left him baffled, his logic and training flailing with eachother over what the hell he's supposed to do about this-
Then your tail hooked around his knee and pulled, and you were right there, grabbing his arm and wrenching it over your shoulder, a startled yip! escaping him as the rest of his body quickly followed
his chin slammed into the mat, and before he got the sense to get up, you were already planted on his back, knee leaning your weight on his trapped wrists and pinning him down
Gaz blinked.
What just happened
Price called the match, amusement barely kept out of his voice in favor of professionalism, but Ghost and Soap had no such reservations
"SEE? SEE?! AH FOOKIN' TOLD YE BELLENDS BOUT TAE FLIPS BUT NOOOO NO'ONE WANTED TAE LISTEN-!" Soap bellowed, nearly drowned out by Ghost's explosive laughter, the arctic hybrid almost curled clear over as he absolutely lost it, breaking into a coughing fit as Soap spun to point at him with an accusatory point, "YOOU SHUT YER GOB YE FUCK"
"30 Seconds; Match goes to [Name]" Price called, and you hopped off of Gaz's back with a happy little dookdook
"What, the hell, was that???" He questioned, getting back to his feet like he was worried you'd start doing backflips if he moved too fast
You just grinned, a single snaggletooth poking over your lip
"War dance! Only effective a third of the time, but it works" you shrugged, trotting your happy ass over to the rest bench to swipe a granola bar like you didn't just rattle Gaz's skull and give Soap the vindication he's needed all month
\( ᐖ)/ heianera!sukuna vs. his hormonal and very pregnant wife
The sun has yet to tether itself at high-noon and you’re already stirring up your theatrics in his shrine. You—and your barefoot waddle on warm stone, one hand placed on your lower back, aiming to nest just weeks before you’re due—in all your swollen and golden glory.
You’re round. Much like the plums he’s feasting on as he watches you sort through dozens of silks rather than speak to him at lunch. You’re far more focused on scolding your attendants for failing to deliver your rather detailed orders.
The two of you can barely hold a conversation without you cursing him out these days. Sukuna has a temper, but you're somehow even more irrational than him now.
A groove is hooked between your eyebrows as you wave off each set displayed to you, dragging a new attendant in until you're satisfied.
“What difference does it make?” Sukuna randomly grumbles, wiping the cloying essence from his chin with the back of his hand. It’s already dessert and you’ve yet to address his presence. “The child will sleep perfectly fine no matter which haughty fabric you stuff him in.”
He’s not even sure why he’s riling you up and looking for a fight. Maybe a part of him enjoys the incessant banter. The twitch of your fist before it flies in his direction. The rasp of your voice when you’re testy.
“Our child will settle for nothing less than the best. Do you disagree, My Lord?”
The corner of his mouth twitches upwards at the honorifics. “Haven’t heard that name on your tongue since our wedding night, bird. Though, I recall it sounded far more sultry,” he purrs, head cocking slightly while he appraises you.
You know what’s rolling through his mind right now, given the slight wide and blown pupils. And you’re also aware of the look he gave you yesterday when the midwife offered… coital acts to induce labor.
Your attendant adjusts her stance uncomfortably as the mood shifts, the blood draining from her face.
You wave a hand in her direction, sighing and wiping the sweat from your forehead. You seem to work up a sweat in this condition simply by thinking. “Leave us, dear.”
She excuses herself, leaving you alone with the beast you call a husband. “Do my words mean nothing to you? How many times must I ask you to keep our private affairs private, especially in front of the staff?! Must you make a fool out of me?”
He shrugs lazily as you turn to him, reaching forward to pour himself a glass of water. “You forget this is my shrine.”
“And you forget I am your wife.”
You test him. Day in and day out. He tests you back.
But seeing you carry his offspring, your shoulders wound tight and a fury ablaze in your irises, makes him soften around the whetted edges. For you are carrying a maternal need to protect and serve what you are due to deliver. And he himself is growing to long to protect you. Even when you’re his rash and vexing wife.
“C’mere.” He leans backwards, eyelids sitting heavier. The heat is making him inattentive. Domestic.
You hesitate, fingers clenching the silk set in your hands. But after a beat, your shoulders fall and you hoist your heavy self over to him.
He doesn’t need to say anything for you to drop yourself in his four, bulky arms. He smells acrid. Iron-like. You used to detest it. But now you've grown to find comfort in it.
His lips ghost your hairline, calloused hands dragging over your womb and pulling you flush against him. “You have until the child is born.”
You hum, confused as you glance up at him. His crimson slits bore down at you.
Then, with all of this bodacious galore, he pinches your side.
“Once the child graces your arms, I will not tolerate such disobedience in my shrine.”
You stare at him. He stares at you.
A second later and a laugh suddenly unfurls from your gut—fuller sounding than you have in days. Sukuna thinks it fares much like a bird he encountered when south of his domain.
He scoffs as you bury your face into his chest, though you don’t miss the slight upward curve of his lip.
“Alright, Ryomen. I’ll let you have that.”
“Let me?” his incredously tone makes your gut dip, and you find your nose scrunching. “Since when have you let me do anything?”
“Since you let me marry you,” you teasingly bite back, straddling his hips. It’s not easy with your belly in the way, but his four arms hold you up so that you’re comfortable.
He looks at you, long and hard. Studying the soft jut of your lower lip and the perspiration beading across your features. His silent appraisal and contemplation never fails to make you flush and flounder.
“Enoughs enough,” you quickly interject his thoughts as you peel away from him, lifting to your feet and doing your best not to sway your weight. You’ve become top-heavy. Best to ensure you don’t fall for his seductive advances when you’re pliable like this. “There are affairs I must tend to.”
Sukuna pushes air through his nose, leaning back on two arms with an endearing gleam in his eyes. “My wife. The sweat.”
“Correction. The household head.”
Sukuna’s eyebrows raise in genuine surprise at that. “Head?”
You wave him off, already making your way past the shoji doors and chuckling to yourself.
The utter gall of you.
There has yet for a day to pass where you don’t surprise him.
yes i shall write heianera!sukuna and wife!reader beefing in every context possible….
he might not look like he gets bitches, but honey that dick was 11 inches
it was hard not to notice Choso, with his tall frame draped in all black clothes and the heavy silver jewelry adorning his body. and while you noticed him, you wouldn't have considered him your type. but that didn't stop Choso from noticing you.
content: 18+ mdni, dry humping, oral (f receiving), Choso has a tongue piercing, fingering, Choso is down bad, Choso has a big dick (duh)
wc: 6k
a/n: hi everybody! i am alive and back with fic number 2! i am hoping to get these out on a more consistent schedule but no promises lmao. divider credit @cursed-carmine; picture credits: @thatsallitchief and @aransmind
You had never really thought too much about whether or not you had a type. Frankly, there wasn’t much of a point, given that when you weren’t working your ass off academically, you were working your ass off at your job or the gym. You didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, so to speak.
But, if someone asked you to describe your type, you’d probably say tall, muscular, athletic. A good jawline and tattoos were a plus. Perhaps outgoing, good with people and easy to talk to.
Now this wasn’t an end all be all list of traits—you wouldn’t mind a short king or a lanky golden retriever type. At the end of the day, personality was really all that mattered to you. And that was where the average man was lacking most of the time.
So you didn’t really lose any sleep over lack of romantic partners, too focused on school and work for the absence to really be noticed. Sure, there would be a cute classmate or two that would catch your eye, and you’d appreciate them from a distance. They all fit your usual preference of traditionally masculine, athletic guys who were easygoing extroverts. You liked competence, and a potential partner of yours needed to be confident, commanding.
So yeah, maybe you did have a type. Everyone had preferences and you were no different. You didn’t really picture yourself straying from those preferences either, couldn’t picture yourself with someone shy or super introverted. Until now.
He was a transfer student, partway into his sophomore year in the psychology program, same as you, though this was your first year. You shared the same 10 am human development lecture, meaning you saw him every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning.
You never would’ve considered Choso your type. You’d never really been into the whole emo look. Sure, you’d enjoyed your fair share of Panic at the Disco and Paramore in middle school, but scene hadn’t really been your, well, scene.
You wouldn’t have ever listed all black clothes, smudged eyeliner, painted nails, or heavy silver jewelry in your list of characteristics you typically found attractive. Yes, Choso was tall and muscular. He had tattoos, including an odd line across the bridge of his nose onto his cheeks. These were all things you knew you found attractive.
But for as bold as his style was, he was quite shy. He never volunteered answers in class, only responding when called on in a quiet, almost self-conscious voice. He should speak with more confidence, you would think whenever he gave his answers, given that they were always intelligent and well-said. You never thought you liked shy types, preferring guys that could speak up and could offer up confidence in situations where your anxiety might get the best of you.
However, you couldn’t deny the way your eye was always drawn to him. He sat in the first row on the far right hand corner. You sat a couple rows behind him, more towards the center, meaning you got a fairly clear view of him. When he wasn’t taking notes, he was drawing little doodles in the margins of his notebook. You often found yourself wondering what they were.
He was cute, in his own way. He seemed quite sweet and polite, offering notes to a classmate who'd been out sick or a helping hand when the girl next to him was confined to walking on crutches. You knew some of the other girls in your lecture didn’t view him the same way. You attended a private school, a very elite one. Between your stellar grades and test scores, as well as a fairly high financial need, you had earned yourself a full ride to the university. And while the education and accommodations and features on campus were stellar, you had found that private school meant students with private school money—and the attitude that came with it. Entitled, privileged, and, in the case of the aforementioned girls in your lecture, catty fucking bitches.
You’d heard them whisper and giggle amongst themselves over Choso. Judging his clothes, his hair—you found his short space buns rather adorable—and how he’d sometimes stutter when answering questions. You often found yourself grinding your teeth, wanting to turn and cuss them out over their bitchy remarks. Choso was genuine and unpretentious in the way that pretty much everyone else at the university wasn’t, and you found yourself wanting to defend him. To protect what you were positive was a sensitive, artistic soul.
You often found yourself wondering what he did outside of class. Did he like to draw? You’d seen his little sketches in his notebook, maybe he liked drawing legitimately, in sketchbooks instead of college ruled paper. Maybe he liked to game? He seemed like he would enjoy PC gaming. Despite being outwardly withdrawn, Choso seemed like the type to be intensely dedicated to his interests, and you found yourself wanting to know what they were.
You were delighted to find out that your interest was shared.
It started with a partner project your professor had shared with the class on Monday. Partners were randomly chosen and the rest of class was spent exchanging contact information and planning out a rough timeline and ideas for the project. You had cheered internally when your name popped up next to Choso’s. Sliding into the now-vacant seat next to his, you’d smiled and introduced yourself. Choso had blushed furiously, ducking his head and quietly giving you his name in response.
You formed a theory that day, one that was proven correct by the next class.
Choso had a crush on you.
He was horrible at hiding it, always blushing or stuttering when talking to you, never able to look you in the eye. And despite how protective you’d felt towards him against those judgemental bitches that sat near you in lecture, you couldn’t help but tease him a little bit.
Leaning in and smiling softly when he spoke, not breaking eye contact when you’d prop your chin on your hand to listen intently to what he was saying. His eyes would widen and a furious blush would spread across his cheeks, and he would lose track of whatever he’d been saying. His reaction would prompt an even more mischievous glint in your eye and sharpness in your smile, in turn making him even more nervous. When you suggested meeting up in the library or his apartment, he’d choked on his sip of water. You’d just grinned.
You’d decided the library was probably a better way to ease Choso into spending time with you without him having a heart attack. Baby steps.
The afternoon you two decided to get together for your project was a rainy one. A very rainy one. The brief mad dash from the bus to the entrance of the library had left you soaked, and now you stood in the air conditioned library shivering so hard your teeth clacked.
Your slow, shivering footsteps to the third floor where you and Choso had agreed to meet left wet footprints along the floor. You swore that this floor was even colder, and you tried to wrap your damp cardigan around yourself in attempt to chase away the goosebumps that had covered your skin. Your footsteps faltered, however, when you spotted Choso sitting at a table in front of a window. He was backlit by stormy gray skies and occasional bursts of lightning. He hunched slightly over what he was working on, brows furrowed in concentration. He was drawing, you realized, and you stood there for what was probably a creepy amount of time, but the warmth that blossomed in your chest as you watched him was addicting.
Until the cold that had seeped into your very bones wrenched a violent sneeze from you. Choso startled and looked up, eyes widening as he took in the sight of you, which most likely resembled a drowned cat.
“Oh,” he breathed, standing up so fast his chair tumbled back. He scrambled to the chair next to him, wrestling something off the back of it. As he rushed towards you holding a mass of black fabric you realized it was his jacket.
Heavy leather settled over your shoulders and you were suddenly wrapped in the warm, spicy scent of his cologne. His dark eyes were scanning all over your body as if searching for injuries, his brows pulling together in worry.
After a long moment of you two staring at each other, you finally remembered to give him a softly whispered, “Thank you”.
He blushed, ducking his head and abruptly stepping back as if he’d just realized how close you two were standing. His big hand, adorned with heavy silver rings that glinted in the low light, came up to rub the back of his neck.
“I doubt you’d be comfortable studying here in wet clothes,” he said suddenly. “I-if you want we can stop over in my dorm and you can borrow some clothes.” You were quiet for a second, surprised that he’d invited you into his space given how shocked he'd been when you’d first brought it up. Mistaking your surprise for reluctance, he rushed out, “O-only if you want to of course. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He looked adorably horrified at the idea.
Not wanting him to panic any longer, you grinned at him. “I’d love to.”
This time around, you fared a bit better on your journey to the bus stop since you had Choso’s large jacket to shield you from the worst of the rain. You relished in the warmth and the scent of his cologne, and the fact that you were dwarfed by his jacket. You chanced a glance up at Choso and admired the way he towered over you despite the way he hunched his shoulders as if to appear smaller. He had not fared so well in the rain; his hair had fallen out of its knot and the strands stuck to his face, highlighting its sharp lines and angles. His eyeliner had smudged slightly, contrasting with the paleness on his skin. Instead of looking like the dripping mess you had, he looked like he had stepped out of rainy ad for designer clothes or cologne or something. It was rather unfair.
The whole bus ride to his apartment, you could see him stealing glances at you from the corner of your eye and it took everything in you not to grin. You wanted Choso, and you delighted in the fact that he wanted you just as bad, if not more so.
His apartment was small, but tidy and clean. It was well decorated too, but you weren’t too surprised by that. There were pretty paintings and drawings lining the walls, with art supplies and trinkets scattered across nearly every flat surface. You spotted an electric guitar leaning against an amp in the corner.
The smell of his cologne was practically woven into the air in here, and it was all you could do to not gulp down deep breaths of it with every inhale.
As you as you two had stepped inside, Choso had immediately started rambling nervously, apologizing for the mess and letting you know you could borrow any clothes you wanted, and did you need anything? Like a water or a—
“Choso,” you interrupted gently, “do you mind terribly if I hop in your shower?”
“Oh! Of course! Um, let me grab a spare towel and some clothes and—” his voice faded as he started rushing towards his room, and you trailed after him with a soft smile on your face.
You had been about to invite him to join you in the shower before he excused himself to his room and told you to shout if you needed anything. Slightly disappointed, but not discouraged, you’d nodded and headed towards the bathroom.
Little did you know that as soon as the bathroom door closed, Choso was stripping down to his boxers and lying back on his bed, palming his cock through the fabric as he desperately tried, and failed, not to imagine you naked in his shower. Covered in soap and shrouded by steam, looking oh so perfect like you always did.
He tried to stifle the tortured groan that tore out of his chest. His hand was rough over his cock, handling it without finesse as he tried to get himself to stop. He felt so, so guilty, but the mental image of you glistening under the water mere feet away from him made him feel so, so good. Heat tightened in his gut as he fished his dick out of his boxers and started to viciously pump his hand up and down the shaft, biting his forearm to stem desperate cries of your name.
Pressure built in his gut, stomach tensing as he hurtled towards the edge. White covered his vision as he came suddenly and violently, his orgasm ripping through him like a storm. It was only as he laid there trying to catch his breath that his ears stopped ringing that he realized the shower had stopped.
Panic shot through him as he leapt up, blindly searching for clothes and something to wipe the cum off his stomach.
You stepped into the room to find Choso in sweatpants, his chest heaving and looking slightly guilty as his hands wrung together nervously. He opened his mouth to say something, before he registered what you wearing.
His t shirt was huge on you, nearly hanging down to your knees. Your collarbones peaked out from the collar of the shirt, your damp hair hanging down in gentle waves over your shoulders.
This domestic, intimate version of you, standing in his apartment wearing his clothes left Choso speechless and his mind short circuiting. You smiled softly at him and his heart stuttered.
“I, um",” he couldn’t get any words out, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.
“Choso,” you said gently, and his eyes snapped to yours, a guilty flush spreading over his cheeks.
“I’m sorr-” he started, but cut off as you shushed him and stepped closer. His heart damn near stopped as you raised you hand to touch his chest. Your delicate fingers drew graceful lines over the designs of his tattoos, tracing the whorls of ink that covered his chest.
“Did they hurt?” you whisper, transfixed by the sight of how small your fingers looked against the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, hardly daring to breathe in fear of breaking whatever was happening in this moment. He nearly tipped his hand back and groaned when you pressed your entire hand against his chest. He had no doubt that you could feel the way his heart raced under your palm.
Your breathing synced with his, and he tipped his chin down to take in the sight of you standing so close to him with your hands on his skin. This time, as your other hand came up to press against his stomach, he couldn’t stop his groan.
His eyes shut in embarrassment and he opened him mouth to apologize, but you cut him off.
“Choso,” you whispered. He eyes opened and landed on you. The way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing in the room worth looking at, filled you with warmth and confidence.
“Yes?” he whispered back and you grinned.
“You should kiss me,” you told him, and his dark eyes widened.
“What"?” he sputtered in surprise.
“Kiss me,” you repeated and smiled at him.
With another groan, he hand came up to cradle your jaw and he pressed his lips to yours. You were immediately addicted to the taste of him. He worked his mouth over yours feverishly, his other arm coming up to wrap around your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him and trapping your arms between the two of you.
You were expecting something soft. Something shy and sweet from the boy who’d steal glances at you during psych lectures. You were not expecting this.
Choso’s tongue surged into your mouth, making you moan and run your hands up to his shoulders to grasp at him. He was practically curled around you to reach your mouth, he was that much taller than you. You startled when you felt the clack of metal against your teeth, before your pussy clenched at the realization that Choso had a tongue piercing.
He ate at you like he was starving, and the hand at your jaw moved as he crouched down slightly. You pulled away a little, confused and wanting to see what he was doing. Choso gave a displeased grunt at the distance before wrapping that arm under your ass and yanking you back to his mouth.
He now held you in the air like you weighed nothing as you two made out, heavy breaths and wet sounds from your mouths the only thing that could be heard in the room. You curled your hands in his black strands and pulled on them roughly, earning a grunt from Choso.
He spun with you in his arms, blindly walking towards the direction of his bed. Your mouth ripped from his in a soft cry as you two fell back on to the bed, your stomach swooping from the quick drop.
For a moment, Choso hovered over you, staring down at you like he couldn’t believe you were really here. You took in your fill of him as well. His handsome face and silky hair. The muscles that bunched at his shoulders and biceps and pecs. The veins that corded his forearms and hands. You couldn’t believe the girls in your class didn’t find him ridiculously hot.
Choso must’ve snapped out of whatever awed trance he’d been in, because he swooped back down to devour your mouth, a muscular arm wrapping around you once more to yank your body to his. Your back arched and you moaned at the feel of hard muscle and hot skin along your bare thighs as you wrapped your legs around him.
He thrust helplessly against you at the sound, as if your moans and cries controlled his body. When you moaned and gasped “Again!” he began grinding against you, grunts and groans of his own leaving his mouth as his tongue traced every inch of your mouth, the cool metal ball of his piercing tracing each path.
Heat had spread through you, and need burned like fire low in your tummy. You were soaked and desperate to show Choso that you weren’t wearing anything under his t shirt.
“Off,” you groaned, yanking at his sweatpants. “all of it.”
At first he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t bear to be away from you even for a moment, but when you tugged on his waistband again he almost tripped over himself as he rushed to rip off his clothes.
Silence descended over the room, with only the sound patter of rain outside softly filtering in.
You knew Choso was a big guy. He towered over you and his shoulders were practically doubled the width of yours. You knew he was muscular, even more so than you’d initially thought as you stared at his naked body. Each muscle was rock hard and defined, as if a sculptor had taken extra care to run a chisel along every line of him.
And you could’ve spent hours looking at and running your hands over his arms, his chest, his back, his thighs; you could’ve spent hours idly tracing your fingertips over every line of his tattoos that lovingly hugged his body. Hopefully some day you would. But now, one thing on his body was stealing all of your attention.
Choso was huge.
Hard and thick and throbbing. So heavy that it hung between his thighs instead of springing up. Veins wound around the shaft towards his head that was already leaking pre. The pretty pink of his dick belied the fact that Choso was packing a fucking monster.
“Holy shit,” you breathed as you stared at his cock. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, partially in arousal and partially in shock.
“Is… is it... okay?” Choso, the poor thing, asked uncertainly. You finally tore your eyes from his throbbing cock to look into his soulful puppy dog eyes.
“You’re huge, Choso,” you said, stating the obvious.
Or not so obvious. To Choso at least, given the fact that he glance down at his own cock and looked back at you and asked, “Is it?”. You almost laughed, before you realized he was genuinely asking. (He was too embarrassed to say that he’d found himself to be about the same size as the dicks he’d seen in porn, apparently not aware that porn stars did not reflect the size of the average population.)
“Yeah baby,” you responded, “you’re really, very big.” At that, Choso whined and grasped at his cock, rutting into his hand as your words made him twitch and leak even more.
“Can I… what do you want me to do?” Choso asked, desperation bleeding into his tone as his hand pumped his cock like he couldn’t help it.
“Come here, Cho,” you whispered, and he lurched towards you as if yanked by a leash. He practically fell over you, one arm catching himself as he planted a knee on the bed, eyes never leaving you.
Slowly, you leaned forward, close enough that you were breathing each other’s air, before you leaned back in order to lift his t shift off your body. Choso made a sound halfway between a groan and a sob as he realized you were completely naked underneath.
“Please,” he whimpered, the hand on his dick squeezing the base violently now to stop him from cumming just from the sight of you.
“Touch me, Choso,” you told him softly, curious to see what he’d do first.
Which, apparently, was to dive face first into your pussy.
You cried out, hands flying down to grip his hair as he swiped his tongue in a fat stripe over the entire length of you. If you hadn’t been so shocked, you would’ve been embarrassed by how loud the wet slurp a single swipe of his tongue had elicited from your pussy due to how fucking soaked you were for him.
He dove the fuck in, practically nuzzling your cunt as he thrust his tongue into you. You groaned, eyes fluttering and back arching. Every time you made a sound or called his name he sucked at you even harder, licked at you even rougher. Every movement of his mouth caused wet slurps and squelches to sound from between your legs, your pussy dripping for him. You could feel his piercing caress you with every swipe of his tongue.
He alternated between long licks and deep thrusts of his tongue inside you, neglecting your poor clit that throbbed for attention. The longer he went, the more desperately it pulsed as wetness poured from you.
“Please Cho,” you begged, using your grip on his hair to pull his face even tighter against you. He was practically smothered in your pussy, not that he seemed to mind. His groan vibrated through you, causing you to groan as well. “Please.”
At your second plea he relented, wrapping those pouty lips around your clit and sucking, hard, the metal of his piercing pressing perfectly into the underside of your clit. You nearly screamed as you came without warning, throwing your head back against the pillows as the dam broke. Heat pulsed through you as your hips rolled against Choso’s mouth. Your orgasm left you so wet you could hear Choso drinking you down as you slowly came down from your high.
You melted into Choso’s bed as he raised his head to look at you. The sight of him, dark shiny eyes looking at your from between your thighs, big veiny hands gripping the fat of your hips so hard you’re pretty sure you’ll find bruises in the morning, made you clench around nothing.
“Your fingers, Cho,” you panted, reaching down to cradle his cheek, “need you to get me ready to take your cock baby.” He gave a tortured groan, burying his face against one of your thighs as he ground his hips into the bed. With a parting kiss to your leg, he leaned back on his haunches and brought a hand to your sensitive, pulsing pussy.
You gasped, stomach heaving as his thick fingers swiped up the seam of you before pressing inside. A single one of his fingers was like two of yours, and you rolled your hips to pull him deeper. He groaned, starting to pump his finger into you roughly, soon adding a second finger.
You could feel the cool metal of his rings against your flushed, burning hot cunt. Each press of his fingers inside made a wet squelch, and when he curled his fingers against your front wall you began crying out. When he slowly eased a third finger inside of you and pressed all three fingers up against that spot, you screamed as another orgasm wracked through you. Your legs shook, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back as you came so hard it almost hurt.
Choso had wrapped an arm around one of your bent legs, pressing a kiss to your knee as he continued to thrust into you gently, slowly spreading his fingers inside of you. Prepping you.
“C’mere,” you slurred, pulling him to your mouth even as his fingers stayed pressed inside you. You kissed him, hot and wet and filthy as you panted into his mouth. Choso slipped his free arm under your shoulders to pull you closer, your bare chests pressing together. He whimpered when you pulled at his hair roughly. You pulled away, a string of saliva hanging between your mouths.
“Please fuck me, Cho,” you whispered.
He couldn’t move fast enough, leaning back and pulling his fingers out of you so fast you cried out. He fumbled at his nightstand, pulling up a drawer to search for a condom. Briefly, you had the ridiculous thought of the poor cashier that had to ring up whatever crazy huge size of condoms Choso needed. The thought quickly vanished and your mouth went dry as you watched him roll the condom on. Despite how relaxed and wet you were for him, you were seriously doubting your ability to take this thing.
As if sensing your nerves, Choso raised his head to look into your eyes. His were big and pleaded, but searching for any sign of reluctance or discomfort.
“Come here,” you said, and he followed obediently, draping his big body over you and letting you pull his lips to yours. Your tongues swiped lazily at each other as you both panted into the other’s mouth. You made a game of searching for Choso’s piercing with the tip of your tongue, which seemed to drive him crazy.
Slowly, you reached down to grab his cock, trepidation seeping in as you grasped at the girth of him. Holy shit.
He whimpered against your mouth as you guided him towards your entrance, and bit at your lip as your pressed the tip of him inside. You had to work him against you for a second, spreading your lips around him until he slipped in with a slight pop. You groaned against his mouth and he froze, terrified that he’d hurt you.
“Holy fuck,” you whispered as you pulled him toward you to take a few more inches. You knew there was so much more left to go but already you were feeling the deep, aching stretch. “You’re so fucking big, Cho.” Your praise made him moan, and he leaned down to hide his face in your neck as his hips jerked forward at your words.
You let him take over, trusting him to watch and listen for any cues from you that you needed to stop, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Choso began to pull back the few inches you had already taken before slowly pressing back into you, feeding you a little bit more of him. He did it again, and again, starting a slow pace of gently thrusting more and more of him inside of you.
You clawed at his back, no doubt leaving stinging red lines behind, as you gasped in his ear. Each slow thrust felt like it was rearranged your insides, the stretch a deep ache that pulsed through your hips. After what felt like an eternity, you felt his pelvis press flush against yours, the hair of his happy trail tickling your tummy.
“Choso,” you gasped out as his shoulders heaved above you. He shook with the restraint it took to stay still, the blissful wet heat of you around him like heaven. He moaned your name in your ear and your body arched to press impossibly closer to his.
Your eyes rolled back as a mini orgasm shivered through you at just the feeling of taking all of him. He gave a helpless little cry and thrust his hips against you as he felt you pulsing around him.
“You can—hah—you can move now, baby,” you panted into his ear, and with a whine he immediately pulled back a few inches and thrust back into you hard. You cried out, fingernails dragging down his back as he did it again. And again. And again and again, until he was slamming into you with his arms wrapped tightly around your back, forcing you to arch into him as he desperately drove his hips forward with his face buried in your neck.
Distantly, you could hear the headboard slamming against the wall, and had the inane thought that his neighbors were most likely not happy campers at the moment.
Those thoughts were quickly knocked from your head at a particularly delicious thrust that had you arching your back and moaning Choso’s name, a breathy exhale into his ear that made him grind forward with a whine.
Veins popped out along Choso’s hands and arms, which were planted on either side of your head. Wrapping your hands around them, you ran them up his arms to feel the dips and curves of the muscles that strained from holding his weight up. He shuddered as your hands traveled up his arms, across his shoulders, and into his hair, tugging lightly.
“Fuck,” he grit out, dropping to one elbow and wrapping his other arm around your back to yank you against him. You could feel the hard lines of his abs against the soft skin of your stomach. And you swear you could feel the slight bulge of him in your tummy press out from inside of you against his abdomen. Your sweaty stomachs slid against each other as he thrust into you. Desperately, he slammed his mouth to yours, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into the messy kiss, tracing his tongue with yours and feeling the metal ball of his piercing caress it. When you sucked his tongue, his hips slammed forward viciously and you broke the kiss with a cry.
“Choso,” you gasped against his ear, “please.”
He groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and thrust in to the hilt, punching a pathetic little cry from you. The entire length of his inside of you stretched you ridiculously, and you felt him deep in your tummy, your entire body seeming to throb around him. One of your hands fisted his hair while the other dug nails into his shoulder when he started to grind his hips into you, hot and heavy and so, so good.
When your hips jerked up, Choso pulled his back a little, only to snap them forward back into you, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from your wet heat. Each of his short, powerful thrusts ended with a filthy grind against, making the veins that twisted along his shaft hit every sensitive spot inside you, lighting you up like a live wire.
The arm he had wrapped around your back slid lower, hoisting your hips up in the air. The change in angle meant that his length slid along your g spot with every slick slid in and out. Light flashed behind your eyes and white hot pleasure burst over every inch of you. Your skin felt like it was on fire as your tummy coiled tightly.
With a shout of his name, the pleasure exploded, and you practically sobbed as wave after wave swept over you. Wetness poured from you, coating Choso’s shaft and stomach. You could hear him groan at the sensation and the way his hips stuttered against you at the feeling of you pulsing around him.
With one final, desperate thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and bit down on your shoulder hard as he came. You shivered at the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the heat that spread along his covered cock. Deliriously, you half-wished you could experience the sensation of him cumming inside you without a condom, to have his cum spill out of you when he pulled out.
Your arms were wrapped around each other as you both fought to catch your breath. You could feel his large chest heaving against yours. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes, the soulful brown bottomless as he gazed wonderingly at you. You lifted a shaky hand to cradle his cheek, warmth spreading in your chest when his eyes closed in bliss and he nuzzled into your palm, turning his head to press a kiss to it.
He mumbled something that was completely muffled by the palm of your hand. You giggled, pulling your hand away in order to hear what he was saying, only for him to nip at your fingers. He grinned dopily at your shriek.
“What did you say?” you asked breathlessly, unable to resist meeting his goofy grin with a smile of your own.
Crimson bloomed across Choso’s cheeks, but he stared you down unwaveringly nonetheless.
“Will you go out with me?” he asked, and despite everything you two had just done together, you could tell he was nervous. And despite everything you two had just done together, his question launched a horde of butterflies in your stomach.
“I’d like that,” you respond, delighting in the wide grin that spread across Choso’s face. You reached up to brush away some of the dark strands of his sweaty hair that had fallen across his forehead.
“But before that, why don’t we hop in the shower?”
The next time your Human Development lecture met, you found yourself in the seat next to Choso’s, sitting close enough for your thigh to brush against his. His right hand was busy handwriting notes (you’d teased him about his refusal to upgrade to typing up his notes, but he’d insisted writing them down by hand was better for memorization), while his left rested on your leg, thumb sweeping idly back and forth across your thigh. You bit your lip to try and contain your grin, focusing intently on typing away at your laptop.
During a brief lull when your professor stepped away to the computer to pull up the next presentation, soft whispers reached you from a few rows back.
“so lame, why does he even—”
“no why he actually bagged—”
“please… doesn’t even look like he could—”
“probably… small dick… pathetic virgin—”
Anger simmered violently through you, and you found yourself clenching your jaw, imagining all the ways you could turn around and tell those fucking bitches to back off—you were pulled abruptly from your thoughts as Choso’s thumb swept of your leg again. You glanced at him and saw him give you a shy, sweet smile before turning back to his notebook.
You pressed your lips together, fighting off a smile once again. You settled back into your seat, facing forward as your professor started up his lecture.
Whatever. you thought to yourself smugly. They could think and say whatever they wanted, because at the end of the day, you were the one walking side to side after a night with your emo boyfriend.
in fact, when dilf!nanami heard you were expecting girl twins, he was already ordering the matching pink strollers and cribs and little newborn baby onesies.
dilf!nanami who throughout your entire pregnancy, was plastered to your side, making sure your every need was meet, and constantly with a hand on your tummy, feeling for the little baby kicks.
dilf!nanami who when the babies were first born, was with you every step of the way, getting up out of bed at three in the morning if it meant his tired wife could get a few extra hours of sleep, feeding bottles to both of them if your breasts were too sore, rocking them in his big beefy arms and whispering how “daddy’s here”, and even strapping them to his chest in baby slings while he ran errands.
dilf!nanami who you can find cooing at your baby girls, making them giggle as he bounces them on his lap, blowing raspberries on their tummies and tickling them as he keeps them entertained for you.
and not only is dilf!nanami the best father, but he’s also the best husband.
dilf!nanami who after tucking in the babies to bed, tiptoes away to your bedroom.
because while he has to make sure the babies are tended to, he also needs to tend to his baby.
dilf!nanami who takes quick strides to your shared bedroom, wasting no time in sprawling his buff frame over you, pinning you easily down as he huffs hoarsely in your ear, “kids are asleep” while his bulge presses into your soft tummy.
dilf!nanami who is already half-hard at just seeing your chubbed belly and plush hips, your post-pregnancy body was just so tantalizing to him.
dilf!nanami whose hands roam your body with a desperate kind of need, squeezing and kneading tenderly as he places kisses all along your neck and jaw.
dilf!nanami who grunts lowly as your grabby hands reach for his cock, hastily pulling down his boxers until his length slaps against his stomach, spilling pearlescent beads of oozing precum across himself.
dilf!nanami who is huuung, swollen balls and thickened base all leading up to a perfectly symmetrical cock, the tip flushed an angry red and twitching wildly at your gaze.
dilf!nanami who quickly hooks a finger into your panties, shoving them aside before lining himself up, so heavy between your legs you can't help the small moan of anticipation you let out, wriggling your hips up impatiently.
dilf!nanami who only chuckles at his wife's eagerness, too quick to oblige as he begins to push in, past that first tight ring of muscle while you suck him in deeper.
dilf!nanami who groans at the greediness of your slobbering pussy, already trying to milk him for all he's worth as you clamp on tight around him.
"f-fuck, m'.. hah.. gonna cum if you don't stop sucking me in like that sweetie."
dilf!nanami who begins to roll his hips forward, filling you up inch by inch as your moans slur together, tongue lolling out dumbly.
he was just so big, you couldn't help it if you were already cock-drunk!
dilf!nanami who watches as your eyes roll back in your head when he starts up a mean pace, hips snapping into yours ferally while your spit-glossed lips hang open helplessly.
dilf!nanami whose hand comes down between your legs to stroke your twitching clit, the cool metal of his silver wedding band making you jolt with pleasure as you squirm under him.
dilf!nanami's baritone rumble of your name brings you back, as he suddenly throws your legs over his broad-framed shoulders, candied pink lips crashing onto yours in a craze as he folds you into a nasty mating press.
"wan' .. hah.. make ya a pretty mama again.."
"what?" you're gasping for breath, eyelashes fluttering as a familiar coiling heat begins to pool low in your tummy, winding closer with every harsh smack! of his hips into yours.
"can you do that f'me, my love?" dilf!nanami's words have begun to slur, eyes glossy as his throat bobs, pushing your legs up higher 'n higher. "have my babies again?"
drool has begun to seep out of the corners of your lips and with a mindless nod, you find dilf!nanami's hips bucking sloppily as he gets closer.
"say it."
you feel your tummy knotting achingly tight and with a hoarse cry you practically scream out, "k-ken' make me a mommy again! please!" before you're cumming, and cumming hard, creaming all over his cock until it's forming a little ring at his base.
dilf!nanami who is cumming seconds after you, your filthy words sending him over the edge with a soft groan as ribbons 'n' ribbons of hot, milky cum are shooting into you, filling you endlessly up until you're clawing at his back and crying with how stuffed you feel.
dilf!nanami who shudders and jerks over you, whispering small praises as the last wispy remnants of his seed empty into you, fingers coming to stuff the glossy dredges beginning to seep out of your ruined pussy back in.
you hiccup softly, whilst dilf!nanami shushes and coos at you to take it all, lovingly stroking your cheek and placing small kisses on your face while you recover.
dilf!nanami who after giving you a couple more orgasms and tiring you out, hears the babies begin to wail from the other room, tucking you in snugly before whispering “i’ll do it, you get some rest my pretty mama..”
i need you to acknowledge the stomach tongue a little more…please and thank you.
i got a whole mini stomach tongue drabble babes. but i know, i know! it's been forever since i wrote that...
how about this... thinking of sleeping in bed with trueform!sukuna and he pretends like he hates it cause when y'all cuddle you just don't want to curl up next to him you want to be ON TOP of him. and he's a stomach/side sleeper and you hate trying to cuddle with his back, it feels like a brick wall.
cuddling on the side is a no-go too because his four arms are smothering you like thick tree trunks when y'all spoon. so in order for you to stop bitching he's forced to sleep on his back. his least favorite position. while you, like a spoiled little princess, gets to sleep on your stomach on top of him.
trueform!sukuna is massive. so even sprawled on his chest, using his muscular yet squishy pecs as a pillow, your legs still only manage to straddle around his lower torso. this position isn't as comfortable to sukuna but still the grumpy curse king can't bring himself to move you. however, that doesn't mean he is just gonna lay there all night under you and not amuse himself.
a smirk on his face, Sukuna's upper arms hold you in place. his lower hands slide up your sleep shirt up and rip your panties clean off of you —he's sworn he's told you not to bother wearing the troublesome garments around him so the ruined garments are your problem not his. this leaves your pretty pussy exposed and in the perfect position for free access to his stomach tongue.
the mouth that forms on his abs grins evily, hot breath inhaling and exhaling the scent of your cunt through its mouth. you wiggle slightly due to the warm the moist air trapped in the blankets causing your skin to tingle. soon sukuna stomach tongue, unnaturally long, thick and dexterous, slithers in between your spread thighs to take a slow sloppy lick up your slit. curling over your swollen clit, the bumpy texture of his large tongue stimulates every nerve in your puffy bud. instinctively opening your legs even wider around his torso, you unknowingly allow sukuna further access to your leaky hole. tentatively dipping in the tip of his stomach tongue into your pussy sukuna swirls it around the entrance to gather up your slick.
fucking delicious.
he could taste how close you were already to cumming. his tongue large enough to flex its unified muscle against your clit while the tip continued to probe into your dampening pussy hole. Sukuna's claws drag streaks across your skin, the fat of your ass spilling over his fingers as he spreads you wider under the blankets.
absolutely quivering on top of him, sukuna had you right on the edge before pulling his tongue away completely.
now to play the devious game of how far sukuna could edge you, all night—until he got bored or finally fell asleep—without you cumming. you'd prevent him from getting enough sleep, so there's no way he'd allow you to just sleep peacefully... where would the fun be in that?
OMFGFHFNFJBHS. AHHHHH YESSS!! Lmfao so tea! aweee thats so cute the wild cat napping with cute house cat reader….
wait i got an idea! im cooking~!
Caracal!Sukuna x Housecat!Reader ♡ ft. Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu
mdni.18+
𝐭𝐨𝐜 — p1 ⟡ p2 ⟡ p3
Caracal!Sukuna who is nothing but trouble for Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu —a hybrid rescue with an infamous rap sheet for mauling smaller species and instigating near-death scraps with larger predators. Sukuna is passed from nature reserve to nature reserve until he finally lands into Gojo and Geto’s care.
Caracal!Sukuna who is always alone, kept in his own special section of the Gojo family nature conservation in the back of their huge mansion. Only the small prey animals ment to be his food are allowed in his enclosure and they never last long. Even the other hybrids on the Gojo conservation give his enclosure a wide berth, knowing they would not come out unscathed or even alive should they dare enter.
That is until the day you, hybrid Housecat!Reader, wander in.
You are Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu's favorite hybrid pet. A cute and pampered little Persian who sleeps curled at the foot of their bed when you aren’t nudging them aside to tangle yourself between them. They’ve adorned you with a cute rose gold and pink sapphire studded collar tied on your neck and extravagant pink bow that secured the back.
Signaling to all that you’re spoiled, adored—and absolutely clueless when it comes to just about anything then being 'their cute lil kitty'.
Geto complains it’s Gojo who spoils you rotten, allowing you access to any and everything you’d could ever want before you even ask for it. But Gojo just can’t deny his pretty prized Persian, who’s won many blue 1st place ribbons in hybrid cat shows, a single thing. So when they leave one day to run errands and forget to close the backdoor that leads down to the reserve, your lack of established boundaries has it so you don’t think twice about if you’re actually allowed to go outside.
Never mind that you’ve never been outside on your own before.
Your biggest solo outdoor adventure thus far has been the Gojo manner’s impressively ordinate screened sunroom.
But you don’t consider any of that.
Especially since a pretty blue jay flutters right in front of you onto the porch railing. Flapping its wings like he's just begging you to play with him as it sings a sweet tune.
So off you go, no shoes and no care simply wearing the pretty pink frilly Chanel house slip that Gojo bought for you last week.
Being outside for once is exhilarating and your tail flicks with excitement as you continue to run after the elusive blue jay that flits just out of reach.
When it lands on sign atop a tall fence, you don't even bother reading it as your eyes never leave the bird. Reeling back, you gear to pounce and in one hop you use the sign as leverage and hop over the fence. Your cute paws hitting the grass of Sukuna’s domain—not even registering the faint hum of the hazardous electric barrier behind you.
Caracal!Sukuna whose senses quickly alert him to the intrusion. Initially he thinks he's being fed his dinner earlier than usual so he's very surprised to see another hybrid in his space.
Such a kept, pampered thing at that—it's clear you didn't have a clue where you were as you continue to give chase to the bluejay.
Sukuna follows you with curiosity. He’s not even trying to hide his presence either, you are in his territory after all, so the fact you don't notice him after a few minutes?
Your ignorance is simply astounding to him.
It’s not until a flash of movement knocks you on your rear and scattered feathers flutter around you do you realize your bluejay friend is gone—and now register the presence of the huge, scarred hybrid now crouched in front of you.
Sukuna swallows and you cringe as you can see a lump you can only guess is Mr. Bluejay traveling down Sukuna’s throat.
Caracal!Sukuna whose imposing presence causes you to shiver in fear as he's starring you down like you’re his next meal.
Another vision blurring flash and Sukuna is right in front of you now.
With a squeaky yelp you scratch him, swiping at his nose on pure instinct—more startled by his quick movements than anything.
You’ve never seen this huge cat before. He’s scary.
You didn’t mean to hurt him. You just want him to know you’re not happy at him eating your friend.
Still, it’s a big mistake but you can’t even manage to apologize as your voice is frozen in your throat.
Caracal!Sukuna who ears sweep back as he hisses teeth barred in a dangerous grin. Your cute manicured claws aren’t even enough to draw blood which confirms to him how utterly weak and useless you are as a feline.
Enjoying watching you squirm in terror under his gaze, Sukuna savors your fear he can smell it in the air.
“Run—I’ll give you to the count of 3 little kitty. If I catch you through—you die.”
You don’t need to be told twice and you’re off fast as your limbs can carry you.
Yet, you are an indoor cat and the chase you gave the bird had already depleted most of your energy. Huffing and puffing, everything from your breath to your clumsy run through the forest tells Sukuna exactly where you are.
It was futile from the beginning but Sukuna likes to play with his prey circling you in wide arcs. Tsk, you don’t even sense him.
Sukuna takes pleasure in the fact knowing he could kill you at any second, rip that soft fur right off. His claws are longer, sharper than yours and his muscles are well-honed—trained for a single bone-crushing leap.
Nevertheless, he still allows you to think there’s a chance for escape when truthfully—you’d been running deeper into his territory the entire time.
Caracal!Sukuna who watches you foolishly dart into a cave for shelter—his cave.
His home.
You realize this is Sukuna's lair far too late though when you see his makeshift bed pallet—a pile of bones only cushioned with various animal skins and furs. All in piecemeal as they had been his prey before as well.
Heart racing, you swallow hard as the inevitability of your fate settles over you. Your hormones surges as pure adrenaline triggers a strange molten feeling, leaving your skin hot, your breath shallow. A shiver of terror runs through you as Sukuna's shadow stretches across the lair, swallowing the light.
Blocking the entrance in two strides, Sukuna’s shoulders hunch, eyes fixed on you with something between fury and fascination—he’d killed other hybrids before but never before has he seen one pout in indignation as they were about to die, it's almost comical.
You were interesting. Appraising you once more from head to toe your soft body, even softer fur and pretty collar—you were clearly cared for. Something about knowing that and knowing he was sentenced to sleep in a cold dirty cave pisses him off more and his fierce hisses grow louder.
“Please, *sniff* mister big kitty I’m sworry, I scratched you—
Tears run down your flushed cheeks and as last resort you roll on your back in submission. Paws up and tail curled between your thick thighs, your slip falls back and exposing your plump bare ass to Sukuna.
Caracal!Sukuna who is unmoved by any appeals for mercy, still planning to lodge his claws into your pretty skin—until he senses it.
That smell of yours.
Hot, sweet—and utterly intoxicating that pricks at his senses. The blood in his veins boils red hot and every strand of fur stands up straight to attention.
Nostrils flaring from the assault, his gaze sharpens to the source—the thick slick that's started to wet your bottom and now the floor of his cave.
Fuck.
And in that very moment Sukuna decides your fate.
Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu who expect to see you at the door when they get home. You always greeted them, a sulky pout on your lips when they were gone too long claiming you were bored all day. You didn’t want to make friends with the domesticated other hybrids—you only wanted them.
Initially, Gojo thinks you are simply hiding. Waiting to pounce on him so he can love on you and give you all the gifts he bought you when him and Suguru were out shopping. But after 10 minutes Gojo you are nowhere to be found.
The other hybrids don’t know either which prompts Geto to pull up your collar’s Airtag to see your location.
The blue dot shows up bright and clear beeping that you are close by—within a mile...
In Sukuna’s enclosure.
Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu who go into Sukuna’s domain armed—tranq darts, stun batons—and Geto even has a pistol hidden in his belt.
Gojo is hopeful but Suguru is prepared for a bloodbath, knowing all too well the track record of Sukuna’s.
But the scene inside the den is unexpected as both men freeze.
You're alive to be sure—on your back, legs bent in a vicious mating press, Sukuna’s thick cock drowning in your slick as he pummels into your swollen cunt over and over.
If not for your coloring it be hard to tell where Sukuna ended and you began, you're both filthy—fur sticky with spit, cum, dirt and lord knows what else. Your expensive Chanel slip in tatters as your tail twitches helplessly under Sukuna's weight, damp and matted with fluids. Your nipples, engorged and leaking, are sore from the bounce back of relentless rutting. Drool glistens at the corner of your mouth, spilling over your bruised lips as your jaw slacks.
More animal than human at the moment, you’ve gone completely non-verbal. You mewl, purr and hiss from the various sensations Sukuna is ruthlessly delivering straight into your guts.
Gojo thinks sometimes they could be a bit rough with you, but him and Suguru’s teasing nips, firm hands and playful wrestling had nothing on the beastly manner Sukuna was fucking you in.
Gojo's eyes widen to see your belly is already distended, too full from the amount of seed Sukuna has already pumped into you. Yet it's still not nearly enough for Sukuna to be satisfied as he savagely fucks you, round after round atop his pile of bones and carcasses.
His heavy barbed length drags against every raw, creamy ridge inside you. Cock pulling primal sounds from your throat you didn’t even know you could make.
Fluffy pampered house cat be damned—Sukuna fucks you like a wild animal.
Exhausted, your head lulls to the side and you finally see them—Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu.
Both stand stunned. Gojo, mouth open in shock sporting a half chub as Geto simply shakes his head and mutters something about installing a moat around Sukuna's perimeter.
You don't know how to feel though, a mix of emotions bubble up.
Perhaps 6 rounds ago you would have called out for your owners, begged them to rescue you from this wild beast ripping through your insides. That you wanted to be praised and petted gently, while given the strong slow strokes you were used to...
Then it hits you—a high, delirious giggle bubbles up between your moans at the mere thought of it.
You realize that nothing your owners have ever done compares to being fucked like this—like prey pinned and claimed until there’s no scent left on you but the fierce feline above you—whose name you still don't even know.
Every thrust of Sukuna’s is another brand, another mine-mine-mine! carved into your body. His knot swells full at your entrance, locking you in place while his broad hips keep pumping.
You didn’t know mating could be like this—hell, you didn’t know you even know what the word fully meant until now—to have a mate. But every time Sukuna’s fat round tip slams until your womb the word is seared that much deeper into your brain.
Mate...Mate...Mate!
Caracal!Sukuna who doesn’t stop either when Gojo and Geto appear. Of course, he senses them way before you do—before they even entered the cave actually. He doesn't give a fuck though and won’t pay them any mind as he’s on a mission to drill a liter of his kittens into your pretty pussy that so brazeningly dared to enter his lair in a heat.
Sukuna knows they won’t try to pull him off either—both men know enough about feline hybrids to recognize the risk of stopping a knotted wildcat mid-rut.
They would end up hurting you more than him, and Sukuna knew they wouldn't dare.
Fuck, you’re tight though—cunt gripping him harder and Sukuna has to clench his teeth to prevent his own eyes from rolling back into his skull and moaning like a lil bitch.
Sukuna's life up until now was fucking shit but your soft moist heat is so graciously swallowing him til' the hilt each time, squeezing his knot so obscenely as you purr so sweetly beneath him—giving him a true taste of whatever heaven must be like. Having been fed suppressants to temper his aggression all his life Sukuna has many a heat cycle to make up for in the slick confines of your tight cunt.
Caracal!Sukuna who keeps you in his den for 3 days while the worst of your heat passes. You remain glued to his side, his tail always looped possessively around you—your waist, your bicep, your ankle, keeping you tethered to him at all times.
It’s not like you could leave even if you wanted to, the intense heat between your tender thighs threatening to devour your body whole unless Sukuna and his massive girth extinguished it. Ropes and ropes of his hot milky fluids the only thing in the world that could sate your greedy womb.
Surprisingly though Sukuna isn’t half bad at aftercare. Grooming you as best he can by licking away your sweat, tears and cum when he’s not fucking you into another limp mewling heap of bones and fur.
Exotic Pet Owners!Satosugu who cautiously return on the 4th day to find you naked, happily perched in Sukuna’s lap, licking his ears while he pretends not to thoroughly enjoy it. At their intrusion, Sukuna doesn’t move, doesn’t bare his teeth—just glares murderously at them over your head for having the nerve to interrupt him and his new mate.
You having some sort of attachment to Sukuna was expected, but Gojo and Geto didn’t anticipate you flat out refusing to return to the main house unless Sukuna can come with you—and like the utterly spoiled brat you are, you also refused to stay another night outside in a smelly dilapidated cave.
The feral haze of your heat had worn off and the realization that you had been romping around on carcasses and old bones disgusted you.
Sukuna smirks and holds onto you more posessively, not expecting his cute lil mate to defend him so intensely. You made promises you couldn't keep, saying Sukuna would be a “good kitty” as long as he could be with you.
That wasn’t completely a lie—Sukuna still felt aggression and the instinct to kill in his bones yet the intense gnawing had tapered off immensely since he’d been around you.
You rubbing your fluffy lil' head underneath his chin could temper the worst of his moods—making him relatively docile as long as you were near.
In a move that surprises everyone—it’s Geto to who agrees first.
On the condition that Sukuna behaves.
No biting, no scratching, no tearing up the house or harming any of the other animals or hybrids on the property.
“How could you Sugu!?”
Gojo feels betrayed. He wanted to play hardball, not wanting Sukuna anywhere near his precious Persian kitty.
But Geto, the far more practical of the two sees this as the opportunity it is to finally semi-domesticate the wild cat that had caused them so many problems, and so much money, up until now.
Caracal!Sukuna who ends up moving in that very night—noteably uneventful, aside from the chaos of forcing the two of you into an actual water bath with soap.
The two of you reek.
All is calm until somewhere in the middle of the night, Gojo’s awoken by the shifting weight at the foot of his and Geto’s California king bed.
There’s two extra bodies now—you, curled across Sukuna’s chest, tail looped around his arm and Sukuna, one clawed hand kneading the fat of your hips in slow, possessive flexes.
You’re softly purring, grooming Sukuna with tiny micro licks under his jaw—the same licks you used to affectionately give Gojo when he’d brush you.
Sukuna’s ears twitch, but he doesn’t move, eyes fixed on Gojo with smug, unblinking triumph.
Gojo’s chest tightens. It’s not like there isn’t room—hell, you could fit five more bodies in this bed if you wanted to. But you’re curled up on Sukuna, purring so sweetly, lavishing all that soft, sweet attention on the mangey scarred stray that you should be giving him!
Caracal!Sukuna who, real talk, doesn’t even want to be in this fucking bed right now, he hates the stench of Gojo and Geto. Yet it's you, Housecat!Reader who insisted on sleeping at the foot of their bed on your first night back.
Sukuna sure as shit wasn’t about to let you sleep there alone either and have one of them touching you.
So when Gojo crawls over to pet your back, just to remind you he’s still here—Sukuna’s tail is quick to lash at him in sharp warning, a deep low hiss emanating from his slightly bared teeth.
“Yeah, sure…”
Gojo mutters under his breath, pouting.
“…just forget about the guy who bought you the fancy treats and collars, no big deal.”
Awake this entire time due to Gojo’s whining, Suguru cracks one eye open, sighs, and tugs Gojo back down to sleep.
“Turf wars can wait until after coffee tomorrow—and maybe after we get them their own room.”
You only purr louder as Sukuna squeezes on your ass grow more lustful, utterly oblivious to what just went down between him and Gojo.
Sukuna tips his chin to nose at your hair—mouth curling in an evil grin.
You’re not their pretty lil' spoiled Persian any longer.
You're his.
an: hybrid cat sukuna oml *eyes roll back into head* jdfbchsdbhfcs. this was fun to write. thats all for now but maybe ill revisit in the future!
A loud knock jolts you from your focus, your stationery practically shakes from the force. You murmur to yourself, “What now?” Irritation evident in your voice as you push yourself out of your seat at your desk and head towards your dorm door.
You’re met with a very groggy, very out-of-it Satoru.
“Satoru? What are you doing here — why have you got gauze in your mouth?”
He pushed past you with a groan and flopped down onto your bed as if he owned it. “Just got my wisdom teeth removed, sweets.” His words were slurred, almost incoherent. You stared at him, pondering why on earth your fuck buddy was coming to your dorm out of all places after just having his teeth extracted.
“Aren't you going to cuddle me?”
You snorted at his garbled words, the idea being so foreign that the only reasonable reaction was to laugh. “Satoru, we never cuddle after you visit, we high five and one of us leaves after getting dressed.” The white-haired man’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at your words, “But… why would I not want to cuddle my girlfriend?”
Hold on, girlfriend?
How many painkillers was this guy on?
You moved closer to him, sitting at the edge of the bed and rubbing your hand up and down his shin. “We aren’t dating, Toru. We just hook up sometimes, remember?” You tried to sound as kind as possible, lowering your voice so as not to embarrass him. Satoru however just shook his head, drool slipping from the sides of his mouth as he sat up.
“Nuh uh, we are dating because I’m sooo in love with you, pretty girl.” He tried to smirk but his cotton-stuffed mouth prevented that, instead, he ended up looking a tiny bit lopsided.
You froze, eyes wide, mouth agape at his confession. “You don’t mean that, you’re practically high from how many meds you’re on.” You tried to get up but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back onto the bed with him. “No, I love you.” He repeated in a sing-song voice, nuzzling his head into your hand.
“My girlfriend, let me love you...” You felt him starting to fall limp against your hand, eyes wavering as he fought a drug-induced sleep. You signed, leaning closer in to press a soft kiss to his damp forehead. “We can talk about whatever that was tomorrow, Toru.”
“Let me love you… don’t you give up, nah-nah-nah…”
“You listen to Justin Bieber?”
“Suguru played it in the car, told me to serenade you…”
