Part Two Here
yuji itadori doesnât mean to break you.
heâs all sunshine and sweetness with his wide shoulders, pink hair. the kind of boy who helps old ladies with their bags and says âbless youâ when people sneeze.
and he has no idea that every time he hugs you (tight, arms low, cheek pressed to your temple), heâs giving you another reason to lose your mind when youâre alone.
because heâs big. heâs warm. and he doesnât pull away when your thick thighs brush his or when your soft belly presses against his abs.
you try to be normal. polite. sweet.
but then thereâs him, stretching beside you in a tank top, moaning about how sore his muscles are. tossing his hoodie off like it doesnât drive you crazy. and laughing, always laughing, in that boyish, god-help-me way that makes you think about things you shouldnât.
like riding his thigh. or sitting on his face until you cry. or letting him hold your wrists while he pushes his big, meaty cock into your weeping cunt.
âyou okay?â he asks one day, blinking those honey eyes at you.
no. youâre not. youâre soaked and sinful and ruined just from looking at him.
but you smile. you nod. because youâre a good girl.
and good girls donât beg to be split in two by their best friend.
Part Two
