the hot girl hustler

[xoslutty]

✮ warning! don't ever agree to help gym coach!toji with his sit-ups ⸺ unless you wanna end up with his dick stuck inside you.

"yo, help me out with my sit ups."

you just held a damn plank for three minutes, your white top was soaked through, sticking to your belly, under your tits, and your spine. you straight up felt like you're gonna croak any second.

the gym was ghosted, the lights were dimmed to a low glow — like when the place is about to close, but someone’s too lazy to kick the last few freaks out. nobody worked out this late. nobody except for one psycho.

toji fushiguro. your massive, hot-as-fuck trainer. he sat on a bench by the rack, lazily re-wrapping his wrists.

"toji, i swear, i'm gonna pass ou—"

"just shut your damn mouth and get over here."

you sighed 'cause it was pointless to argue with him and headed over. he was already on the mat by the time you hit the stretching zone. shirtless, pants hanging so low you could see his happy trail, and rockin' that signature smirk.

"get over here."

you sat on his knees like you did a hundred times before, but today everything felt off. toji grabbed your waist and yanked you up onto his thighs, right on his bare, rock-hard cock.

god-tier cock. huge, veins popping and throbbing at the base, with a thick head already leaking pre-cum. you felt it even through your shorts. "toji… people will see…"

"shhh. you earned a treat, you worked so hard today."

he started moving you back and forth slowly, making your shorts rub against him, but you still felt how hard he was and how he kept twitching under you. "we ain't supposed to… mmnh… if they see us..."

he didn't even let you finish, just hoisted you up with one hand 'cause his left one was gripping your ass hard enough to leave marks. he jerked your panties and shorts to the side and sat you down on his dick. the whole damn thing.

you let out a loud moan — couldn't help it, couldn't even catch your breath because he filled you up to the hilt. you slapped a hand over your mouth right away, digging your fingers into your lips, terrified someone might hear.

after all, you were in a public gym.

"watch that pretty mouth," he purred. "we don't want 'em to catch this fine little pussy swallowin' her coach's cock, do we?" his dick was tearing you up inside, your muscles twitching all crazy around him trying to take it all, but it was too much. you just sat there frozen, shaking and wet, with your mouth wide open, just letting out a silent sob.

"count." he sits up. you feel his abs tighten under your fingers, the way they crunch as he curls up. his shoulder blades leave the mat and that dick inside you moves — up, even deeper if that's even possible, and you feel it hittin' so damn deep.

"on— hahh!" a high, whiny moan rips out of you. you can't catch it, can't close your mouth — you just roll your eyes back and dig your nails into his shoulders, making him laugh. "i said count." his hand stays on your thigh, keeping you from just riding him like a total slut and screaming his name through the whole gym. "that one didn't count. start over."

he slowly sinks back to the mat, his cock almost slips out an inch, maybe two — and you feel every single vein as it slides. right until it’s almost gone.

your hips twitch on their own — you just wanna drop down and feel him inside. "h-nngh! toji...hnnn! just stop bein' such an asshole!"

he peeps you with a raised brow. "babe, i'm gettin' old. ain't gonna wait all night."

"on…"

"can't hear ya."

"one! mmnghh!"

he lifts his torso again, muscles rolling under his skin. he comes all the way up until you're face to face, his cock plunges back in — deep and hard. "h-ahh! two! two!"

you wanna lean on his shoulders or his chest, but he catches both your wrists with one hand and yanks them up. your palms end up over his head, your back arches, and your chest pushes forward, showing off your rock-hard nipples. he leans in and licks 'em right through the top, then takes one in his mouth and starts sucking. there's a wet spot on your top when he pulls away. "such a good girl."

then his hand slaps your ass, making a loud smack echo through the gym. he goes down — and up again, crunch after crunch. he works like a piston, driving you onto his dick with every single lift.

on the sixth rep, you feel a knot tighten inside you. "nngghh! t-toji! i'm gonna cum, oh god, i'm gonna cum right now!"

he speeds it up. the crunches get shorter, meaner. his upper part is working at the limit — you see how strained his muscles are, how the sweat glistens on his belly. his breath gets shaky and raspy.

he hoists his hips up, going in as deep as it gets, and stays like that for a few seconds. his dick is so deep you feel it throbbin' inside.

"one left. c'mon, babe."

he lifts his torso one last time — your legs are shaking in a cramp, wrists still pinned up, you can't move, just grinding your hips in circles. "mmgh! haa-aahh! i'm cummin', i'm cummin', i'm cummin'! tee-e-en! nngghh!"

you come with a loud moan, couldn't even stifle it — no air to breathe, no brain to think. just wave after wave rolling through you, muscles clenching around his cock all jerky and greedy, squeezing every drop out of him.

suddenly, the lights flick on and you hear a muffled voice. "what the fuck are y'all doin' in here?"

more? ──── cr for art: @/_jtvll on IG

[sincerely-star]

⋮ 𓏲ּ𝄢 ┆when a villain’s quirk forces katsuki bakugo to spend twenty-four uninterrupted hours glued to your side, the two of you quickly realize that being unable to keep your hands off each other is only half the problem.

⧼ 🛍️ ⧽ ∿ pairings 。 ⸝⸝ katsuki bakugo x fem!reader 𓄲 genre ⨾ tropes 。 pro hero x pro hero, romance, friends to lovers, forced proximity, mature themes, explicit sexual scenes 𓏲 contains 。 ᵎᵎ nsfw, 18+ only mdni, language, mutual pining, smut, dirty talks, dry humping, fingering, unprotected piv sex, spooning, cowgirl, choking, slight degradation, pet names (baby, brat, slut) ꩜ ⋆.˚ word count 。 6.0k ꔛ

꒰ star speaks ꒱ ✮ this fic is based on this blurb ᵎᵎ i posted months ago which has been long overdo. . . oopsie 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

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you woke up expecting your first mission of the day to end professionally with a quiet victory. your routine usually flowed with a seamless rhythm because you had spent years honing your quirk and your instincts. you took a certain pride in the fact that your missions tended to end successfully and remained relatively calm, at least from your perspective.

you did not consider yourself cocky, but there was a comforting predictability to the way you handled villains. you could usually predict a criminal's next move before they even thought of it, leaving you to wrap things up with a clean arrest and a polite nod to the authorities.

you imagined today would be no different, just another entry in your record of efficiency.

but boy were you wrong.

your day started that morning at tokyo’s largest shopping district. the air felt crisp and the streets were filled with the usual hum of commuters and tourists.

you were paired with katsuki for a team up mission targeting a group of high profile robbers. these villains had a penchant for the finer things, having spent the last few months raiding museums for historical paintings and priceless jewelry.

the objective was simple. apprehend the group, secure the stolen assets, and ensure no civilians were harmed.

for the first hour, the mission played out exactly as you had envisioned. you and katsuki moved like a well oiled machine, your quirk complementing his explosive one. you managed to corner the group in a side gallery, neutralizing the muscle while katsuki blasted the leaders into submission. the civilians were ushered to safety and the jewels were recovered in record time.

“took you long enough to wrap that one up, you slow ass,” katsuki barked, though there was no real heat in it.

"i had it under control, katsuki, you just wanted to blow things up," you replied, glancing back at him with a smirk.

the calm shattered during the final moments of the arrest.

one of the villains, a scrawny man with a desperate look in his eyes, lunged forward as you were securing a pair of handcuffs. he didn't aim for the jewels or the exit. he aimed for you.

katsuki saw the movement a split second before you did. he didn't hesitate, shoving you hard to the side and taking the hit directly to his chest. there was no explosion or flash of light, just a strange, shimmering ripple in the air that seemed to snap onto him.

you both stood there for a moment in total silence, blinking in confusion.

katsuki looked down at his chest, then back at the villain, his face twisting into a scowl. “what the fuck was that?!” he didn't feel anything unusual, and you assumed the attack had failed.

but as katsuki reached out to grab your arm to pull you away from the scene, the world seemed to tilt. the moment his fingers brushed your skin, there was a violent, audible clack, like two industrial magnets slamming together.

you were suddenly jerked backward, your back slamming into his chest with such force that the air left your lungs in a sharp wheeze.

“what the hell?! get off me!” katsuki roared, his voice echoing off the museum walls.

“you get off me!” you retorted as you tried to push away, planting your feet and leaning forward with all your strength.

“i am not staying stuck to you all day,” he snarled, his palms sparking. “i will blast this quirk right off of me!”

“don't you dare blast us into a wall,” you warned, though you were already feeling the dizzying proximity of him.

you managed to create a gap of maybe three inches before an invisible force yanked you back. you flew backward again, hitting him with a dull thud that made you groan.

that’s how you ended up here, talking to the authorities, finishing the mission by sharing all the intel you have gathered. you could physically feel the headache coming as you scolded yourself for your wishful thinking that today would be a good day because you were so wrong.

the very angry and very agitated katsuki bakugo who was literally stuck to you was living proof of that.

“that fucking bastard! get us out of this, you pathetic excuse of a villain!” he yelled at the villain who was cuffed being escorted away.

“katsuki, stop moving! you’ve already tried pulling away once and it didn’t work. what makes you think trying over and over again would be any different?” you snapped, though your voice was strained from the impact of his chest on your back from the constant forceful pulling.

“i am not moving, you damn brat!” he was screaming even louder now, his face inches from your ear. “i shouldn’t have agreed to do this low tiered mission.”

“you’re a hero! we did our job, get over yourself.” you knocked your head back to his, hitting him square in the forehead making him groan.

“fuck you.” katsuki growled at you from behind, biting onto a section of your hair from the back before tugging.

you rolled your eyes in anger before stomping on his foot. “stop acting like a child.”

“hit me again and i’ll throw the both of us into traffic.” katsuki threatened you.

you rolled your eyes as you turned your head back to look at the police officers who were still processing the scene. you tried to maintain your professional composure while katsuki was essentially glued to your spine.

he was leaning back with all his might, trying to keep his chest from pressing against your back, but it was a losing battle. every time he drifted a few inches away, the magnetic pull would snap him back into you with a forceful slam that pushed you forward, nearly making you trip over your own boots.

“for the love of god, i am just trying to finish the report,” you told the katsuki before turning back to the detective, ignoring the way katsuki was vibrating with rage behind you. “please ignore him and his temper tantrum.”

“shut your mouth!” katsuki yelled, his hands gripping your waist tightly, not to keep himself from slipping but because he physically can’t let go. “i am not having a temper tantrum, you're just annoying! and you!” he turned his head to glare at the captured villain who was already in police van. “you piece of shit! i am going to blow your limbs off one by one! do you hear me! i will blast you into the next century for this!”

“katsuki, shut up!” you yelled back, snapping your patience. “can’t you see i’m talking to the authorities! just stay still for five fucking minutes!”

he spat a curse, his breath hot against your neck. “do you want to be stuck here like this the entire day?! if i hadn't taken that hit for you, we wouldn't be in this mess! you're lucky i'm even touching you, you brat!”

the detective cleared his throat, looking between the two of you with a mixture of pity and amusement.

“from what we can see so far, all five of the villains captured today aren’t japanese citizens. this means their quirks are completely unregistered in our database.” the detective eyed his phone before meeting your eyes once more. “i have already informed the lab about you and dynamight’s situation. they will be analyzing the specific properties of the magnetic quirk. once we get the villains to custody, i will personally question the villain who hit you with the quirk and get more information on it.”

“for now,” the detective continued, “i will inform the hero commission that both of you are off duty. no missions, no patrols, and certainly no work at your respective agencies. you are physically incapacitated as a pair. i suggest you both go home and discuss where you will be staying. hopefully, the quirk effects will wear off on their own within twenty-four hours.”

“thank you, detective,” you said, giving a tired smile. “we appreciate the help.”

katsuki didn't thank anyone. he just growled, a low, dangerous sound in his throat, and glared at the detective as if the man had personally glued them together.

the ride back to katsuki's agency was a chaotic affair. once you arrived, you were greeted by mina and kirishima, who had been briefed on the situation. mina nearly collapsed in fits of laughter the moment she saw you two stuck together.

“oh my god!” mina squealed, pointing at you. “you guys are literally like a human sandwich! this is the most romantic thing i have ever seen in my entire professional career!”

“it is not romantic, you idiot!” katsuki screamed, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. “get over here and help us get these damn costumes off before i explode this entire building!”

the process of changing into regular clothes was a nightmare of coordination and physical strain. because you couldn't be separated by more than a few inches, you had to change in separate rooms with people literally holding you back.

mina and two of katsuki's assistants gripped your arms and waist, anchoring you to a heavy bolted table in one room, while kirishima and another sidekick did the same for katsuki in the adjacent room.

it was a grueling exercise in willpower. every time you tried to slide a shirt over your head, the magnetic pull would tug at you, threatening to launch you through the concrete wall and right back into katsuki's chest.

you were sweating, your teeth gritted as you gripped the edges of the table, your knuckles white. i can't believe this is my life right now, you thought, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your temple. i expected a calm day, and now i'm being held back like a wild animal just so i can put on a t shirt.

rom the other side of the wall, you could hear kirishima grunting, his voice strained as he fought to keep katsuki in place.

“bakugo, man, listen,” kirishima gasped, sounding completely out of breath. “i think you should just go pee or do your business in the bathroom while we're still here. i don't think you'll be able to do that once you two are back home and stuck together. there won't be anyone to pry you off each other.”

“i will kill you!” katsuki's voice boomed, followed by the sound of a small explosion. “stop talking about my bladder, shitty hair! i can handle myself!”

“it sounds stupid, but kiri is right,” mina said to you, her voice shaking from the effort of holding you still. “you might want to consider it.”

you paused, the reality of the situation sinking in. you looked at the wall separating you from the most stubborn man in japan and sighed. “fine,” you called out. “take me to the bathroom.”

after another thirty minutes of torturous maneuvering, kirishima and mina drove the two of you to katsuki's penthouse.

the car ride was an exercise in sensory overload.

katsuki had claimed the back seat, spreading himself out with his back against the door. because of the magnetic pull, you were forced to sit with your back against his front, tucked between his legs.

you tried your best to focus on the scenery passing by the window, but it was impossible to ignore the loud, frantic thumping in your chest. your face felt hot, a deep blush creeping up your neck.

you could feel every inch of him. his chest was hard and defined, digging into your shoulder blades, and his hands were firmly glued to your waist. the heat radiating from him was intense, a constant, pulsing warmth that seemed to seep through your clothes and melt your resolve.

why is he so warm? you wondered, biting your lip. and why does he always smell this intoxicating.

kirishima and mina were kind enough to make sure the two of you were settled, ordering a massive amount of food and eating with you both in the penthouse before they had to leave for their own duties. they left you two alone in the silence of the luxury apartment, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

the rest of the afternoon was spent in his bedroom, which had become a battleground for the remote control. you wanted to watch something light, something that would distract you from the fact that you were physically fused to your long time crush, but katsuki wanted to watch literally anything else.

“we are watching a rom com, katsuki,” you insisted, leaning back into him as you both sat on the bed. “come on, it will be fun. plus it'll calm you down.”

“i am not watching some garbage movie about people crying over flowers!” katsuki yelled, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “put on an action movie! something with explosions!”

“do you even need any more explosions when you are a already human bomb?” you countered, a playful smirk on your lips. “oooh! how about we watch mean girls? it's a classic.”

“i don't care if it's a damn classic! it's stupid!” he groaned, but he didn't fight you as hard as he usually would once you pressed play. he seemed exhausted by the day's events.

you wore him down with a combination of stubbornness and a few well placed pouts. eventually, he caved with a loud, dramatic sigh that sounded like he was conceding a war.

“fine! watch your stupid mean girls movie! just stop talking during it!”

you ended up lying on his bed with him (duh), the movie playing on a large screen in front of you. because of the way you were stuck, he was positioned behind you, his arms forced to wrap around your waist in a permanent spooning position. his chest was pressed firmly against your back. you could feel the steady, heavy beat of his heart matching your own.

“this is so stupid,” katsuki muttered, his voice low and husky right against your ear. “why are people so obsessed with who sits where at lunch? it's a school cafeteria. eat your fucking food and go.”

you chuckled, the sound vibrating through both of your bodies. “i don't know, katsuki, you tell me. i think you could definitely pass as a mean girl. you've got the attitude and the temper for it.”

he stiffened, his grip on your waist tightening. “what did you just say to me? i will blast you into orbit!”

you just laughed, feeling a surge of boldness. “admit it, you'd totally be the leader of the plastics. you'd just scream at everyone until they did what you wanted… which you already do. and you’re blond as well. it’s perfect casting!”

katsuki didn't yell back this time. instead, he let out a huff of air that felt like a kiss against your skin.

you weren't normally this chatty, but the proximity was making you reckless. you were desperately trying to distract yourself from the heat of his body. for hours, you had been glued together, and the friction was starting to create a feverish warmth between you. you could feel the slight dampness of his sweat against your back, the nitroglycerin scented moisture making your skin tingle.

i can't believe he hasn't blown us up yet, you thought, your heart racing.

you had carried a torch for katsuki since your second year at u.a. high. it had started as admiration for his drive and evolved into a deep, aching attraction that you had kept hidden behind jokes and professional courtesy. now, with your agencies located close to each other and your friendship deepening, the feelings had become an obsession.

you shifted your hips slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position to ease the strain of being fused to him. as you settled further back, pushing your backside against him, you felt something hard and unmistakable pressing against the curve of your butt. you froze, your breath hitching in your throat. it was his cock, already thickening through the fabric of his sleep pants.

you felt his breath hitch. the fingers that had been awkwardly and tensely gripping your waist earlier were changing. he wasn't just holding on anymore. his fingertips began to move, subtly drawing slow, rhythmic shapes on your skin, tracing the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist. the touch was almost shy, which was completely unlike the man who had spent the morning screaming at police officers.

you moved a little bit more, trying to settle in further into the bed.

katsuki let out a long, shaky breath that fanned across the nape of your neck. you felt his fingers tighten on your waist, his grip almost bruising. “stop moving,” he growled, his voice a deep, guttural vibration that resonated through your entire spine.

you knew you should stop, but a spark of mischief flared in your chest.

you shifted again, a slow, deliberate grind of your hips that pressed you deeper into his hardness. you acted innocent, humming softly as if you were still just trying to get comfortable. “i'm just trying to get settled, kats, it's a bit cramped,” you whispered, though your voice held a teasing lilt.

he let out a sound that was halfway between a groan and a snarl. you could feel him growing harder, the length of him stretching against you, hot and demanding. the heat between your bodies was becoming unbearable, a fever that blurred the lines of friendship.

“you're doing that on fucking purpose,” he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. “you like playing with fire, huh? you damn brat.”

“i don't know what you're talking about,” you replied, tilting your head back to look at him, your eyes dancing with challenge.

katsuki's restraint snapped. he shifted his weight, pushing his body more firmly onto yours, pinning you to the mattress. he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous, predatory whisper. “you think you're so clever, don't you? teasing me when you know i can't even pull away from you.”

“katsuki,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“you're just a little tease, begging for me to fucking lose it.” he muttered, his words laced with a slight edge of degradation that made your stomach flip.

“maybe i am,” you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“look at me,” he commanded, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. you could feel the heat of his skin, the roughness of his tongue as he grazed your collarbone. a low moan escaped your throat, and you felt him shudder against you.

you turned your neck, straining against the magnetic pull to face him. the moment your eyes met, he crashed his lips onto yours.

the kiss was explosive, tasting of desperation and years of suppressed longing. his tongue pushed into your mouth, tasting of cinnamon and heat, sucking on your tongue with a hunger that left you lightheaded. you moaned into the kiss, your hands reaching back to tangle in his spiky blonde hair, pulling him closer even though there was nowhere left to go.

the kiss deepened, becoming wetter and more frantic. you could hear the sound of your saliva exchanging, a wet, shlicking noise that only fueled the fire in your gut. he shifted his weight, pinning you further into the mattress, his thighs sliding between yours. the friction of his trousers against your own was driving you insane.

“i can't... i can't stand this,” katsuki gasped, breaking the kiss to bite your earlobe. i want you. i want all of you.

“oh—please…” you arched your back, pressing your rear into his crotch. you could feel the hard, thick length of his cock straining against his pants, a rigid pillar of heat that was pulsing against you. you whimpered, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

he began to move, his hips grinding rhythmically into your backside as he continued to kiss your neck and shoulders. every thrust was heavy, his hardness rubbing against you through the clothes. you arched your back, grinding back into him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps of pleasure.

“k-katsuki,” you pleaded, not sure what you were begging for, but you were.

“god, you feel so good,” he muttered against your skin, his voice rough. “i've wanted to do this for so long, you stupid, beautiful idiot.”

katsuki struggled against the magnetic effect that was very much a nuisance as it was a push, his muscles straining as he fought the pull to lift his hand. he grunted with the effort, his face contorted, but he managed to slide his hand down between your legs. his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your underwear, finding the heat of your pussy.

“ha—! kats…” you squirmed at the sudden pressure.

“you're already wet,” he chuckled, a dark, triumphant sound. “look at you, soaking through your clothes for me.” he began to play with you, his fingers circling your clit through the cloth of your pants, sending jolts of electricity through your nerves.

you whined, your head tossing back against his shoulder. “katsuki, please,” you begged, your voice trembling.

he was impatient, the hunger in his eyes mirroring your own. he didn't want to waste another second with fabric between you. with a sudden, violent surge of strength, he gripped the waistband of your bottoms and tore them. the sound of fabric ripping filled the room, a sharp crack that made you gasp. he didn't stop there, his hands moving to your top, ripping the material away with a focused aggression, fighting the magnetic pull that tried to snap him back.

“be patient, damn it,” he growled like a hypocrite. he slid his hand down, his fingers diving into your wetness. you were already soaking, your juices coating his fingers as he slid them through your folds. he let out a low whistle, his voice thick with lust. “hah! not only are you a tease and impatient as fuck, you're also so fucking wet for me, aren't you?”

“yes, m’sorry… just please,” you breathed out, tilting your head back.

katsuki didn’t need to be told twice. he found your clit and began to rub it with a punishing intensity, his fingers sliding deep inside you. the sensation was overwhelming, the friction of his skin against your walls creating a wet, squelching sound that filled the silence.

“k-kats—hah…” you called out his name, your body squirming against his touch, your muscles clamping tight around his fingers.

“mmh?” he nipped lightly at your shoulder, his other hand moving up to cup your breast through your blouse, his thumb finding your nipple and rubbing it to a hard peak. “tell me this is wrong. tell me to stop.” his voice was a dark challenge.

you arched back into him instinctively, pushing your ass more firmly against his hardness. a low groan rumbled from his chest. “it doesn’t… f-feel wrong,” you managed, your own voice husky. “f-feels so good…”

katsuki was losing it as much as you were, he was just good at hiding it. he was breathing hard, his chest heaving. he gripped his own clothes, his muscles bulging as he fought the magnetic force one last time to rip his pants and underwear away. as soon as he was free, the magnet slammed his bare body back against yours with a heavy thud.

the feeling of his bare cock grinding against your bare behind was almost too much to bear. he was huge, hot, and leaking pre-cum that lubricated the space between you.

“sh-hiiiit…” you breathed, eyes rolling from the weight of his bare cock behind you.

“yeah?” he cut in ruthlessly, his hand squeezing your breast, his hips grinding again in a rhythm that was becoming unmistakable. “found the opportunity and started grinding your ass into me like this,” he rocked against you, the friction deliciously maddening. “you’re such a fucking tease. always been f’me, huh? you get everything little thing you want, don’t ya?”

“ngh, no m’not—” you moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder. “you’re the one… who’s being a tease. katsuki, please…”

“hm? what’s wrong?” he taunted softly, biting your earlobe. “please what, baby? tell me. what happened to your damn confidence now, huh?” his long fingers curled deeper inside you, the slick wet on his fingers.

“oh—mmh, yeah… just like that, k-kats,” you gasped, bucking against his touch.

“you hear yourself?” he fucked you harder with his finger before adding another, his thumb finding your and rubbing in tight circles. you cried out, your hand struggling against the magnet as it flew back to clutch at his thigh. “so fucking wet and loud—mmm’fuuuck.”

katsuki was grinding against you relentlessly now, his cock hard and demanding against your ass, his fingers working magic through your slit. the friction between you was building a frantic heat low in your belly. your breath came in ragged pants that matched his own.

“w-want it— shiiit. katsuki, please. i want you inside me. want you so bad,” you begged again, the thought of him fragmented by pleasure.

“god fucking dammit, you beg so pretty f’me,” he growled, his voice guttural with need. he pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “been wanting this for so long.” he pulled his soaked fingers out of your pussy making you whine at the emptiness. he didn't need to be told twice. he positioned himself, the head of his cock probing the entrance of your heat. he pushed forward slowly. “fuuuuck… you feel good,” a low growl ripping from his throat as your tight walls gripped him.

you whined, the feeling of him filling you up stretching you to your limit. he was thick, far thicker than you had imagined, and the sensation of him sliding deep into your cervix made your toes curl. you arched violently, a loud moan tearing from your throat as pleasure spiked through you. “oh god! katsuki!”

katsuki began to move, his thrusts rhythmic and powerful. because of the magnetic bond, he couldn't pull away completely, which meant every thrust was deep, hitting your most sensitive spots with punishing accuracy. the sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, a rhythmic squelching noise as his cock slid in and out of your drenched pussy.

shlick, squelch, shlick.

“that’s it, baby,” katsuki purred against your skin, his fingers kept pressure on your clit, circling it around while his hips never stopped moving “take it. take what you’ve always wanted from me.”

“fuck yeah. yeah, right there…” you were full on begging and purring now as you moved your hips meeting his thrust, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. you could feel the sweat from his chest dripping onto your back, mixing with the fluids of your union. he was panting, his breath coming in short, jagged bursts against your ear.

“look at you—fuck. made for me”, he groaned, his voice breaking. i'm going to ruin you. he increased the pace, his movements becoming more overzealous. in his desperation to get deeper, his cock slipped out of you for a fraction of a second, only to slam back in with a wet thud that made you cry out. the sound of air being pushed out of your pussy created a loud, popping noise that only made him more aggressive.

“m’don’t think… gonna last looong—oh! yes, fuck! harder, katsuki!”

“come on then,” katsuki commanded, his voice rough with strain. he bit down on your shoulder blade. “cum for me. show me how good it feels when i finally touch you like this.” he curled his fingers harder, pressed his thumb down fiercely. “let go for me, you slut. let me feel you cum around me.”

he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, leaving red marks that you knew you would cherish tomorrow. he was hammering into you now, his balls slapping rhythmically against your ass, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the air.

you felt your orgasm building, a tidal wave of heat that started in your toes and surged upward. “katsuki!” you screamed, your muscles clamping down on him in a series of violent contractions.

“fuck, i’m close,” he growled against your skin, his hips bucking up, driving his cock impossibly deeper where your bodies joined.

the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him was the final straw. “god fucking damn it! mgghfuuuck…” he let out a roar, his body stiffening as he shot his seed deep inside you. you could feel the hot, thick spurts of his cum hitting your cervix, filling you up until you felt like you were overflowing. he groaned, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his chest heaving as he slowly came down from the peak.

katsuki breathed heavily, his heart racing. he suddenly gripped your waist. “turn around,” he commanded. “face me.”

“i can't, kats, the magnet,” you panted from your orgasm, trying to shift.

“fight it,” he growled, his voice regaining its dominant edge. “i want to see your face when i fuck you again. fight the damn thing.”

that was all the motivation you needed. you both gritted your teeth, straining against the invisible force. you pushed away from him, your muscles screaming, and with his help, you managed to swivel. for a second, you were almost face to face, before the magnet snapped you both back together with a loud groan, your bodies slamming into each other.

he didn't let you settle. he strained his muscle against the pull and manhandled you, flipping you over so you were on properly top of him. he gripped your hips, pulling you down as he entered you again.

you looked down at him, your eyes locking with his vermillion ones, the intimacy of the gaze making the pleasure of him inside you feel ten times more intense. “katsuki, baby.”

“that's it,” he whispered, his hands digging into your ass. “take it all.”

you tried your best to ride him, your breasts bouncing, your breath coming in ragged whines. he reached up, pulling you down, your lips meeting his. it was messy, your tongues dancing in a feverish rhythm, the taste of salt and desire filling your mouths. eventually, you collapsed onto his chest unable to fight the pull of the magnet, your face tucked into the crook of his neck. he took over, doing all the work, lifting his hips to drive deep into you.

“ngghh—oh, fuck,” you whined, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, your skin slick with sweat. “please, katsuki, harder,” you begged.

“shut up and take what i give you, brat,” katsuki replied, though his voice was thick with affection. he began to fuck you with a renewed aggression, the sounds of your bodies interacting becoming more visceral.

the squelching of your joined heat and the heavy thud of his chest against yours created a symphony of lust. he gripped the back of you neck, lightly squeezing, the sensation that only pushed you further over the edge, making you clench tighter around him.

“m’gonna cum again… baby, pleeeease—oh, make me cum,” you choked out a moan, your body tightening as you felt another orgasm building.

“fucking hell, baby, ya gonna milk me dry, huh?” he snarled, bucking his hips up, his hands clamping onto your ass. “yeah? just like that. scream like that. let everyone in the building hear you scream through the fucking walls.”

you moaned loudly, your body still trembling from your orgasm as he began to move inside you again. “agh! f-fuck—kats… m’cuming” you threw your head back.

“cum with me,” he commanded. “fuck, do it now.”

you screamed as you peaked, your internal muscles squeezing him tightly. katsuki let out a guttural roar, his body stiffening as he came deep inside you, his release filling you again with warmth.

the room fell silent, the only sound being your labored breathing. you stayed in that position for a long time, the sweat cooling on your skin. for a long time, neither of you spoke. you were both covered in a mixture of sweat and fluids, the scent of sex and nitroglycerin filling the room.

“does mean you actually like me? or do you just let anyone fuck you?” you broke the silence, your voice clearly teasing and mischievous to get under his skin.

katsuki scoffed, though he didn't move his arm from around you (not that he can). “tch. whatever the hell that means. i don’t even like when other people breathe close to me. what else would this nonsense mean?”

“is that your way of being romantic? because calling what we just did just now ‘nonsense’ is a bit low… even from you,” you teased.

“shut up,” he muttered, his ears turning a bright shade of red. “… listen, tomorrow… or whenever the fuck. after this damn quirk wears off. you're going out to dinner with me.”

“wait, as in a date?” you snapped your head up from his neck to look at him only for the stupid magnet to slam you back down his chest with a thud.

“stop fucking moving—and it's not a big deal,” katsuki snapped, holding you tighter almost subconsciously. “i just don't want you starving to death because you're too clumsy to feed yourself. just say yes, damn it.”

you giggled, kissing his chest. “yes, katsuki. i'd love to go on a date with you.”

“stop pushing it!”

after a couple more yells from katsuki, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, the magnetic effects of the villains quirk finally feeling like something you wanted to keep.

the next morning, the shrill ring of a phone shattered the silence.

katsuki groaned, his eyes fluttering open. you stirred on his chest, your face nuzzling into his neck, half-asleep and warm. he reached out with one hand to pick up the phone, his other arm cradling the back of your head. as he moved, he paused.

he felt his hand slide away from you without any resistance. there was no pull, no snap, no invisible force. he moved his arm further, realizing that the magnetic effect had worn out.

“what?!” he barked into the phone.

it was the detective from the previous day. the man's voice was professional but held a hint of amusement.

he informed katsuki that they had finally identified the specific nature of the villain's quirk.

“upon further investigations and quirk research through quick blood samples, we received word back from the lab. the villain confirmed it himself not long after. his quirk allows him to make someone he hits with the magnet physically stuck to the person they desire the most. after the questioning, we were told that the effects should wear off after a day, so the two of you should be good by now.”

katsuki froze, the phone still pressed to his ear. physically stuck to the person they desire the most.

you, who had been now awake and listening, began to snicker against his skin. you looked up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “you know, katsuki, you didn't really have to take the hit for me after all.” you whispered, “if the quirk works that way, we would have ended up stuck together regardless of who got hit.”

katsuki stared at the ceiling, his face flushing a deep crimson. he slowly hung up the phone and pulled you closer, his grip firm. “whatever,” he muttered, though he couldn't hide the small, satisfied smile on his lips. “just shut up and go back to sleep, brat.”

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© 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘-𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 (　　𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽　　) all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, rewrite, or feed my work to ai. translations and inspirations are allowed only with prior permission and proper credit afterwards.

[tonycries]

Hips Don't Lie - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru: he’s the best striker the Japanese national team has. The strongest, the sharpest, the fastest—and the hottest. With a 66% accuracy rate and a goal headed straight for your heart. You: a reporter for the FIFA World Cup, and the greatest at goalkeeping Gojo’s flirtations. You just can’t stand him- or so you say… You—1. Gojo—0.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!sports reporter!reader, football pIayer!Gojo, FIFA World Cup AU, Football AU, enemies-to-Iovers, sorta, he has a BIG crush on you, yearner!Gojo, fIirting, banter, bets, first date, paparazzi, fan cIubs, pússydrúnk!Gojo, MUNCH!Gojo, oraI (f + m), 69, bets in BED, fíngering, spítting, p taIking, sIight p sIapping, bj’s, cIit bíting, goals, races, bIack cards, tongue f, doggy, wearing his jersey, manhandIing, making it fit, stopping you from running, he’s FÉRAL, cervíx smooches, counting, he BREAKS, babbIing, sIight overstím, making him whímper, making him cry, getting together, happy ending aww, PDA, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 13.9k

A/N. In honor of the FIFA World Cup heheheh I just had to-

“—Geto—a beautiful pass to Gojo. The one and only Gojo.” Booming. If there was one word that could describe the FIFA World Cup then it would be simply that: booming. Everything from the bacchanal cheers; the resounding noise of the football coming into contact with flesh; and excitement mixed with fear that was an amorphous neighbor next to where one sat.

Speaking of seats; everyone was on the edge of theirs.

They watched as Gojo Satoru stopped the football using his chest. Alternating it to a dribble—he’s quickly bypassing some of the opposing team’s defenders- and it doesn’t take long before Gojo’s coming face-to-face with the goal.

“—the famous Gojo technique, Limitless, because of the sheer unlimited speed and strength. It’s a play unable to be recreated by another, with a 100% scoring…” Gojo takes a deep breath. He points. He kicks.

And he misses.

And in-between the commentary and the chaos, Gojo’s eyes can’t help but meet yours pitchside. Amongst the cameras and the anchors-

—you were laughing.

At him.

“And it seems the world-famous Gojo Satoru has missed! He missed! Oh—what a blow for the Japanese team—hey Mech, can we get a close-up of who he was pointing at before missing the goal?”

As requested; the wedding replays the moments before Gojo’s missed goal: his look of determination, his deep breath, his arm raising for mere split-seconds to point…straight at you. And then it’s cutting to you outright laughing at the missed goal.

Fucking laughing.

Gojo himself pauses to watch the unfortunate sequences of events from below. 

“Aaaaand that’s half-time, folks!”

He immediately feels a wave of adrenaline strike him - nearly knocking him over at the force. The molten lead sensation floods every corner and crevice of him, and it makes his fingers tremble, it makes an unexplainable heat rise to his cheeks. Where the hell was this energy when he needed to score that last goal?

Gojo’s eyes remain fixated on you like two frozen-over lakes- made only brighter, not warm, in the face of the Sun.

As you’re finding yourself at the edge of those lakes, you wind down that laugh of yours- that stupid, gorgeous laugh of yours. It makes his heart ripple. And then with a soft smile upon your lips, you’re mouthing an apology. Instead of backing from those stone-cold lakes, daring to dip a toe in. Mocking, surely.

Fuck.

Gojo feels his clenched fists unfurl.

And his irritation.

He doesn’t suppose that you’re feeling guilty in the slightest - but what sort of world-famous sports reporter would you be if you got caught laughing at the star player? 

And Gojo Satoru is the star player—mind you. He’s just…having an off day? It’s exactly 45 minutes and 22 seconds into the quarter finals of perhaps the biggest football tournament in Gojo’s life: the FIFA World Cup. Japan has been facing off against an opponent they’d already been told would be a tough match to beat, with the odds stacked 79% against them- it just surprised Gojo that that 21% included him, too.

After all, he’s motherfuckin’ Gojo Satoru (don’t quote that).

With his signature white hair- and his ‘twinkling’ blue eyes- and that dimple at the corner of his smile. See that dimple? That dimple’s insured for ¥2,000,000.

But it wasn’t just fanfare and his dashing good looks. There’s no football without Gojo Satoru, and there’s no Gojo Satoru without football.

Ever since he was a young kid, the game just seemed to…call for him. 

Just starting out as some stupid sports channel he’d put on in order to avoid having to do his chores; then he’d started watching. Then he started paying attention. Then he started remembering their names and collecting his pocket money to buy some markers and a red, red t-shirt. He still remembers sprawling the t-shirt out on the floors of his cramped living room, and scrawling on Akers 10. Gojo Satoru was raised by Michelle Akers, Alessandro Del Piero, Roberto Baggio, Homare Sawa, and Jay-Jay Okocha as much as he was by his parents.

And then he’d started playing. 

He’d begged and begged his parents to get him a football for Christmas- even going to do extra chores around the house to butter them up.

And once they caved - making him promise not to play inside - Gojo had stumbled out to the playground faster than his legs could keep up. Although he remembers thinking that he’d make them- he’d make them keep up.

He admits he wasn’t instantly amazing - just slightly above average, if anything. But kids on the playground used to think he was the coolest thing.

Wanting to become a professional footballer? Every kid wanted to become a professional footballer at that age. So he’d gather the teams, he’d assign their roles, he’d play with them until the streetlights turned on and the crickets started chirping - except the only difference between Gojo and the rest…was that he wouldn’t go home. Refused to.

Not until his parents had to come down and physically drag him back home.

Until then, Gojo would kick and kick that damn ball as long as he had to to become good enough. Until his feet had to fuse with that damn ball, if it had to.

In middle school they adored him just as much.

The best football player and he’s got dimples to boot? 

He won’t lie - Gojo understands why he was called out for a confession at least thrice a week throughout the entirety of middle school. His grade, lower grades, and even some in the grade above. Manga club captains and school presidents- and some friends of friends not even going to this school. Some of his friends. Most…who’ve never even talked to him. 

And he doesn’t regret not letting any of that ‘sweet Spring love’ that his father always talked about blossom. He just wished his middle school-self had a bit more tact when rejecting girl after boy after girl.

Although he admits that the attention was nice- and those onigiri they brought him after practice was a sweet touch. But Gojo could never quite understand—what did they see in him?

He was hot, yes. He was talented. He was smart. He was funny- yes. But he just wasn’t…like the heroes that he looked up to. Not yet.

Gojo Satoru could never quite understand how he could love another as much as he loved football.

Sometimes when the confessions and the onigiri got a little too much, he’d go to the school rooftop and kick his ball around until the bell rang. Sometimes he’d simply sit and stare off into the distance—what was love? If we should love another as we love ourselves, then perhaps one doesn’t need it? Who said love had to be a person, not a dream?

Around this time, Gojo applied for the local junior football club.

He smoked them all- hah!

Then high school rolled around and here people started giving him looks - still dreaming of becoming a professional footballer? Wasn’t that child’s play?

Popularity was measured, at least for most guys, by how many girls you’d banged or whether or not you’d actually tasted beer. He himself wasn’t one to subscribe to such notions - but the status quo meant that people started…distancing themselves from him.

Reaching for him- if only to point at him like a party trick. Maybe throw a volleyball at him during gym classes, or puncture his football.

They actually did puncture his football.

He beat that boy until his knuckles bled - Gojo had gotten a temporary suspension, of course. He didn’t argue with the punishment. He thinks they went so lenient on him because it was his first offense.

But when he came back, it was even worse. There goes that freak still obsessed with football- isn’t he just going to get his dreams crushed? Isn’t he going to wake up? Grow up? He didn’t need them. He didn’t need a single fucking one of them.

Gojo threw himself into playing football more than ever around these years; until every bone in his body seemed to ache, and he always tasted metal from how hard he’d grit his teeth. He imagined their sneering, snickering faces at the end of the goal and kicked and kicked and kicked that fucking ball. And it was also around this time that he’d gotten the offer.

The offer.

He was glad to leave it all behind.

He was the youngest player in Japan to get a national team offer - oh, he remembers how nervous he’d been then, walking, wondering whether they’d look at him like they all do - and the second-youngest in the world to join an international club. He was an express - and damn expensive - pick for Real Madrid, and the only Japanese player to make a first-team appearance. He was the youngest player to win a major tournament at the UEFA European Championship. He was the youngest Japanese football captain leading them into the FIFA World Cup- and the only one to lead them into the quarterfinals. Not to mention his rabid fan club and his four-time title as the world’s prettiest striker!

But fuck, man. 

All that…for this.

Today, Gojo Satoru was having an off time. And he’s blaming it on you—was that necessarily fair? 

Hm…not likely. But nothing matters when he’s in the zone and he’s supposed to keep his eyes on the football- but they keep somehow drifting to you.

Fuck again.

This was on him, he knows. He knows. And yet-

And without a single word to any of his teammates or Coach Yaga…he’s marching straight over to you. Behind him, he hears Yaga’s choked-up call of his name and his teammates’ confusion. 

The cameras follow him with every step he takes- of course they do, he’s Gojo fucking Satoru. In the distance he can practically hear the tension tighten, as the commentators mention something about him, as the big screen zooms in on his steadfast path, as you’re turning around to see him nearing and your eyes widen.

For a mere split-second - before your hand tightens ‘round your mic, and you’re immediately holding it towards him at the ready.

“And here we have the star player-” It amuses Gojo how your lip tightens around that little phrase you just have to say when referring to him. “-Gojo Satoru’s…best friend in the distance—can the camera capture Geto Suguru during his pre-match stretches?”

The. Fucking. Audacity.

Gojo’s mouth drops as the camera hastens to focus on that damned Geto next to Coach Yaga behind him. He isn’t even the one that came up with those stretches! He stole them from Gojo-

Pointedly—he coughs into his fist.

And then you’re turning towards him with a faux-shocked expression on your face. Lashes fluttering. Those glossed lips of yours dropped into the perfect ‘oh’.

Gojo gets the urge to mimic the exact same expression - and just his luck, the camera’s turning to him at that very moment. There’s a small smirk at the edge of your lips as you’re bringing the mic up to your lips.

This wasn’t his first match interview with you.

Not in the very least. 

Gojo was the greatest in his field, and you were (admittedly) the greatest in yours. So it was inevitable that the two of you would meet- match after match, interview after interview, you’d fired your questions away at him.

And sure…there were the usual ones he already scripted for. But you’d quickly climbed up the ranks for asking on-the-spot questions specific to each player, to pick their brains - and in Gojo’s case, to make him squirm.

You asked him about his elementary school nickname as ‘The Strongest’ (which he later adopted as his actual field name so hah- jokes on you!), and his affinity for sneaking sweets into his strict athlete’s diet (Yaga lectured him after that one…jokes on him), and his utterly barren love life.

For someone so flirtatious, one must wonder why he’s never seen out and about with anyone. Maybe he’s simply football-sexual?

That particular interview had racked up quite a few (…million) views across various social medias as Gojo had turned red and stuttered - the first time someone had managed to get the chatterbox to pause - s-something about well, if you really want you can date him-

But he digresses. The point is that Gojo has had interviews with you before - so this should be a piece of cake. Really. Actually…Gojo’s first ever professional interview was almost with you- but that’s a story for another time.

“—and we’re live at the FIFA World Cup Quarterfinals with Gojo Satoru, Captain of the Japanese team.” You’re plastering that camera-ready smile of yours; though honestly he finds your priggish one more- “It’s your first time at the FIFA as a team captain. How are we feeling today, Gojo-san?”

His heart leaps a little at the honorific. “G-good. Good.” And then at the little raise of your brows - did Gojo Satoru just fucking stutter? Again? - he’s instantly shaking his head free of…whatever. Splashing on his own irresistible smile- dimple? Check. “Oh- y’know me, sweetheart. I’m always good~”

“Is that so?” You ask. “I’m glad to hear that. Because it seems like we’re going to need all the confidence we can get, Gojo-san. Tell me—what changes might the defense have to see in the next half if we’re going to beat the opponent’s two-point lead?”

“Well, I can’t share every secret here now, can I~?” Gojo chuckles. “But just know that we’re going to make good use of Geto in the next half- I know Coach Yaga has some good plans for him.”

You nod. “Speaking of- how is Geto Su-”

“We’re talking about me.” Gojo whines. And he’s sure that this part of the interview is going to get clipped to hell and back—but it doesn’t matter when you’re smiling…like that. When you’re throwing your head back and gesturing at that Japanese jersey of yours- number 4?

Geto Suguru.

“My apologies, I do tend to be favorable towards defenders.” You hum. “But I see you’re rather defensive yourself today, Gojo-san. What changes might the strikers have to see for this next half-”

“Nothing.”

That makes you pause. Your smile falters, though you manage to salvage it. “Erm- my apologies, I didn’t seem to hear you over the crowd. Did you say nothing?”

“I did.” And for how priggish you might act - you’d never amount to his sheer levels. His haughty hair flip that sends a few fan club members fainting in the front row, “Absolutely nothing. I’m perfect.”

“Oh-”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, don’t you know? Neeeeext question~”

“Yes I…I am aware.” You mutter under your breath. “Unfortunately.”

“What did you just-”

“But whilst we absolutely erm- adore your confidence, Gojo-san, one really does start to wonder with the two point lead…” You have a fire in your eyes - for how much you might be exasperated by him, it was undoubtable that you needed this win, too. “And I have only one more question for you: will we win?”

He pauses at that.

Just a split-second.

It’s a fleeting moment, yet it seems to hold the world. You’re not letting your gaze waver from his, and he’s not letting his gaze waver from yours. That fire in your eyes? It’s spreading across his own cheeks and then down his neck, across every inch of his body and coiling around his heart. And who’d have thought…that the great Gojo Satoru was flammable?

Gojo shoots a quick look down at himself to make sure that he’s not actually- before then wrapping his hand around the mic handle. He doesn’t exactly take it from you - just keeps his fingers resting on top of yours, and you’re not letting go either..“Nah, I’d win.”

Someone’s breath hitches- either yours or his.

He’s leaning in - down -so close that his lips are nearly grazing the grille. 

Gojo keeps his summer lake-blue eyes directly on you as he speaks—“And if I do…how about I get to take you out on a date?”

“You what-” Around you, cheers are erupting. And you’re wondering just what might have been shown on the big screen, only to realize that it was…the two of you. Glamorously displayed for millions of people to see.

You wonder if he can hear your heart race.

You wonder why he wasn’t paying attention to the thousands of people nearby that were chanting ‘say yes, say yes, say yes-’

“So, Miss Reporter?” Gojo cocks his head, a smile upon his lips. “What’ll it be?”

You’re biting down on the inside of your cheek- and it’s only too late that you’re realizing it’s to keep yourself from mirroring that world-famous smile. “Yes.” Your heart leaps.

And you’re sure that Gojo heard you- you’re sure of it. But he’s taking the mic completely now, and turning it upon yourself—“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said…” Something akin to…adrenaline? Something akin to…excitement? You didn’t know what name to put on it, but it’s making it difficult to keep your voice exactly steady. “-yes.” Thank goodness it was just a one-word answer.

Gojo smiles wide.

And as the commentators recite the entire interaction in various languages, Gojo’s hearing a call of his name from the coaches’ bench. Realizing that he’d nearly spent the entire break with you- he’s throwing a dazzling smile your way - and several flying kisses at the fans - before making a break for it. 

Reaching Coach Yaga, Gojo’s ducking his head and listening to every word the older goalkeeper has to say. There’s a fierce look of concentration on his face—

“You’re staring~” Shoko, from behind the camera, croons. “He really is even better-looking in person, huh?” She’d long since known about the little tension between you and Gojo Satoru- not any kind of good tension, that is. You’d just somehow gotten on his nerves as much as he got on yours.

And you shake your head free of any suggestions that Shoko might put in it. “I wasn’t staring-”

“Mhm.”

“I was just imagining the look on his face after he loses that bet.”

Shoko smirks. “That’s if he loses that bet.”

“Well…”

And then you’re glancing at him once more. Gojo was now jogging in place and doing a few warm-ups before the second half of the quarterfinals started.

Because for all that talk- Gojo Satoru wasn’t going to win that easily, was he?

Was he?

.

.

.

“It’s incredible—Japan has won! The Japanese team has really won!” The commentator’s voice booms across the stadium, making it shake with sheer excitement. It was contagious. The taste of victory was often sweet. “Gojo Satoru has led the Japanese team to the semi-finals—!”

2-3 to Japan.

All the way from 0.

And you knew the scores - you watched the game unfurl before your very eyes. And yet - surrounded by it all - you stand stunned.

From your right, you’re feeling Shoko euphorically shake you. Her camera equipment nearly slips out of her hands before she’s back at it and recording close-ups of the players’ tearful reactions. 

Most of them had surrounded Gojo and were crushing themselves together in an embrace. They’re pushed so far together that you could only make out a flash of white hair and an uproarious distinct laugh. The microphone damn-near slips out of your hands.

“I repeat, folks—Gojooooooooooooo Satoru has led the Japanese team to the semi-finals for the first time in history! It’s a momentous occasion for the underdogs- Gojo Satoru and his Unlimited hat-trick, everybody.”

They’re replaying those historic moments on the big screen: when Gojo dribbled past four players to strike his first goal of the match, just two minutes into the second half of the game; when Gojo upset the game by drawing the score 2-2 with a goal from the 18-yard box, a goal that went around the fucking goalkeeper; when Gojo finished with a flourish with a head-butted goal just over the goalkeeper’s shoulder, at the 89th minute.

At that last goal, he’d pointed right at you- a hatrick. A hatrick.

“Who’s gonna win?” He’d mouthed, as his teammates were drawn to him in embrace like magnets flying across the field.

You’d simply rolled your eyes.

It was a match for the books - and for generations of footballers just like him to watch and rewatch and watch. And maybe…just maybe they’d buy their own blue t-shirts and scribble down: Gojo 66. Around you, reporters were already chattering about Japan’s succession into the semi-finals—could these underdogs actually have a shot?

Japan had risen from an impending bitter defeat- and that very same Gojo 66 was breaking free from his teammates and flouncing across the field. And the MVP - surely - beamed as he lapped up the attention; running across the pitchside and blowing sappy kisses to his fainting fan club. He’s getting thrown a water bottle- and wastes no time before tearing it open and letting the cool water run on top of his head. Water making his jersey stick to him even more so.

Long legs slightly shaking from fatigue. Blue eyes brighter than ever. If there was one word to describe him, then it would be- dazzling. His skin glistened with sweat, and small droplets of water like diamonds - his jersey was practically glued to him—a part of him, in every single possible manner. Celebration seemed to cling to Gojo just as tight as that jersey did.

And Gojo then catches sight of you watching him- and runs. Runs. 

To you.

And stops right before you.

“So…” He pants out, and makes sure to flash a quick smile at the rolling cameras. “-about that date…?”

You sigh.

But you can’t help yourself- you chuckle.

“Fine.”

“Fuck yeahhhh—!” And then Gojo’s darting back onto the field in celebration - his team engulfs him once more, and before you know it he’s being thrown into the air. Cameras shift between his ecstatic celebration, and your more muted watching, because honestly…you had no idea what to say. What to do.

You just bagged yourself a date with Gojo fucking Satoru - and you hadn’t even thought you’d be able to tolerate him just about an hour and a half ago. 

But that earnestness in his eyes…

You wonder if-

Nope. And then you’re watching Gojo threaten to take his jersey off and throw it somewhere into the crowd - you’re sighing and wondering just how you’re going to get through this. When a mic happens to be shoved into your line of vision—and you’re just about to take it and get ready for your post-match interviews, when-

“Ah ah-” Shoko tuts, amusement lacing her tone. “The interviewer holds the mic. The interviewee answers the question on how it feels to be the future girlfriend of the MVP of the match? Japan’s pride and unofficial prettyboy?”

“Terrible.” You state, extremely seriously. “In fact, I’m considering breaking up with him this very second.” Well…partially seriously.

Shoko faux-gasps. “After a hatrick like that? Why?”

You’re waving breezily. “I’ve always been more of a Geto or Modrić fan myself. Strikers aren’t my thing.”

“Well they’re about to be your thing because you’ve got a date with one-” Shoko checks her watch. “-in just a few hours.”

It’s sinking in. And although you don’t regret saying yes- “Fuck, the fan clubs are gonna kill me.”

Shoko nods. “I won’t disagree with that. I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

“Shoko- darling- sweetheart- you’re supposed to disagree to make me feel better.” 

She shrugs. “You’re a reporter- give ‘em hell. Whack them with your mic or something.” She’s then finally handing you the mic—and you’re smoothing out your suit with a sigh. “But until then- try not to kill Gojo Satoru. We need him for the semi-finals.”

“No promises.”

And as Shoko and the rest of your team start counting down until you’re On Air again, you’re stealing a fleeting look behind at Gojo Satoru. It seems he hadn’t tired of the fan service yet- and now actually had taken off his jersey and thrown it at the fan clubs- was that a brawl up there in the stands?!

He catches your eye and sends you a flirtatious wink.

And a flying kiss.

You mean to swat it away- but then you’re rolling.

.

.

.

“Shoko- what does one wear to a date with a football star?”

“I don’t know, ask the Akinator.” 

“Shoko, that’s…actually I should have done that.” It seems that all around you was defeat: having the team you were rooting for win the quarterfinals for the FIFA World Cup, scoring a date with the MVP of the match, getting a promotion and a bump in your paycheck all because of it? All in all, you were having a terrible day. 

And not to mention- you hadn’t even begun to check your social media—according to the way that Shoko had painted it: the football side of the Internet had crashed into your little circle of the Internet, and then it’d been set on flames and trampled with cleats five times over. And that’s not even beginning to dive into Gojo’s stan Twitter…the horror…

The edits. The speculation. The articles. The fanfiction- out of curiosity, you’d searched a few up.

And you’d have to say…that they were very…descriptive. @tonycriesaboutfootball you were looking at her.

All in all- it’s safe to say that your little agreement had caused a little break in the Internet.

And here you were: cooped-up in your humble hotel room for the match. On the phone was Shoko <3 your biggest help since after the match and right now- gathering your thoughts…and your look…and yourself. After putting her on video call—the two of you worked together to sort through your suitcase and find something half-decent for some fancy schmancy date.

In the end, you’d decided on a chic outfit you’d actually planned to wear when reporting the FIFA World Cup Finals.

And nevermind how much you protested and lamented and complained about how expensive shopping for another dress is going to be, Shoko had simply replied- “Just get your millionaire athlete boyfriend to buy one. Take his black card, duh?”

Ah…

And right now you were simply putting in the final touches- slouched over your hotel vanity. 

She disappears from the screen for a minute and comes back wielding her chunky laptop. “About 21% of people think this is a PR stunt…18% think you two won’t actually go on the date…and 44% think that this is true love and both of you can bear their children. They also may or may not be camped outside the restaurant.”

You take one last look at yourself in the mirror. Hell yeah…“And the other 2%?”

“Ah- well they’re out for blood.” Shoko casually closes her laptop. “Ready?”

You shudder. “As I’ll ever be. Do I look okay?”

“You look good enough to eat- now go.”

Someone from what you assume to be Gojo’s team had actually approached you after the match - something about exchanging numbers, and then letting you know the details about the date. And around 5PM that evening, you’d just been getting off of a final few interviews from another match- when they’d texted you.

He’d texted you.

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX): guess whooOOoooooOooOOO~? (⌒▽⌒)☆

You: ?

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX): hehehe you have three guesses. clue no. 1: i’m hot asf. clue no. 2: i’m even hotter wwwww. 

You: I’m blocking you.

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX): waitヽ(O_O )ﾉ

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX): wait nooooooooooo 

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX): don’t block me ( ◣∀◢)ψ

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX): i was jokinggggggggg

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX): it’s satoruuuuu ☀(▀U ▀-͠)

You: Ah, of course. 

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX) added to your contacts.

(+81 03 XXXX XXXX) changed to (Foot)ballz.

You: Hello, Satoru-san.

(Foot)ballz: hehe

(Foot)ballz: no need to be so formal with me when we’re going on a date~ (͡o‿O͡)

(Foot)ballz: i’ll come pick you up at your hotel so just lmk where you’re staying!!

You: You just want to find out which hotel I’m at, you perv…

(Foot)ballz: I’VE BEEN CAUGHT (ʘ ͜ʖ ʘ)

Ultimately you ended up sending your location to the ridiculous man - however you’d expected Gojo Satoru to text like…it certainly wasn’t this. But you found yourself tolerating it, for the most part.

You suppose.

And once you’re done spritzing on some of your favorite perfume, your phone lights up with a new message.

(Foot)ballz: here ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

With a small huff of laughter, you’re grabbing your things and heading out.

The car parked outside was anything but inconspicuous. 

And you don’t exactly know what led you to think that in the first place—because when has Gojo Satoru ever wished to fly under the radar? 

What was sprawled across the hotel porte-cochère was a gleaming red feline of a vehicle; that type you’d see on the covers of car magazines, or parked outside stadiums with fans surrounding it. Many, many fans. It had all those sorts of curvatures and indents that made it built for speed just like the athletes that owned these types - spoiler wagging behind it, bumper pawing forward, iridescent tyre rims catching the light and showing off. Even stopped outside the hotel, it purred as though impatient to get back on the prowl once again.

From the driver’s seat, Gojo Satoru is opening the door and standing tall- and your breath catches in your throat. 

Gojo had cleaned up nicely. He was dressed in a form-fitting suit—such a dark blue that it was nearly black. The velvety fabric draped around his trim waist, flaring ever-so-slightly where his broad shoulders were- it made him look so much more handsome than was fair. His long legs were covered in the same fabric, and at the ends peeked out shoes so polished they were almost painful to look at- you wonder how long he spent on that…

That usually-messy hair of his had pushed backwards, and on his face were semi-opaque round sunglasses. On his face was a smile.

Where a celebrity often wished to blend in, Gojo stood his six-and-a-something feet high above the rest.

In seconds, Gojo’s reaching inside the car and pulling out a massive bouquet of red roses. Thus he crosses the short distance between you both in two strides, and gently hands them to you- you take it with bated breath. “This is…”

“I know I know-” Gojo cocks his head with a smug smile. “I’ve outdone myself.”

And without further ado, he’s tipping the valet well - the elderly man catches your eye, and you’re shrugging at him helplessly - and helping you inside the car. “You look gorgeous, by the way- although, of course you always do and this isn’t just me saying-”

“Gojo.” You smile. “Shut up and get in.”

He wastes no more time.

“D’you like the car?” Gojo asks as he buckles up, “It’s a Ferrari F80. I was thinking of buying this here as a little congratulatory present for myself- you’re the first one in here besides myself.”

“Seriously?” You ask. And he holds your gaze earnestly. “This is amazing.”

His smile flashes as he sets his hand on the wheel. “Then buckle up, sweetheart. We’re gonna be the hottest couple in town.”

“Not a coup- oh.” He speeds away.

.

.

.

“GOJO- GOJO—LOOK HERE—! GOJO IS THAT YOUR PARTNER?”

“GOJO HOW DO WE FEEL ABOUT THE HISTORIC WIN TONIGHT—DID HAVING YOUR GIRLFRIEND THERE HELP?”

“GOJO HOW DO YOU MAINTAIN THE TITLE OF PRETTIEST STRIKER FOUR YEARS IN A ROW?”

That…last one Gojo actually stopped to give a thorough answer.

And as for the rest, he’d given those paparazzi a coy smile and a wink before diving into the restaurant with you. The maître d’ quickly helped you get escorted to your private table.

The restaurant was…fancy. Right. That was one way to put it.

Another way to put it would’ve been: it was the type of restaurant that you honestly would’ve talked shit about with Shoko, then spent the next hour scrolling through its pictures. Then you’d catch a glimpse of a menu…and have immediately turned your phone off. Because in no conceivable world would you attend a restaurant of that high a price, for portion sizes no bigger than the meat rations you’d given yourself during your impoverished intern days.

And yet, here you were.

Gojo Satoru seemed to fit right in amongst the decor- the abstract artwork on the walls that looked like phalluses, the lights on the walls that also looked like phalluses, and the bowl of oranges upon every table - like a piece of the furniture himself. You don’t doubt that such a place was as casual as walking into a fast-food restaurant for him—but for you…let’s just say that whilst sports reporting jobs may pay high - especially for someone of your ranking - it wasn’t phallus-restaurant level quite just yet. 

“So uh…what did you say the name of this place was, again?” You ask Gojo after he’d ordered…whatever he was having. You’d gone with the same primarily because you didn’t want to butcher the pronunciations of the menu.

“Hm?” Gojo delicately folds his napkin. “Big D’s, why?”

You’re biting back a laugh, “No reason.”

He sends you a look. “And um…how was your day?”

“What are we, an old married couple?” Though there was something strangely…jarring about having the world-famous football player - the very same one you’ve rolled your eyes at or been forced to interview about a million times over - speak about something so…mundane with you. What else could you have expected? Maybe to talk stats, maybe updates on his fan club—maybe what ranking he’s surpassed now. You sigh. “But if you must know, the usual- oh, although I did get to interview Gakuganji for the first time in a while today—so that was fun.”

“Gakuganji Yoshinobu?” Gojo’s interest clearly piques. “Oh, he’s a legend. Did you know that since retirements he’s taken up-”

“Electric guitar.” You nod eagerly. “And he’s damn good at it, too.”

“I was thinking that after my retirement I should take up writing or something.”

“You seem like the type to never retire.”

And so the conversation…had strangely enough flowed- not something you would have expected from the haughty football player, but it was a pleasure nonetheless. And it had been about two hours into the conversation - currently on the topic of whether sharks were misunderstood - when the two of you looked down at your empty plates—and servers that seemed to be flitting about literally every table…but yours.

“Do you think they forgot about us?” You whisper to Gojo.

“Maybe they were so stunned by my devilish good looks that-”

“Okay.” And with a semi-fond smile upon your face, you’re standing up in your seat. Gojo’s mirthful expression drops—but before panic can start setting in, you’re gesturing for him to stand up as well. So you weren’t going to leave him in the phallus restaurant…you surprised even yourself with that. “C’mon- I know this great place downtown that sells the largest pizza you’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, please.” Tipping the servers, you two darted out of Big D’s through the back entrance where no paparazzi roamed. And into a night that was wild and untamed, you snuck into the darkness between stars and created light of your own—you copped a few good slices of pizza, greasy and not half-bad for the price, before walking down shadowed alleys where no one could find you. Almost no one. A few pictures snapped here and there- surely it couldn’t do much harm?

Oh, who were you kidding.

You could see the headlines forming already - had this been anyone else, you’d have been the one writing it. But tonight…“Everyone’s going to think we’re dating after tonight.”

“I know.” Gojo had replied, half of his profile illuminated by the neon shop signs. The two of you were walking around the less-nicer parts of town, or so one would say…how strange it is that where things are discarded and dilapidated, the lights shine the brightest and the moon seems to sing softly tonight. “But strangely enough- I don’t mind.”

“Getting dating rumors?”

“Getting dating rumors with you, I mean.” Gojo’s saying- before he coughs into his fist and attempts to amend. “Although, of course, you’d be lucky to get dating rumors with the Gojo Satoru~”

“You mean the Gojo Satoru who’s never gotten a dating rumor in his life?” You scoff. “Y’know before tonight they were calling you No-game Gojo?”

Gojo’s gasp is so loud that it startles passerbys.

In order to soothe him, you’re forced to buy this grown athlete ice cream. He asks for three scoops with extra sprinkles, and the two of you walk together - close but not touching - down by a nearby waterfront—the river around the massive city and pulled it into a tight embrace. You yourself felt the strange coil of something at the pit of your stomach.

“Did you really mean it?”

Gojo, who’d been eying your own ice cream cone, startles. “Hngh?”

Sighing…you hand him your final bite. “Did you really mean the thing about not minding dating rumors with me?”

“I did. Why?”

“No…just thinking that if I had to get dating rumors with anyone- at least you’re not the worst option.”

“Awwww-”

You smirk. “Although, Geto would have been-”

“Let me have this moment—”

His pinky finger grazes yours as you two walk.

.

.

.

The door slams behind you.

And following right behind it, Gojo’s doing the same to you.

He has his hands clutched at your waist, and his mouth down your neck - leaving hot, slimy strings of spit wherever he’s pepperin’ the most filthiest kisses. You’re moaning as you let yourself get engulfed in Gojo Satoru’s wave of need—molten desperation shooting through your veins.

There’s something wet forming at the in-betweens of your pretty legs- and it seems as though Gojo almost has a sixth sense. Because he wastes no time before sliding a hand down your front and cupping your throbbing pussy through your dress. “Mmm-” He grunts off against the side of your ear. The hot breath sends goosebumps skittering down your exposed skin. “And who are you this wet for, sweetheart~?”

“Mmm, dunno.” You bat your lashes up at him. “Probably the best player on the team.”

A priggish smile toys at Gojo’s lips, and he’s leaning ever-closer to you. “And just who might that be?”

You’re pulling Gojo down as though this was a secret just between the two of you - and the man eagerly reciprocates closing the distance between you. You’re basked in his likely maddeningly expensive cologne as he leans in—“Geto Suguru, of course.”

And Gojo’s letting out just the softest surprised gasp—

He leans backwards with slightly-parted lips, and you’re getting the feeling that no one’s ever said anything like that to him before. Gojo’s eyes sweep down where your pretty body is pressed up against him- and before you know it, he’s crashing his lips onto yours. “Mmm—” He’s lappin’ at your moans- and the edge of your bottom lip. There’s a squeaky noise that’s being let out as Gojo tastes the lipgloss slathered on your maw. “Cherry.” He notes.

You’re stringing your fingers into his pure-white hair.

With the pad of his thumb, Gojo wipes off the remnants of glossy make-up on his mouth. “You taste sweeter than you are, y’know that?”

And with your fingers twisting into his hair so that he moans- you’re dragging him right back to you. “And you’re better when you shut up.”

Eventually, you’re backing him into your bed.

The hotel room wasn’t all that spacious, and it’s only a few hasty strides before you’re preparing to push him onto the mattress—

But Gojo’s reflexes are too quick. And he’s flipping the two of you around so that it’s your back that’s coming into contact with the springy bedcoils, falling onto the cloud-like bed with the MVP of the match. Mr. Hotshot Gojo Satoru himself.

Gojo smirks as he hovers above you. “Wanna hear a magic trick? I know exactly what you’re thinking about, pretty girl~” He husks.

And you’re letting out a gasp as his lips come kissing down your neck once more. You can’t help it - you’re arching into him already. “And what’s that?”

“Me.” 

As he chuckles, you’re rolling your eyes. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“Oh?” Gojo raises one of his white brows- like a challenge. If there was anything he was weak to—then it was a challenge. And maybe you, but…you didn’t need to know that just yet. “Then let me be clearer…you were thinking about me—” As he speaks, his dominant hands are exploring your body - starting at the right side of your tits, and massaging for a few moments before switching to the other one. “-running these trained hands everywhere on your body like this, weren’t you?”

Your heart leaps to your throat- and down there. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He chuckles. “And then you must’ve thought about my fingers- I did have a little stint as a goalkeeper—” Through your fabric, he’s pinching your left nipple and you moan. “-did you know that?”

“I did.” You admit. Your reporting habits left you investigating every single nook and cranny of these footballers’ careers and lives.

“And then maybe these spectacular abs- I have them insured, did you know that?” The urge to roll your eyes is immense—but you’re more focused on the way that the world-class player was shuffling his body purposefully down yours, letting the button-up underneath his suit push against your core- you’re feeling his abs. As though he could read your mind, Gojo flashes you a devilish smile and keeps going down- “Or these arms.” Down. “Or these thick thighs. Heh.” Dooooown.

All the way until he’s between those tremblin’ legs of yours. At least his face was.

“But most of all…how about this glorious face?” Gojo shoots you his camera-ready smile inches away from your clothed cunt—pearly-white teeth and dimple to boot. “And I know m’fucking pretty- but I get the strange feeling that I’d look even prettier between your legs.”

And just as he’s about to lean in-

You’re sitting up and putting a hand on his shoulder. Stopping him.

Gojo looks up at you with a face full of concern. 

But you’re merely shaking your head. “You’d be hard-pressed to think that I’d let you get all the bragging rights.” You scoff. “Get up. Let me sit on your face.”

His blue, blue eyes gleam in delight. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

“Shut up and get over here.”

And you’re sure that Gojo murmurs something about ‘making him shut up’ (you’d be more surprised if he didn’t) and yet within seconds you suddenly have his 6’4 toned frame stretched-out beneath you.

With your knees making the mattress upon either side of his head dip, straddling him, you’ve straddled the two of you into an oh-so-perfect 69 position - but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he doesn’t care. Looking underneath you, you notice that the white-haired man has hunger consuming every inch of him, with his eyes half-lidded and his mouth slightly-ajar, licking his lips as he fucking chases your clothed cunt—

“But just ooooone thing.” You’re placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back down- Gojo lets out a cracked whimper. He stares up at your clothed cunt like the gates of heaven above.

“Yes, my demanding girl~? More demands? Isn’t having the great Gojo Satoru underneath you and begging for your pussy enough?”

“Hmm, nope.” You pop the ‘p’. Without wasting more time, you’re fumbling with Gojo’s outrageous dress pants until they’re managed off. What’s revealed to you first is his v-line that stands out—moving with every one of his impatient bucks; then his bulging boxers; then looooong smooth legs, toned from so many years of training. And then you’re almost done. “How about a bet that whoever makes the other cum first gets a reward?”

“A reward?” You’re not turning to look at him- but you don’t need to to know that Gojo’s eyes were probably shining by now. “What kind of reward?”

“Hmmmm, how about…” You suggest. “The winner gets to decide the position for se-”

“I’m in.”

And that’s all that’s being said before Gojo reaches up n’ pushes your dress up. He titters as he takes in the way your pussy was oh-so-wet being outlined against your underwear—that already-thin fabric hugging to your pretty lips n’ soaking wet for him already.

“What’s that about not being so wet?” Gojo hums. He makes the loudest noise as he leans in and presses a great big smooch right on top of your sopping lips. You’re keening out sweetly on top of him- he didn’t even know you could sound that sweet-

“You said that out loud.” You’re grumbling behind at him. “Don’t tell me you’re pussydrunk already, hotshot?”

“Awwww—” Gojo’s spankin’ that swollen exterior of your cunt. “You think I’m hot?”

And now about that damn evening dress obscuring his view- ah, he knows…

Soon enough, you’re hearing a rip-rip-riiiiip—! that makes your blood grow cold. The sensation of cool air biting into your skin is registering in your brain - and then only the realization that Gojo had just fucking ripped your best dress- “Now, I know that isn’t what I think it is.”

“Ah…” He grunts distractedly. Before reaching down to his dress pants and pulling out something dark, sleek, and cash-cold. “Buy yourself whatever you need usin’ this, sweetheart.”

Gojo reaches forwards and stuffs his black card between your pretty drivelling lips. And then he’s divin’ nose-deep between your legs and eating you out with the panties on—letting his looooong luscious tongue zigzag across your slit and accumulate every wad. Once he’s done stealing every drop of slick leaking out of you, Gojo wastes no time before slippin’ aside your panties using his tongue, then making your inner lining feel eeeeeevery coarse tastebud of his taking over you.

It’s just so much.

You’re arching your back and letting out a prolonged moan - or at least you’re attempting to. But what’s really coming out instead are a few muffled sounds as the black card holds firm between your lips.

Your eyes widen.

How could you let yourself be swayed by Gojo Satoru’s black card, of all things…?!

Spitting the black card out, you throw a glare at Gojo. “D-don’t think you’ve won the bet just because you’ve gotten a headstart.”

“Oh?” Gojo coos. “I think I’ve won the bet regardless by how much you’re stutterin’ and whining like a slut on my tongue.” He’s spitting every syllable out against your pussy- literally. He’s drizzling a splash of saliva that he’s using a hand to smack- to smear across every inch of your sodden lips.

You let out a sudden whine, and he laughs.

“Was I wrong~? Mmm- shell me. Who’s the bwest—?” Muffled by his burning-hot kisses.

And you won’t let yourself be bestest just like that, would you? Especially not when he sounds so silly already drunk on your pussy?

In sultry seconds, you’re spittin’ out his damn black card and dragging Gojo’s boxers down. By how much he’d been showing through his bulge…you’d already assumed that he’d be massive.

But Gojo was…really massive.

Mentally you’re counting about eight or nine inches- seriously. And each of those inches were fat and throbbing, the girth of a Coke can and the length of something you’re sure would leave you unable to walk. At least for a week.

As though somehow sensing what you were thinking; Gojo’s thickened tip pulses. Grows even pinker.

“Cock got yer tongue?” He giggles wetly. “Why’re you stupefied, huh? Looks like m’gonna win~”

From the top of his shaft, he’s ooooozing out a constant source of precum—and you’re leanin’ in to sweetly kiss away the syrup that clings to his tip. Just the softest kittenish kiss- but it’s enough to make the football player yelp from underneath you.

His toes curl. His hips buck up without him even seeming to realize - and Gojo lets out an echo of your name - like a prayer - as his fat tip sticks inside your mouth. “O-ohhhh, now you’re playing dirty, sweetheart.”

“M’just doing the same thing you’re- mmm, doing.” You answer- purposefully keeping your mouth on Gojo so that the vibrations shoot up his veins.

“Tch- yeah.” Gojo admits. “But s’only fun when you’re the one getting all drunk on my tongue-” And just because he’s babbling away doesn’t mean that he’s stopping his ministrations for a single second - he’s lavishing and lavishing the tight rim of your hole with his tongue. Licking. Lingering. Letting the top of it hook inside and stretchin’ you out just a little bit more. “Why can’t I be the one to have all the fun—?”

“Do you always have to win?”

“Yes.”

As ridiculous as that sentence sounded, it doesn’t surprise you that it came out of Gojo’s mouth.

The very same mouth that’s becoming more n’ more feverish on your cunt - as some form of revenge, you suppose. Gojo’s grabbing a handful of your left ass cheek and using it to drag you deeper into his mouth.

His jaw unhinges. His nose pushes against your skin. 

He’s sucking onto every tender spot of your pussy- eventually resting his pinkish lips on your hole and shoving his tastebuds in so deep. “Tch- this is my fuckin’ win—and this should be my pussy, girl.” Deeper. “C’mon. C’mon. Forget sucking my cock- just fuck back in t’me, sweetheart.”

“F-forget? Sneaky…you just wanna win.”

You can feel him smile against your cunt. “Awww, you know me so well—”

“So selfish, Satoru.” You huff. 

“Ohhhh.” And he’s shivering- wracking with something primal all the way head-to-toe. “Call me that again~”

“Satoru.” You’re plopping your mouth over his puckered, pretty head- he was just so cutely needy.

It wasn’t something that you’d expected over the hotshot player. Even though Gojo Satoru might not look like it upon first impression—his cock was so sensitive, so very honest with you that it almost gave you secondhand embarrassment to see. The moment you’re putting your mouth on him n’ starting to suck, he’s spurting out the sweetest honeyed wads of precum here n’ there. The moment you’re leaving him- Gojo throbs even angrily bigger and shuffles his hips to chase your warm mouth.

One of your hands reaches down to squeeze at his balls - so plump and perfectly-shaped. It was annoying that everything about him seemed to be handcrafted by the heavens themselves.

And you’re massaging his most sensitive spots using the mountain of your palm, grinding him against your hand every time your mouth sucks on him. You’re repeating this sequence a few more times. 

But he’s not holding back either - Gojo’s now started using the side of your waist as a handlebar, almost.

And he’s grabbing you hard- dragging you onto his awaiting mouth even harder.

“Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart- sweetheart.” He repeats like a broken record player. All whilst his tongue was open and ready—he hones it at the tip, sharpening, so that it can probe even deeper. Slithering it inside again and agaaaaaain until you’re soaking all down his face. “Mmm- again, sweetheart.” Gojo whispers, feeling the mess start to trickle down his chin. “C’mon- Satoru needs to hear you say his name when you cum.”

“Satoruuuuu—oh.” You’re gasping. “But you’re not winning before I do-”

 He’s immediately reaching for your throat with a vicious thrust of his hips.

You’re relaxing that muscle there so that he can delve deeper into your velvety cavern- the tresses of his veins scrapin’ against the roof of your mouth. Breathing through your nose as you have to win this. You fucking have to. It’s the competitiveness that’s getting to the both of you—and you’re moving in a fucking frenzy.

A stalemate.

Every zap of electricity, both of you reciprocate it twofold.

With your thighs wrapped around his head, with Gojo’s cock shoved down your throat. And the two of you move in synchronous tandem - you with the rapid bobs of your head, slobberin’ all down his plump inches—and him eatin’ away like a ravenous fucking wolf between your legs. The both of you were starved. 

But you have to realize…that a draw just isn’t enough for Gojo Satoru.

Because Gojo Satoru was a competitive motherfucker.

And without warning; he swipes three slick-buttered fingers ‘round the orifice of your cunt. ‘Round and ‘round a few times. Before he’s then letting them sliiiiiiiip in—he replaces his tongue with those long fingers of his that just manage to stretch you out so right.

You’re removing yourself from Gojo’s cock with a lecherous pop! Just to gasp n’ moan away as Gojo opens you up using his fingers.

“How about it now?” Gojo coos. He elongates his words- and something about it just makes your limbs twitch—as he’s probin’ inside in loooooong yearning thrusts with his seemingly never-ending digits. Again and again. “How about you say- ngh- ‘Satoru you’re the best~’ and maybe I’ll go easy on you when I win?”

Gojo mocks your voice by pitching it about a zillion octaves higher and making himself sound ridiculously flirty.

You scoff, embarrassment sizzling across your skin. “You fuckin’ wish.”

“Now, that’s not very nice~”

And he wasn’t going to play easy. He reaches his fingers back- then slams! them down all the way till the knuckles. The curvaceous tops of his digits were slightly thicker than the rest of him—so he’s able to drive apart your sticky walls n’ stick himself into every hidden spot and crevice. 

He was filling you up sooooooo good - “Oh p-please…” Tears drizzle down your cheeks. “That feels so good-”

“That’s not what I wanted you to say…” Gojo had amusement laced into his every syllable. “C’mon- tell your Satoru that he’s the best.”

“S-Satoru—” No—you can’t give up so easily. And lazily…you’re instead slobberin’ down his thick, vein-covered shaft instead. You can’t even take him in by now, because you were too afraid a sudden graze of Gojo’s fingers along your tender spots would leave you scramblin’ for air.

Speaking of tender spots…

“Y’know I’m real close to the goal.” Gojo trundles. Those long lashes of his flap, as though innocently. “Real close. I could just…” 

“O-ohhhh, fuck-” All three of those fingers are slippin’ around your g-spot - you get the impression that he was missing it on purpose, and it made you nervous over just what he might have planned next. Fuck he was massaging the softest areas of your cunt’s channel. “You’re bluffing.”

“By how much wetter you’re getting…” He smirks. “-I think the fuck not. C’mooooon the world’s strongest striker is eatin’ your pussy out, and you can’t even be nice?”

“N-no-”

“I sure can be.” The area of Gojo’s knuckles were practically gluuuued like adhesive to your cunt’s folds. His other hand lifts off of your hips- starting to knead your swollen nub—you’re starting to see stars as Gojo toys with your clit. “But only if you admit m’the best. C’mon, tell me I’m the best- tell me…and I miiiiiight just go a little easier on you.”

“S-Satoru…” It’s inevitable - between the constant probing, the suckling ‘round wherever he could reach, the targeting of your clit - that you’re about to reach your high. It’s simmering right underneath your skin. “Oh no-”

“Oh yes.” Gojo’s eyes glimmer with delight. “Close, huh? And what do you have to say—?”

“Satoru—” You knew that you’d have to do this if you wanted a satisfactory orgasm- Gojo would’ve gladly left you high and dry just to prove a point. “Y-you’re the best…”

The words feel sickeningly sweet leaving your tongue.

But just as soon as they’re rollin’ off- Gojo probes deeply into your g-spot. Hitting that exact area of nerves dead-on. And your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave - it’s burning hot and feels more blissful than anything you’ve ever felt before. Anything.

You hate to admit it, but you’re seeing stars as you cum on Gojo’s tongue.

And he has the audacity to giggle- giggle, pussydrunkenly. “Mmm, you think I’m the best, sweetheart?”

“Yeah…” You breathe. “When you shut up.”

Immediately, you’re pushing back into Gojo’s mouth - shutting him up. His mouth drops open for you on instinct. His cock’s floooooding silver, satiny spurts of precum at the mere act of being used—your walls fluttering around his tongue. Sucking him up. 

Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. “G-goal…”

Your jaw drops.

His fingers are tunnelin’ straight to your g-spot during every peak of your high - those twinges of extra pleasure that he’s managing to prolong using his fingers, his mouth, his other set of digits kneading your pulsing clit. And what’s driving you even further past that tipping point is the way that Gojo whispers ‘goal, goal, goal, goal’ every time he strikes your g-spot.

Goal.

Goal.

Goal.

Goal.

Goal.

There’s no use trying to make him cum soon afterwards—you’re too drunk on your pleasure, and Gojo’s attempting to squeeze his thighs together to keep himself from cumming. Once your clit’s properly massaged, he uses that hand to squeeze his thickened hilt and prevent anymore beads of pearly-white from leaking.

Fucking unfair. 

By the time you’ve ridden through your high - you’re well and fully wrung out. Struggling to catch your breath. Struggling to stop your limbs from shaking- sensitively.

He’s left you oh-so-sensitive.

Gojo Satoru hadn’t even had to fucking try to overstimulate you—he’s just that good with his fingers. He’s just so flexible with his tongue. He’s just so-

“Is this some sort of subliminal? Why are you whispering those to my cunt?” You ask him. And it’s with a final squelch! - and Gojo whispering for a goal once his fingers detach from your g-spot - that you’re managing to untangle yourself from his ravenous mouth.

Though it wasn’t for a lack of trying from his part—Gojo chases after your drippin’ wet pussy like a bee chasing his beehive. Were you the Queen or were you the honey? He’s having a hard time deciding, as Gojo finally sits up on the bed- dazedly.

“Woah-” Now sitting opposite him, you steady him with a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay there, Satoru?”

His cock twitches. For both your dignities, you pretend you don’t see that. 

“You’re fucking asking me if I’m okay—?”

Using that same helping hand you’d lent him- Gojo flips your positions around so that now your back’s facing the creaky hotel headboard. And then you’re both shuffling down the mattress, so that you’re being bent into-

“A mating press.” Gojo grins. His eyes twinkle with something so…dark. “Since I won our little bet, I choose the mating press- oh, and that’s not all.”

To your astoundment, Gojo suddenly stands up and flounces off the bed. He scans for something on the floor- “Give the great Gojo Satoru one second.” And then saunters up to your open suitcases of clothes as though they were his—it doesn’t take long for Gojo to find what he’d been looking for. 

And you’re feeling embarrassment curdled with something akin to an unfamiliar shyness start to rise in your chest. Because in Gojo Satoru’s hands…was his own jersey.

“You had Geto’s jersey.” He smirks. “I knew you must’ve had mine in there somewhere, too.”

“Someone should teach you not to go through others’ things.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“Oh, my apologies.” Gojo says, sounding utterly unapologetic. “How about I make it up to you? Arms up, baby.”

And, well, a bet is a bet.

You’re raising your arms and letting Gojo take off the rest of your clothes. Before you know it, the Gojo 66 jersey on you—one you’d never even admitted to Shoko that you’d bought. In your defense, it was a buy-one-get-one-free deal that they’d been doing for the FIFA World Cup- but you doubt that Gojo would be open to hearing about your transaction history right now.

Not when he’s admiring the look of his name - his last name - emblazoned against your back. The look of his team’s colors rising and falling with every deep breath.

Your hardened nipples looked so pretty against the athletic fabric that he can’t help but reach out and pinch—

“Change of plans.” Gojo grunts- breathless, as if he hadn’t planned to say this. “We’re doing it doggy style so I can look at my name across your back while I hit it from behind.”

You grumble but you’re changing positions anyway. “Ever heard of the story of Narcissus, Satoru?”

“Are you the river because you’re so wet, or…?”

“No, don’t worry- that dried me up enough.”

He temporarily shoves a knee between your legs. “Lies.” Smirking.

You’re on all fours now. And Gojo shrugs off whatever else is left of his garments- and his rock-hard abs press into your back from behind, practically gluuuued skin-to-skin. A line of goosebumps shoot up your spine at the sudden feeling of him pressing into you—and Gojo takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss up your back.

All the way sloppily to your shoulders.

Your neck.

“Mmmm—and this is my win, isn’t it?” He rasps against your skin- there’s a…slightly crazed tone in Gojo’s voice that you’d never heard before. You shiver. You nod. “Mhm- then this is going to be how a winner fucks, sweetheart.”

In the time that you’d been distracted by Gojo’s incredible body, his ruby-reddened cock had slipped between your legs. There, Gojo had been keeping his length cushioned by your pretty, pretty legs.

Only now was he lettin’ his drivelling tip sliiiiiiide down your slit- giving you an experimental stretch along your first rim. “And yer wearing my name, aren’t you~?” It makes him fucking blush - out of everything…this is what breaks him - to see Gojo 66 and the blue jersey against your skin. You can’t help but nod again. “Then you’re doing to- fucking- take it- like a winner, sweetheart.”

Between each word, Gojo pauses to give a thorough slashing of his thickened cock.

He’s not even fitting in all the way at first- just the globular tip.

Just that decadent girth; where his shaft had flared out massively - all blushing red and plastered in precum - and then honing out into a perfect point to just dive right into you. Gojo’s length also had a slight curve reaching towards the top of your cunt—and he was built oh-so-perfectly to itch at your sweetest spots inside.

Not that you were going to admit it, of course.

“Cock got your-”

“You already used that line, Satoru.” You’re grumbling- though it’s a proper task to keep your voice steady in front of him. To pretend you’re not as affected as you really are.

And Gojo notices. Of course, Gojo Satoru notices. “Y’know…you might not be honest.” He titters in your ear. And then he’s shovellin’ in a few more thick inches—you’re feeling the near-spherical end of his shaft slip inside without too much resistance. You just wanted him so badly. “But this pretty cunt sure is. And what do you think she has to say about me?”

“I-I don’t need to—”

“She’s saying…”

Gojo trails off. Though not without reason.

Almost that very instant, he’s un-velcroing his chiselled abs from your back. A soft whimper leaves your lips as you’re startin’ to miss him already. Already.

But Gojo’s merely pattin’ at your utterly stuffed pussy. You only had a few inches of him pushed inside and throbbing inside you, but your cunt still struggles to take him. “Needy girl. Be patient for a fuckin’ minute- sheesh.”

And then he’s tugging at your jersey.

You’re looking up in confusion.

Then he’s pulling at your jersey—

And only too-late are you realizing that Gojo has that hem of your - his - football jersey bunched up. Using just a single one of his hands, he’s twistin’ his fingers around the velveteen fabric and trapping you right along with it—then he’s dragging you- just by the hold he has on your jersey. He falls back on his haunches.

And he’s taking you right along with him.

Now you’ve got your arms lifted off the bed- in a praying position…except Gojo’s fat cock was drilling into you from behind. With your ass cheeks against his pap-pap-papping hips, with his thick meaty thighs kneading into yours.

His hips are pushing and pushing and pushing—wielding his cock into yours so deeply, so furiously, that it’s as if the man’s entire body has been set alight. 

Raw desire runs through his veins instead of blood- and Gojo’s letting out such an animalistic growl- “S’my fuckin’ name on you…”

His mouth waters- waters at the mere notion.

Shit, what an effect you had on him. Maybe all that adrenaline during interviews was…

Gojo’s never felt so utterly drunk than he was in this very moment—pussydrunk. Like the most intense of alcoholics chase their vise, he’s chasin’ the back of your gooey cunt. Every thrust manages to scrape his pumping veins against that snug channel of yours, every thrust manages to push him a little deeper than he already was. What a wonder he’s managed to fit in the first place.

You were just so fucking tight and heavenly that it’s as though you were sucking Gojo’s sanity - and soul - right out of him.

“My fucking name.” He repeats. Breathless. Gojo thwacks! his extremely tight balls against the front slit of your cunt. More beads of syrupy slick end up leaking out of you—n’ they’re pouring down Gojo’s vast shaft. “My fucking number on you.”

“Sh-shiiiiit—” You’re clawing for a lifeline: anything. Your only hope is to bend your arms behind your head- and start clawin’ at Gojo’s own sweaty scalp instead. 

As he rams in again and again and again—your poor ass cheeks were stinging.

Gojo’s almost all the way bottomed-out now. It makes your back arch, and your throat bubble over with moans instead of answers. “Fuck-”

The audacity that he has…no one but Gojo Satoru could have. He’s mocking your moans- “Satoru, fuck~” Before rolling those azure eyes of his and emptyin’ every inch of himself into the back of your pussy. “Yeah, yeah- fucking you is exactly what I’m—oh.”

Oh, was right.

It was exactly right.

Because just then Gojo finally - finally - bottoms out. He’s gotten all of his inches happily trapped between your gorgeous legs.

And it’s not just that.

Just then Gojo’s breath hitches.

Just then Gojo thinks he can’t breathe- his entire upper half collapses on top of yours—and you’re being pushed back into a regular, sloppy doggy position. Gojo’s letting shivers run amok across his skin, Gojo’s letting his handsome features twist into something of pure euphoria as he bottoms out- how can it feel this good?

This fucking good?

And in the time it’d taken the self-proclaimed world’s best striker to shatter on your pussy- you’d gathered yourself up.

At least to the point where you can look at Gojo over your shoulder and smirk. “Pussy got your tongue, Satoru?”

He frowns. “Har har—very fun- fuck, don’t squeeze me like that.” Gojo’s eyes flutter shut- on the edges of his lashes, you think you’re seeing tears. “I th-think I might cum.”

“Just that from a winner?” You’re tutting. “I thought you were the strongest, Satoru.”

“I-I am-”

“Then wouldn’t the strongest also have incredible stamina?” You’re looking at him—Gojo’s peripherals are glazed-over with a thick layer of lust. His hair was a mess. His lips were kiss-bitten. There’s a sort of unleashed hunger within him that makes you wish for him to ravage you…You pout. “And here I was hoping we could go- all night.”

He shivers at the words - cock pulsating deep inside you.

But you’re not done just yet. “But ah…I suppose if you can’t, then maybe Get-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - not even your thought - before Gojo’s hips are pinning yours down. His upper half is cushioned against you. His bodyweight fully keeps you delightfully trapped- as Gojo’s starting to fuck you like an animal. 

He pushes you into the mattress.

He fucks you into the mattress.

His thrusts deeeeeep and loooooong—all the way from the slick-embellished top of his shaft, and then down, down, down until you’re feeling your cunt struggling around his incredibly thick base. The scruff of Gojo’s white pubic hair pushed n’ pulled against your pussylips-

Grinding.

And before you could even register the different sensation, Gojo already has one of his hands looped underneath you. The calloused tips of his fingers are instantly finding your clit, like magnets find one another, and he’s teasin’ that sweet nub. Again and again—tuggin’. “I c-can’t believe…” Gojo chokes out eventually.

“What was that?” You’re asking with a pointed clench of your sopping wet lips. 

And the man above you instantly shudders. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, girl.” He somewhat snaps- but rather than irritation it’s simply pure need in his words. Gojo pinches your clit. “It doesn’t matter h-hoooooow many times you clench- or just hooooow pussydrunk you’re getting me…”

You’re keening as he swabs your g-spot several times.

“But I- won’t- forget- whose- jersey- is on- you—” Gojo says between thrusts.

Every one of his movements was getting more n’ more erratic by the second- sweat drenched every part of him, and a curtain of his white hair obscured those laser-blue eyes. Locked in on his target: you.

Gojo’s touch is searing as he’s pinching your clit once again—“But just in case this pussy does- heh, get too rowdy…how about you remind me?” Your eyes are jerking open at his words. What does he…“Because it feels fucking gooood wearing the winner’s jersey as he fucks you, huh? Huh?”

Your lips quiver. Pressure was building at the pit of your stomach. “Y-yes…”

“Oh yeah? What does it say, then?” The team captain whispers. He’s using his dexterous fingers to twist your too-sensitive nub, and you’re whimpering.

“Fuck-”

“I already told you before- oh. M’already fucking you.” Gojo’s mirthful grin spreads across his face. He had that pussydrunken look about him as his hips accelerated. Even more. “But that’s not the- hah, question. What number is it?”

“S-six six…” You’re letting out in a defeated gust of air.

“Mmmm, good girl.” Maybe because you’re being such a good girl - Gojo takes the time to lazily and lethargically draaaaaaag his vein-covered cock wherever he felt like you were the most delicate. His zig-zagging patterns were getting outlined deep, deep inside you—and you’re shivering as he inches close to your g-spot. “And what name?”

He can’t stop himself from nudgin’ himself just a little closer and puuuushing down hard and thoroughly on that nerve-covered spot. “O-ohhhhh, fuck, there-”

Gojo’s face contorts - his brows furrow, his jaw drops. “Tell me the fucking name, sweetheart~”

“Gojo Satoru.” Barely even audible.

He leans in with an exaggerated smirk. “What was thaaaat?”

“Gojo Satoru- fuck.”

“And how many goals did I score today, Miss Reporter?”

You’re clawing at the pillows by now. “Th-three—!”

“Oh yeah?” Gojo hums. “M’gonna double it tonight.”

You don’t need to wait too long to find out exactly what Gojo meant- because in mere split-seconds, he’s reeling his hips baaaaack and snappin’ them. Once from the very blushin’ tip-top and down to the hilt. “Goal.” He whispers as he grazes past your g-spot - activating the white-hot pleasure from your cunt to your brain - and striking his target of your cervix. “H-heh.”

“Yellow card for being such a dick.” You whisper.

“Oh, but you love a winner’s dick.” He counters. And it’s barely three seconds later that you’re feeling another forcefield of carnal vibrations that set your teeth on edge—“Oh- and goal.”

Saliva puddles on the pillow in front of you. The hotel headboard has your nail marks on it- dammit.

Gojo repeats- faster this time. “Goal- oh, look at that…a hatrick.” His voice is on the verge of shattering- “Can we make that double hatricks?”

“O-oh my god, Satoru-”

“It’s captain.”

And then he’s pumping out those final few thrusts—hands a blur upon your throbbin’ clit, hips a blur between your legs. That jersey bearing Gojo’s name was drenched in sweat and stuck to you like a second skin- “Goal.” It’s radiating the heat that your body was giving off. “Goal.”

It’s displaying that number and that name so proudly. So fucking proudly.

And for that last and final score of his—Gojo’s bending down until he’s able to press his mouth against the area between where your shoulderblades should be. He kisses that spot. He licks his name on your skin. “Goal.”

And it’s inevitable that you’re crashing into your high as one.

Gojo holds you closely as incredible bursts of pleasure make your cunt convulse- you’re practically keeping him glued to your walls. It just felt too good to let him go, even if it was just to fuck you through your high. And it’s by pushing past that little resistance that Gojo’s managing to probe his rounded tip into you- to press those invisible buttons of yours that prolong your high.

More and more and more. This was an orgasm even better than your last one- and you hadn’t even known that’d be possible (not to boost Gojo’s ego).

Counting underneath his breath, he times the exact moment of your euphoria peaking—and then he’s bangin’ his rock-hard tip right on time. Bruising the back of your pussy.

White-hot pleasure was sizzlin’ just beneath your skin every time he did—and you felt as though your heart was beating too fast for you to keep up with. It’s a pounding drum in your ears, your chest…and your pussy.

Wrapped so vehemently ‘round Gojo’s own twitching cock.

He was pumping out wad after wad of looooong white cum that sticks to the inner lining of your pussy. Groaning. Grinding. Pleasure was tingling at the tips of his fingers, and all around him- soon enough you’re feeling a few tears of bliss splatter down your back. “You’re…” You just barely manage to breathe.

Gojo humps your behind like an animal- just shaking at the sheer force of his high. Gojo hums as he collects the droplets on the tip of his cock, and starts fucking it into your deepest depths- inside. Inside and inside.

It was just so warm and gummy inside you. Spreading. Seeping. 

Overspilling.

There wasn’t to be a single ounce wasted.

Gojo’s fingers alternate between rolling over your clit n’ helping push the excess amount of cum frothing around your entrance back inside. Some of it was currently forming a ring around his hilt, and he’s swiping it away using his thumb—popping it inside his mouth. “N-not bad for a guy you hate, huh~?”

Your eyes are shooting open. “Hate?” You frown. “I’ve never hated you, Satoru.”

And that makes the smile slip off his face. “Huh? But I always thought…you always asked me those probing questions and-”

“Satoru, that’s because I’m interested in you…as a player. Of course.” You’re admitting somewhat shyly. The two of you were past your orgasms by this point, and Gojo had taken to spooning you from behind whilst his cock was still inside. “I thought you hated me-”

“Me?” Gojo gapes. “When have I ever hated you? I flirt with you all the fucking time-”

“You flirt with everyone.” You huff. “But it’s just…that time after you’d gotten your offer for the national team. I don’t know if you remember, but it was my first interview then and-”

“Of course I remember.” He interjects.

Something warms in your chest. “But then- why didn’t you show up?”

“Pardon?”

“You promised you’d do your first interview with me- and I promised you’d be the first athlete I interviewed.” There’s a sadness in your tone - not overwhelming, just missing what might have been. “I waited and waited for you, but you never showed up.”

“You waited for me?” Gojo gasps.

“Yeah? I didn’t want to bother you too much, so I went to meet you at the field-”

“I didn’t want to bother you too much, so I went to meet you at the media room.”

You stare at Gojo. Gojo stares right back.

You sort of want to laugh- no wait, you’re laughing.

And he’s following right after. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Mhmmm, but first how about you pull out, Satoru?”

“Aw, man.”

“And then next I’ll let you put the black card in my mouth while you fuck me.”

“Fuck yeah.”

.

.

.

Eight years ago.

“Are you new here?”

Gojo startles.

The Japan Football Association (JFA) had a meeting room…as Gojo Satoru supposes that all football headquarters do.

He wouldn’t know.

But outside was the waiting room. 

He also wouldn’t know whether other places had such purgatories- but then again, he digresses.

It was a hallway with two rows of chairs pushed against either side of it—gleaming plastic chairs that sat emptily - and strangely ominously - before photographs of some of the JFA’s most famous recruits. Gojo felt a strange sense of pride and fear soar up in him as the only chair occupied—perhaps mirror images of all the great players that had sat in them years prior.

Well, as the second chair occupied.

So focused on reciting his name, his age, and his position to himself - things that should come as naturally to him as breathing, now strangely so foreign in this stuffy waiting room - he hadn’t noticed you until you actually spoke to him. Which…you must forgive him.

Everything tends to slip Gojo Satoru’s mind when he thinks of football: people, places, eating and sleeping. 

And yet…with your soft call- he turns to you. There’s an instantaneous and mad urge for Gojo to flash his best, most flirtatious smile that’d gotten him voted as Most Handsome Boy for every year of elementary school and middle school. And yet, the memories of high school come rushing to him unbidden—and Gojo’s suddenly tampering it down.

Expressionless. “Yes?”

“Don’t do that.” You huff. You looked about his age- and by the uniform you were wearing, it didn’t seem that you were another recruit. He wonders what you were doing in such a place. “That smile of yours is so pretty- did you know that you have a dimple?”

“I…” Gojo watches as you point at the edge of your left lip. He reaches a hand up to feel for that very spot, softly smiling—just for the experiment. “Oh- I suppose I do.”

You shrug. “Win ‘em over with that smile, I tell you. You’re Gojo Satoru—the youngest recruit for the team, aren’t you?”

He feels his heartbeat pick up. “I don’t know…I hope so.”

“Tch- don’t be silly.” And it shocked Gojo just how casually you’d waved away his uncertainties - as though they were mere annoyances, like easy-to-catch mosquitoes, and not blood-thirst buzzards. “The interview’s basically a formality. The entire building’s talking about you. Gojo Satoru: the youngest recruit in Japanese football history, the football prodigy from a small town in Hokkaido, the new generation of Japanese football.”

The more you spoke, the more Gojo’s eyes widened. The more he held his breath.

“You’re like the Luffy of football right now, man.” You smile. “Have some more confidence- you’re Gojo Satoru.”

At the time, he hadn’t known how to respond to that. So he’d simply asked—“And are you…”

“Not a player.” Turning to the chair on your other side, you pulled out a notebook and a pen, an audio recorder, and a camera. “I’m an intern for the sports reporting department- it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do when I was young.” And he watched in something he’d later come to recognize as awe as you stared at the photographs of players in much the same way he did. “All those photographs? All those articles? It’s because of reporters—and if I can’t play on the field, maybe I can write the field’s stories, y’know?”

You sigh. 

And he simply keeps on staring like a buffoon.

“Everything that happens on that field is a tale to be told.” And as Gojo’s awkward silence stretches, your smile turns sheepish. “Or- something like that…I don’t know it’s just-”

“Don’t do that.” He interrupts. This time, there’s a faint smile on his lips—and you could see the dimples. “Be confident, erm…”

You share your name.

He repeats it like a winning scorecard, a legendary play, maybe a last-minute unexpected goal. Extremely unexpected.

And from inside the meeting room, there’s a call of his name. Gojo’s jerking up to his lanky feet and looking at you- you shoot him two thumbs up. He nods.

He turns.

And he’s just about to enter through those doors that could very well change his life—

But, Gojo Satoru turns back.

He looks at you and flashes you that too-handsome smile. The first sight of it seems to shock you. “How about if- when I get back you can be the reporter to get the first-ever exclusive interview with the Gojo Satoru~?”

You blink. “I’d like that.” Surprise melting from your expression and letting you smile. “I’d really, really like that—oh, shit, I should get my good camera for the photos- good luck—!”

And with your cheerful tone echoing down the hallway, Gojo huffs out a chuckle. He’s almost at the meeting room door when he realizes that he hadn’t exactly gotten a time and place for this interview - and who knows how long this meeting will last - but when he’s looking back you’re already disappeared. 

Ah, that’s fine. He supposes.

He’ll find you anyway.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru’s first-ever professional interview was alongside Coach Yaga with some veteran reporter he now can’t remember the name of.

Your first-ever professional interview as a sports reporter was with the long-retired striker, Gakuganji, who’d taken time out of his busy electric guitar shredding schedule.

The two of you shouldn’t have drifted apart.

But then again, the two of you shouldn’t have found each other either. We are all parallel lines of the same football field; untouching and unceasing—not unless there’s bound to be a—goal

Gojo Satoru was face-to-face with the goal.

He takes a deep breath.

He points.

He kicks.

He scores.

There’s a second of silence before anything happens - like the brief yet somehow deafening pause before a rocket takes off. And just as loudly—the cheers of fans, Japanese and non-Japanese supporters alike, erupt raucously until the very frame of the stadium seems to rattle itself. They were crying. They were jumping. They were cheering themselves hoarse, because—

“Japan has just won the FIFA World Cup! For the first time in history, Japan has just won the FIFA World Cup! Gojo Satoru has done it again—!” 

1-2 to Japan.

To say that the match had been close would be the understatement of the century; but you suppose you’ll write all about it in some exclusive article. Later.

Right now, your gaze was fixated on the flashes of white n’ blue barely discernible through the explosion of confetti. As what seemed like hundreds of members of the audience break through the bars and run to the embracing team, there’s only one that’s untangling himself free from the embrace and running straight—to you.

You’re in Gojo’s strong, sweaty arms before you even know what’s happening.

“And is that Gojo—?! Our MVP Gojo is breaking free from his team- running to the lovely lady, eh? All because of that bet. And here we have more celebrations from—”

His face pushed into the crook of your neck, and his chest hammering against yours- “We did it.” Gojo pants - and you’re vaguely aware of Shoko zooming in on the scene with a cackle. “We did it, sweetheart.”

You’re pulling back slightly from him and smiling. “I always knew you could.”

He kisses you and he’s never meant anything more.

A/N. WHERE’S MY GOJOOOOOOOO?? Anyways ugh I’d been SOBBING during Modrić’s final match.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[pinkslvvt]

It’s Yours ᯓ★

Warnings ᯓ★: black reader, HBCU/southern college setting, greek life (Que Dogs/Omega Psi Phi, AKA/Alpha Kappa Alpha, probate, yard culture), jealousy/possessiveness/toxic behavior (yelling, threats, confrontations), casual weed use, vaginal sex, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, daddy kink, hair-pulling, light choking, cumplay, risky/public elements, strong dirty talk, unprotected sex, power dynamics (dom/sub undertones), good girl praise, emotional intensity strong profanity, graphic sexual fluids

Description: In the heart of a southern HBCU, quiet Que Dog Eren Yeager becomes the secret obsession of a proper AKA who swore she was above the drama. What starts as jealousy-fueled fights over his dick turns into raw, possessive hookups, late-night promises, and messy exclusivity. Heavy smut, Greek life vibes, southern party energy, and two people finally claiming what’s always been theirs.

pairing: quedog!eren x black!aka!reader

eren was in a fraternity, but he never quite fit with his brothers.

quieter, more observant, always leaning back against the wall at parties with a cup he barely touched. he was more chill, while his line brothers were screaming rob49 anthems at 2 a.m.

and that made him the perfect secret for you

he was attractive, no question—tall, tatted, green eyes that cut straight through, hair always a little messy in the best way. but the girls at the hbcu weren’t checking for him the way they swarmed the other que dogs. they wanted the loud ones, the show-offs, the ones who’d make a scene claiming them in the yard.

eren didn’t play that. he didn’t need to. which meant you got to keep that big dick all to yourself.

after parties, he’d text you one word—cmere—and you’d slip out the aka house, drive over in the dark, park behind his off-campus spot, and let him fuck you stupid on the couch before anyone even noticed you were gone.

after class he’d pull you into an empty lecture hall stairwell, hand over your mouth while he fingered you slow and deep until your knees buckled.

during class he’d sit one row back, slide his hand up your skirt under the desk, two fingers curling inside you while the professor droned on about african american lit, and you’d bite your pen so hard it cracked just to keep from moaning his name.

he was fucking the shit out of you. the stuck-up aka who everybody swore was still a virgin, too bougie to be out here like that, too focused on line and service and sisterhood to be getting fucked on the regular. they had no idea. and you liked it that way.

but tonight felt different.

you pulled up to his spot after the probate, still in your pink and green, curls fresh, lips plump, heart racing because he’d sent a voice note earlier—low, raspy, just “door’s open. don’t knock.”

you parked, cut the engine, and that’s when you saw it: another car in the driveway. black bmw, tinted windows, parked crooked like whoever was in there didn’t give a damn about blocking the sidewalk.

your stomach flipped. not jealousy—not yet—but possession. sharp and hot. god knows you didn’t play about his dick. that was yours. the way it stretched you, the way he knew exactly how deep to go before you started shaking, the way he’d hold your throat and make you look at him while he told you how good you felt clenching around him. no one else got that. no one else was supposed to get that.

you sat there a second, gripping the wheel, nails digging into the leather. then you killed the lights, grabbed your phone, and texted him:

‘um.. whos at ur house?’

dots popped up immediately. then disappeared. then two little words:

‘nbdy cmere’

you exhaled hard through your nose, stepped out the car, heels clicking quiet on the cracked concrete. the front door was cracked like he said. you pushed it open slow.

inside it smelled like him—weed, cedar cologne, that faint laundry detergent he used—and something else. perfume. sweet. not yours.

eren was on the couch in nothing but gray sweats, legs spread, one arm draped over the back, looking too calm for the tension snapping in your chest. across from him, some girl you vaguely recognized from the yard—delta, maybe—was perched on the armrest, laughing at something he’d said, hand resting too comfortable on his knee.

he looked up when you stepped in. eyes locked on yours. that slow, knowing smirk tugged his lips.

“there she is,” he said, voice low, like the room belonged to him and you were the only one who mattered in it.

the girl glanced over, smile faltering when she clocked your aka jacket, your glare, the way you didn’t bother closing the door all the way behind you.

you didn’t speak. just walked straight to him, hips swaying deliberate, stopped between his knees. looked down at him like the other girl wasn’t even there.

“move,” you said to her, voice sweet but steel underneath.

she blinked. hesitated.

eren’s hand came up slow, wrapped around your thigh just under the hem of your skirt, thumb stroking once. possessive. public.

“she was just leaving,” he said, eyes never leaving yours.

you twisted your lips just a bit, jaw tight, heat crawling up your neck. “eren, don’t,” you said, voice low but sharp, cutting through the haze of weed and cologne in the air.

you tossed your keys to the side of him, and they landed with a soft jangle on the couch, barely missing his thigh.

he laughed—a low, throaty sound that made your stomach flip even though you wanted to slap it off his face. “don’t what?” he asked, leaning back, hand still on your thigh, thumb brushing another slow circle that sent a jolt straight between your legs.

he tilted his head, eyes glinting with that quiet challenge he always pulled when he knew he had you wound up.

the girl stood up quick, her laugh from earlier vanished, replaced by a tight-lipped mumble of “i’ll text you later.” she brushed past you, shoulder grazing your aka jacket just enough to feel deliberate, her sweet vanilla perfume dragging behind her like a taunt you weren’t supposed to ignore.

“bitch, don’t text him,” you yelled, voice slicing through the room sharp and final.

she froze mid-step, turned slow, sucked her teeth loud enough to echo. her hand tightened around her keys, knuckles paling. “who the fuck you talking to?”

“bitch, you—like i said—”

eren’s hands were on you before the rest came out. he pulled you down hard onto his lap, thighs straddling his, skirt riding up in the process. one arm locked around your waist, the other sliding up your back under the jacket, palm flat and steady against your spine like he was anchoring you before you launched.

“chill,” he said low, right against your ear, breath warm. “i was just giving her something. i’m not fucking her.”

you twisted in his hold, glaring down at him even as your body settled against his chest. “giving her what? dick? weed? stop playing with me eren.”

you shoved at his shoulders, trying to push up off his lap, but the move was half-hearted—your hands lingered on his chest, fingers curling into his chest instead of pushing away.

he didn’t flinch. just tightened his grip on your waist, thumb brushing slow under the edge of your skirt—calm, deliberate, the same way he touched you when he wanted you focused on him and nothing else.

“her weed? then we kinda just talked about shit, but it wasnt’ nothing like that.” he said, voice even, eyes never leaving yours.

the girl was still standing by the door, keys jingling in her fist, lips pressed thin. she looked between you two like she was deciding whether to swing or leave with what dignity she had left.

eren didn’t even glance her way. his free hand came up, cupped the side of your face, thumb tracing your jaw until you looked back at him fully.

“you think i’d have her here if i was on some other shit?” he murmured, quiet enough it was just for you. “why would i do that to you.. you got everything i need..”

your breath was still coming fast, chest tight, that lump in your throat refusing to dissolve. but his voice.. low, steady, the same one he used when he had you pinned under him whispering how good you felt, started chipping away at the anger.

he leaned in, lips brushing yours just enough to tease. “it’s you. only you. nobody else gets this close. nobody else gets inside you. nobody else gets me hard just from walking in the room.”

you exhaled shaky, anger bleeding into heat. the girl cleared her throat once, awkward, then slipped out without another word. door clicked shut. locked this time.

you gripped at his hair, fingers twisting into the dark strands at the nape of his neck, tugging just hard enough to make him hiss low against your mouth. your other hand slid down, palm flattening over the growing length straining against his sweatpants—thick, hot, already twitching under your touch.

he groaned into the kiss, mouth crashing harder into yours, desperate and messy, like he was trying to swallow every sound you made.

his hands gripped your ass firm, kneading through the thin fabric of your skirt, then slipping under to find bare skin. he hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties, dragging them aside slow while he rocked you forward, guiding your hips so your slick heat ground down against the hard ridge of him.

the friction made you gasp, thighs trembling around his waist as he kept the rhythm—slow rolls at first, then deeper, pressing you down until you felt every inch of him throbbing through the layers.

“eren—” you broke the kiss, a thin string of spit snapping between your lips. you stared into his eyes—green, dark, locked on yours—and he stared right back, breathing rough.

“i really don’t want you to fuck anyone else,” you said, voice low, raw.

his gaze dropped to your lips, then flicked back up. something shifted in his expression—serious, unguarded.

“i won’t,” he said, hands still rubbing slow circles over your ass, thumbs pressing in. “never.”

you searched his face a beat, waiting for the dodge, the joke. nothing came. just him, steady, holding you close.

“you mean it?” you asked quieter, fingers loosening in his hair, sliding to his jaw.

he nodded once, leaned in, lips brushing yours soft at first. “nobody can make me feel like you do,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “can’t even see myself fuckin’ someone else.”

“it’s yours, swear.”

your breath caught. the last of the anger dissolved, turning straight to heat that pooled low and fast. you rocked down harder against him, deliberate, feeling his dick twitch thick under the sweats like it was answering you back.

you crawled up his body, clashing your lips into his—hungry, messy, all teeth and tongue. his hands grabbed at your ass right away, squeezing hard enough to leave prints, pulling you tighter while you fumbled at the waistband of his sweatpants, yanking them down impatient.

he laughed into your mouth, breath hot and amused. “shit, i’ll do it.”

he sat up quick, hips lifting so you could shove the fabric past his thighs. his dick sprung free—thick, long, veiny, flushed dark at the tip, already leaking like he’d been hard and waiting for this exact moment all night.

you wrapped your hand around him without thinking, stroking slow at first, then twisting at the head the way he liked—firm, thumb rubbing over the slit to spread the precum. he groaned deep against your lips, hips jerking up into your grip.

you kissed down his neck, teeth grazing the spot under his jaw that always made him curse. he gripped your ass harder, kneading, then slid one finger back—teasing the tight ring before pushing in slow, just the tip.

you winced sharp, body tensing. “erenn—stop,” you whined, voice pitching higher.

he laughed low, pulling his finger out right away. “okay, my bad,” he said, that mischievous grin spreading wide across his face, eyes glinting dark. but the grin faltered fast when you stroked him harder—tighter—pumping from base to tip with a little twist at the top.

his eyes rolled back for a second, head tipping against the couch, low “fuck” slipping out like he couldn’t hold it. his hips bucked up into your hand, chasing it, thighs tensing under you.

“keep going like that and i’m not lasting,” he rasped, voice wrecked, one hand sliding up to cup your face so you had to look at him. “want you on it. now.”

you didn’t argue. you shifted up, lined him up, and sank down slow—taking him inch by inch, stretching around the thickness until your ass met his thighs and you both groaned loud enough the neighbors probably heard.

he held you there a beat, hands locked on your hips, breathing hard against your neck. “feel that?” he whispered. “it’s all yours. i promise.”

then he started moving—deep, steady rolls at first, letting you adjust, before snapping up harder, hitting spots that made your vision blur and your nails dig into his shoulders.

you rode him back just as rough, grinding down every time he thrust up, the couch creaking under you, skin slapping quiet but obscene in the dim room.

“say it,” he growled, one hand sliding to your throat—not squeezing, just holding. “say it’s mine too.”

“it’s yours— daddy,” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan. “only yours.”

the word slipped out raw, needy, and his eyes flashed dark at it. he pulled your curls sharp—fingers twisting deep into the roots at the nape, yanking your head to the side until your neck arched, eyebrows slouching low, lips parted on a shaky exhale.

your brain went fuzzy fast, every deep stretch of his dick scrambling your thoughts until all that was left was the thick drag inside you, the way he filled you so full it hurt good, the way your walls fluttered helpless around him like they were trying to keep him there forever.

“fuck.” he rasped, voice wrecked, hips snapping up harder now, punching deep enough your thighs trembled and your toes curled against the couch. “say it again.”

his grip on your hair tightened, pulling just enough to sting sweet, and with each stroke sparks shot up your spine, making your humps lazier, legs shaking like they might give out any second. he waited, bottom lip sucked between his teeth, eyes heavy and locked on your face—watching every flicker, every gasp, every time your mouth fell open wider.

“say it.”

you tried to speak but it came out broken, breathy.

“it’s yours, eren.”

“what’s mine?” his voice dropped lower, almost a growl, hips rolling slow now—deliberate, grinding in deep circles so you felt every inch, every vein, pressing right against that spot that made your vision white at the edges.

“my puss—this pussy,” you gasped, words slurring together as another thrust punched the air out of you.

he moaned low against your shoulder, hot and damp, his hair sticking to your skin where sweat had started beading. the sound vibrated through you, rough and wrecked, like hearing you say it out loud broke something in him. his free hand slid down to grip your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise tomorrow, holding you still so he could fuck up into you deeper, faster, relentless.

he groaned louder this time, burying his face in your neck, teeth grazing your pulse while his thrusts turned sloppy, desperate—hips stuttering like he was losing the fight to hold back. “good girl,” he muttered, voice strained and wrecked. “so fucking good. gonna come inside my pussy…”

“you gonna let me?”

“yes—yes daddy please,” you gasped, the words tumbling out fast and broken, nails digging crescent moons into his shoulders as you clenched around him harder, pulling him deeper like your body was begging too.

eren’s grip on your hip tightened, fingers bruising, and he slammed in one last time—deep, deep enough your back arched off the couch, a sharp cry ripping from your throat. he came hard, hot pulses flooding you, spilling thick and messy inside until you felt it leak out around where he was still buried, dripping down your thighs and soaking the cushions beneath you.

he didn’t pull out right away. just stayed locked inside, grinding slow, lazy circles to push every last drop deeper while his breathing came ragged against your collarbone. “fuck,” he whispered, almost reverent, lips pressing soft open-mouthed kisses along your neck, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

like he was worshiping the mess he’d made of you.

then he flipped you gentle on the couch, easing out slow so you felt the drag of every inch leaving you empty and aching. he settled over you again, weight braced on his forearms, eyes dark and heavy as he hooked both your legs up high over his shoulders. your thighs pressed to your chest, folding you open, vulnerable, dripping his cum already leaking slow down your folds.

“just a little more,” he murmured, voice hoarse and thick. “let me nut in you again.”

you clawed at his abs—nails scraping over the tight ridges, feeling them flex under your touch—and managed a slight nod, too wrecked to speak full sentences. he lined himself up with your leaking, tight pussy, tip nudging your swollen entrance. his head eased back on a low groan as you swallowed just the head—walls fluttering greedy around him, pulling him in like they’d missed him already.

your feet tangled over his shoulders, ankles crossing behind his neck, locking him in place. his veins popped along his forearms, neck, everywhere—uncontrollable, pulsing with how hard he was fighting to go slow. “ugh fuck eren—” you whined, voice cracking, no where to go but deeper under him, pinned and spread and full.

he bottomed out in one smooth, deep slide—thick and unrelenting—until his balls pressed flush against your ass and your pussy leaked fresh around him, slick mixing with his cum from before. the stretch burned sweet, too much and exactly right, making your toes curl and your back arch off the cushions.

“shit,” he hissed, hips stuttering once before he locked them still, letting you feel him throb inside, stretching you to the limit.

he started moving—slow at first, pulling out halfway just to watch your pussy cling to him, then sinking back in deep, grinding at the base so his pelvis rubbed your clit every time. your legs shook over his shoulders, thighs trembling, heels digging into his back like you needed him closer, deeper, forever.

“oh my god—daddy—” the word slipped out again, small and desperate, and his eyes snapped to yours, dark and wild.

“mhm,” he rasped, pace picking up, thrusts turning harder, wetter, the couch creaking under the rhythm like it might give out any second. skin slapped quiet but filthy, your wetness coating him, dripping down to his balls with every plunge.

“it’s too—it’s in my stomach eren—fuck—” you pushed at his abs, palms flat against the hard ridges, trying to slow him, ease the overwhelming fullness that made your insides twist and flutter.

he caught your wrists easy, pulled them up and over your head, pinning them to the arm of the couch with one big hand. his fingers wrapped tight around both your wrists, holding you stretched out, open, helpless under him.

“it’s your dick?” he asked low, voice rough and teasing, eyes locked on yours while he gave you slow, deliberate strokes—pulling almost all the way out, letting you feel the drag of every vein, then sliding back in deep, bottoming out until his tip kissed that deep spot that made your vision blur.

your eyes twitched, lip quivering, breath hitching on every exhale. “m-mmhm”

“take it then,” he said, leaning down until his forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling hot and ragged. “like a good girl.”

he kept the rhythm torturously slow now—long, deep rolls that let you feel every inch stretching you, filling you, claiming every bit of space inside. your walls fluttered helpless around him, trying to grip, trying to pull him deeper even as your body shook from how full you were. tears pricked the corners of your eyes—not pain, just too much, too good, too everything.

“look at me,” he ordered soft, free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing the tear that slipped free. “let me see those pretty eyes while you take daddy’s dick. show me how much you love it.”

you forced your gaze up, lashes wet, eyebrows slouched, lips parted on shaky gasps. he groaned low at the sight—hips stuttering once before he locked back into that slow grind, pelvis circling so your clit dragged against him every time he bottomed out.

“good girl,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the tear track. “so fuckin’ good for me.”

your hand broke free from his loose hold and you pushed at his chest, palms flat against the hard muscle. he eased back slow, pulling out with a wet drag that made you both hiss—his dick slick and shining with your cream, your pussy clenching empty around nothing.

he laughed low, breath hot against your neck. “eren, you’re being too rough,” you pouted, voice small and shaky, lips pushed out in that way that always got him.

he kissed your neck soft—open-mouthed, lingering—right over the spot he’d been biting earlier. “i’m sorry baby,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin with every word. “i can’t help it. you feel too good. look too good. sound too good.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, lashes fluttering as you looked up at him—still hazy, still sensitive, thighs trembling from how deep he’d been. “let me ride again,” you said, quieter now, almost shy. “i hate when you pin me down.”

eren sucked his teeth, that sharp, playful sound he made when he was pretending to be annoyed. he sat back on the couch proper, legs spread wide, dick still hard and glistening, head pushed back against the cushion. he smiled—slow, lazy, eyes half-lidded and dark.

“okay,” he said, voice rough but soft at the edges. “c’mere.”

you turned around slow, body still loose and liquid from coming twice already. you wedged yourself between his legs, back pressing to his chest, the heat of him wrapping around you like a blanket. your head fell back against his shoulder, curls spilling over his collarbone, and he wrapped one arm around your waist, the other sliding up to cup your breast gentle, thumb brushing lazy over your nipple.

“like this?” he asked, lips at your ear, breath warm. his free hand guided his dick, still slick with you. until the thick head nudged your entrance again. you nodded, small and needy, lifting your hips just enough.

he helped you sink down—slow this time, letting you control it. you took him inch by inch, walls fluttering around the stretch, still sensitive and swollen. when your ass met his thighs and he bottomed out, you both groaned low—yours high and shaky, his deep and wrecked.

“fuck,” he breathed against your neck, hands sliding to your hips now, holding but not forcing. “there you go.”

you started moving, slow rolls at first, grinding down in lazy circles so his tip pressed right against that deep spot every time.

your hands braced on his thighs behind you, nails digging in for leverage as you lifted and dropped, setting your own rhythm. the angle hit perfect, him filling you full, your clit rubbing against his base with every grind.

you leaned your head back further, turning to catch his mouth in a messy kiss, tongues sliding, teeth grazing. his hands roamed, up your sides, over your breasts, pinching your nipples light until you whimpered into his mouth. he kept one hand low, fingers finding your clit, circling slow in time with your hips.

“faster?” he asked against your lips, voice strained.

you nodded frantic, picking up speed, bouncing now, ass slapping soft against his thighs, wet sounds filling the room every time you dropped down. your legs shook, thighs burning, but you didn’t stop. the pressure built fast again, coiling tight in your belly.

“i’m gonna— eren.” your voice cracked, hips stuttering.

“i know,” he rasped, fingers rubbing your clit faster, harder. “cream on my shit.”

you shattered, back arching, head falling against his shoulder, a broken cry tearing from your throat as you pulsed around him, walls clamping down hard, milking him. he groaned loud, hips bucking up once, twice, then he came with you, hot pulses spilling deep inside, mixing with everything already there.

he held you through it, arms wrapped tight around your waist, lips pressed to your temple, breathing hard against your skin.

“good girl,” he whispered again, softer now, kissing your shoulder. “my good girl.”

you stayed like that, back to his chest, his dick softening slow inside you, cum leaking lazy down your thighs. his hand rubbed slow circles on your stomach, soothing, possessive, fingers splayed wide like he was trying to hold every bit of you in place.

“so, you were jealous?” he broke the moment, voice low and teasing, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see it, head still resting against his shoulder. “eren don’t.”

he chuckled soft, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back. his hand slid lower, palm flat against your lower belly, thumb tracing lazy patterns just above where you were still joined. “nah, i’m serious. you came in here looking ready to fight. threw your keys like you were about to swing. that was cute as hell.”

you huffed, shifting a little so his softening length slipped out with a wet sound that made you both inhale sharp. cum dripped thicker now, warm and messy, trailing down your inner thighs. you reached down slow, fingers brushing through the slick, pushing some back inside absentmindedly while he watched over your shoulder.

“cute?” you echoed, voice dry. “i was two seconds from killing you— stop playing.”

eren’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left. he kissed the side of your neck, slow and open-mouthed, then nipped light. “i’m not playing. i liked it. seeing you get mad. got me hard all over again just thinking about it.”

you felt him twitch against your ass, already half-interested despite coming twice. you turned your head just enough to catch his eye. “your crazy.”

“only for you,” he said simple, no tease this time, just fact. his free hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “but for real. you don’t gotta worry about nobody else. i told you that before you even walked through the door tonight. she was nothing. you’re everything.”

you searched his face a second, looking for the crack, the lie. nothing. just those green eyes steady on yours, soft in the dim light from the lamp across the room.

“promise?” you asked quieter, almost small.

he nodded once, serious. “swear on my life. nobody else gets this. nobody else gets me. just you.”

you exhaled slow, tension bleeding out of your shoulders. you leaned back fully into him again, letting your head rest heavy on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady and strong.

“mhmm,” you murmured, soft and sleepy, shifting to get up. your legs felt like jelly, thighs sticky, body still humming from everything he’d done to you.

but he pulled you right back down, arms locking around your waist gentle but firm. his face softened, serious now, damp hair sticking to your back where sweat had cooled. “you’re not gonna promise yourself to me?”

you paused, half-turned in his lap, looking at him over your shoulder. his eyes were locked on yours, green and steady, no smirk, no tease. just him, waiting.

“well since you’re begging and shit,” you started, voice light but cracking at the edges, “i promise—”

he cut you off by sliding his hand lower, fingers finding your clit easy, rubbing slow circles that made your breath hitch sharp. “stop playin’,” he said low, voice rough but quiet, thumb pressing just right.

you looked into his eyes, a gasp escaping your lips as the touch sent fresh sparks up your spine. your hips twitched forward instinctive, chasing his fingers even though you were still sensitive, still full of him from before.

“i promise everything to you, eren,” you whispered, voice trembling but sure. “everything. my body, my time, my heart. all of it. just you.”

his fingers slowed but didn’t stop, keeping that gentle pressure while he searched your face like he was memorizing every word. then he leaned in, forehead pressing to yours, breath mingling warm and close.

“say it again,” he murmured, thumb circling lazy now, coaxing soft whimpers from you. “tell me you’re mine. all mine.”

“i’m yours,” you breathed, eyes fluttering half-shut. “all yours. nobody else. swear.”

he groaned low, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. his free hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip before he kissed you—slow, deep, like he was sealing it. tongues sliding lazy, no rush, just tasting each other while his fingers kept rubbing soft circles below.

when he pulled back, his eyes were darker, softer, something vulnerable flickering there for just a second. “good,” he said, voice hoarse. “because i’m yours too. all the way. no half-steppin’. no side shit. just us.”

you nodded, small and quick, curling tighter against him. his arms wrapped around you fully now, one hand still between your thighs but not pushing anymore—just holding, warm and steady.

“we’re doing this right,” he whispered against your temple. “no more fighting over dumb shit. no more wondering. you and me. official.”

he kissed the top of your head, arms tightening like he never planned to let go. the room was quiet except for your breathing, the faint drip of the faucet in the kitchen, the low hum of the fridge. cum still leaked slow down your thighs, sticky and warm, but neither of you moved to clean up yet.

“shower in a minute,” he murmured, hand rubbing your back now in slow strokes. “then bed. you’re staying tonight. and every night after if i get my way.”

you laughed weak, sleepy. “bossy.”

“your bossy,” he corrected, kissing your shoulder.

you didn’t argue. just sank deeper into him, letting his heartbeat lull you, his arms hold you, his promise settle over you like a blanket.

jealousy gone.

doubt gone.

just you and eren.

finally on the same side.

[louistxq]

CHARACTERS:

ryomen sukuna

satoru gojo

toji fushiguro

kento nanami

megumi fushiguro

suguru geto

choso kamo

naoya zenin

hiromi higuruma

shiu kong

kinji hakari

multi

[satolune]

────── ˙ . ꒷ . 𖦹˙ 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐘

୧ ‧₊˚ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝓡.𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 and his work wife.

⋅ ✰ everyone in the office is terrified of ryomen sukuna— the cold-hearted finance director with a glare sharp enough to make interns cry. everyone except you.

MDNI ✰ oral (fem receiving) ✰ unprotected sex ✰ p in v smut ✰ semi-public sex

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The fluorescent lights of the corporate high-rise buzzed like dying insects overhead, casting a sterile glow over the open-plan office floor. Sukuna Ryomen, Finance Director, ruled his domain with the kind of iron fist that made interns cry in the supply closet and senior analysts suddenly remember urgent dentist appointments whenever he stepped out of his corner office. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp tattoos peeking from the collar of his tailored black dress shirt and a resting scowl that could curdle milk. Rumors swirled that he'd once made a board member resign over a misplaced decimal. No one dared sit near him in the break room. No one stole his parking spot. And absolutely no one touched his food.

Except you.

You were the marketing coordinator two floors down, but you spent more time on the finance level than your own. To everyone else, you were Sukuna's "work wife"—the only soul brave (or foolish) enough to perch on the edge of his desk during meetings, tease him about his coffee order, and—most infamously—steal fries right off his plate while he ate lunch at his desk.

Today was no different.

The executive lunch spread was laid out in the glass-walled conference room: grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, and a mountain of thick-cut fries that Sukuna had specifically requested. He sat at the head of the table like a king on a throne, sleeves rolled up to expose veined forearms, stabbing at his food with precise aggression. A cluster of department heads hovered nervously at the far end, discussing quarterly projections in hushed tones.

You sauntered in without knocking, wearing a fitted pencil skirt that hugged your hips and a silk blouse unbuttoned just one notch past professional. Your heels clicked confidently across the marble floor.

Without a word, you slid into the chair beside him—the one no one else would touch—and plucked three fries from his plate, popping them into your mouth with a satisfied hum.

The room went dead silent.

One analyst choked on his water. Another stared like you'd just performed a public execution. Sukuna didn't even look up from his salmon, but the corner of his mouth twitched—the closest thing he ever got to a smile in public.

"Those were mine," he growled, low enough that only you could hear the playful edge beneath the menace.

You leaned in, brushing your knee against his under the table. "And now they're mine. You always take the best ones anyway, Mr. Finance Director."

Someone at the table whispered, "She's going to die. Today's the day."

But Sukuna just pushed the plate slightly toward you, allowing you to steal another fry. The rest of the meeting continued with everyone else sweating bullets while you casually doodled on his quarterly report and whispered filthy promises in his ear whenever the projector light dimmed.

By 4 PM, the tension had built to a breaking point. The office was emptying out, but you lingered, "accidentally" leaving your tablet in Sukuna's office.

He was waiting.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Sukuna's hand shot out, grabbing you by the waist and yanking you against his hard chest. His mouth crashed down on yours in a bruising kiss, all teeth and hunger. No gentle buildup—never with him. Weeks of sneaking around had turned this into an art form: quick, dirty fucks in supply closets, his office after hours, even once in the executive bathroom during a particularly boring investor call where you'd had to bite your lip bloody to stay quiet.

"Been thinking about this all fucking day," he muttered against your lips, walking you backward until your ass hit his massive oak desk. Papers scattered. A pen holder clattered to the floor. He didn't care. "Watching you steal my food like you own me in front of those spineless idiots."

You laughed breathlessly, fingers already working at his belt. "I do own you. We're married, remember? Or did you forget the ring you keep hidden in your pocket?"

Sukuna's eyes darkened with lust and something fiercer. He spun you around, bending you over the desk with one strong hand between your shoulder blades. Your skirt rode up as he shoved it to your waist, exposing the lacy red thong you'd worn specifically for this.

"Married or not, you're still my little work wife out there," he said, voice rough as he palmed your ass, spreading you open. "And my filthy slut in here."

He dropped to his knees behind you without warning. The first hot swipe of his tongue along your clothed pussy made you jolt. He ripped the thong aside, burying his face between your thighs like a starving man. His tongue was relentless—lapping at your folds, circling your clit with firm pressure, then plunging inside you. Two thick fingers joined soon after, curling brutally against that spot that made your knees buckle.

"Fuck—Ryomen—" you gasped, gripping the edge of the desk. The city skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but all you could focus on was the wet, obscene sounds of him devouring you. He sucked your clit hard, fingers pumping faster, stretching you open. Your thighs trembled.

He pulled back just as you were about to tip over the edge, standing up and pressing his clothed erection against your ass. "Not yet. You don't come until I say."

You heard his zipper, then felt the thick, heavy weight of his cock slapping against your soaked pussy. Sukuna was big—long and girthy, with a slight upward curve that always hit perfectly. He rubbed the head up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices, teasing your entrance.

"Beg," he commanded, one hand fisting your hair.

"Please," you whimpered, pushing back against him. "Fuck me, Ryomen. Need your cock."

With a guttural groan, he thrust in to the hilt in one brutal stroke. The stretch burned deliciously, filling you so completely you saw stars. He didn't give you time to adjust—just started pounding into you with deep, punishing strokes that rocked the heavy desk forward.

"Shit, you're always so tight," he growled, hips snapping against your ass. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the office, mixed with your moans and his low grunts. He reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, never slowing his rhythm. "Gonna fill this pretty pussy again. Mark what's mine."

You were lost in it—the way his cock dragged against your walls, the way his balls slapped against you, the way his free hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. He leaned over you, biting down on your shoulder through your blouse as he fucked you harder. The angle shifted, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

"Come for me," he ordered, voice strained. "Now."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, pussy clenching around his thick length as you cried out his name. Sukuna followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling hot ropes of cum inside you with a choked groan. He stayed there, grinding slowly through the aftershocks, making sure every drop stayed buried.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing. Then he pulled out carefully, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum dripped down your thighs. He used two fingers to push it back inside you.

"Keep it in until you get home," he murmured, kissing the back of your neck almost tenderly.

You turned in his arms, grinning up at him. "Yes, sir. But only if you let me steal your dessert tomorrow."

Sukuna chuckled—a rare, genuine sound—and kissed you softly. "Brat."

The next morning, the office was buzzing with the usual fear. Sukuna stormed through the halls looking as terrifying as ever, barking orders that made grown men pale. You arrived at 10 AM with coffee, perching on his desk as usual and stealing a bite of his blueberry muffin.

The analysts watched in horrified awe as he merely raised an eyebrow and let you have it.

"Work wife perks," someone whispered.

If only they knew the real perks involved being bent over that same desk every other night, taking your husband's cock until you couldn't walk straight. Or the wedding bands hidden in his wallet and your jewelry box. Or the way he whispered "I love you" against your skin after every filthy encounter.

You winked at Sukuna across the desk. He smirked back—the secret smile that belonged only to you.

Lunch couldn't come fast enough.

The weeks blurred into a delicious routine of corporate terror and hidden passion. Sukuna's reputation only grew more fearsome after he publicly eviscerated a vendor during a budget meeting for "wasting his goddamn time." You, meanwhile, played the perfect work wife: bringing him lunch (which you always sampled first), organizing his files with color-coded tabs he pretended to hate, and sitting in on finance meetings just to "take notes."

No one suspected a thing.

Until the day the copier jammed on the 15th floor.

You'd dragged Sukuna into the supply closet under the pretense of needing his "height advantage." The second the door locked, he had you pressed against the shelves, your legs wrapped around his waist as he freed his cock and sank into you in one smooth thrust.

"Quiet," he hissed, even as he fucked you hard enough to make the shelves rattle. "Or everyone will hear what a slut my wife is."

You buried your face in his neck, biting down to muffle your moans as he railed you. His cock was so deep at this angle, grinding against your cervix with every upward snap of his hips. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his dress shirt sticking to his muscular back. One hand held you up effortlessly while the other slipped between you to pinch and rub your clit.

The risk always made it hotter—the voices of coworkers just outside the door discussing toner cartridges while Sukuna destroyed your pussy in the dark. You came first, clenching around him like a vice, soaking his cock. He followed with a muffled curse, pumping you full again.

Afterward, he cleaned you up with his handkerchief like a gentleman, then sent you out first with a possessive slap on the ass.

"See you at my desk for lunch," he said. "And don't even think about ordering your own fries."

By the time you reached the finance floor, your legs were still shaky, but you wore a bright smile. Sukuna was already at his desk, looking perfectly composed and terrifying. You slid into your usual spot and immediately reached for his plate.

The entire floor held its collective breath.

You stole an entire handful of fries this time, grinning as you ate them slowly, one by one.

Sukuna's eyes met yours with a heat that promised retribution later—probably in the parking garage, or his car, or the executive elevator that had mysteriously stopped working twice last week.

The crack of your secret marriage made every stolen bite taste sweeter. The fear everyone else felt only heightened the thrill. Because while they saw a monster, you saw the man who fucked you senseless every chance he got, who whispered vows against your skin in the afterglow, and who—despite his reputation—always pushed his plate toward you with that secret, fond glint in his eye.

Later that evening, after the office had emptied, Sukuna locked his door and cleared his desk entirely. He laid you out on it like a feast, spreading your legs wide and eating you out until you were sobbing with overstimulation. Then he flipped you onto your stomach again, fucking you slow and deep this time, savoring every clench and whimper.

"Love you, wife," he growled as he came, hips stuttering.

"Love you too, Ryomen," you gasped, reaching back to pull him closer.

Outside, the city lights twinkled. Inside, the feared Finance Director was nothing but yours—body, soul, and all the fries on his plate.

art creds to @/reyomensukuna all dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/pixopix

regulars ♡ :: @mariellasalmonella @milkywaydew @itzy @jancujoh @cookieruts @eraserslut @rosiestrudel @b-bitter @brunettebombshell72 @ishamyshaylaaa

[kamiflix]

▶︎ Thot Shit (starring . pervy!choso & cuck!gojo)

synopsis . Your new boyfriend realizes you're quite the strange woman. content . afab!reader, established relationship(s), cuckholding, voyeurism, filth, mentions of perv!toji (help idk how he got here), rough sex, a hint of chojo, semi crack fic, masturbation, spit, dirty talk, teasing, creampie, etc.

With your hips working to slam your sloppyyyy pussy down to the thick base of Choso's blushing cock, you had the man an absolute mess of sweat 'n tears beneath you. He should've known from the day he met you that you'd drive him insane, considering you managed to out-perv him.

Though, that was a story he'd dwell on another time since right now he was much too focused on pinning the pads of his fingers into your skin so he could hold you correctly as you rode him like you wanted him to impregnate you or something. He'd never had a woman ride him this good until now. You'd only been dating for a few days, but he swore he was already in lov—

“Oh, and who’s this?” A rather soothing voice enters your bedroom and Choso's body freezes, his grip on you growing impossibly tighter.

When he looks past your sinful frame for a moment, he makes eye contact with some white-haired man who seems to be awfully casual about walking into your bedroom while you're clearly... occupied. Not that he moves to pull out of you or make you stop riding him, though.

“Nngh," You moan sweetly whilst letting the tips of a fresh manicure run down the smooth display of abs beneath you, "This is my new boyfriend Choso.”

Choso's brows furrow slightly and his grip on your hips falters a little as he watches that same man pace into the room as if you're not literally naked and in the middle of fucking someone. Panting, “H-Hahh—are you two like-, r-roommates or something?” He asks you.

The guy that Choso's all curious about comes over to the side of your bed and pulls out a chair from god knows where before nonchalantly taking a seat. Running a noticeably ringed hand through his white hair as he chuckles, “Cute, but no. I’m her husband.” Gojo explains for you.

“Huh.” Choso gapes, cock throbbing inside you in some weird form of shock. Then those dopey brown eyes of his get wide, and he shoots you a panicked look. Huffing, “You didn’t tell me you were married?!”

Instead of reacting to him like any sane woman would in a situation where she's caught cheating on her husband and boyfriend(?) at the same time, you merely tilt your head to the right and snicker. Teasing him as you say, “Mmh, did you jus’ get harder, Cho?”

His chest caves in a little and for some odd reason, none of this newfound information is making him any less horny. Hell, he's still holding onto your hips and guiding you up and down the veiny length of his dick while he stammers, “What? N-No,” before swallowing down a groan as you neatly clench around him. He turns his head over to meet eyes with Gojo and sounds truly apologetic as he puffs, “Hey man, look, m’sorry.”

“What for?” Gojo deadpans with this weird smile on his face, leaning back into the chair he's pulled out for himself and letting his meaty thighs sprawl out.

Your eyes quickly shoot over to the display of his already forming bulge and Choso's left to unintentionally whine as you glide your pussy upwards along the stretching curve of his cock and then squeeze around him again. Struggling to figure out where exactly he should keep his eyes, the brunet exchanges glances back and forth between the both of you before finally managing to reply.

“Uhm, fucking your wife?” He explains in between something short of a grunt.

Gojo's smile widens out across those rosed lips of his before he raises a thin, unconvinced brow, “You don’t sound sorry.” Then those azure eyes of his floats down to where Choso's burried inside you and he notes how the man is helplessly bucking his hips into you—earning the squelchiest sounds from your cunt. “And you’re goin’ faster now despite apologizing.” Your husband points out.

Choso’s face twists up and he can't help but whine, “She feels really fuckin’ good, m’sorry.”

Leaning forward, Gojo tips his head to the side as if to get a better look at how pretty your pussy looks being nice 'n split open by the rude viscosity of Choso's cock. And the curve he had on him... fuck, your husband was able to catch exactly how the man's tip knocked against your cervix—just bullying his poor wife's pretty pussy.

He can't help but palm at the erection he's managed to gain from watching so far, “God, this would be terrible if I wasn’t into this...” He hums.

“Y-Yeah," Choso redirects his attention to the same place that Gojo's eyes have fallen to and his lashes flap over upon seeing the gorgeous globs of your slick getting dragged up and down his shaft as you bounce on him. Barely even coherent as he mumbles, "...Probably would.”

It didn't take a rocket scientist for him to realize your husband happened to be a cuck. And considering how he just started dating you only a few days ago and was only getting harder from being watched by said cuck husband, Choso figures he might just be one too!

At that, and in an honest attempt at not blowing his load too soon, Choso's hips slow down and he goes back to letting you do most of the work.

Of which Gojo notices immediately and scoffs, “Hey, don’t slow down now.” He directs, earning Choso's gaze for a moment. Gojo looks almost disappointed now and challenges the man directly via meeting eyes with him and cocking a brow, “You wanted to fuck my wife, didn’t you? So fuck her.”

A whimper nearly jumps out of Choso's throat and his fat tip kisses somewhere deep inside you—earning a thoughtless moan out of you while he questions Gojo in return, “You’re just gonna... ngh-, watch?”

“Yeahhhh..” Your husband's voice is sleazy by the time he replies considering he had driven his focus elsewhere. Pulling his dick out and messily spitting on the palm of his hand—nice ‘n filthy like he always does whenever you bring in a new boy-toy. “Fuck her real good f’me.”

Before he can do that, you start to angle your body up and lean yourself back, placing your hands behind you and on his thighs so you could fuck yourself stupid on him. This sudden change only makes Choso's head spin whilst he loses his grip on you for a second, grunting, “Shiiiit.” in reaction before he can control himself.

The sound reverberates throughout your bedroom, and the mattress the two of you are mounted on seems to creak and dip deeper inward with your unexpected movements.

“And baby?” Gojo murmurs while lightly rubbing his hand against his drooling, pinkened tip—precum trickling and glistening all the way down to the fat of his achy balls.

You whine as you meet eyes with him and try your best to avoid looking at his cock, “Yes ‘Toru?”

Your husband gives you the prettiest smile before nodding his chin at you, “Let him cum in you this time.”

Choso’s dick twitches further upward and your body nearly flies up some with that forceful rut of his hips. Stuttering out an all too innocent, “W-What?”

Meanwhile, your eyes seem to have lighten up as your rickety hips go to bash down impossibly harder, fucking him right back down after feeling him attempt to do the opposite to you.

Then you clasp your lower lip in between your teeth and bite back a whorish little smile, "Ohmygoddd, finally.” Peering over to your husband and taking one of your tits into your hands to grope, "Thank you, 'Toru." you purr.

Your boyfriend(?)—he's still confused as to what exactly your relationship with him and will become after all this—repeats his actions from earlier and looks back and forth between you both, “Do you two do this—fuck, jus' like thaaat..." He chokes, tugging your body forward to aid your desperately grounding hips and feeling his dick ram all around every corner of your sweet walls," D-Do you two do this often or something?”

“Yes.” The both of you say in a synchronized moan.

After which, Gojo lets out another laugh in between the continuous strokes of his cock. He was trying to match the pace of your pussy swallowing up Choso’s plumpy length, but his voice was getting shakier as he spoke, “Last week I came home to her gettin’ railed by our repair man.... Nngh-, what was his name again, sweetheart? The one that stole your panties after the job? Was it Kento?”

“No, no—mmph! Kento’s my boss." You explain indifferently between your needy bounces, "The repair man for last week was Toji, remember?”

“Oh yeahhhh," Gojo enthuses, his hand growing unintentionally quicker as he thinks back on it, “He left you sore for quite a few days too.”

The way you two are talking about this weird... routine of yours has Choso's face twisting up slightly and a mumbled, “What the fuck…” ghosting past his lips.

Gojo suddenly nods at him while he talks to you, “Where’d you find this one?”

You giggle, “The back of Spencers.” and Choso grimaces, trying to distract himself from your strange conversation as he instead focuses on pounding his nearing release up into your rather noisy hole. It sounded like you were getting wetter from being fucked like this, “He was—s-shit, right thereee, Choso. Good boyyy.” You praise naturally as you look down at him and send him a warm smile. Still going on to continue with your explanation seconds later, “He was groping himself while watchin’ me buy a new toy, I just had to bring him home.”

“Perv.” Gojo says.

Though, you’re not sure if that was directed towards you or Choso.

Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head right after hearing that word and he's groaning shamelessly loud, “Gonna cum.”

“Bet you are,” Your husband teases, steadily thrusting his hips up into his fist, “Mmmh, how full do you think you can leave her?”

“H-Huh?” Your poor boyfriend(?)—seriously can he even call himself that after this?—gasps.

“I wanna fuck some cum out of my wife when you’re done, if you don’t mind." Gojo elaborates with that same, cuck-happy grin on his face again. The head of his dick is already smeared over with a gloss of his creamy seed and he's clearly reaching his own orgasm whilst giving Choso directions, "So make sure to leave a nice ‘n creamy load in there for me, yeah?”

Okay, this had to be the strangest fucking couple Choso’s ever encountered. He doesn't think he'll be coming back after this.

banner art from; "Kubitsuri Danshi to Nikushoku Joshi" || perm general tags (1/2):

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[creampiedby]

blood and sex. king! Sukuna x concubine! fem! reader

synopsis: Sukuna, the king of plagues, returns seriously injured from a battle and is being treated by his favorite concubine but he want fuck you.

warnings: NSFW (MDNI), some fluff, nipple playing, riding, cowgirl, missionary, belly tummy, breeding, multiple orgasms in a row, overstimulation, masturbation, eating pussy, cervix kissing, blood, sukuna in his true form and has two big dicks

a/n: thanks @twinklingstarinthesky for the request 🤭💕 And tysmmm for 4.8k followers!!💗

words: 6829.

The night has already fallen when the large doors of the palace open with a deafening crash. Sukuna, in his true form, advances with heavy and unsteady steps down the main corridor.

Dark blood flows abundantly from several deep wounds: a large gash crosses his right shoulder to the middle of his chest and another wound on his left flank. His four arms hang heavily, two of them weakly pressing against his wounds to contain the bleeding.

His four red eyes glow faintly, his lips are clenched, slightly parted on a silent groan of pain.

“My Lord! Let us treat you!” exclaims a healer running forward, hands trembling. “We have herbs and bandages, we can—”

A low, threatening growl escapes Sukuna’s throat. One of his upper arms sweeps the air with force, pushing everyone back.

“Don’t touch me, vermin.” His voice is hoarse, breathless, but still full of authority. “Where is she? Bring me Y/N. Right now.”

The servants bow deeply and step aside without arguing. A few moments later, you arrive running, your heart tight with anguish. As soon as he sees you, Sukuna lets out a hoarse sigh and continues toward his private chambers.

He collapses heavily onto the raised platform, his back against the thick cushions. His massive body trembles slightly from the effort. The blood continues to flow slowly along his tattoos, staining the silk sheets.

You rush to his side without waiting, already carrying clean cloths and supplies the healers gave you. Your hands tremble as you begin to clean the deep gash on his shoulder and chest.

The wound is irregular, the edges burned by enemy magic, and you see the flesh regenerating slowly, too slowly for your liking. The wound on his flank is bleeding even more, the mouth on his stomach clenched in pain every time you touch it.

“Sukuna…” you murmur, your voice tight.

He places one of his upper hands on the back of your neck, warm and heavy despite his weakness, and pulls you against him. Your face nestles against his chest. The smell of his blood envelops you.

“Stop shaking,” he growls softly, his voice tired. “It’s nothing… those insects couldn’t do anything more.”

“You’re still bleeding a lot,” you reply, throat tight. “I thought… when the servants came rushing to get me, I thought this time…”

A heavy silence settles. His four arms slowly surround you, pressing you possessively against his injured body. His four eyes stare at you with a weakened but burning intensity.

“I can’t die,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice low and hoarse. “Not as long as my pretty concubine is waiting for me here…”

One of his hands slides under your chin, gently lifting your face, and he kisses you. His lips are warm, pressing despite the pain, almost desperate. The kiss is slow, deep, loaded with everything he doesn’t say out loud.

You feel the mouth on his stomach part slightly against your belly, letting out a burning breath, while his arms hold you tighter against him.

You eventually place your hands on his chest and gently push him back, just enough to break the kiss. Your breath is short, your eyes shining with worry and determination.

“Let me treat you first,” you say firmly, your voice more assured than you really are. “You’re still losing a lot of blood. I can’t… I don’t want to lose you because of your pride.”

Sukuna stares at you for a long moment with his four eyes. A low growl rolls in his throat, half-amused, half-annoyed. The mouth on his stomach lets out a small hoarse chuckle. Despite the obvious pain, a carnivorous smile slowly stretches his lips.

“You dare push me away, little thing?” he murmurs, his voice deep and hoarse. Yet his arms loosen slightly around you, giving you just enough space to move.

You take advantage of this opening to pick up the clean cloths again. Your fingers are still trembling a little as you apply the care to the large gash on his shoulder, then to the one on his flank. Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you, his two lower arms remaining placed on your hips, wanting you close to him even in his weakness.

The flesh closes slowly, but the bleeding persists in places, staining your hands and the silk sheets. Sukuna remains still, his four arms placed around you, two of them absently caressing your back.

You feel his breathing become more regular, his strength returning little by little. His cursed regeneration does its work, even if the wounds remain impressive.

A few minutes pass in tense silence, broken only by the sound of the cloths and his hoarse breathing. You are focused on your task, carefully cleaning the deepest wound on his chest, when suddenly one of his upper hands slides over your waist, while another caresses your hip. His body now gives off a more vivid heat, a sign that he is recovering quickly.

“Enough,” he growls in a stronger, almost impatient voice. His four eyes shine with more intensity. “Come here. I want you now. You missed me on that battlefield, my favorite.”

You shake your head, refusing to let go of the cloth. “No. You’re still injured. Let me finish, Sukuna. It’s important.”

A low and dangerous laugh resonates in his chest. He grabs your hips with two of his arms, trying to pull you onto him despite your protests. The mouth on his stomach opens slightly, letting out a hot breath against your belly.

“Do you really think a few scratches will stop me?” he says, his voice harder this time, tinged with irritation from the persistent pain. “You’re just a concubine I tolerate by my side, nothing more. Stop playing healer and obey.”

The words hit you like a blade. Your heart clenches violently. You freeze, hands suspended above his wound. Your eyes mist over despite yourself. You know he is cruel by nature, but hearing him say it so coldly, after everything you do for him… it hurts.

Sukuna immediately notices the change on your face. His expression darkens. A heavy silence settles.

“…Wait,” he finally murmurs, his voice lower. He gently holds you back when you try to pull away. His four arms surround you with more care. “I shouldn’t have said that. The pain makes me… irritable. You’re not just a simple concubine. You are the only one I tolerate near me. The only one I can’t do without. Forgive me. Please? My pretty girl.”

You smile internally. Seeing Sukuna, the most feared king, begging you to forgive him is exceptional. You remain silent for a moment to make him believe it, then in a surge of frustration, you press the cloth firmly against his deepest wound on his flank. That’ll teach him. You press just enough to remind him of the pain but without aggravating the injury.

Sukuna startles slightly, a hoarse growl escaping his throat. Then, against all expectations, he bursts into a deep, sincere laugh that vibrates through his entire massive body. The mouth on his stomach laughs too, a strange and guttural sound.

“Ah… there’s my favorite with the strong character,” he says between two laughs, his eyes shining with amusement and a darker glint. “You dare wound the King of Curses? What audacity.”

Before you can react, his four arms move with surprising speed despite his injuries. After all, he remains the strongest. He suddenly pins you under him on the platform, his massive body completely towering over you.

His dark tattoos contrast with your skin, his four eyes staring at you with a mix of possessiveness, desire, and brutal tenderness.

You are trapped beneath him, his two upper arms holding your wrists above your head, while his lower arms slide over your hips and thighs, holding you firmly in place. His face is very close to yours, his hot breath against your lips.

“You are mine,” he murmurs in a hoarse voice. “And I am yours, whether you want it or not. Now… let me show you how much better I am thanks to you.”

Without giving you time to answer, Sukuna lowers his head and kisses you again. This time, the kiss is deeper, more voracious. His lips capture yours with obvious hunger, his tongue sliding against yours in a possessive movement that takes your breath away.

You feel the heat of his massive body weighing on you, his wounds still sensitive but ignored by his recovered strength. The mouth on his stomach parts against your abdomen, letting out a burning breath that passes through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

One of his upper hands remains on your wrists, while the other slowly descends along your arm, brushing your skin. His two lower arms, meanwhile, explore freely.

One slides under your dress, caressing your bare thigh, moving up gradually. The other hand settles directly on your chest, enveloping one of your breasts. His fingers gently pinch your nipple through the fabric, making it harden instantly.

You can’t hold back a muffled moan against his mouth. “Sukuna…”

That sound seems to encourage him. His kiss becomes more intense, leaving you little air, while his hand on your breast slowly kneads it, massaging with controlled strength.

Your body arches instinctively beneath him, seeking more contact despite the voice in your head still reminding you of his injuries.

“You’re already moaning so well for me,” he growls against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. “My little favorite… is so sensitive because of me.”

His two lower arms continue their exploration. One of them moves up to your other breast, caressing it with the same avid attention. He presses, kneads, his thumbs circling your now hardened nipples, sending waves of pleasure directly between your legs.

You moan louder, head slightly thrown back, eyes half-closed. Your breathing becomes irregular, interrupted by soft little cries each time he pinches a little harder.

Sukuna pulls slightly away from your mouth, just enough to observe your face flushed with pleasure. His four eyes shine with a satisfied and hungry glint. The mouth on his stomach slowly licks your skin through the fabric, wanting to taste every part of you.

In one fluid and impatient movement, he releases your wrists and easily tears the top of your dress, exposing your bare chest to the cool air of the room. An appreciative growl vibrates in his throat.

“Much better like this,” he murmurs.

His hands immediately return to your bare breasts. The feeling of his warm, rough skin against your sensitive flesh makes you moan louder.

He kneads them greedily, pressing them together, his thumbs and index fingers playing with your hardened nipples. Each caress sends jolts of pleasure through your entire body. Your hips move unconsciously against him, seeking relief.

“Sukuna… ugh more please.” Your moan is longer this time, almost pleading.

He lowers his head, capturing one of your breasts between his lips. His warm tongue circles the nipple, sucking it slowly before nibbling just enough to make you jump with pleasure.

Meanwhile, his hands continue to explore: one stays on your free breast, kneading it firmly, while the other slides lower, pulling on the rest of your dress to slide it down your hips. He throws the dress aside.

You are now almost completely naked beneath him, wearing only your panties. Sukuna raises his head, observing your exposed body with satisfaction.

“Perfect,” he breathes against your skin, before kissing you again, more slowly this time, while continuing to slide his hands over your bare curves.

His lips leave yours to descend along your neck, gently nibbling your sensitive skin. One of his upper hands remains on your breast, kneading it firmly, while the other slides lower, between your thighs. His fingers brush your intimacy through the thin fabric of your panties, already feeling the heat and wetness accumulating there.

“Just for me, isn’t it?” he murmurs in a hoarse and possessive voice against your ear, his four eyes shining with desire. You shiver beneath him, breathing short. “Yes…” you reply in a trembling sigh. “Just for you.”

A satisfied growl vibrates in his chest. His fingers finally push the fabric aside and slide directly over your hot and wet flesh. He slowly caresses your intimacy, tracing circles around your clit before plunging a thick finger into you. You moan louder, back arched, hips moving instinctively against his hand.

“So wet already…” he growls with a carnivorous smile. His two lower arms hold your thighs spread while his upper hands continue to knead your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples. The mouth on his stomach slowly licks your belly, descending progressively lower, leaving a trail of wet heat on your skin.

You pant, lost in the sensations. Your hands slide over his massive chest, following the black tattoos, carefully avoiding his still sensitive wounds. Sukuna intensifies his caresses: he pushes a second finger into you, curling them to touch that precise spot that makes you see stars.

“Sukuna… ah… yes ugh… it feels so good! There!”

Suddenly, he withdraws his fingers from your intimacy, leaving you empty and frustrated. You moan in protest, hips desperately seeking his contact.

Sukuna laughs softly, a deep and amused laugh that resonates in his chest. His four eyes contemplate you with a mischievous and dominant glint.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs. “You dared push me away earlier to treat me… now I’m going to make you wait a little.”

He pins your wrists above your head again with one hand, completely immobilizing your upper body. His other two hands explore your body with deliberate and torturous slowness:

He caresses the inside of your thighs, brushes your swollen clit without ever really pressing, pinches your nipples just enough to make you moan, but never enough to fully satisfy you.

The mouth on his stomach descends lower, licking the inside of your thigh, very close to your intimacy, its hot breath making you shiver, but never touching you directly where you need it most.

Every time you try to move for more, he pulls back slightly, keeping you on the edge of pleasure without letting you fall.

“Sukuna… please…” you beg in a frustrated moan, your body trembling with unfulfilled desire.

“No, no,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice deep and amused. He slides two fingers along your slit, barely entering you before pulling out, repeating this slow and superficial movement again and again. “I want to hear you beg louder. I want you to yearn until you can’t think of anything but me.”

His hands on your breasts gradually slow down. He almost completely releases them, leaving only his thumbs brushing your swollen nipples from time to time, just enough to keep you in a state of burning frustration.

His two lower arms remain focused between your thighs: his fingers slowly caress your wet lips, spread your folds, brush your swollen clit with unbearable lightness. Each pass is too soft, too brief. Your body trembles, your hips lifting desperately to seek more pressure, but he pulls back each time with a low chuckle.

The mouth on his stomach lazily licks the inside of your thighs, leaving wet and warm traces very close to your intimacy, but never touching it. His burning breath makes you shiver violently.

“Sukuna… I beg you…” you moan, voice broken, body covered in a thin layer of sweat. “I need… I need more… please…”

He doesn’t answer you, too busy with his torment for long minutes, alternating between his fingers barely penetrating you and the tongue on his stomach brushing you without ever relieving you. Your moans turn into small sobs of frustration, your numb wrists still held above your head by his powerful arms.

Sukuna finally brings his face close to yours, his four eyes shining with cruel and amused desire. “If you really want to come, little favorite…” he murmurs in a hoarse and authoritative voice, “then you’re going to have to ride my tongue. The one on my stomach. Sit on it and rub yourself like the desperate little thing you are.”

Your cheeks burn with shame and excitement. You hesitate for a moment, but the need is too strong. When he slightly releases your wrists, you sit up. Sukuna lies completely on his back, his injuries almost forgotten, his massive body exposed. You settle above him, knees on either side of his torso. As you slowly descend, you immediately feel the heat of the mouth on his stomach against your soaked intimacy.

As you position yourself, your ass and pussy brush against something hard, hot, and thick. You clearly feel his two thick and long cocks, erect against your back. A shiver runs through you as you realize how aroused he is.

Sukuna smiles widely, a carnivorous and satisfied smile that reveals his sharp teeth. His four eyes contemplate you with a possessive and amused glint.

“You feel them, don’t you?” he growls, voice thick with desire. “My two cocks waiting only for you. But first you’re going to use my tongue. Go on. Rub yourself. Show me how much you need me.”

The mouth on his stomach opens wider, its thick warm tongue immediately sliding against your slit, licking slowly from bottom to top with diabolical precision. You can’t hold back a long hoarse moan as you begin to slowly move your hips against it.

You settle more comfortably above him, your hands resting on his chest while carefully avoiding his still sensitive wounds. You begin to rub against the hot and wet tongue, rolling your hips back and forth in a hesitant rhythm at first, then more and more pronounced.

Each stroke of the tongue makes you shiver. It is thick, rough in places, and slides perfectly between your soaked lips, caressing your clit with every movement. Your breasts move with the rhythm of your hips, and your moans become louder, more uncontrollable.

Sukuna watches you from below, his four eyes shining with satisfaction and raw desire. His two lower arms come to rest on your hips, gripping them firmly to guide you.

“You really are a desperate little thing to cum,” he growls in a hoarse and mocking voice, a carnivorous smile on his lips. “Look at you… rubbing yourself like a slut on your king’s tongue.”

His hands guide your movements, making you press down harder against his mouth. He makes you roll your hips in circles, forcing you to press your swollen clit against his tongue which now moves faster, licking and sucking your intimacy with voracity. The sensation is intense, wet, burning. You pant, nails lightly digging into his chest.

Encouraged by the pleasure consuming you, you slide one of your hands behind you. Your hands still find one of his two cocks through the stretched fabric. You clearly feel his first dick, enormous and hard, throbbing under the thick fabric. You begin to caress it through the clothing, pressing your palm and sliding your hand up and down its impressive length.

Sukuna lets out a hoarse growl, almost a guttural moan. His massive body twitches beneath you, and his four eyes narrow in pleasure. “Haaa ugh- you’re too insolent today…” he growls, his voice rougher.

To get revenge, he lifts you above his tongue and penetrates you with it in one thrust, sinking deep into your intimacy. You cry out in pleasure, back arched, as it begins to move inside you, turning, pulling out, plunging back in with force. The rhythm is merciless, as if he wants to punish you for daring to touch him even through the fabric.

“Mhh! Sukuna…! Please..-” you moan, voice broken. Your hips move faster on their own, riding his tongue desperately. Your hand behind you continues to caress his first cock through the hakama, squeezing harder, moving up and down its entire length.

Sukuna growls with pleasure, his hips lifting slightly. His tongue fucks you relentlessly, entering and exiting, licking your inner walls, finding that sensitive spot that makes you tremble violently. His hands on your hips continue to guide you, making you press down harder, faster, forcing you to take everything he gives you.

“That’s it…” he breathes between two growls, voice thick with desire. “I fill you so well with my tongue. You’re so wet it’s dripping onto my stomach. You needed this so badly?”

You moan in response. Your thighs tremble, you lean a little forward. You remove your hand from his cock and place both hands on his chest to keep your balance. The tongue continues its deep and rhythmic assault, taking you higher and higher. The wet and obscene sound of his tongue entering and exiting your soaked pussy fills the room, making you moan even louder.

“Sukuna… ugh- I… I’m gonna…” Your hips move frantically now, riding his tongue without restraint. Each deep penetration makes the liquid of your arousal slap against his stomach. The thick tongue turns inside you, presses hard against that sensitive spot, licks your inner walls with almost brutal greed.

Sukuna growls with satisfaction as he feels your contractions around his tongue. His two lower arms squeeze your hips tighter, holding you pressed against him so you can’t escape.

“That’s it, my little slut…” he growls in a hoarse and dirty voice. “Cum on my tongue. Flood me like the desperate little concubine you are. Show your king how much you get wet for him.”

You cry out, the pleasure becoming too intense. Your nails dig into his tattooed chest, your thighs clenching around him.

The orgasm hits you violently, like a burning wave. Your body arches brutally, your pussy contracting spasmodically around his tongue which continues to fuck you mercilessly throughout your pleasure.

“Sukuna!” you scream, voice broken.

At the same time, Sukuna sits up slightly, one of his upper arms sliding behind your neck to pull you toward him. He captures your mouth in a voracious kiss, devouring your cries of ecstasy. His tongue invades your mouth at the same rhythm that the one on his stomach continues to penetrate you, as if he wants to fill you from both sides at once.

The kiss is dirty, wet, and possessive. He swallows each of your moans while you tremble and cum for a long time, your body shaken by spasms. His kiss muffles your complaints, his tongue turning against yours, nibbling your lower lip.

“There… good girl,” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses, his voice low and hoarse. “Cum hard for me. Your little pussy squeezes my tongue like it never wants to let it go. You’re so greedy… even when I’m injured, you can’t help but get fucked by your king.”

You continue to tremble, the orgasm seeming to last forever. Your hands remain pressed on his massive chest, feeling the powerful beats of his heart under your palms.

The tongue on his stomach gradually slows down, gently licking your sensitive walls to prolong your pleasure, collecting every drop of your arousal.

Sukuna doesn’t break the kiss right away. He continues to kiss you deeply, almost tenderly this time, while holding you against him. When your trembling finally subsides, he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his four red eyes shining with satisfaction and a desire still far from satiated.

“You came so hard…” he breathes against your lips, a carnivorous smile on his lips. “But we’re far from finished, my beautiful.”

Sukuna kisses you again with intensity, swallowing every little cry and every ragged breath. When he finally pulls away slightly, a string of saliva still connects your lips. His four eyes stare at you with dark and burning satisfaction.

“Look at you…” he murmurs in a hoarse and dirty voice, while slowly licking your lower lip. “You just came like never before on your king’s tongue. You flooded my entire stomach. What a dirty little concubine you are.”

You don’t answer, body still sensitive, cheeks burning. Sukuna gives you no rest. His two lower arms firmly grip your hips and lift you just enough to withdraw his tongue from your intimacy. A wet and obscene sound echoes as it slides out of you, leaving you empty and throbbing.

He lays you back on his chest, but this time he sits up a little more, leaning against the cushions despite his injuries. His massive body still dominates you. In one fluid movement, he uses his upper arms to turn you slightly, placing you lower on his abdomen, right above his hakama stretched to the extreme by his two erections.

“Sukuna…” you breathe, still breathless.

“Shh,” he growls, nibbling your neck. “You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?”

His hands explore your naked body with greed. One kneads your breast, pinching your still sensitive nipple, while the other slides between your thighs to slowly caress your swollen and soaked lips. He spreads your arousal all over your slit, making you shiver.

“You’re soaked… ready to take my dick.” His voice is low, dangerous. “But first, I want you to feel how hard I am for you.”

He presses you more firmly against him. Through the stretched fabric of his hakama, you clearly feel his two thick and burning cocks. They throb against your ass and intimacy, enormous, hard as stone.

You can’t help but moan as you rub lightly against them. Sukuna laughs lowly, amused and excited. He grabs your hips and makes you move slowly against him, sliding you back and forth over his two erections still trapped under the fabric.

“You feel them?” he murmurs against your ear, nibbling the lobe. “Two big cocks waiting only to fill you. You are the only one who has the right to take them. The only one I want to fuck until you cry with pleasure.”

Your hands remain placed on his chest, seeking support as he guides you faster. The friction of the fabric against your sensitive clit makes you pant. Sukuna continues to speak, his voice becoming rougher and rougher:

“You are mine. My favorite. My personal little slut. Even when I come back from the battlefield covered in blood, it’s you I want to destroy and rebuild with my fucking dicks. Say it. Say you want me to fuck you.”

“I… I want you to fuck me, Sukuna… please my king.” you moan, voice trembling.

Satisfied, he growls and, with an impatient gesture, uses two of his arms to lower his hakama enough. His two thick cocks finally spring out, heavy, veined and glistening with precum.

The one underneath, slightly smaller than the first, rubs directly against your slit, while the first presses against your clit and belly.

He doesn’t penetrate you right away. He makes you wait a little longer, slowly rubbing his two members against you, sliding them between your soaked lips without entering.

“Look how wet you are for this,” he breathes while looking into your eyes. “You were made for me. To take everything I give you.”

Finally, he aligns his first cock against your entrance. With a slow but firm thrust of his hips, he begins to sink into you. The thickness is impressive. You moan at length, nails digging into his shoulders, as he stretches you progressively, inch by inch, until he is deeply buried inside you.

“Fuck so tight…” he growls, teeth clenched in pleasure. He remains still for a moment, savoring the sensation, then begins to move. Slow and deep thrusts at first, then more and more powerful. His second cock rubs perfectly against your clit with every movement, adding intense stimulation.

His four arms completely surround you: two on your hips to guide you, one on your neck to kiss you, and the last caressing your breast. He kisses you again, devouring your moans while he fucks you with an increasingly sustained rhythm.

“Take it all,” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses. “Take your king’s cock like the good little concubine you are for me. I’m going to fill you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

You pant against his lips, body completely overwhelmed. Each deep thrust drives his massive first cock to the very bottom of you. You feel it so thick, so long, that it directly touches the cervix of your uterus with every push.

The pressure is intense, almost too much, a mix of burning pleasure and a delicious slight pain that makes you tremble. Your belly swells slightly every time he sinks completely, as if your body is struggling to accept him entirely.

Every movement creates a perfect friction that sends electric shocks through your entire body.

“Sukuna… ahh… it’s too deep…” you moan, voice broken. He laughs lowly, a hoarse and satisfied sound, while accelerating the rhythm.

His hips slap against yours with more force. Your intimacy contracts violently around him, squeezing his veined length as if it refuses to let him go.

“You feel that?” he growls against your ear, nibbling your skin. “My big cock hitting the bottom of your belly. I’m touching your little uterus.”

His crude words make you moan louder. Your hands tremble on his chest, nails digging into his tattooed skin. The heat of his massive body, the smell of blood, sweat and sex, everything overwhelms you.

Sukuna slightly changes the angle of his hips, and suddenly every thrust hits that sensitive spot inside you even better. You cry out, body shaking. Your thighs tremble around him, your arousal flowing abundantly along his cock.

He fucks you harder, faster, using his four arms to hold you exactly how he wants. One of his upper arms slides between your bodies to pinch your clit between two fingers, rubbing it at the same time as his second cock stimulates it.

The pleasure rises quickly, almost unbearable. You feel your second orgasm approaching like a gigantic wave. “Sukuna… I… I’m going to cum…!” you sob, tears beginning to pearl at the corners of your eyes.

“Cum,” he orders in a hoarse and authoritative voice. “Cum on my cock like the good little favorite you are. Let me feel your pussy squeezing me.”

You cum.

The orgasm hits you with incredible violence. Your body arches violently, head thrown back. Your inner walls contract spasmodically around his thick cock, squeezing and pulsing as if you want to milk him.

Tears flow down your cheeks, a mix of overwhelming pleasure and raw emotion. Your hands desperately cling to his chest while you scream his name.

“Sukuna…! I love you…!” you sob between two spasms, voice broken by pleasure and tears. “I love you… mhh- I love you so much…”

These words seem to strike him. Sukuna groans deeply, his massive body twitching beneath you. His four eyes widen slightly, then darken with an intense emotion he almost never shows.

He holds you tighter against him, his arms enveloping you while he continues to penetrate you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you are completely exhausted and limp against his chest.

“…Idiot,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice hoarse but strangely soft. He kisses your forehead, your temples, wiping your tears with one of his thumbs. “You cry while telling me that… You really are my only weakness.”

You remain nestled against his massive chest, body still shaken by light spasms, when Sukuna decides he is not done with you. In one fluid and powerful movement, he rolls you onto your back without fully pulling out of you.

He positions himself above you, placing you in missionary. His imposing body completely dominates you, his four arms resting on either side of your head and on your hips.

You are already hypersensitive after your intense orgasm. Your intimacy is still pulsing around his cock, swollen and ultra-sensitive. As soon as he moves slightly, a high-pitched moan escapes you.

“Sukuna… wait… I’m too sensitive…” you breathe in a trembling voice.

But he doesn’t listen. On the contrary, a carnivorous smile stretches his lips as he adjusts his position. He passes your legs over his hips, opening you completely to him, and sinks in with one deep thrust to the bottom.

“You’re going to take more,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “I want to feel you cum around me one more time. I want to get you pregnant.”

He begins to fuck you with passion, long, powerful and measured thrusts. Each push makes his hips slap against yours. His massive cock touches your cervix again, even more intense in this position. The sensation is overwhelming — you are overstimulated, every friction makes you jolt, tremble, and cry with pleasure.

“Ahh! Sukuna… it’s too much… too deep!” you sob, hands gripping his shoulders.

Your inner walls, hypersensitive, contract violently around him with every movement. Every time he sinks completely, an electric shock runs through your belly. Your clit rubs against the base of his second cock with every thrust, adding unbearable stimulation.

Sukuna looks you straight in the eyes, his four red eyes burning with a rare emotion. He lowers his head and kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans and your cries while continuing to pound you with passion.

His hips roll with force, but there is something different this time: it is no longer just raw desire, it is possessive, almost desperate.

“Look how you squeeze me…” he murmurs against your mouth between two kisses. “Even after cumming, your little pussy wants more. You were made for me.”

Your tears flow nonstop down your cheeks. The pleasure is so intense it almost becomes painful, but you don’t want him to stop. Your legs tremble around his hips, your nails scratch his tattooed back.

Sukuna gradually accelerates, his thrusts becoming deeper, faster. The room is filled with the wet sound of your bodies slapping, your high-pitched moans and his hoarse growls.

He slides one of his hands on your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb while continuing to fuck you passionately.

“Listen to me,” he breathes against your lips, voice low and hoarse. “I love you.”

These words, spoken by the King of Curses, make you open your eyes wide despite the tears.

“I love you, little idiot,” he repeats louder, burying his cock to the bottom with every word. “You are the only one I love. The only one who can make me feel this. The only one I will never destroy.”

His words make you tip over. Your third orgasm hits you brutally, even more violent than the previous ones. You scream his name, body arched beneath him, your pussy contracting so hard around his cock that Sukuna groans at length, teeth clenched.

He holds you against him, his four arms completely enveloping you while he continues to pound you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you are completely exhausted, sobbing and trembling beneath him.

“I love you my king…” you murmur weakly between two sobs, completely overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure.

He kisses you tenderly on the forehead, then on the lips, finally slowing his movements to let you breathe. His massive body remains pressed against yours, his cock still deeply buried inside you, throbbing.

“I know,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice softer than it has ever been. “And I will never let you go. You are mine. Forever.”

His movements become more erratic, deeper. You feel his dick swell even more inside you, throbbing violently against the hypersensitive walls of your intimacy. Every thrust makes your whole body tremble.

Sukuna buries his face in your neck, his teeth brushing your skin while his hips slap harder against yours. His growls become rougher, more animal.

“I’m going to cum…” he growls against your ear, voice broken with pleasure. “I’m going to fill you to the bottom, my darling…”

You can only moan weakly, completely overwhelmed. Your hands slide over his back, clinging to him as if your life depends on it. You feel the pressure rising in him, his muscles tensing under your fingers.

With one final powerful and deep thrust, Sukuna sinks all the way in, the head of his cock pressed directly against your cervix. He cums in a long and guttural groan that vibrates through his entire chest.

You feel the hot and abundant jets of his cum pouring into you, thick, burning, filling your belly with powerful pulses. There is so much that you feel completely flooded.

His second member also throbs against your clit, spreading its hot seed over your belly and chest in long jets.

Sukuna continues to move slowly while he cums, as if to push his seed as deep as possible inside you. His four arms hold you firmly against him, keeping you prisoner under his massive body while he empties himself completely.

When he finally finishes, he remains buried inside you, his cock still throbbing, refusing to pull out. He collapses slightly on you, careful not to crush you completely with his weight. The mouth on his stomach gently licks your skin, tasting the sweat and traces of seed on your belly.

You stay like this for a long moment, only the sound of your panting breaths filling the room. Sukuna finally raises his head and looks at you. His four red eyes are softer, almost vulnerable.

He wipes your remaining tears with his thumb, then kisses you slowly, tenderly, a kiss very different from the previous ones: deep, languorous, filled with an emotion he only shows to you.

“You are mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “Not just my concubine. Not just my favorite. You are the one I love. The only one who can make me say such ridiculous things.”

You smile weakly, still trembling, exhausted but happy. Your hands gently caress his chest, avoiding his wounds which have almost finished closing.

Sukuna rolls onto his side without pulling out of you, pulling you with him so you end up lying on his chest. His four arms envelop you like a warm and protective cage. The mouth on his stomach lets out a hot and satisfied breath against your belly.

He slowly caresses your hair with one of his upper hands, his other arms holding you against him. The silence is peaceful, disturbed only by your breathing which gradually slows down.

After a long moment, he murmurs in a deep and serious voice:

“Marry me.”

You raise your head slightly, surprised. His four red eyes stare at you with a rare, almost solemn intensity.

“I want you to become my queen, not just my favorite. I will kill the other concubines. They serve no purpose. They are just useless objects. Only you matter. I will have them executed tomorrow morning.”

Your heart clenches. Despite the fatigue and the warmth of the moment, you gently shake your head. “No, Sukuna… please. Don’t kill them. They have done nothing wrong. They are just… there. I don’t want their blood to be shed because of me. Let them live. Send them far away if you want, but don’t kill them.”

He frowns, visibly displeased. The mouth on his stomach growls slightly.

“You are too soft,” he growls. “That’s why I love you.” He sighs, then finally nods reluctantly. “Very well. I will banish them from the palace tomorrow. But only you will remain by my side. Forever.”

You smile weakly and snuggle tighter against him, placing a kiss on his chest.

“Thank you… my king.”

Nine months later.

Spring bathed the palace in golden light. The cherry trees in the private garden that Sukuna had enlarged for you were in full bloom.

In the royal chamber, you were lying on the platform, exhausted but radiant, holding a small sleeping treasure against you.

Your daughter.

She was tiny, with a tuft of silky black hair, and two small red eyes that sometimes opened to observe the world with curiosity. Two tiny black marks, similar to very small tattoos, adorned her little arms. She had inherited her father’s strength, but also your gentleness.

Sukuna was sitting by your side, in his true form. Two of his arms held you against him, while another delicately supported your daughter’s head. For the first time in his long existence, the King of Curses seemed almost… peaceful.

“She is perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and awed. He brushed the little hand that had closed around one of his fingers. “She will probably be stronger than me. And as beautiful as you.”

You laugh softly, tired but happy.

“She will have your character… and I hope a little of my patience.” Sukuna leaned down and kissed your forehead with infinite tenderness, then placed a very soft kiss on your daughter’s forehead.

“I never thought this would happen to me one day,” he confessed. “Loving someone. Having a family. But you… you changed everything.”

You snuggle against him, your daughter nestled between the two of you. “We are a family now, Sukuna. You, me, and her.”

He tightened his arms around you, protective, possessive, but above all loving.

Outside, the world continued to fear the King of Curses. But here, in this room filled with light and cherry blossom petals entering through the window, he was no longer just a man. A husband. A father. He had finally found something more precious than power.

“I love you,” he murmured against your hair. “I love you too,” you replied smiling, eyes shining with happiness.

Your daughter let out a small sleepy sigh, as if she approved. And for the first time in centuries, the King finally felt complete.

masterlist

taglist: @cat1thecar @love-d-luxe @kyluskaye @laz4k @overrlygoinn @pricescontroversiallyyoungerwife @pinkhibizcus @spiralingminds @kuna-baby

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[tonycries]

Stateside

Synopsis. In this season of The Bachelorette, 22 of Japan’s hottest bachelors vie for a chance for your hand…and between your legs. A plethora of eligible men from a buff personal trainer to a handsome lawyer, to a white-haired model with way too much charm—this might just be the steamiest season yet!

Pairings [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, The Bachelorette AU, reality TV, interviews, confessionals, sIight pIot, one-on-one dates, rose ceremonies, máting presses, they’re FÉRAL, spítting, chokíng, manhandIing, sIight bréeding, tummy buIges, DlLF!Toji, semi pubIic (Ino), sIight exhíbitíonism, sIight bòndage (Higuruma), p talking, p sIapping, fuII neIsons, DÚMBIFlCATION, cervíx smooches, MMA fighter!Sukuna, HEADLOCKS, Gojo’s PÚSSYDRÚNK, babbIing, creampíes, cúmpIay, proposals, possessive!JJK men, showing off, surprise at the end, you get to actually choose, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Those pics from Artemis II are making me saur emotional- also Happy Easter to everyone that celebrates!

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - First rose.

“Name? Toji Fushiguro. Age? Hah- who’re you to ask?” Even his introduction sounds like he’s sizing everyone in the studio up, a single unimpressed brow raised. In front of him Toji keeps his beefy arms crossed - both to stave off the awkwardness of speaking to a rolling camera, and to flex his biceps—just a little bit.

They were still filming the footage of their introductions - Toji hasn’t even entered that infamous mansion yet and somehow he finds his knee bouncing.

He doesn’t know whether he wants to (reluctantly) thank Shiu or throttle him for signing him up for this…bachelorette show. Is this what the youth was interested in these days?

Verdant eyes darting around the dimly-lit room, “I work as a personal trainer, among…many other things.”

A producer probes from one end, “And are you confident you’ll be picked, Fushiguro-san?”

“Confident?” He can’t help but crack a smile at that, “Please- who wouldn’t pick me? One night is all I need.”

A sudden hush falls over the studio—cameramen meeting eyes with each other, and producers who simply couldn’t see past the multi-million yen signs that were popping up in their vision. They’re rubbing their hand together, and urging the handsome man on the seat to continue speaking-

The producer that was more in charge of the B-roll footage speaks to Toji once more, “Now that’s certainly the way to enter this season, Fushiguro-san.” Flipping through the notes given on each condition, “And what else? Could you please tell the audience what you like to do for fun?”

“Hah…going to the gym, martial arts, taking care of my little one.” He scratches behind his neck.

“You have a child, Fushiguro-san?”

“Yeah, I have a son. Just six years old.” And he wonders just what booming sound effect they might add on into the background of this confession. He chuckles just thinking about it - how did Shiu convince him to come on here again? Well…he supposes it might also have something to do with you.

Toji’s eyes slide over deftly to the small screen at the back end of the room - just to get the contestants more familiar with you prior to your actual meeting at the mansion, they were replaying raw B-roll from your own introduction.

And Toji isn’t one to latch onto someone like that but- fuck, his eyes really couldn’t stop drifting over.

The curve of your smile. The way you’re looking behind you.

The way those lashes of your flutters just so—

He’s sure the cameras around him notice and hone in on the slight flickering of his peripherals, and he has to shake his head ever-so-slightly to stop himself from making a fool out of himself right here and now. “Yeah…” He rubs his roughened palms down his thighs, “Could you ah- repeat that last question?”

A few crew members chuckle. “Do you think that being a dad is going to hinder your chances in any way, Fushiguro-san?”

“Nah.” He leans back n’ tightens his crossed arms, scarred lips parting with a grin. “I’m a Fushiguro and I always get what I want—and I know what I want now.”

Eyes wafting over once more.

.

.

.

Most of the contestants still remained after the introduction phase - other than a few that were just plain rude, or the two-toned Zenin bastard that was kicked out for his outdated opinions. Upon entering the mansion, Toji Fushiguro had received your first impression rose that night - a signal to Toji that you’re keeping your eyes on him, and a signal to the 21 other men to up their damn game. 

They were threatened, clearly.

Perhaps that’s why some of them were throwing disgruntled looks his way. Perhaps that’s why they ducked their heads whenever he passed, whispering behind their hands like high schoolers at a slumber party of some sort.

He’s witnessing this bizarreness as he trudges into the mansion’s vast kitchen. And honestly, Toji could almost laugh- but that’s before he’s catching a shred of what garbage they’re spouting. 

“—heard production discussing that he’s a dad.”

That makes him pause.

Though Toji doesn’t let it show on his face, he keeps his hands working on his bottle of protein shake- and his ears turned in the direction of a bunch of stupid bastards that didn’t think they could be heard.

They shoot a few glances at him once more—“You really think she’s gonna fall for an older guy like that? I bet you it’s a pity rose-”

“It’s to get the ratings up, duh.” Another pipes up. “Everyone knows that in the end, she’s never going to go for the old guy.”

“A dad, at that.”

“Shouldn’t he be with his kid, instead?”

“I don’t think she even knows-”

“Probably too embarrassed to tell her-”

SLAM!

The protein shake bubbles over as Toji struggles not to grip it to bits- ultimately ending up banging it down on the marble counter. The group of men swivel their heads around as they realize that he might just have ended up hearing—not so geriatric now, huh?

And Toji feels his face twist into something akin to…a smile. Something welcoming, that you’d never catch dead on his face.

He’s looming one step towards them - just one step - when lo and behold you’re making your way into the kitchen. Baring such a beautiful smile at them all.

And who was Toji to pummel some ugly faces in when your gorgeous one was watching?

Instead, he’s taking you by the hand. 

Not even a second glance at the stunned losers left behind- Toji’s dragging you to the quietest, most private room he can find in this house filled with bachelors. Ultimately—it ends up being his room, and the cameras and microphones can only catch snippets of his confession to you.

“There’s something you hafta know.” Comes out Toji’s usually-gruff tone, “I’m a dad.”

A pause.

And then your voice, “Dad? Like…zaddy?”

Beside himself, he laughs. “No. A dad—I have a son.” And by that excited look in your eyes - the way it piques your interest that this might just be the hottest DILF you’ve ever seen - he already knows that those other bastards are going to eat their words.

.

.

.

“S-so about that- ngh—” All the cameramen had been kicked out - just in time for Toji to let you grapple him onto the creaking bedsprings. Clamoring on top. Swallowing n’ sucking down as much of his thickened length between your legs as you could.

You’re feeling his incredible girth stretching you out- throwing your head back as far as it would go.

As you’re babbling and drooling on his sheer length, Toji clasps onto one side of your hips. He’s using but a fraction of his strength to bounce you towards him - in a figure-eight motion that could barely be completed given the sheer shakin’ of your thighs. Squeezed around him.

Rolling his sage-green eyes with rough laughter, he’s spreadin’ his meaty thighs and bucking up into you—the edge of his cock bulges even deeper inside. Deeper than you ever thought possible. 

Deep enough that your stomach was displaying a slight bulge where he was pushing his erection against your walls. At least you could feel it like so…and the older man wastes no time before reaching up and pressing the front of his palm against it—feeling for that cylindrical outline. “So? Cheh- finish your sentences, doll.”

“I was just about to…” You pout- and he coos. How cute…

Before craning his head down and spitting between those jutted-out lips of yours. Toji looks up at you through the gaps in his shaggy black bangs, “Are those lips wet enough to finally enunciate your words or do I need to spit again?”

“I was saying—so about you being a father…” You’re trailing off - and there’s a glint in his eyes that lets you know that you’ve certainly caught his attention now. Shyly continuing on with the cockdrunken thought that’d been tumbling around your head, “This is definitely too soon- too forward, but um…have you ever thought about perhaps wanting…another…?”

You could barely meet his eyes- fuck.

Though he doesn’t seem to mind that. He’s wrapping his large hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes either way, breathless. Stunned.

Something so charged between the two of you that it’s easily leaving you even wetter—staining the ridges n’ muscles of his abs with your slippery slick.

Toji leans in close enough that you think he’s about to kiss you. Before he suddenly stops - lips millimeters away from your own - and asks. “Who said you could stop, mama?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what—oh.”

And you hadn’t realized that in your tension for his response- you’d completely halted your bouncing hips. You’d completely let your cadence peter out.

And Toji Fushiguro couldn’t have that, now, could he? Especially not when he was…

Before you can even gather your thoughts, he’s arching his sculptured back against the comfy mattress. And fuck- you almost wish you had those cameras right about now—because the way his muscles rippled beneath you was heavenly to look at - Toji smirks like he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

That smug quirk of his lips turning into something far wider, something far more feral once he’s holding onto you from beneath and rut-rut-rutting his slick-sheened cock into you.

Hard hits. Dark brows furrowing in concentration. 

Despite you being the one above, you’re completely at the mercy of his swollen cock. 

At the mercy of his heavy balls plapping! against the forefront of your cunt. At the way he’s using one hand to keep you stable on top of his vicious pelvis, and the other to press down upon that one spot on your stomach where he could feel himself—Toji runs his calloused fingers across where his reddened tip was pokin’ into your cervix.

Bashing away - he smiles as he feels every single one. Every single bruise he’s pounding out into your deepest depths.

And you’re wracking with shivers on top of him once Toji presses down. “Like I said- who said you could stop?” 

There it was again. “I-I mean—”

“If you want to be fucked pregnant, then you’ve gotta continue until those pretty legs of yours are begging you to stop.” Your jaw drops as he continues in his hoarse tone, “You’ve gotta need it.” He tap-taps on top of your core, where your poor innards were being absolutely molded to the thickness of his cock. Vein-covered and hot. “You’ve gotta hunger for it—”

And it doesn’t matter what he could say at this point - every single word was sending your mind spinning even further. “I am-” The globes of your ass stinging at the feeling of his contact-driven body beneath. 

“Nuh uh. You’ve gotta work for it, girl—” Emphasized by pushing down on that spot of your tummy once more, “Arch your back.”

Whimpering, you can’t help but listen.

“Heeeeeh- good.” And as a reward, his free hand finds itself slitherin’ between your swollen folds. So sensitive that you’re damn-near sobbing- he teases out your cute clit and gives a few good pinches. “Now clench your pussy. Swerve your hips ‘round and ‘round.”

“L-like this?”

“Mhmmm. You’ve gotta keep on milkin’ my cock for every last drop m’gonna give-”

Your gaze drops between your legs, “I-”

“And then it doesn’t matter if m’shooting blanks—you’ve gotta milk me even more.” Something crazed in his eyes, he’s leaning into your kiss with a smile. Again and again; he’s splitting up the sweetest syrupy orifices inside you - and with only a few more sloppy slashes inside, you’re feeling your body get overcome by the waves of your high.

It fills you up with an initial warmth- from the tips of your toes and to the crown of your head.

Toji snickers as he fucks you through the soaring pleasure, making you feel as though you were on cloud nine. You’ve never known yourself to cum this easily with someone else before - and it’s only growing stronger and stronger inside of you given every thud-thud-thud against your cute g-spot. 

Roverin’ his red, rounded tip and keeping it there—

You swear you feel his rock-hard cock start to bead out in even more pre- and perhaps something…even more?

“Follow all that n’ we’re not just going to win the season with an engagement…” Toji snickers to himself, palm massaging over the tummy bulge he was fucking into you. “But a baby, too.”

“O-oh…”You wondered how the producers were doing to explain away this.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - HEART RATE <3

“My name is Nanami Kento, I’m 27.” Such a deep, droning tone—one that immediately catches the attention of those watching, one that immediately sets the speakers slightly, sensually alight. 

The camera pans upwards, up and up: revealing a firm torso, clad in such a smart suit. Sculptured core. Strong shoulders. Blond, slicked-back hair that glistened with a thin sheen of gel underneath the studio lights.

Nanami wonders what clips they’d be playing for his B-roll montage - something with the mock-business calls the producers made him act out, something with the sweet treats he bakes as a hobby, something with the long walks on the beach.

The entire process has been a whirlwind ever since Shoko signed him up- for a joke, mind you.

He never expected to actually see himself on trash- ahem, eccentric television.

And yet, here he was.

Hot around his collar as he sneaks a glance at a small screen to the side, replaying raw footage of the show—but most importantly, you. Nanami gulps.

“I’m looking for something serious.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels, and the tips of his ears tingle once he’s looking away from the screen. “My friends signed me up for this show because they think I’m married to my work- hah. Perhaps I do tend to get caught up in it sometimes, but I really do hope to get married someday…to someone sweet, someone tender.” Nanami glimpses at your smile once more, “To someone I can come home to- not a physical house, but to someone I can leave my heart safe with.”

A producer whispers a question.

“Oh? What’s my position at work?” He repeats the question, before staring straight down the barrel of the camera, “CEO.”

.

.

After an early coupling—the producers couldn’t have anyone closed off too early, of course. Where was the fun in that?

And so came…the challenges.

Just a few days into mingling, the producers pulled you aside to let you know that you’d be taking part in the first challenge of the season: The Heart Rate challenge. 

The rules were simple - you were subjected to three minutes of a striptease from each of the contestants, in whatever manner and outfit they chose. In the meantime, a heart rate monitor would be tracking your BPM to announce which contestant had raised your heartbeat the most with their performance. 

Simple…right?

Not.

Not quite when there were 18 (a slight drop from the initial 22) of some of the hottest men baring you with their washboard abs- showing off their sculptured shoulders- shyly bringing themselves closer to you. And though it’d been a tie between a certain white-haired model and your favorite DILF (who’d promised he’d be the one to win), who would’ve guessed that calm, collected Nanami Kento would’ve been the one to catch your eye the most?

He was clunky in his moves, that was true, but the ultimate killing shot came towards the end of his somewhat-awkward routine—when Nanami had leaned in close- half-dressed in his suit, tie dangling ‘round his neck - he’d forgone any extravagant costume.

Closer and closer. You were sure he’d be kissing you before…he gently grasped your hand and pressed his lips to your inner wrist. 

Right on the erogenous zone.

To you, at least, it hadn’t been a surprise when Nanami had won the heart rate challenge.

Toji’s jaw had dropped- the producers were loving this.

And your reward - a night at a getaway suite with no cameras - had ended up a little…

“N-ngh—” Your mouth gapes open on top of the silken pillowcase, spit leaking out at a dizzying rate. Back arching. Thighs clenching-

Nanami shoves a hand between your pretty legs n’ spreeeeads your pussylips apart for him to slip in easier. “Now now, my love…” His smoky breath rumbles beside your temple, head bowed into the crook of your neck. The blond man feels a single line of tears splash down your cheeks, and he’s running his flattened tongue up the salty liquid- “Has this pussy never been fucked by a gentleman before?”

Before you know it, the rugged hand at your core smacks! down on your puffy lips. And you whimper- “Shit, no—?”

“Oh, reeeeeeally?” Nanami’s sweet, sweet tone coos at you—and you’re given no warning before his beefy right arm wraps around your neck in a headlock. “I fear I could tell, darling.”

Just the slightest twitch of his grin- pressed against the clammy side of your neck.

It’s all you’re getting before Nanami’s reeling his toned back even further, even hungrier - he lets his reddened, bulbous tip throb-throb-throb at your first ring of muscle before shoving it all the way down to the bottom. All the way until your walls have gobbled him down to the hilt, and you’re gasping as you struggle to take him.

Spit drivelling. Fists clenching the pillowcase.

And so he waits.

Juuuuuust waits and watches his massively thickened length disappear between those pussylips of yours. Until you’re starting to whimper. Until you’re starting to perk your hips up impatiently-

And Nanami plasters you to his firm body- the weight of his hips leaning down upon yours. The muscles of his v-line digging into the globes of your ass. Pinning you down to the comfy mattress—he’s then languidly gliding his shaft in and out. In and out.

With the most lecherous squelches! Nanami starts off slow at first - looooong and languid…before then thrashin’ himself carnally inside. “Easy—easy there.” Raspy whispers in your ear, “When you take a cock this- hah, big you hafta take it slooooow, my love.”

Your legs twitch as he’s easing inside a few inches even deeper, probin’ that girthy top into the base of your cunt. “Sh-shit…”

“C’mon.” Nanami grumbles, “Breathe with me, my love- breathe.”

“Breathe?”

“Mhm—s’what you do when it’s hard to take.” He huffs, “Never been taught that by those other boys, hm? Never been made to stretch like thiiiiiis-” Just as long as he elongates his words, his knobbly fingertips scissor open your crevice slightly- making it even easier for him to slip in and out. “Never had this needy pussy fed- hah, until she’s full? My poor lady…Never had these spots over here-” You’re trembling as he swipes down tender orifices, “-stimulated, hm?”

Shaking your head.

He audibly controls his breathing, urging you to do the same.

“Thought so. Now breathe in slooooow—” The blond man directs you- and when you’re taking too long to listen, he’s slammin’ his hand down on top of your cunt with another spank. “Yeah-” Once you’re listening to him after a few struggling seconds- “Yeah, you’ve got it. Take in a deep inhale f’me…” 

Just as you do, your stomach contracting with the action, he’s mazin’ away a few more lewd inches - his palm skidding upwards to press down on your stomach. Feeling for himself as he pushes and pushes and pushes inside—“And then- fuck. Then exhale.” Nanami’s usually-steady tone almost…wavers as he says so. 

“It feels so—mmm, good.” You’re babbling away as he slots inside. Almost as if your cunt was made for him, he’s lodging against every slick ridge, crevice, and bundle of nerves. 

Hitting all the way at the very bottom.

He cracks a little smile, “And that’s how a gentleman fucks.”

Hiccuping, those torturous strokes of his made you wrack with primal shivers. “B-but I want it more-” Attempting to push yourself up onto your elbows, “I want it harder, Nanami-”

“Kento.”

Before you can babble out something questioning at his sudden interruption, you’re being shoved right back down onto the springy suite bed. The luxurious mattress engulfing you. The globular head of Nanami’s cock propels even deeper inside you.

He crushes his bicep even harder around your neck- cutting off your airway.

Even harder.

And you’re choking n’ sputtering - both on the stronghold he had on you, and on the thorough movements of his shaft shovelling inside. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as he lodges himself straight at the spongy door to your womb.

Nanami tugs you up to his firm front then, “Call me Kento when we fuck.” Something different in his tone now - something dark and barely held back. It’s as though he was gnawing down on his bottom lip to keep himself in check, he lets out a roughened grunt as he plants one hard stroke—one incredibly hard stroke. “And be careful what you wish for, darling.”

For a gentleman never denies his lady, right?

You whimper. 

Steadying his hips, he’s somehow managing to stretch your delicate walls out to his shape. Somehow managing to rub n’ pinpoint the most sensitive areas with his flared ridges. Already locating where your sweetest spot was- Nanami inches his long cock backwards and bashes it right near your g-spot.

Harder and deeper. Harder and deeper. Again and again. Just so thorough that it feels as though his round, red tip was pushing into your very throat.

In just a few sloppy strokes, he’s mapped out your entire cunt.

And no matter how much you’re moanin’ and clawing at the headboard - attempting to pull yourself up as though you’re caught between fucking down to him and moving yourself away - Nanami merely has to tighten his beefy arm ‘round your neck and haaaaaul you right back down. Pressing you against his plush pecs. 

“For m’not going to leave this cunt high n’ dry like those other boys-” He whispers in your ear, callused fingertips darting down your slippery crevice to pinch your clit. Those pearly white canines of his nip at the shell of your ear, “I’ll have you know that I’m a man, my love. I’m a gentleman.”

Tears welling up in your eyes, “A-and that means…?”

“And that means I’m going to treat you as this lady-” Rolling over your sweet nub - it sends sparks up your spine. “-deserves to be treated. I’m going to take you out to a nice- loooooong dinner. I’m going to fly you out anywhere your sweet heart desires, my love. I’m going to take you out shopping and- fuuuuck.” The irritated end of his shaft trickles out hot precum, “I’m going to let you try to max out my debit cards- ”

You catch his emphasis, “Try?”

He chuckles, “You sure can try. And then…” Before you’re left eagerly wondering what else he has to say- Nanami rests his cockhead against your g-spot inside.

And then he’s making your poor walls bulge with the sheer force of him digging in and in- such raw pleasure that it makes moans rip at your throat. He didn’t know where you were drooling more from at this point - your mouth or your cunt.

Nanami’s golden hair nearly curtains his gaze now, though that doesn’t shield you from the sheer intensity of it. “And only then am I going to fuck this pretty lady.” He plasters his reddening pelvis against the globes of your ass cheeks, “After such a long, hard day of being spoiled- best believe that m’gonna fuck her to sleep. Fuck orgasm after orgasm out of you.”

“A-and what about you?” You’re turning your head backwards to get a good look at the handsome man, “Aren’t you going to cum, Kento?”

“Oh, my love…” It was just so cute how fucked you were - how you still had your manners despite being so. The sweetest smile graces his face, “Having you cum ‘round my cock is my greatest pleasure.”

And then you’re cumming.

Oh- you can’t help it. Head throwing back into his collarbone. Hands grasping at his own- ones in a headlock around you.

Those zaps of electricity curl at your toes, heat taking over your body, and all it takes is a single glide—down the pulsating area of your g-spot for you to be thrown completely over the edge. Wave upon wave of euphoria floods your body until you feel numb- and through it all, Nanami’s slick-glossed cock was shoving into you at a rapid rate. “Please…” Your mouth waters at the perfect way that Nanami was fucking you through each peak, “Sh-shit, it feels so good-”

Vein-covered cock massaging you up and down, in and out.

Even the tiniest bumps of his prominent veins leave you seeing stars- twinges of pleasure exploding between your legs. Your body goes slightly limp during the crescendo of your high.

“Oh, don’t tap out just yet, my love.” 

And something primal inside you twitches at the sound of calm, cool, collected Nanami Kento’s voice like this- before you’re feeling his buff arms pull you right back to him.

“Because this is just the beginning-” He presses a soft kiss to your temple, “-isn’t it, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - One-on-one.

“Hm? Oh, who doesn’t like long walks on the beach?” Geto laughs something deep and rich- unabashed. Blowing his knee-length hair out of his face, some of those Stygian strands get tucked delicately behind one ear. “My name is Geto Suguru, I’m 28, and I’m a professional masseuse.”

Geto’s murky amethyst eyes stare down the camera.

He already knows he’s got them captivated.

He crosses his legs, hands intertwining on top of them. Geto’s smile was utterly feline towards the lens, “And don’t take this the wrong way, but…” When his best friend had jokingly suggested joining this show- he didn’t think that it’d be so fucking fun. “-I’ve never had to chase anyone in my life.”

Geto feels the temperature in the studio drop a few degrees.

A producer stutters, “Y-you aren’t serious…are you, Geto-san?”

“Dead serious.”

He might get his scenes cut out and edited together to paint him as the villain- he doesn’t care. Because it was true—really.

All the confessions, the letters, the sneaking glances down the street. It wasn’t a lie that Geto Suguru never had trouble with the ladies and gentlemen and everyone in-between - to the point where he’s almost grown bored of it. But—you?

He’s seen the raw footage of you on the screens around, and he can’t deny that he was damn intrigued.

You were a challenge. You were someone that made his heart race- and oh, wasn’t that a strange feeling?

“So it’s nice that the roles are flipped for once.” He continues, flashing that infamous smile - breaking a few hearts, or so he’s sure they’ll make it seem so in production later - at the camera once more. He knows how these shows go…“At least, for now.”

.

.

.

“Fuck, Suguru-” Dreamy mewl echoing out in the enclosed space, bouncing off those polished wooden walls. It sounded even louder in the production-made massage room - like music in Geto’s ears.

Geto’s expert hands slide down your body, coated in a sheen of oil.

It smears down your skin—illuminating the spots that he touched. Which seemed quite fitting, in your opinion, as wherever Geto’s fingers traced seemed to leave you alight - his thumb digs into one particularly stubborn knot on your right calf and you shiver.

“Tell me if it gets too much, gorgeous.”

“I will.” You just barely manage out.

The numbers had dropped down to 15, and it’d been time for the one-on-one dates. After your getaway with the blond man, Geto had been the first to whisk you away from the mansion once more—and needless to say that production was having a lot of fun with his profession as a masseuse. The best in Tokyo, actually.

Clients travelled far and wide for an appointment with him - and you’re beginning to understand why.

With you spread face-forward on the smooth table, with your arms crossed in front of you- lips cracking gently open with a sigh once his rugged fingers touch on just one spot—

“R-right there.” On your inner thighs. Too aware of the cameras surrounding you two, you still can’t keep the pleasure out of your voice. 

And Geto shifts aside the towel on your otherwise-naked body - shooting a content smile at the camera as they don’t get to see - to rub up on that specific spot once more. “Here?”

Biting on your lower lip, you’re nodding your head. “There.”

Bit by bit. Press by press; he’s inching up the plane of your right leg - kneading and unravelling those knots you didn’t even know you have. He massaged you so well that you could moan. And just as Geto’s fingertips are about to become so blissful that you might have to ask him to pause - not for you, but for the cameras - he speaks. “You’re very tense here, I can tell you don’t let yourself rest.” The crowns of his thumbs rolling circles at your inner thigh, “You have so many knots here- if you want, I could…nevermind.”

And you’re looking over your shoulder at him with an anticipating gaze. “What was that, Suguru?”

“It’s stupid.” He shrugs sheepishly- though the glint in his eyes was telling you a whole different story. “It’s just…there’s this other type of massage that I never actually offer- but it might help you…unravel your body a bit more. But forget about it-”

“Let’s do it.”

And his lips quirk upwards.

And you knew what he was inferring- you fucking knew it. Which is exactly why you’re holding back a slight smirk as it takes Geto Suguru exactly 1 minute and 30 seconds to kick the camera crew out.

Then less than that to hoist himself up onto the massage table as well, to tug his baggy pants down, n’ have you bouncing on his cock. 

Spit leaking down one side of your lips as you’re crashing your mouth against his pretty, puckered one- moaning straight into the hot, open-mouthed kiss as Geto’s thick cock swabs inwards. He was just about eight inches, and decorated with so many veins—he might just be stretching you out in ways you never thought were possible to feel before.

The plumpness of his cockhead, the zig-zagged patterns of his veins.

Geto didn’t just have his size going for him- he manages to curve his incredible length just perfectly inside your tight channel. Targeting your sweet spot within mere moments of finding himself between your legs—“Oh-ohhhh.” Crackling out from the back of your throat, “S-Suguru, that feels sho good.”

“Sho good, huh?” You feel his grin against your own mouth, “Don’t tell me you’re that cockdrunk already, gorgeous? And I haven’t even used my fingers on you, yet…”

Before you know it, he’s reaching up his mean left hand- letting it smush your cheeks together. You’re sure that that makes you create such a lewd expression upon your features, but Geto merely beams down at you as though you were the most beautiful creature he’s ever set his eyes upon.

Amethyst peripherals murky with something indiscernible. “C’mon- can you say something without slurring? Can you count from one till ten?”

Crossly- you couldn’t believe his sheer audacity right now. “Of course I can count until—ngh.” Only to be cut off with a thorough slash of his rounded cockhead- you feel it throbbing right against the spongy layer of your cervix.

Gluing himself even deeper with a few wads of his sploshin’ sap. He cracks a smirk, “That’s not the way you count till ten.”

Your mouth gapes.

And Geto takes his long, lingering time to lean closer and spit straight between your stunned lips - before using that left hand of his to close your mouth. “You’ll catch flies, gorgeous.” He titters to himself. The massage table creak-creak-creaks with each thrust of his - and his pace was something thorough and lingering.

Geto knew that his mushroomy tip felt good - and he was using it to his advantage. Not a single hammer of his hips was without reason—he was making sure to massage all the inner linings of your walls - every nook and hidden crevice - before he’s emptying out dollop after dollop of pre at the very bottom of your pussy. Giggling to himself at the way you’re utterly ruined on his long, long length- “Yeah- fuck, yeah. My poor baby can’t even speak?”

Your g-spot, however…he merely teases. Lightly grazing his flared tip near that treasure trove of nerve ends, but never quite hitting it. Again and again.

The velvety walls ‘round that spot quiver with need.

“But can she at least remember her own name?” He echoes. And throughout it all, you’re mindlessly attempting to angle your hips further into his- the ruthless man grabs onto a handful of your hair with his right hand. Jerking your face to look into his own, “I said- can she at least remember her own name?”

You hiss at the searing burn—

“Tell me your name, my cockdrunk girl.”

“Suguru- fuck.” Barely even registering the question - you doubt you could even hear him by this point. 

Merely babbling away expletives at the way he’s fucking his cock up even more rudely—he’s poundin’ and poundin’ up into you in sloppy, structured hits. Deep. And Geto peers up into your dazed pupils whilst he fucks you - whatever he’s seeing there makes him smile, “Suguru? Heh- you think that’s your name, gorgeous?”

Mouth gaping, “I-I mean…”

“Well, you’re not technically wrong.” He hums- more to himself than anything. 

And by now he’s rammin’ his length away into you at such a pace that the pap-pap-papping sounds were nearly louder than your own mewls. The sheer pressure of the strokes leaving you limp. Tenderly, you’re pushing your face into the sweaty crook of his neck- only for Geto to pull you back once more with the vicious restraint he has on you. 

Making you stare into his ravenous gaze, “Look at me when m’speaking, gorgeous- you might be fucked stupid but you’ve gotta remember your manners, right?” Taking your cutesy whimpers as an affirmation, “And you might not be Geto Suguru but…how about Mrs. Geto Suguru?”

Shockwaves of pleasure cascade down your spine.

“Yeah- yeah, you like that?” Snickering to himself - who’d have thought you’d be such a romantic? He was, too…not that he was fucking you like it.

Geto was fucking you rough and hard- bruisin’ his rotund girth at the back of your pussy. He was leaving his mark for anyone else that came after - let them know that he’d been the one to make you feel so good. “I can take your last name, too, if you’d like.” 

You’re breathless, “You- you really want to win—”

“Oh? So you can speak.” He speaks with slight amusement, “And, gorgeous- I really want to make you mine.” His tip bulges even bigger at the feeling of you clamping down- shit, it feels so good that he has to gnaw down on his bottom lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. Panting out again, “Mrs. Geto Suguru.”

“Fuck-” You’re bouncing down onto his gluttonous cock.

“Mrs. Geto Suguru-”

“Please-”

“Mrs. Geto Suguru—” The pretty man smiles to himself as he’s finally - finally - pressin’ down on the button of your g-spot. Watching as your thighs quake, watching as your eyes spin to the back of your head. “Cum on my cock, Mrs. Geto Suguru.”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Who the hell doesn’t wait after knocking?

Surely part of the producers’ ploy; both your heads snap in the direction of the massage room door to see a flash of auburn hair—followed almost immediately by the door slamming closed once the intruder registers what he’s witnessing. And a familiar skater boy’s voice emanating through the slim wooden panel, “S-sorry–!”

You and Geto can do nothing but look at one another.

You’re sure the rest of the contestants would be hearing about this very…very soon.

Though Geto doesn’t look perturbed in the slightest. And he’s the first to move-

He’s the first to flip your positions around so that you’re splaying your back against the massage table now. His toned body hovering over you, he doesn’t waste a second before swatting- yes, swatting aside your trembly thighs n’ swivelling his length inside once more.

Long, luxurious slides down the narrow channel of your cunt.

You’re taking his strokes with a moan, “Suguru—y-you’re not bothered by- ngh, that in the slightest?”

“Why would I be?” He answers. And with that said, his soft fingertips snake between your legs- pinching that swollen clit of yours. “In fact…”

Just the slightest roll of his thumb - and you’re already feeling pleasure wreak havoc on your body. Then he’s pressing, then he’s tugging- then he’s alternating between teasing and pulling and massaging your needy nub over and over in ways that drive you wild. Spelling out what you’re piecing together to be his name—

Geto was about to show you what a masseuse could truly do.

“-how about we step up that volume, Mrs. Geto Suguru?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Fan-favorite.

“I-I’m Choso Kamo, I’m 29, and…um, I honestly don’t know why I’m here.” The dark-haired man beneath the spotlight fidgets with his thumbs, lips barely moving as he attempts to continue the introduction that he’s surely fucked up by now. “My little brother submitted an application on my behalf because he thought that The Bachelorette would be p-perfect for me to find someone and…um…yeah…”

The producers look at each other. Eventually, one of them calls out—“So is she?”

Choso startles- almost as if he didn’t expect to be addressed. Almost as if he didn’t expect himself to be perceived at all. “Well…”

And his eyes drift towards the small screen behind the camera - one that had been playing B-roll footage of you so that the contestants could get more familiar prior to the actual meetings. Oh. It’s strange how as soon as his gaze latches onto you, his eyes can’t seem to find any other purpose but to linger.

Choso’s shoulders raise up to his ears- as if to cover the faint blush that was creeping onto them. “Yeah…” He whispers, “Yeah, she’s just beautiful.”

And it’s all quiet on-set for a second—nothing sounding out but the mechanical hum of the lens as it zooms in on the flush he can’t deny. Choso jumps back a bit as he realizes just what they’d been focusing on, and he’s flickering his eyes uncertainly towards the cameraman behind it- “Are those things always going to be on?”

The other man nods, deadpan.

“Oh.” Choso gulps, “W-well I made sure my little brothers won’t be watching this season- but for the erm…Tiktaks? For the Tiktak edits they’re sure to get, could you make sure you get my good side, please?”

A producer asks, “And just for your brothers- if you could say something to them now, what would you say?”

And he gets a slightly determined smile upon his pretty, pretty face. “Your big brother’s going to win.”

.

.

.

“So…bachelors, as you may know, this week’s Rose Ceremony is going to be like no other- because tonight we’re introducing the infamous golden rose—” A hush falls over the set. The host turns and blinds you and the lined-up contestants with his smile - one of those contestants being your future husband, perhaps.

You’re nodding back at him with a confidence you hoped your expression falsified.

And he turns back to the camera, “Tonight, whoever you choose to hand the golden rose to-” An impression rose just like the others before it, only this time it’d been sprayed gold and held a weight far heavier than just the paint. “-is who you’re going to be going on a three-day romantic getaway, with a honeymoon suite to boot—! No cameras.”

Twisting the rose nervously in your hands, your mind still whirled with names. So many handsome men. So many eligible bachelors- fuck, how were you ever going to choose?

“But…there’s a catch.”

12 contestants - and you - snap their heads over to the slyly beaming host. 

He claps his hands in satisfaction, “You won’t be the one choosing your getaway partner.” Your jaw drops- and the host continues into the greedy lens—“It’ll be all of the world that’s been voting, day in and day out, throughout this week to pair up just who they want to see more of. Just who they think will be the perfect match for you…” 

“Oh goodness.” You feel something - excitement, anticipation, fear - shoot through your blood vessels.

And looking straight at you, the host pulls out a glossy envelope from his suit jacket. You’re eyeing it as though it was a ticking bomb - and he merely waffles at the camera some more. “And our viewers have chosen: your romantic companion, your getaway partner, the man you’ll be sharing a bed with is—” The words hang in the air for a few more seconds, perhaps minutes, perhaps what feels like hours. “Choso Kamo.”

.

.

.

“Shit…” Choso’s jaw drops, pupils turned into the cutest lil’ hearts and peering right up at you—as you lower yourself down onto him. 

His sensitive, twitching shaft disappears between your pussylips, and one hand of his immediately darts upwards to clasp at the side of your waist. Even just touching you like this…fuck, it sends bursts of electricity shooting from the tips of his fingers and up to his frazzled brain- then right back down again to his rock-hard cock.

He doesn’t think he’s been harder in his entire life.

Choso’s letting out a rugged moan as he fits inside your dripping wet cunt with a sluuuuurp! Pretty brown eyes rolling to the back of his skull- he’s shocked once he flutters them open to find that you’ve leaned yourself closer to him.

“O-oh, god…” Words barely a whisper. 

One of your hands softly cupping the side of his face, “Something wrong, baby? Would you like to stop?”

“No.” The answer explodes out of him faster than he can control, and before you can register it - before he himself can register it - Choso’s quickly pressing both hands deeper against your hips to keep you from leaving. Even though there didn’t seem to be any immediate urgency of that- he doesn’t let up for a single second.

Digging his nails into your flesh- he’ll apologize for that later. Planting his feet on the soft mattress. 

He slams you down to pin that hot, wet cunt of yours against his pelvis - until your clit caresses his happy trail—such a primal scratch down where you were most sensitive. And his body moves before his damn mind as Choso’s swabbin’ his cock inwards-

Not with any specific rhyme nor reason in mind.

Nothing but the primal urge to fill you up - to chase that heavenly squeeze of your walls. They’re spreadin’ apart juuuuust wide enough to gulp down his inches, and then when he’s reeling his hips back you’re clamping down until the man’s held hostage- gladly.

Shit- his lower lip trembles at the feeling. This was like nothing he’s ever felt before- and he hasn’t—

“You’re a virgin, Choso?” Your sweet, sweet hum breaks through the haze of his lust- just about the only thing he hears past the papping! of his hips arching up into yours.

And the man below you blinks up in confusion for a few seconds- long lashes dotted with tears. Before the smile upon your face makes him realize that his muddled brain - all your pussy’s fault - might have just said those last thoughts out loud…

You’re coming to the same realization he is. And you’re cooing down at him- pushing aside the sweat-dampened curls of his bangs. “Awww, pussydrunk already, baby?”

“M-mhm…” He’s nodding languidly.

“Tha’s alright.” You tut, “You’re doing so well for your first time- oh.”

Almost as if jinxing it - though that really wasn’t your fault, he was barely holding himself together as is - he throws his head back n’ lets his aching cockhead dribble out a few wads of…cum. Just from that. Just a few ivory beads of sap that glue to the veeeeery back of your pussy, making Choso lose his mind every time he’s gliding down your cervix and feeling his mess splosh ‘round inside you. 

A singular line of cum leaks out of you, and Choso shivers as he catches it. “S-sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to-”

“Nothing to apologize about.” You’re cutting him off with a smile, meeting his thrusts by grinding your cunt down to meet his cock. “You’re still doing so well, baby…fuck, look how much you’re cumming.” And with that said- Choso thinks he sees the pearly gates themselves open up once you’re spreadin’ aside your thighs—just the slightest bit.

But Choso Kamo takes one look between your naked, shivering legs and moans.

Your pussy was just drenched in his cum - absolutely drenched. He hadn’t even recognized that he’d been cumming so much until he’s taking a peek, and he’s watching a few velvety ribbons of seed run down either side of your legs - creating a sheen that smears n’ spreads the more you’re meeting his cadence with your own. Skin against skin.

He’s letting out a ruined whimper—and you’re pushing down on his chiselled chest with a snicker. “See that, baby? You’ve been- hah, holding back for so long.” Even the slightest sound of your voice is enough to make his overstimulated cock spark with pleasure- he’s sure he empties out a few more droplets of cum. “How long have you been wanting to fuck me?”

Choso startles- eyes darting up to meet your expression. Damn that smile of yours. “I-I don’t know what you’re…”

“Oh, c’mon—” Teasing him. Putting pressure on his toned body, you’re now fully letting him recline- it was just so fun how much in awe Choso was…especially when you’re taking control instead.

Almost as if he was being thrown further and further into dreamland with every sloppy drag of your cunt - swallowing him up from his round, blushin’ tip and aaaaall the way to his hilt. His heavy balls, tightening as though he wanted to cum again. “With the way you’re grabbing me? With the way you’re- hah, rutting up to me?” Shoving between his pecs once more—“Down, boy.”

He whimpers.

“How long have you been wanting to fuck me, Cho?” Your lips twitch with amusement- he looks torn between sobbing in pleasure and sobbing in embarrassment. “It’s alright…I won’t judge-”

“Always—” Choso finally echoes out with a sudden squeeze of your velvety pussylips.

Practically wrenching the answer out of him- he laughs out something hollow at the back of his throat. “I’ve a-always wanted to…ngh.” The pointed edge of his tip draaaaags down your cervix, and he’s shivering as he recognizes just where your womb was. If only he could…“Ever since I first met you, I-I’m ashamed to admit but I’ve always wanted to stuff myself between those gorgeous legs.”

You’re giggling scandalously at his admission.

But Choso wasn’t done just yet-

Soon enough, he’s using the firm hold upon your hips to increase n’ increase his pace. Grabbing you firmly and burrowing his cum-soaked tip deeply between your folds- “I’ve wanted to know what she’d feel like wrapped around my cock.” Almost on cue, he’s throbbing between your legs- even harder. “Wanted to know how she tasted-” 

“Don’t tell me you’re…”

And without a second thought, one hand lifts off your body - for the briefest split-second - to swipe at your sopping slit. Catching a few droplets of your mess and bringing it up to his lips to suck.

He moans at the taste of you, “Wanted to know how she’d take me. Wanted to feel her get stuffed-” Choso grumbles, and you’re vying to catch up with his needy pace - utterly needy. “Wanted to fill her up so much that every other man afterwards w-would be able to feel me…”

And then he’s trailing off, a harsh blush flooding his pretty features.

“B-but that’s just stupid-”

“Why’s that stupid?” He looks up at you in shock- only to find that you’re already beaming. “How would you know if you don’t try? Heh.”

“I think m’gonna cum again.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BOMBSHELL!

“These losers aren’t going to know what fuckin’ hit them.” Sukuna scoffs, crossing those beefy arms in front of him. Unlike the introductions for the other contestants, he had…his t-shirt off. For what reason, you might ask?

Well, you’d go unanswered.

Even the producers were unsure just what had compelled their latest bombshell to display his chiselled front. But that didn’t stop them from keeping the cameras rolling- already knowing that audiences were going to go wild for the pink-haired, foul-mouthed addition to your roster. “Name’s Ryomen Sukuna- remember that. Age doesn’t matter. Occupation’s professional MMA fighter.”

He gestures to those scarred ears of his, as most fighters don like medals.

Behind him, there’s cues for footage of his uproarious and successful MMA career - particularly one clip of him winning the title of UFC light heavyweight champion last year - to be added in post-production. And he cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, “Best know that I’ve never lost a match before- and I don’t plan to change that anytime soon. I bet those losers at the mansion- and my pretty lady are going to be damn excited to see me.”

There’s a cue card for him to talk about his hobbies.

“Haaah…” All that boring shit- he wonders who gets off to small-talk on a show like this. “Boxing. Lifting. Meditation. Cardio- many different types of it.”

One producer pipes up, “And why that part about remembering your name, Sukuna-san? Could you clarify that for the viewers?”

“Heh-” Sukuna leers something sinful, crimson eyes flickering over to the small screen of your own footage. It was some B-roll of your own introduction interview, muted for the moment yet he thinks he could almost hear your soft chuckle in his ears- playing on repeat over and fucking over. “Because my future wife’s gonna be moaning it soon enough.”

Someone drops a boom pole.

There’s a cut in filming called out. He knows they won’t be editing that out.

.

.

.

“H-haaaah, now that’s just unfair.” 

Toes curling. Your back arching deeply into Sukuna’s sculptured front- it was almost Herculean how he flexed and tensed his abs to show off…particularly when it came to ramming his hips up into yours. Out of all of the contestants, Sukuna was the only one to put you in a full nelson.

“Heh- what’s unfair?” Sukuna’s deep trundle makes your body erupt in shivers- the smugness was practically seeping into every syllable. “Isn’t the bombshell supposed to mess up this pussy- whoops, I mean…season?”

“You’re messing up nothing but my peace that’s for sure…” You’re grumbling back at him - slightly nervous to meet his crimson eyes.

Though you’d have been foolish to think that the MMA fighter wouldn’t catch that- he’s grasping the edge of your chin with a single hand. Tugging your face behind to look at him. All of it in just a few seconds. And Sukuna raises one pink brow as he smirks, “Look me in the eyes when you’re saying something like that, brat.”

“Y-you’re messing up nothing but my peace—” You’re just barely managing to stammer out - Sukuna was savage with his thrusts. And they’re only seeming to grow even faster as you’re answering, as though he wanted to see you struggle n’ choke around his thick cock. 

Around that pierced head of his.

The frigidness of his metallic Prince Albert runs down the sides of your walls - and he’s purposefully stopping right before where your g-spot was pulsing. “That’s not what this cunt’s telling me.”

And without any warning, he’s reaching one hand down and smacking! the swollen top of your pussylips. 

“Isn’t that right, my pretty girlie?” 

Not talking to you—he’s talking to your cunt now. 

Dragging the fatness of his thumb - that greedy edge - vertically down your sopping slit. He collects the wetness that leaks out of you, “My wet girlie—yer a lot more honest than this one here, hm?”

You shiver as he slams his rugged palm down on your cunt once more. 

How’d you even get here?

Right now, the contestants had been weaned and weeded out until only your very favorites had remained…and then there was Sukuna. It was just today that the bombshell MMA fighter had been introduced to the mansion, and for the short amount of time he’d gotten here- he’d already started seven fights, triggered an emergency meeting, and had enough time to whisk you away on a one-on-one date that had ultimately ended up like…this.

Your legs hooked behind your head. Your back arching against the mattress of your beach cabin—the waves rolled softly outside.

The only thing separating you from it were the semi-sheer curtains of the cabin, swaying softly in the balmy breeze. What a romantic date the producers had set up- for an utterly unromantic man. 

Or so he was fucking you like it.

Thank goodness you’d left the cameras behind, though your glaring disappearance was nothing if not scandalous. There goes your reputation…you ponder. This might’ve been the fastest that you’ve gotten into bed with any one of them. And you know he’s bad news, you know you shouldn’t like him so much- you know that out of all those eligible bachelors, Sukuna was going to be the most dangerous for your heart (and between those legs of yours).

But you just couldn’t help yourself. 

You’re leaning your head back against his firm collarbones- mewls falling from your lips at an incredible rate. 

Sukuna’s veering his hips back and rub-rub-rubbing his flared tip around the area of your g-spot—but never directly upon it. Frustration makes your brows furrow, and you’re just about to bounce your hips down when-

“Ah ah—now what do you think you’re trying to do, woman?”

Just then you’re being pinned right back down with a sudden thwack! of his fingertips. Hard and fast. They’re lingering over your pussylips for just a few seconds, before reachin’ in-between and pinching your cute nub.

And as you’re shaking in his arms - “Did ya think that after so much back-talk you’d suddenly get to play nice?” Sukuna titters to himself, mean lips pressed up against your temple—it would’ve been a sweet gesture…but this was Sukuna you’re dealing with. “Ryomen Sukuna never plays nice.”

“P-please—” Had this been any other time, then you might’ve been embarrassed by just how much he managed to shatter you with his fast, hard-hitting strokes.

Your thighs are flapping lewdly open, and he’s teasin’ your clit even harder with his fingers. Though he still narrowly manages to avoid your damn g-spot—“Wh-what do I have to do to- ngh, get you to hit that spot?”

He acts confused, “What spot?”

“That spot-”

“Hah? I don’t know any spots-”

“H-here…” Rounding your hips down - in something that halfway-resembled a figure-eight. It’s the closest you’re getting to Sukuna grazing your g-spot: the lightest touch of his crowned, throbbing tip. Swollen enough to stretch apart your walls like none other. He’s barely slipping past that orifice with his vein-covered shaft, and it’s already enough to make you moan—

“And who said you deserve that, brat?”

Crossly, “Me- I said that.”

He laughs deeply in disbelief, “Hear that, pussy?” Slapping that cunt of yours once more, “The audacity- it doesn’t matter if I wasn’t the one ta say you deserve this. After all, who does this pussy really belong to?”

Starting to babble out some answer-

Before yet another spankin’ leaves your folds feeling raw - and your eardrums echoing with the dampened noise once more.

It’s all the answer that Sukuna needs.

He nods as though he’s just been handed the answers to the universe, “See- see—did ya hear what she said?” This time, he’s asking you. And you’re barely given the opportunity to answer between his roughened thrusts, “She said that she’s really mine. She’s always- hah, been mine.”

You’re shivering, “A-always…”

“And she wants you to beg for your orgasm.”

That being said, Sukuna reaches down and clasps your neck with his thick digits. Choking you- choking your moans, he’s wrenching such primal noises out of you through the combination of the pressure on your airway, and the pressure between your legs. 

Shovelling his thiiiick cock over and over-

“C’mon, my spoiled brat—” Sukuna chuckles, “Beg-” Between thorough thwacks! of his rotund cockhead hitting your cervix. You always have said that Sukuna was so big it feels as though he had two cocks…“Beg, girl, beg—”

“P-please.” 

“Tch, you can do better than that.”

The only thing you’re left to do - after so many battering rams of him bottoming out - is to meet his gaze with your teary one. Your bottom lip trembling with sobs, “Please, hit my g-spot.”

“What was that?” He leans in. Smile utterly mocking.

And though your stomach churns, you can do nothing but repeat, “P-please hit my g-spot…please let me cum.” At the very least, now he was letting you swerve your hips back into his - “Please make my- your…pussy feel good.”

And it’s that last sentence that deals the final blow.

“Damn right.”

Because in the next breath you take, Sukuna arcs his pelvis deeply and thuds his drippin’ wet cockhead against your g-spot. Just the slightest push. Just the smallest pressure. And yet, it’s still enough for you to throw your head back and cum—

“Fuh-fuck…” It takes you by surprise - sure, you’d been feeling a few zaps n’ whips of something at the pit of your stomach, but you didn’t expect for Sukuna to actually make you cum so easily. It almost leaves you shy.

For he levers his thick cock backwards, balls twitching eagerly once he pushes his entire length inside. Inside and inside. Fucking you through every single wave - Sukuna’s cold piercing targets your g-spot exactly at the moments where you felt the dopamine in your body surge, and the stark contrast in temperature is only making you even dizzier.

Even needier to feel him.

And he certainly wasn’t leaving you wanting for long- soon enough, Sukuna’s poundin’ away at your sweetest spots so hard that it stings both your slamming skin. His was red and swelling with the print of your hips on his hips.

Yours were barely able to keep up-

Just as you feel the hot flashes of your high bate, Sukuna’s pulling you close and whispering—“Knew that hadn’t changed…” And he’s gesturing to the way you’d - in the heat of your moment - intertwined your fingers with his. Without you even realizing. “Heh, those losers are going to be so pissed when they find out.”

When they find out what you and the producers already know…That Ryomen Sukuna was your ex-boyfriend.

♡ INO TAKUMA - Group date.

“My name is Ino Takuma, I’m 23.” Ino’s pushing back his dark-colored beanie, exposing tufts of cute caramel hair- “And I’m a professional skater.”

“Professional skater?” A producer urges him, “Tell the audience more.”

“W-well, I’ve been skating for a while now, and…” The sheer amount of focus being put on him makes him blush, fingers fighting the urge to pull down his beanie - entirely over his face - once more. Goddammit—Ino watches every season of this show, he can’t deny - trash television was his thing. Saturday nights with a facemask on, phone turned off, volume turned up. So when one drunken night out with his friends meant that he ended up applying for it…he didn’t think he’d actually get in. 

It’d been like navigating through thick fog- so many cameras, and boom poles, and acting suave (somewhat) for his introduction footage. It almost made him dizzy. “You might have seen me ‘round in a few competitions…some competitions…the Olympics…”

“The Olympics-”

“Yeah.” He fiddles with the hemline of his beanie awkwardly.

“And did you win a medal, Ino-kun?”

Ino smiles because he knows that it’d been plastered across every headline and sports magazine - there’s no need for him to clarify. Though he does it for the clicks anyways, “I did. First place.”

Excited whispers spread around the studio.

The skater shuffles once more beneath those harsh white lights- this time more out of embarrassment than anything. The cameras roll eagerly, following every movement, and a producer probes at his silence—“And does this mean you’ll be aiming for first place to win her heart, too?”

He chuckles nervously, “I won’t be aiming for it.” Scratching behind his neck, he cocks his head up and catches sight of the B-roll footage they were playing of you on one screen. “I’ll be first.”

.

.

.

Okay, so maybe his introduction was a little overconfident…but wasn’t everyone’s?

Ino Takuma has watched many a dating shows in his twenty-something years, alright; which means he’s gotten used to the pompous one-liners, the nonchalance that everyone attempts to show, the self-assurance—he’s just never wondered what happens when that self-assurance simply…doesn’t produce results.

Which- alright, alright…that’s not to say that he hasn’t produced any results.

As more and more of the contestants dwindled away, Ino still found himself (somehow mercifully) still on the show. And he’s had a handful of good conversations with you, along with a few bonding moments. 

It’s just- how come that long-haired masseuse managed to get you into his arms - and on his cock…he’s ashamed to admit he actually saw when he’d walked in on the two of you - all on this show?! Ino didn’t even know that sort of thing was allowed here…

And he feels foolish admitting it but he’s grown to really, really care about you. So thinking about you with some other guy like that pink-haired bombshell or the CEO or whatever—it was starting to make him tick. 

Which is why he’s jumping to drag you away from the others at the next group date. 

This time, the producers had arranged an indoor skating park date, perhaps to make up for the fact that he hasn’t gotten a one-on-one date yet. 

And as you’re a little wobbly on that new board, Ino’s using his expertise to teach you, to hold your hand, to gently direct you around the park—and eventually let you direct him out of sight of the cameras.

Soon enough, you’re pushing him against the wall of the restroom on-site - vast and clean, and spacious enough for you to push him into one of the stalls. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing me.” Leaning up on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear, “We’ve gotta be quick, though.”

He thinks those might just be the best words he’s ever heard. 

You’re turning around and placing both palms on one plastic wall of the stall. Panties in your pocket. Smirk something delicious. 

And it takes just a few sloppy strokes between those pretty cunt lips of yours for Ino to become utterly gone—

He’s pussydrunk already.

Mahogany eyes criss-crossing. Weakening in the knees.

The skater holds onto either side of your hips as though to guide the way you’re fuckin’ back into him- but really he’s gripping onto you for dear life. To stop himself from collapsing onto his knees on this damn washroom floor. To stop himself from making a complete and utter fool of himself - the curve of your hips is the lifeline he can’t let go of.

And yet another wretched moan leaves this throat when you’re veering your hips down to his base and clenching-

“Taku, baby…” Your giggle comes out unfiltered, harmonizing with the sinful sound he’s just let out. “You’ve got to be quiet, otherwise they’re going to find us- cameras and all.”

He lets out a slight whimper at the thought, “I w-wouldn’t want you to be exposed because of me like that.”

“Mhm—” Just as soon as Ino’s agreeing to be quiet- you’re gently suctioning your cunt down until his hilt - coating your gooey slick along all his inches - and he’s letting out a euphoric noise. Even louder than before. And you’re just looking over your shoulder with a grin, “Now, what did I say about being quiet, Taku?”

Sounding as though he was on the verge of tears, “I-I can’t help myself, sweetness.” Tone husky. Octaves higher. His poor hips stutter out a singular thrust, and even that seems too much for the skater boy to handle- he reaches up to tug down his beanie. “It just feels so good…maybe m’just not deserving of your cunt- ngh.”

“Awww, don’t say that, baby.”

With a resounding squelch! you’re letting Ino pull out - and instead of telling him to tuck himself back into his pants, as he might’ve expected, you’re gesturing for him to seat himself down on the closed, clean toilet. 

Straddling his slender hips and kissin’ his blushing tip to your entrance. 

It doesn’t take long for you to siiiiiink yourself down onto him—he might not have been the thickest, but Ino was a length that you swear you could feel at your very throat. And he was actually the perfect girthiness to stretch apart your walls enough that tears prick behind your eyelids- but still smooth n’ slim enough for you to immediately start up an urgent pace. Quick.

Up and down. Up and down.

Ino’s shaft had a particularly prominent vein going down his middle that made you shiver - it was in the perfect position to massage your puckered, pulsing g-spot. You could feel the squiggly line of it practically emblazon against your wet walls. 

Your hamstrings keening at the stretch - and Ino was, too.

At least…until you’re tugging out the damp panties you’d kept in your pocket this entire time. And the next moment that Ino’s letting his maw ajar with a sudden moan- you’re quickly stuffin’ his mouth full with the lacy fabric.

Smirking, “See? Isn’t that a lot better, Taku?”

First, Ino’s eyes go wide—then he’s blushing as he registers just what you’d put in his mouth. Then he’s letting those dilated pupils roll aaaaall the way to the back of his head at the feeling of your cunt lavishing out looooong, luxurious thrusts. Squeezed tight around his cock.

He throbs even harder inside of you, “Mmmpf- ngh—sh-sho…can’t even-” Muffled.

“Shhh, you don’t have to say a thing.” You’re reassuring him, pushing back his beanie- there. Those chocolate-brown eyes of his were so pretty. You’re witnessing him tear up - and you weren’t sure whether that was because of the sudden blockage in his airway, or because it just felt so good—you had a sneaking suspicion that it was the latter. “Just be good f’me and fuck up to me, okay?”

“M-mhm.” He’s nodding obediently.

Because it might’ve been him teaching you how to skate out there- but in here…he was all yours.

He was at your beck and call. At the mercy of your bounces-

You’re telling him to go easier on your poor cervix - and though it takes every single shred of will within him to do so - he’s listening to you without fuss. You’re telling him to speed up, and he’s gladly bashin’ away his eager cock inside of you until the skin of his pelvis feels raw…

You’re telling him that someone might be inside the bathroom, too, and he’s too gone on your pussy to even compute—

“Taku.” Stern tone. Serious eyes- despite the fact that your pussy wasn’t letting up for a single second. You’re grabbing directly by the throat - something his cock twitches at - and bringing him up to face you. “Someone’s in here, okay?”

He feels goosebumps go down his spine, “Mmmps- schtawp?” 

You giggle, “No…no, we don’t need to stop.” And perhaps in the next few seconds you’d suggest that you two should slow down, instead. Perhaps you’d suggest cockwarming until whoever was inside (and Ino could hear the other person’s voice as they splashed water on their face) left. 

But instead you’re merely leaning in- grasping one of his strong arms and guiding it beneath you. You’re directing Ino to cup his fattened base, “This way it’ll be quieter.” Whispering to him, “In fact—how about we see just how quiet you can get, huh?”

And his maw unhinges - drool dripping down each side - and those gorgeous eyes of his nearly bulge out of their skull.

“N-ngh—”

“Shhhhhhh.” Hips growing even faster.

Ino’s long, vein-decorated cock flinches inside of you- Outside, Geto Suguru smiles. Touché.

♡ GOJO SATORU - BOMBSHELL #2

“Of course this bombshell’s gonna blow this whole season up-” Gojo didn’t need to try to make everyone opposite the camera faun - it was practically what he was made for. 

One of the tallest in the show. One of the flashiest.

One of the most famous - there wasn’t a soul who’d walked past the billboards in Tokyo that hadn’t already seen Gojo Satoru’s dazzling smile, or peaked traitorously at a blown-up picture of his abs on numerous billboards.

Brands were practically clawing for him—just as much as the ladies and gents were. But that’s exactly why he was here - wouldn’t it be fun to be the chaser for once? Besides, his agent had told him that if he behaved himself, then he might just end up boosting his career to heights never seen before. This season had been a hit so far- but of course, what was a hit without Gojo Satoru?

Pretending to flip his hair over one shoulder, Gojo’s posing with all the best angles for the lens. “I mean- no offense, but have you seen me?”

And on anyone, such confidence would have been seen as a turn-off, a red flag, perhaps even compensation for something lacking. No one should be this confident. 

Except Gojo Satoru, of course.

And he smiles like he knows it- rows of pearly white teeth flashin’ in the direction of the camera. “Oh, I guess I really should introduce myself, huh?” He sighs, “I’m Toru, I’m 28. And I’m the man of your dreams~!”

A producer whispers something to him.

“I’m also a model.” Gojo adds, “High-fashion. Editorial. Digimon ads- you name it. I don’t consider myself a romantic, nor someone that really needs love but…” His eyes drift to the B-roll footage they were playing of you on some small screen in the back, getting the contestants more familiar before they actually joined you in the mansion. “-who knows? Maybe things can change.”

Dimples pop out when he smiles.

No one should be this handsome.

He winks.

Except Gojo Satoru, of course.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was sent to the mansion to wreak havoc.

And wreak havoc, he did.

In the four hours and forty-five minutes that he’d been here, he’d interrupted your rose ceremony and thrown out the rose that you’d been about to give poor Usami—and taken it for himself. Not a shred of apology, he’d tucked it straight into his button-up pocket and winked at you.

Leaving the other man to whirl around at the producers that simply shrugged. Who was to say what Gojo Satoru did?

And you can’t deny it…that charm of his was irresistible.

You were sure that the viewers were loving this- in even less time, he’d picked a fight with Sukuna because of the long-standing rivalry between the two - something the producers had likely known just to stir the pot even more. According to what the skater boy had whispered in your ear, it was because the two had been battling it out for the title of TC Candler’s #1 Most Handsome Man for the last few years now.

One year it’d be Sukuna. Next it’d be Gojo.

The next they’d get absolutely washed by Zayn Malik and would have to lick their wounds and battle it out over second place.

It all left you a little dizzy, if you’re being honest.

And sure enough- after a hectic few hours of introduction between the new bombshell and the rest of the contestants - during which you’d seen more fists flying than small talk - Gojo finally managed to pull you away for a chit-chat.

He stuck his tongue out at the other men as he dragged you by hand, pulling you into the cosy gazebo outside—the one with the creeping vines up its pillars, and shutters for if you wanted privacy. Speaking of, it gave you way…way too much privacy…

And soon enough he’s pulling you into his arms, you’re crashing your lips into his in a searing kiss.

Having kicked the camera men outside, they could only see just the faintest shadows of the two of you inside - before Gojo’s dragging you down to the fucking floor like an animal—helping you tear through your panties n’ sticking his fat cock inside.

The crown of his reddened tip was burning hot, streaming out precum that sticks to your inner thighs in heavenly layers- he’s sucking in a breath as he fits his first inch inside. “Oh.” Maw dropping breathlessly - you think that perhaps for the first time in his twenty-eight years, Gojo Satoru shuts himself up. Low. “Oh.”

Clammy head falling to the crook of your neck. White bangs sticking against the side of your throat. 

He lets out a sensual few groans that seem to almost cling onto your skin - just like how his muscular body was right now. Long limbs nearly collapsing on top of you as Gojo’s stutterin’ his gleaming shaft inside a few more inches—“Oh- ohhhh, fuck. Do you h-hear that?” Voice cracking towards the end of that sentence. 

“Hear what?” Your brows furrow.

And Gojo’s snowy brows knit even deeper - more confused than you by what you seemingly couldn’t hear—how could you not hear it? “You- you seriously don’t…?” And those toned hips of his reel a few inches backwards, draggin’ the zig-zagging lines of his veins along your tightened channel- ever-so-slightly before thundering back in. “Hear it- now?” He asks, strangely out-of-breath. The pupils in his ice-blue eyes blown wide. The breaths emanating deeply from his chest.

Though his sheer desperation only leaves you more confused, “I…”

“You s-still don’t hear it—?”

As if he’s trying to prove his point, he’s grabbing ahold of one side of your hips- the manicured nails upon his left hand digging into your clammy flesh. Thrusts growing more emboldened. Gojo’s connecting his body with yours until he doesn’t know where his starts and yours ends—gripping onto every inch of you like adhesive coats your body.

His eyes lazily fail at keeping shut every time you’re clampin’ your tight pussy around him. A thin trickle of perspiration lines the side of his face, and once he’s finally able to veer his gaze to meet yours- you’re swearing that it’s as though his pupils have suddenly turned into hearts.

Something dazed and drunken in his gaze, “Can you…”

Barely able to finish his thought let alone his sentence.

“The only thing m’hearing right now is that you’re- fuck-” Gasping between the roughening and roughening rams of his hips—he pistons his swollen cock inside until your walls are bulging at the size of him. Swerving n’ swerving it into every single sweet spot inside you. 

Almost as though Gojo didn’t even need to try - he’s discovering your g-spot after only a few more determined strokes. And just the sheer force of him pinpointing that cute lil’ bundle of nerves - whacking it - makes your thighs squeeeeeze around his waist. It makes your pussylips get crushed together under the sheer pressure of movement, letting out an audible squelch!

“That.” 

Blinking through your tears, “What?”

“That-”

Gojo’s so excited that he’s running out of breath - almost as if he’d just run an entire marathon, and would run at least five more just to experience this again. 

His red-hot tip smears aside your walls, scouring your insides like a hidden maze. You feel the exact moment that he’s bottoming out his long, entire length at the very back of your cunt—“There…” A thin ribbon of drool glides down the side of Gojo’s mouth, tone almost in tears.

He flinches-

The raw softness of your womb- it was almost too much. Gojo reaches his right hand down to spreeead open your pretty pussylips, opening you up like lotus petals for him, then rolling his thumb down on your neglected clit.

You’re moaning at the sparks of carnal pleasure wracking through you - and Gojo himself grins at the music: your gorgeous noises, the sound of the night, the way your cunt’s lettin’ out the most lecherous squelches as he eases his cock in and out.

“There- right then.” Gojo finally - finally - husks out after one particularly loud slurp! Looking up at him, only to feel a jolt go through you at something primal shifting beneath his gaze. “Can you hear her say my name?”

“Her…?” Dazedly asking, “Do you mean me—?”

“No.” Gojo stubbornly answers, “I mean her-”

And before you know it, he’s honing out a few more strikes at your poor g-spot. Until you were sure it’s bruised enough with the round circumference of his length - hard and fast.

It’s enough to make you bellow out a few more hoarse noises—before Gojo himself is letting go of your waist to clasp his slender fingers around your neck. The cold sensation of them sending thrills down your spine, he’s teasingly tightening his hold as he bores deep into your eyes with his nearly-glowing ones.

“Shush, sweetheart.” Gojo admonishes softly, “Let me show you- hear her?” And it’s only after a few seconds you’re realizing that…her really meant your sopping wet pussy. Namely the lewd noises that you’re creating from it- just that wet. “Hear the way she’s whimpering? And mewling? And yowling?”

You yourself were struggling to get a single word out when he’s holding onto you like that. “Y-yes—”

“Well all that pretty noise is her…” He trails off, listening to a few more syllables of your pussy. “-screaming my name.”

Jaw dropping. “Your…”

“Mhm.”

Thin fingertips leaving marks.

He continues, “She’s been beggin’ for me to fuck her ever since- hah, ever since I got here.” And without a single warning, he’s toying with your clit and ultimately pinching it. “I know she’s been thinking about me—hah, shirtless. I know she’s been thinking about being under me, over me-” An almost wolfish expression taking over his face, “All on my face until I can’t breathe-”

“S-Satoru—!”

“Oh yeah, that’s exactly how your pussy’s saying it.”

You’re smacking Gojo’s bicep for that, and he merely chuckles. 

“I’m just saying~” The motions of his thumb then start taking a more…interesting turn. And you have to tilt your head down to get a proper look at what he was doing - Gojo’s moving so fast that his digits were nearly nothing but frenzied, feverish blur between your legs. “That’s exactly…”

He himself couldn’t keep up.

Just too enraptured by the swervin’ and swoopin’ movements—the way his fingers had to quirk just right when he’s spelling out a repeated S-A-T-O-R-U.

S-A-T-O-R-U.

S-A-T-O-R-U.

S-A-T-O-R-U.

Both in Japanese and English.

Looking up at you through his curtained white bangs, “What’s that spell—?”

“Satoru—” It would’ve tumbled out of your mouth regardless of whether he asked or not, and you’re sure he knows. 

“Exactly.” He responds. 

You look on in gaped speechlessness as he flashes you that award-winning grin. The last thing you’re seeing before your high floods you in bursts- nothing like the torrential waves of dopamine, or the hills or relaxation that’d pass by you during your other highs.

This one was taking you over.

This one was zapping every atom of your being and leaving it charged.

“Sh-shit, Toru—” Hiccuping, your nails drag red, red lines down the plane of his shoulders. They’re standing out stark, and you’re hit with the strange feeling that he’d be the type to show them off during his next photoshoot - “It feels so good, Toru-”

“Heh, you’re welcome.”

Babbling out stupidly- the way he elongated every single peak left your mind heated. “Y-you could at least pretend to have some humility.”

“Humility? Don’t know her.” He winks, “You’re my only gal, sweetheart.”

Grumbling, “I better be…”

“Now why’d you hafta go and say something so cute…” You’re still seeing white from the pure shockwaves of your high- “Because that’s only gonna make me cum.” When Gojo himself throws his head back and cums inside. Loooooong and deep slashes at the back of your cunt, he draws numerous lines of white that dribble all the way down your channel then.

Ending up frothed between your shiverin’ legs. 

The glistening layers of it smear n’ make your entangled bodies slip.

Jostling you even further, making you feel the splashin’ of his clingy sap inside you. More and more. More and more and more—no matter how many wads Gojo’s fucking inside- he just can’t seem to get enough of you—

“Because no one else can fuck you like Gojo Satoru can.”

Just the seven previous men and this bombshell left in the mansion.

Who would you even pick at this rate?

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - One-on-one.

“My name is Higuruma Hiromi, I’m 33.” Deep voice. Deeper eyes. There was a certain handsomeness to Higuruma that made it hard to look away - perhaps it was the dark features - that nose, the intelligent twinkle behind his eyes.

Perhaps it was the fact that he was dressed to the nines in his smart, black suit.

Or perhaps it was that air of confidence around him - nothing of the outward flashiness that most of the other contestants boasted. Something quieter. Something that had the edges of his pouty lips quirking, as though he already knows he’s won this season…he just won’t admit it yet.

For the viewers’ experience, of course.

He cocks his head slightly to the side and sighs, “I’m an attorney at my own law firm. I enjoy long baths and even longer debates, I’m looking for someone that can indulge me in both of these things.”

“And why are you here, Higuruma-san?”

“Because some interns of mine thought that it’d be funny to sign me up.” He chuckles softly to himself, “They’re mad- of course, perhaps I’m more mad to actually be here.”

“In the long run, Higuruma-san?”

“Ah…” He takes the time to think, eyes drifting over to the screen replaying footage of you - he’s already heard some of the other men gossiping amongst themselves in the waiting room about just how beautiful you are. And he hates to admit it when someone’s right, but he can’t deny it—they were fucking right. “I guess I’m looking for my wife.”

His eyes never miss yours on the screen.

The producer probes once more, camera angles shifting to accommodate for his intense staring match. “And do you think that you’ll find that?”

“I think I already might have.”

.

.

.

The audience had been curious about the hotshot lawyer from Tokyo.

“H-Hiromi, I’m ngh- cumming again…”

And so had you.

It’s been a string of more one-on-one dates that the producers had arranged prior to the finale where you had to choose…your future husband. Fuck- at this point you were wondering whether you couldn’t just have them all. And though the dark-haired lawyer had made it this far, he hadn’t featured in too many of the episodes—that is, until a recent edit of his B-roll footage had gone absolutely viral online - quite to the distaste of one particular white-haired model. 

Clips of him laid back in a bathtub - suit still on. Clips of him slamming his gavel down.

And so, of course, they’d rushed to bring the two of you together to raise viewership—lo and behold you found yourself sneaking off to the couples’ suite after a romantic spa date. Escaping all the cameras - shutting those hungry lenses behind the door - it didn’t take long for the man to corner you against the rose petal-covered bed and bend you into the meanest mating press that you’ve ever even heard of. 

Though Higuruma might’ve seemed all cool and composed on the outside- he was drilling his rock-hard cock into you like a fucking madman.

Thick and throbbing. Thrust after thrust after thrust-

“Fuck—” He snarls something primal from the back of his throat, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. Hoarse, sensual grunts leave him after every battering ram.

His skin was still damp from all the hours prior- when you’d been riding Higuruma’s face silly.

And even now, you could see the slight sheen of slick clinging onto his handsome features. Without thinking twice, you’re reaching up and swipin’ away some of the remnant excess, which immediately makes him snap his head down with a low trundle. “Fuck, don’t act so sweet, sugar.”

You huff, “M’not acting-”

Before you’re immediately getting cut off by the slam! of his round, reddened tip on your cervix. Barely reeling from the sheer pressure of it- before Higuruma reaches somewhere above your head - at the clothes that you’d discarded hours prior at the start of the night - and produces his favorite black tie.

You’re blinking up at him in slight confusion.

To which he doesn’t say much - he doesn’t say anything at all, really. Without a single word, Higuruma loops the soft silk of the tie around your wrists, and he’s tightening it into a knot that your muddled mind barely computes—tying you up. 

It’s too late once you’re realizing- no matter how much you tug, you’re left unable to move. At your sultry mercy before the man - exactly how you wanted to be.

“S’not handcuffs, but it’ll have to do.” He mutters to himself. 

“And why would you want me in handcuffs?”

“Because act sweet t’me one more time and you’ll be walking out of this suite pregnant, angel.” And you can’t believe it—the ever-eloquent Higuruma Hiromi was slurrin’ and babbling because of your cunt. “Why else?”

“O-oh…”

You snark back, “And what if I want that?”

“Well, you don’t deserve that.” He counters, “You’re a guilty girl.”

Squirming- he runs a long finger of his down the crevice of your pussylips. Just the very tip of it teasin’ in-between, uuuup and down, uuuup and down until you’re restless. And you can’t even do anything because of the ruthless restraints that he’d tied around your wrists. 

“G-guilty for…?”

Higuruma doesn’t answer instantly.

He’s curling his dominant hand around the ribbons of fabric that were decorating your hands.

Cold fingers grazing your own- you’re just about wondering what Higuruma was about to do right then and there. But just then, he’s tightening his hold and draaaagging your body down. 

As though you weighed nothing.

Higuruma’s hidden biceps bulge ever-so-slightly as he’s manhandling you down, down, down—onto his thickened cock. The silken bedsheets bunch up around your waist, and the bedsprings creak at the way you’re being thrown about like a ragdoll-

This rough angle makes his globular tip maze even deeper inside of you- burrowing a circular bruise at the very bottom of your pussy. And you’re gasping—you’d be clawing at Higuruma’s handsome back had it not been for this damn tie.

Almost as though sensing your desperation, the man looming before you huffs out in laughter. It fans your face in a scorching breeze - you think you can feel the smoke and need in his breath. The addiction to white-knuckling your cuffs and hauling you down after every thrust pushes you up, up, upwards- “Count one: seduction” 

“S-seduction?” Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull.

“Count two: temptation of a working attorney.” He lists off. The slightest smile lifts up the edges of his lips, “Count three: temptation of a working judge.”

“You’re the-”

He sighs as though this was just another day in the court for him - though if this was the type of court he led, you’d be showing up for jury duty everyday. “Count four: perjury.”

“Perjury?” You gape, “When have I ever lied to the court?”

Higuruma cocks his head, “And when you told me you weren’t acting sweet?” That rounded tip of his lingers where your g-spot was, “I know how filthy you are, angel, no need to put on an act…”

“I—fuck, please…”

“Count five: greed.” Higuruma finally ends off, and you’re probing into his darkened eyes for clarification. “You seriously think you deserve to be fucked pregnant by me, sugar?”

“Y-yes…” You’re barely able to mumble out.

And he merely scoffs out a

And he scoffs out a slightly mean bout of laughter, as if he’d expected for you to say that. Oh, how he’d expected you to say that. But instead of responding to that directly, Higuruma’s openin’ up your sopping wet pussylips.

The hand between your legs bears your stuffed entrance for him to examine. Those intelligent eyes of his twinkle as he’s taking in the plushness of your swollen folds, the way your hole leaked even when stuffed to the brim with his fat cock - struggling to take him, yet still yearning for more. And most of all…he’s admiring the way your cute clit twitches- “Count one…” Higuruma announces with no warning—and even less of a warning is given before he’s planting a solid spank on your clit. “Guilty.” Even harder than he might’ve done with that gavel of his.

You’re surging up on the bed due to the sheer shockwaves coursing through you. “Fuck- fuck, you’re just-”

“Count two—” 

“Shit-”

Barely giving you the time to compute before his hand comes slammin’ down once more. “Guilty.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, “Hiromi, I’m going to cum-”

“Count three-” And it wasn’t like he couldn’t hear you - he just refused to respond until his judicial duties were completed. Higuruma was a man of the law, after all. And surely it was that discipline that led him to spank your cunt two more times, “Guilty. Count four- guilty.”

Your thighs were shaking with your impeding high, “I-I’m seriously going to-”

“Count five-” The fifth, final punishment. “-guilty.”

And you’re crashing against the waves of your high - it feels as if you’re floating on air. On clouds. On the white-hot pleasure that Higuruma was fucking into you.

His pace doesn’t falter for a single second. The plush edge of his shaft probin’ into you in and in and in—Higuruma knows exactly which nerve-filled spots you wanted him to push. Exactly where they were. And he doesn’t do so immediately…but once he’s glissading his lengthy cock inside your cunt, he sure does press his pointed tip hard into wherever he can reach.

Not quite agonizingly teasing, but not quite giving your guilty self what you wanted.

Somewhere along the way, you’re feeling his gooey white sap fill you up as well. He lets out a choked-up groan as he floods the lining of your cervix- “Guilty…haaaaah, on all counts.” The sheer volume of him forms a little puddle there, “And I sentence you to…”

“Y-yes…?”

“Hmmm—” He pretends to think, though the lewd humor in his tone told you that Higuruma already knew. The full stop at the end of his duties- he thwacks! his palm down upon your cunt once more, “How about five more rounds? One for each count- hah.”

You’re letting your head fall to the side, where the curtains of the suite were just barely cracked to reveal pinkish-yellow lighting filtering inside. It was morning.

You weren’t making it out alive for the rest of the season.

So, viewers, who's getting the last rose as your husband?

TOJI

NANAMI

GETO

CHOSO

SUKUNA

INO

GOJO

HIGURUMA

Voting ended onApr 7

A/N. MAYHAPS have a special treat for whoever wins. Can you tell my best friend made me watch Single's Inferno with her-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[spideyyeet]

➷ your very questionable relationship with a very hot fratboy sukuna [fwb]

[18+] — mdni. nsfw. f!reader. angst. piv. ráw. insatiable reader. slight exhibitionism. pda. rough sex. dacryphilia. spanking. spit. (art by @/to00fu)

you wouldn’t consider yourself a sex addict. but at the same time, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone on speed dial if you needed that relief.

that’s how it should’ve stayed from the beginning.

but obviously nothing ever goes according to planned. and maybe that’s why you’ve been sleeping at sukuna’s place for longer than you’d like to admit.

“his frat is so much closer than my apartment,” you confess to utahime as she gingerly sips her iced matcha latte.

“so do you have sex between classes then?” she questions, shoko sitting beside her as she lazily scrolls through her phone, eyes glancing up briefly, awaiting your obvious response.

“not all the time,” you mutter.

“so you’re there for what then?” utahime wasn’t trying to come off as pushy, fr. she was just looking out for you, and if that meant asking you the hard questions so you can realize something, then so be it. “because you’re not having sex, even though that’s the point of your relationship with him—“

“he’s also a friend,” you interrupt.

shoko tries to conceal a smirk and utahime raises a brow. “a friend? since when?”

“since…like…the beginning. it is called friends with benefits, not strangers with..uh…yeah,” you mutter, not even believing yourself. “i don’t see why it’s a big deal if i take a nap here and there at his place. it’s not like he’s even there half the time.”

“it’s not a big deal. but it’s also not sex. and it’s also something that—again—isn’t giving your labeled relationship,” utahime points, its silent for a moment, both shoko and utahime see the internal conflict you’re waging inside your head. and still with everything they said, you just give them a lazy sigh.

“it’s fine. you guys are stressin’ me out,” you take a bite from one of shoko’s chips.

“we weren’t trying too,” utahime defends with a frown, clearly frustrated with your laid back behavior to not realize you’re walking a dangerous path right now. but still you give them a shrug, glancing at your phone before standing up.

“i haveta go to class, ill see you guys later.”

it was cycle. you do something with sukuna that doesn’t have to do with sex. you mention it to your best friends. they get inside your head pointing out the flaws in this game you’re playing. you ignore them —too lazy and scared to actually address it. then you have sex with sukuna. and thus the cycle continues.

but this time was different.

maybe this time they did get a little deeper inside your head. is it weird to take naps at his place? is it weird that you’re wearing his t-shirt right now?

your head falls on your laptop.

fuuuuckkk.

“you good?” the deep voice sent immediate shiver down your spines.

sukuna sat on the outdoor table beside your closed laptop. head tilted back letting out the smoke he’d just inhaled.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your laptop as you look up at the man that’s causing your headaches at the moment.

sukuna snorts, manspreading on the table, big thighs stretching against the material of his black jeans as he leans back on his tatted arm. the cigarette hangs between his lips as he takes another sharp inhale. you wait patiently for him to smoke, ignoring the brief tingle you feel when his ring clad fingers brush your hair back.

“you seem wound up,” he catches the way your nose scrunches when the smoke hits your face. a low curse slips his lips as he puts the bud out quickly. “sorry,” he mutters.

you just hum, not fully realizing how sweet that was. too in your head about your other actions surrounding this man that you just close your eyes when his hand continues to pet you.

“you’re actin’ like a damn cat,” he snorts, making you hum not caring. and he doesn’t stop either, even when you move to rest your head on his thigh, eyes doting up at him as you scrutinize his expression as if that’ll give you the answers to whether he’s clocking something you’re not seeing.

but even so, you don’t realize how him brushing the stray hairs from your face and caressing your cheek gently with his warm palm, is very intimate. neither of you realizing that the people passing by are thinking you guys are just another couple in the courtyard.

“you have class later?” he changes the subject.

you hum again. still lost in the thought. his thigh was warm under your cheek, or maybe it was the other way around. and he smelled really good.

“you just gonna hum all day?”

you hum, and he rolls his eyes. but nonetheless he continues talking. “you wanna go sleep at my place till your class?”

you freeze.

his brow quirks feeling your body stiffen.

“you wanna fuck?” you mumble up at him.

his brow furrows even more. “thought you were tired.” you don’t respond and that confused him more. “you sure you good?”

“ya…”

but then you sit up, hand brushing up his thigh, before intentionally pressing against his soft cock making him jerk slightly up. his eyes dart, pressing a hand over yours. “i wanna fuck.”

and maybe it was his fault for not questioning your weird behavior because you’re in his frat in minutes, he has you bent over the couch, house empty, as he slams his hips into you, dragging his fat cock through your walls.

yes this is more like it.

just sex.

“fuck you’re actin weird as shit,” he grunts, pushing your shirt up to reveal the dip in your spine, biting his lip as he unclasps your bra, hand coming up to cup and twist your nipples.

“m’ not—haah angh—feels good,” your nails dig into the couch cushion as he picks up the pace, hand coming down on your ass hard. “angh faster! fuck—ryo!”

sukuna swears under his breath, hand pressing into your back making you arch even more, his hand lifts your thigh to rest on the couch as he slides deeper, railing into you. “angh haah ahh-“ your moans we’re slightly louder than usual, it had sukuna even more concerned, but still he drove into you like a bull. knocking the wind out of you with every thrust, his head falling back, hearing the loud squelching fill the room.

even though you were both fully clothed, and in the living room. sukuna would definitely consider this one of messiest sex you’ve had together. maybe because of how desperate you were acting.

“haah you’re fuck—haah fuck slow down,” he grunts, cheeks flushed as you slam back into him, whining, when he’d pull back.

“what the fuck—!” the loud screech had sukuna groaning in annoyance, because appearing from the hallway is non-other than a sleep deprived gojo.

“ahh ryo!—“ you gasp in shock and pleasure, unintentionally clenching him making him buckle.

“seriously! we literally said no fucking on the goddamn couches!!” gojo shrieks, pulling his hair with a flushed face because you weren’t stopping.

“get out!” sukuna grunts, cheek stinging red because you were burying your face in your arms on the couch, moans just as loud and ass still slamming into him, you’ve definitely lost it and he was trying desperately not to stop and make you moody.

“me get out?!??” gojo scoffs loud, irritated. “if you get any cum on the fucking couch you’re paying for a new one!” he cries, storming back to his room and slamming the door loud to get his point across.

“fuck—haah you close—?” sukuna pants, even though this was supposed to be a quickie you were taking longer to get there, almost dragging it out on purpose. “ngh I’m gonna cum—“ he grunts, hand coming in front, rubbing tight quick circles on your clit making you buckle, whining out.

“more,” your nails dig into the cushion, drooling. “ryo!” with a final shaky slam of his hips you finally cum. lips parting into an o. eyes rolling back, as sukuna quickly and finally follows. you whine feeling him fill you up, neither of you clocking that you have class in an hour and hate when he cums inside when you have to go somewhere.

but it just felt so good.

his head falls forward, hands rubbing up and down your sides, before slowly pulling out. he’s careful not to drip, expression twisting when he tucks his wet dick back in his pants just so he can quickly scoop you up.

“don’t have the money for another couch,” he mutterers leading you back to his room. you sigh pulling your clothes off as you lay back on his bed. his brow quirks.

“I’m gonna nap,” you state. yes because this makes sense. you’ve had sex so now your friends can’t say anything.

sukuna shakes his head pulling his shirt off and kicking his jeans to the side, before crashing beside you. and it was natural as he laid on his stomach, pulling you back to his chest, throwing a leg over you, tangling your legs together. his face pressed into your neck, inhaling your fuzzy soft scent, sighing gently as he falls asleep.

and it didn’t matter that you skipped class later. or that you decided to stay the night at his. or that you both watched a movie on his laptop before you rode his cock again just to prove something to your friends again.

sukuna groans, a low rumble deep in his chest. he spreads his legs further apart as you bounce harder, chest heaving and face flushed.

“haah you’re actin’ different,” sukuna comments mid fuck. chest flushed and sweaty, kneading your ass as you lean forward, caging him for better balance.

“h-how?” you manage to respond with a slight clip, but your whiny moan does little to help. you were definitely much louder than usual too. too clarify, he wasn’t upset, he was just concerned.

“fuck—like now,” he grunts, helping you ride his aching nine inch dick, ass slamming down to meet his thighs as your face hovers above his. your cheeks flush and tits practically in his face with every bounce.

“I’m riding your dick, wha—ah haah—what’s weird about that??” you whine, he felt so good. he always does, his muscles flex underneath you, veins popping from his arms as he grips your ass and thrusts sharply up.

you gasp loud, head falling against his shoulder.

“you ovulating?

you only moan, pushing up to ride his cock faster, you meet his own thrusts, thighs sticking to him as your cum collects at his base mixing with his pre. the white frothy ring slides everywhere creating a mess every-time you bounce. your lips kiss his sharp jawline, eyes glossy and face beyond flustered, too consumed by the pleasure to bother responding to him.

“s’it okay for me to cum in ya?” sukuna doesn’t stop his rhythm, but you’re starting to get irritated.

“what? afraid I’ll get angh pregnant?” your words cut right through his nerves, immediately setting him off. “would you even take responsibility?” you mutter the last part, not realizing you’d said it aloud until an irritated sukuna stills.

“fuck is your problem, woman?”

“nothing,” you huff, trying to bounce, but he’s holding you still on his lap. cock pulsing in your belly, pushing into your abdomen as you grind. “ryo,” you whine.

his sharp jaw is tight, thick brows creasing in irritation, scrutinizing your expression as you try to move against his grip on your waist, but it really was no use. his arms flex, tattoos shiny against the layer of sweat over them, chest heaving in sync with yours as you tilt your head back, trying to sit up, but he’s keeping you on him.

“you’re acting like a bitch,” he spits.

you scoff, “I’m tryna fuck and you keep asking me questions throwing me off, your dick isn’t fucking easy to ride you know.” you lie about the first part.

his eyes roll to the back of his skull, “as if you don’t fucking talk my ear off every time we fuck. god forbid i ask a fucking question about why you’ve got the biggest stick up y’r ass and you act like I fucking ate your mom or some shit. I can practically see the fucking stick comin’ out y’r damn throat!”

you frown, deep and annoyed. and he reciprocates it, but his arms lace around your torso, pulling you flush against his chest completely caging you with his arms tight. your arms fall around his shoulders as he spreads his muscular thighs, feet fully planting on the bed, before lifting his hips up with a sharp thrust up. all happening in seconds.

“angh! ryo!— you ch-an’t just—ahh”

“I can’t what? fuck this shitty attitude outta ya? huh? isn’t this what y’ wanted?”

he locks you against his broad chest, hands holding his forearms around your back as he drills into you, your moans pick up again, face pressed into his shoulder, body jolting with every thrust, his cock ruthlessly sliding through your folds hitting your sweet spot with pinpoint accuracy.

the wet claps fill the air once again, along with sukuna’s loud grunts. clearly taking his frustrations out on you. you whine even more, his hairy pubic bone rubbing against your clit with each thrust, making you clench, the knot coiling tighter.

“angh—cumm-cumming ryo—fuck—haa—“ your eyes fill with tears, the white pleasure crashing into you as you cry out, tears and spit staining his neck as you shake. but his rough thrusts don’t stop, his grip on you doesn’t seize, drilling into way past your limit as you squirm. “w-wait ryo—i-can’t!”

but you don’t say the safe word, and sukuna doesn’t release his grip, throaty grunts spilling from his lips, hand pressing against the back of your head grasping your hair and pulling your face up to his. his gaze locking on your lips immediately attacking them.

you whine as his tongue forces itself into your mouth, you’re at his mercy, completely fucked stupid as he grips your ass, squeezing the flesh before cracking a rough hand down. “angh!” your body jerks with a cry as he slap another rough hand down on the same spots.

“fuckin’ haah brat,” he spits, out of breath. squeezing the flesh again.

“ryo—!” you’re shaking above him. body weak as he continues railing into you, his chest heaving, panting as sweat trickles down his flushed face.

“fuck—spit in my mouth,” he groans out, edging himself closer as you shake above him. your hand weak against his jaw as you lift your face away from his for a second before gathering a thick amount in your mouth.

his jaw locks open, tongue hanging out as he pants like a dog, just as fucked out as you, eyes glossy and cheeks stained pink before you let a glob of spit fall onto his tongue. a throaty groan rumbles through his chest, swallowing it, before pulling your face back to his lips, giving you one last measured thrust, fat cock head hitting your cervix as he releases inside you immediately.

the pleasure blinds him, racking through his body as he fills you up with his thick cum. his hips locked into yours as you squirm and tremble on top of him. body falling limp as you feel the swell in your belly. he groans again, even deeper and louder, eyes screwed shut, jaw slightly agape as he gives a few more lazy thrusts up, milking all of his creamy frustrations.

his arm loosens around you, the other brushing the back of your head as you tremble against his shoulder. soft pants fanning against his neck. body absolutely numb.

your chest is stuck to his as he catches his breath.

“you okay?” he huffs out, clearly still irritated.

you hum.

but he still swears under his breath when you tremble when he pulls out, his hand instinctively soothing down your back as he sits up.

“fuck, I’m sore,” you mutter, eyes heavy as sukuna leans back on his arms glancing at you. the bruises on your waist and ass a clear sign of your statement.

it was silent. you knew he was still upset, and you didn’t know why.

you watch silently once he steps out of the bathroom with just a pair of clean sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, his hand fixing his bulge, then scratching his happy trail. his thick brows were still knit together and his expression a clear give away.

“what’s your problem?” you finally blurt.

he glances up, lips drawn tight, body tense, muscles flexing under his tattoos, because you were still at his place, now in his clean sweater and shorts. he didn’t say anything when he cleaned you with a warm towel, or when he gently examined the bruises, hand gentle as he brushed over them knowing they’ll darken a bit more by tomorrow, or when he handed you his clothes to change into.

“you tell me,” he grunts, walking to his phone charging on his desk. purposely ignoring your concerns now, just like you did with him.

“is this about the pregnant comment? i was just like…not there, and didn’t mean it…okay,” you huff, trying to fix what happened. because of course you find a way to fuck up when that’s literally the opposite of what you were trying to do.

“it’s not about that, fuck woman, you’re the one that’s been uptight all day. then you get mad at me for asking what’s wrong. like fuck! blame a man for being fucking concerned, shit,” he rubs his face, annoyingly wound up.

your brows crease even more, but this time your heart is thumping loud against your chest.

even sukuna was growing more and more frustrated because of how weirdly frustrated he was getting. why does he care? fuck!

you’re sitting up on his bed, hands in your lap, trying to sift through your many thoughts, trying to piece this problem together. you fiddle with his sleeves, too anxious to look up at him all angry and heaving.

“i wasn’t tryin’ to come off like that,” you mutter, “i just wanted to take my mind off things….and uh…and i guess it just came out more when we were having sex.” you confess, though concealing parts of it.

“you can just tell me that then. but you kept fucking dismissing me like a fuckin’ idiot which was pissing me off,” he snaps, taking another deep breath when he notices your bowed head. fuck, what’s happening right now?? you never act this weird or anxious, and it was only serving to concern him and he’s getting pissed off for what? fuck this is all getting so confusing!

“sorry,” you mumble, pressing your sleeve covered hands against your cheeks.

sukuna presses a hand to his nose, now he’s got a fucking headache.

“s’ fine,” he mutters. almost regretting the fact that you’re apologizing so meekly now.

….

you bite your cheek. the silence so fucking suffocating.

you glance up at him through your lashes, curious about his reaction. but he’s still rubbing his temple. should you leave? you glance at the blinking clock on his nightstand. 11:48pm.

you can probably catch the last bus home.

“do you need water?”

you jump at the sudden voice. glancing up again, lips parting as he types something on his phone before tossing it back on his desk, full attention on you. his brow quirks at your silence.

your lips part again, and his brows crease in more irritated concerns. “babe,” the name was low, almost threatening in the way that he practically forces your reply immediately.

“i think i should go home.”

his face contorts. “what?”

your throat goes dry. forehead sweating.

“i don’t know! okay!!” you blurt out, catching him off guard, especially when you’re clenching your hands tight.

your brain is scrambling for a coherent thought, but it was all a mess. fuck! your hands slap your face, hard, sukuna winces watching you fall to your side and bury your face in his comforter. “fuckk,” you groan, loud and frustrated, pressing your face even deeper into the mattress. fuck utahime! fuck shoko! you scream internally. this was exactly the mess you did NOT want to fucking address!!!!

“hey.”

your chest tightens as you feel his heavy hand on your back hearing him kneel beside the bed. you remain still, back rising and falling, completely out of breath from your minor crash out, because for the first time you were so fucking unsure of yourself. and him.

“i didn’t say you had to leave,” he struggles to reassure you. brows pinched and nerves wound.

your brain hurts even more hearing him talk right now. fuck! “that’s why i said—“

“i can’t fuckin’ hear you.”

you sigh, turning your face slightly, your mouth no longer covered by the bed as you mutter out again, “that’s why i said i think i should leave.”

and he sighs, loud and frustrated. crimson eyes heavy with exhaustion pressing his forehead on the bed. you bite your cheek watching his bare back rise and fall like a beast controlling himself. his hand had slid to your wrist when you turned, unmoving in his grasp. almost grounding him in a sense.

should you voice your concerns? but there are no concerns! only your friends had one. it’s not even a big deal, seriously who the fuck even cares about labels. and there’s already a label on this! this doesn’t need to be addressed, especially with the headache and confusion it’s causing you and him. you just need to fucking breathe and go off on them.

“it’s late, just stay.”

your fist tightens around the comforter. he lifts his head, your eyes trail over the tattoos that mark his sharp handsome features, watching the way he licks his bottom lip in thought, and his dark eyes darting across your face before meeting your wavering gaze.

you sigh, because there’s that ugly twist in your gut again when he looks at you. the one that’s making you doubt your own brain. you close your eyes again, thoughts a mess. your lips part with a gentle exhale once he caresses your head, fingers gentle as they move your hair back, thumb brushing your cheekbones.

his heart is hammering against his chest. it was unusual. he didn’t know what else to say, or what was getting you so upset, if that’s what you are right now. either way, it was irritating him in an unfamiliar way and he wasn’t sure if the right thing to do was to let you leave. maybe he just didn’t want to think about it too much or else he’ll find himself in that annoying headspace that gojo and geto keep pushing him in when they comment about you, or the way he acts with you—

“i think I’m getting my period soon,” you lie, and you hope he doesn’t know, but even he feels more unsure because he’s playing along knowing your period had already passed, but he hums in mock understanding. because really he doesn’t understand.

“so you’re staying,” he says it more of a command then a question, even though his eyes hesitantly wait for you to refuse, but luckily you just hum, maybe sleeping through this confusion will make you better.

it wouldn’t get worse if he’s sliding under the covers with you, movements slightly more careful, afraid he might disturb you and cause you to leave. and it wouldn’t get worse if he’s beginning to relax especially when you turn over, sliding closer to him and throwing your leg over his thigh naturally, the way you always do, and lay your head on his shoulder.

or when his calloused palm brushes your back, trailing up to your cheek as you stare up at him. the distant look in your eyes still there as he tries to decipher what you’re thinking. but he’s not a mind reader.

maybe you shouldn’t do this, but you do anyways. your lips peck his jaw, sighing once you trail the kisses up to his swollen lips.

he hums, holding your throat gently, humming at the softness of your lips.

he ignores the way your fists clench around the sleeves of your sweater, or the way your eyes look just a bit more glossy when you pull away. his thumb brushes your jaw, holding you and bringing you back to his lips.

it was like that for some time.

your soft pants mixed with his as you made out. your fingers tickling his shoulder and cheek as he kept his arm around you securely. his hand holding your face leading the kiss, ignoring the fear twisting inside him that you’ll leave. and you were stupidly grateful for the distraction. his lips wet and hot as you sighed again.

“ryo…”

his chest tightened, the soft call of his name sent a flurry of emotions raging through him, his chest felt hot under your touch, his arm had slid to hold your upper thigh resting on his stomach. his grip tightening just a bit, but he hummed, low and deep from his chest. lips still kissing you, begging you to be careful what you say next.

but of course, you’re not a mind reader, and neither is he, because you just press into his firm body more, humming with satisfaction when your lips pull away, spit mixing together as you catch your breath, soft thumb skimming his bottom lip, pulling it down as you admire him. eyes so clearly filled with distance, but a hint of admiration.

“you look pretty.” his compliment fills the quiet space of his bedroom.

unaware of the heartache that it causes you as you smile softly, leaning close to his lips before muttering a gentle, “you tryna make me feel better?”

“is it working?” he smiles, lazy. tired.

you hum, pecking his lips, before your lips part and his tongue slips in, he groans in delight, tasting you on his tongue as the kiss grows messy, neither of you questioning the intimacy of the moment or the way your hearts twist. but simply hanging onto this moment.

still leaning over him gently, kissing him until your eyes start to grow heavy and your lips slow down, and his warm palm caressing your waist under your sweater and you’re gently falling asleep.

both of you again, ignoring the odd feeling left afterwards, but still clinging to one another as the darkness envelops you.

frat!kuna series

[a/n] — i just wanted to do another short little drabble just to get a better sense of their dynamic, but after writing this i’m def leaning into the one shot now. i don’t think i can commit to like a whole series, bc I can’t be consistent w that, but ig we’ll see😮‍💨

[indiewritesxoxo]

good luck charm

just a quick good-luck fuck!

pairing: MMA!Toji x f!Reader

content: MDNI, established (messy) relationship, semi-public sex, getting caught, jealousy, light angst, Toji fucking you before a fight, pet names (doll, sweetheart) and name-calling, fingering, piv sex, brat taming, implied sukuna x reader, idk if this counts as breakup or makeup sex lmfao

based on this ask!! divider by @plutism !!

"Thought you weren't gonna make it," Toji tch-ed, the corner of his mouth twitching involuntarily into a smile as his eyes shrewdly flitted up-and-down your body.

"Traffic was hell," You grumbled, throwing your bag down on the bench, glancing around the cleared-out locker room. He should consider himself lucky you even showed. "Where's everyone?"

"Kicked 'em out," Your (ex?)boyfriend huffed, his broad back leaning against the tall locker, thick fingers absentmindedly picking at the sports tape wrapped around his calloused palm.

You didn't comment, didn't need to ask.

Sure, Shiu could spend half an hour trying to offer strategies and lecturing him about trying not to kill his opponent in the ring, but it'd just go in one ear and out the other.

Toji only ever wanted his good luck charm before the fight anyway.

"How much time you have left?" You hummed, sitting at the very edge of the bench, looking up at his massive frame. Smoothing out the creases in your dress, touching up your hair reflexively, disappointed in your own curiosity at what you must look like from his perspective.

"Fifteen minutes," He grunted, irritated at the distance you deliberately put between you and him. "C'mere."

"Fine right here actually, thank you," You sighed, crossing one leg over the other.

Toji really huffed now, crossing the few feet separating you in just a couple short strides, squatting down until he was face-to-face with you.

"You really wanna be a brat tonight?" He gritted his teeth, grabbing your chin between the rough pad of his thumb and his knuckles, so you couldn't look away. Toji had always been the one who needed an attitude adjustment in your relationship.

"How am I being a brat?" You feigned innocence, the muscles in your thighs automatically clenching together at the husky sound of his voice.

"You know damn well how, sweetheart," He rolled his eyes, condescension dripping from every syllable. Other men might've meant the term affectionately, but with him? It felt derogatory.

"Am I your sweetheart? Last time I checked, you were single," You huffed, reminding him of what he told an entire room full of reporters at his last match. "That means I am too."

Your back hit the cold metal bench before you blinked, your bag knocked onto the ground, a tube of lip gloss rolling out with a soft clink! as Toji's weight pressed down on you.

"Seriously?" He grunted, one hand already prying your thighs apart, the sports tape itching at your skin when it made contact. You pretended to be wholly unaffected, swatting his hand away from your chin just for him to swiftly pin both of yours above your head. "You already know you're mine, doll. Just gotta say that stuff-"

"I think that's up to me, isn't it?" You pouted, interrupting him and weakly attempting to squirm free from his iron grip.

"What're you tryna say?" His molars were grinding together, his dark eyes narrowing, a gleam of something possessive lurking in his stare.

"You know, I ran into Sukuna in-"

Toji's mouth slammed into yours, lips crashing together in a sloppy kiss to shut you up before you could finish. His tongue pushing past your teeth, colliding against your tongue, like he wanted to devour you.

He'd spit you back out though. Always did.

You didn't know why he thought the bench was a good place for this, his bulky body tipping over your precarious balance and landing fully on top of you when you fell back onto the cold tile, knocking all of the breath out of you.

"You aren't even gonna say sorry?" You muttered when his mouth moved to trail wet, hungry kisses down your throat, teeth scraping against the skin as the bulge in his shorts dug into your thigh.

Either he was ignoring you or he was too lazer-focused on his current task, the hand under your dress groping at your ass, fingers dimpling the soft flesh while he pressed his erection directly against your clit through your dress. Toji pushed your dress up, bunching it past your hips and rolling his eyes at what he saw.

"Acting all pissy with me when you don't even have any panties on, sweetheart?" He mocked, his thumb harshly swiping over the oversensitive bud, his huge palm cupping your entrance. "Fuckin' soaked too."

"You're an asshole," You gritted your teeth, sucking in a sharp inhale through your nose as his thick fingers bullied their way inside, collecting the slick down to his knuckles as he shoved them in-and-out.

His rhythm was as unforgiving as he was, plunging in deeper until he found the soft spot that he knew made your toes curl, trying to hurtle you to a blinding orgasm as fast as possible.

"What was that?" He clicked his tongue, the white scar cutting across his lips stretched taut over his crooked smile, leering over you as he planted another warm kiss against your collarbone. His free hand still pressed your wrists against the floor.

God, you hoped someone had fucking mopped in here before this.

"Asshole," You stubbornly echoed, lashes fluttering shut as he curled his fingers cruelly. Deep enough that you were probably dripping onto the scratchy tape rubbing against your thighs, your muscles desperately trying to close around his hand, clenching uselessly around his long fingers.

He chuckled, dark and low, roughly massaging circles against your clit, snickering at how close he'd already pulled you to the edge.

"Gonna cum, already?" He taunted, pinching your clit just hard enough to make you snap. A lewd moan of his name escaping your lips as your hips involuntary bucked up, needing to feel him deeper, heat pouring through you with every wave of pleasure absolutely wrecking you.

"Toji," You whined, wrists flexing to try and pull free just for his grip to tighten, keeping you pinned in place as paused making patterns on your sore bundle of nerves to tug his aching cock out, the tip red and swollen. His fist wrapped around the veiny shaft, slowly stroking up to collect a thick drop of pre-cum. "Get a fucking condom first."

He grunted, but let go of his erection to reach for your purse with one of those long arms, begrudgingly yanking it over to rifle through the loose receipts and makeup to pull out a condom wrapper, tearing it open with his teeth.

Throwing the plastic on the ground, sheathing his throbbing cock in one swift motion before just shoving it all the way in. You gasped, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his muscular back as he pushed his way past the first ring of resistance, bottoming out with enough force that your chest hurt trying to contain how fast your heart was racing, how much your lungs were straining to get any air.

"Say it to my face now, sweetheart," He groaned, his jaw slack as he watched you with those ridiculously-dark eyes, all the color practically dissolved by his blown-out pupils.

He grinded his tip against your cervix, fucking you like he couldn't stand you. Sometimes, you wondered if maybe that was true. You still ended up here though, smothered in all of him until you couldn't wonder about anything anymore.

"I hate you," You panted, you back arching, hips rolling up to meet where he was currently threatening to split you open, driving his cock in so mean. Something uncharacteristically needy underscored it though, an unspoken desperation to make you give in to him.

"You love me," He grunted, his hips smacking against you hard enough you wondered if it'd bruise later, the messy sounds of his cock sliding in-and-out and skin-slapping-skin.

"This is the last time, Toji," You spat, moaning when he pressed snugly against your favorite spot, his chest heavy when he held you down with just his weight. He squinted at you, pausing there. "I'm done."

"Yeah, right," He scoffed, quick to resume his messy strokes, pounding into you like he was trying to erase what you just said from both of your brains.

"I mean it," You whimpered when his hand slipped back up to your sore and swollen clit, pinching it before the last syllable had even finished leaving your mouth. "Oh, fuck, Toji."

"You don't mean shit," He cursed under his breath, returning to rolling it between his sturdy fingers.

"Mm, I-" Your protest died on your tongue when his was dipping inside your mouth, his warm lips colliding against yours, trying to swallow your attempts at breaking things off with him.

"Shut up," He only pulled away to mutter, a low growl caught in his throat before he nipped at your lips, breaking the thin skin there. He let go of your wrists to cup your face, tangling his fingers in your hair.

Your own hand slipped underneath his shirt, tracing up the muscles he'd spent years sculpting up to his broad shoulder blades, nails sinking into his skin to leave angry scratches down his back. So what if his fans saw? It's not like anyone would ever know who it was from anyway.

His breathing was ragged, his brows knitted together as his thrusts got sloppy, his sweaty forehead resting on yours while he barely staved off his climax to focus on making you cum again for him.

"You think I'm gonna let you go?" He muttered, and it didn't sound like he was even talking to you, his eyes closed, playing with your clit like it was his favorite toy.

You wanted to tell him he should've thought about that before, but his mouth was back on yours, not giving you the chance to talk and turn him down.

His teeth knocking against yours, sucking on your kiss-bruised lip, his nose constantly bumping into yours, and when he dragged his thumb back over your swollen bud, you couldn't hide the orgasm he practically ripped from you.

Cumming and crying his name, shuddering as you pulled him closer, burying your face in his neck and biting down to choke out your moan before anyone heard.

Too late.

It wasn't until he was moaning your name back into your mouth, tugging at your hair and finishing inside the condom while he fucked you through it that your eyes started to open and you noticed you weren't exactly alone.

Shiu readjusted the lit cigarette dangling from his lips, rolling his eyes at your compromising position on the floor before glancing over at the stunned reporter next to him, wide-eyed, his grip limp on the pen in his hand.

"Toji," You hissed in his ear, pinching the man on top of you to jolt him out of his post-sex daze. "Get up."

His grunt was annoyed, looking over his shoulder at what had captured your attention. But instead of getting pissed, he just chuckled.

"You wanted to show everyone who I belong to, right, doll?"

It'd make a good headline.

Maybe even overshadow his win.

Caught fucking his woman minutes before one of the biggest fights of his career. It didn't matter to him. Whatever sold the most tickets, whatever kept you happy. He'd use some of the extra money, take you out somewhere at least half-decent and blow your back out until you couldn't think about breaking up or whatever you kept bitching about before.

It was cute watching you cover yourself up, fix your clothes and shove your stuff back in your bag before scampering out to find your place ringside before the fight started.

So, sure, his smirk was probably shit-eating walking out to the crowd and the cheers, the posters with his name proudly on display and the cameras all pointed his way. Stepping into the ring where Sukuna was already waiting, the dickhead not even bothering to turn and look at him.

No, he was too busy eyefucking some wh-

Shit.

Sukuna was too busy eyefucking you.

You were watching him back, your cheeks still flushed, your swollen bottom lip pushed out in an annoyingly adorable pout, like you hadn't even noticed Toji's entrance.

The announcer was rambling, giving the same rehearsed spiel Toji heard a thousand times before, his opponent's narrowed gaze slowly turning to him, studying his face with a smug smile.

"Don't even fucking think about it," Toji warned.

"Yeah?" Sukuna taunted, amusement flickering in his catlike eyes.

"She's mine," He spat, gravel in his voice, something slick and oily curling in his stomach at the feeling of being out of the loop, struck at the realization he was missing something that was staring him right in the face.

"Not what she was saying an hour ago when she was cumming on my cock," Sukuna shrugged, pride flashing across his face.

"The fuck did you just say to me?"

"Think her panties will make a good lucky charm?"

[kill3ill]

bully! toji — 18+

college bully! toji resents the way you walk around campus. You're nothing like him. So prim and proper and graceful. You're the type of girl most mothers would rejoice over if her son brought you home.

college bully! toji scowls every time he sees you prance through the halls. You’re always surrounded by a big group of people. It infuriates him to see that you're so adored, by professors, TA's, other students... all gushing over you like you’re some prized heifer.

In college bully! toji's mind, it's impossible for someone to be so perfect. You're popular, of course, in the student council, in too many clubs for him to keep track of, you're in a nice, fancy program that he couldn't get accepted into if he sold his soul to the admissions office, and worst of all, you're so fucking pretty.

Pretty enough to make his heart stop when he sees you. Pretty enough for him to drop what he's doing and stare at you.

college bully! toji gets pissed when he sees that you pretend like you have no fucking clue what kind of effect you have on him. Like you don’t realize how everyone gawks at you. Like you don’t notice how even he, big, brooding, mean him, gets fucking tongue-tied if you so much as look his way.

Nothing in life has ever been fair to him, but somehow, looking at you makes him feel the bitter sting of it more than ever.

And it pisses him off.

college bully! toji is dumb. He knows he is. School never came easy to him. It’s a fucking miracle he even got into college, but that miracle doesn’t mean shit when he spends every semester barely scraping by.

And you? You’re perfect. Perfect grades. Perfect reputation. Perfect fuckable body.

You don’t deserve it. And so he shows you you don't.

college bully! toji makes your life miserable to show you what struggle is. At least, that's what he tells himself. He's only doing it to put you in your place. Nothing more.

You can't go anywhere anymore without running into him, because he ensures you meet him at least three times a day. He doesn't just tease or mock you, though. He puts his hands on you.

It started normal. Tripping you in the halls and tugging your hair in lectures and tugging the fabric of your thong when he's walking behind you and snapping it against your skin, and when you turn to him and whimper and ask him to stop, he just tells you that you're imagining things to find excuses to talk to him.

"What, you tryna throw yourself at me now?" college bully! toji laughs meanly, giving your waist a hard squeeze after he catches you when you're falling because he tripped you. "Didn’t know you were that desperate."

You squeak in surprise, feeling the warmth of his big hands on your body. You barely knew him before he just decided he wanted to bully you, and you can't figure out what his problem with you is. You've never even spoken to him, after all, and he just decided one day that he hated you and wanted to punish you. Your sweet little brain can’t grasp the fact that college bully! toji is so hot for you that it makes him angry.

college bully! toji couldn’t keep his hands off you if he tried. He waits outside your lectures just to grope at your soft body while degrading you, pushes his crotch up against your ass when he’s behind you in line.

"Why so tense, princess?" he murmurs, voice a lazy drawl. "Ain’t like I’m gonna bite." And then, just because he can, he smacks your ass. Hard enough for the flesh to jiggle and bounce back into place in a way that dumbs his brain down a whole lot.

You whip around, cheeks burning, lips parted to yell, and he just grins. Like he owns you. Like he knows you won’t do shit about it. You’re too sweet. Too much of a pushover. "T-Toji..!" you whisper-shout weakly. "You… y-you can’t just do that in public! it’s indecent…"

college bully! toji cuts you off like you shouldn’t have the right to talk back to him. "Damn," he muses, tilting his head. "You make a noise like that in bed, baby?" And then he leaves. Leaves you standing there, humiliated, flustered, furious.

college bully! toji knows you’re the type of girl he’s not supposed to have. The type of girl who’d laugh if he ever tried to ask you out. The type of girl who probably spreads her legs for rich frat boys who drive nice cars and have bright futures lined up for them. You’d never be with him.

And that upsets him. The thought of you being anyone’s but his makes him really really fucking mad.

So college bully! toji voices it everytime he sees you.

"Bet you think you’re real fucking special, huh?" His voice is low, condescending, right next to your ear. "Walkin’ around like some untouchable little angel. But we both know you’re just a spoiled, cock-hungry brat."

You jerk against his hold, struggling as tears build in your waterline. Your hands fly up to push against his chest, but it’s useless, because he’s solid and strong and so big compared to you. Your lip wobbles with frustration.

You don’t know how or why this is happening to you, but you can’t do anything about it. He said he’d fuck you stupid if you told anyone, and so you keep your mouth shut the best you can.

"L–let me go," you stammer, embarrassed and scared. He shoves you into one of the bathrooms as soon as you say it, locking you together in a stall. He lowers himself to be eye level with you and gets in your face, sneering. 

"Bet you’ve let half the guys in this school bend you over already," college bully! toji hisses, fingers digging into the plush of your hips, feeling how fucking soft you are. It makes his stomach churn. "How many professors did you have to suck off to get those perfect grades, sweetheart?"

You take in a sharp breath, your hands shaking as you look up at him.

college bully! toji is so mean. You work hard for your grades, and that’s the truth! You wouldn’t want people thinking otherwise. Thinking that you’d debase yourself to selling your body for an A that you didn’t deserve. "You know I don’t do that, toji," You say weakly, your voice wavering. You don’t want to cry. 

college bully! toji slides a hand lower, gripping a handful of your ass through your little skirt, squeezing like it belongs to him. You let out a soft gasp, trying to twist out of his grip, but his other hand is already fisting in your hair, forcing your head back to look up at him.

college bully! toji can’t stop. Not when you smell this good. Not when you feel this nice against him. Not when your body is practically moulded against his front, and his cock is already swelling up and getting stiff just from the way you’re shaking under his hands.

"You can cut the innocent act," he breathes, his grip tightening on your hair just enough to sting. "You know exactly what you are. And so does every guy on this campus. So I might as well get the same treatment, right princess? It’s only fair," 

And with that, he lowers you down to your knees and makes you suck his cock for your whole study period in the dingy boys washroom when anyone could walk in and hear the gluk gluk gluk sounds of your mouth being fucked by your own bully.

Not to mention, college bully! toji records you. Naturally.

college bully! toji makes you give him your number and sends you the video of you choking on his fat cock and threatens to send it to the school administration if you keep ignoring him and pretending like you're too good for him. You hastily respond, begging for him not to share it; that it'll destroy you. He wasn't going to, obviously, because it's intimate and special to him and he wants it all to himself, but your begging helps him get off on the nights he's stroking his fat cock to you, so he doesn't tell you the truth.

speaking of which, college bully! toji always spent whatever free time he has milking his cock and fucking his fist to your social media and tagged photos, and now that he has something over you, he can get even better material with no hassle. He makes you have phone sex with him, makes you send him voice notes of you calling him daddy and begging him to fill you up with his cum, and makes you send him nudes.

Then, because college bully! toji considers himself a gentleman, he rewards you by sending flowers to your dorm, as well as candy and chocolate, stuffed animals, and pretty underwear with a note in the box asking you to send pictures of you in them.

When college bully! toji sees you in person though, he's on you instantly like a rabid dog, kissing you so hard and so deep that you have to take several seconds to catch your breath when it's over. He makes lewd comments about the stuff you send him and makes you thank him for not sharing it.

"What do you say, beautiful?"

You flush warmly, looking away, but he shakes his head and grabs your neck in his hand, turning your head to face him. "Look at me when you say it. Or else."

You swallow thickly and look right in his eyes. "T-thank you daddy..."

college bully! toji is gross. He eventually brings you up to his dorm and just lays down with his face between your legs so he can smell your pretty little pussy and do inspections on you.

Your face is flushed and you hide yourself in your arms as he noses at your pussy. "N-ngh... d-daddy... d-do we have to do this?"

He scowls and slides a thick finger inside you, pumping it in and out slowly and watching how your tight pussy sucks his digit in and out like a vice, all while he inhales the scent of your arousal. "No shit, y'dumb girl. Gotta check thar you haven't been around with anyone else. Everyone wants to fuck my girl and I'm not letting them."

college bully! toji says he's just seeing if your puffy little hole is undefiled and fresh, but then his pussy inspections always end up in him slurping on your cunt like a man starved. He makes you cum on his face at least twice a day.

college bully! tohi doesn't tell you that he always nuts in his boxers when he's eating you out because you taste heavenly. He can never calm down and still his hips when he's tasting you. He has to hump the mattress like a puppy.

college bully! toji wasn't planning to fuck you. He wanted to, badly, but he knew that if he went all the way, he'd get so fucking attached and wouldn't ever want to leave you. He already knew he was starting to like you way too much.

college bully! toji would wake up to you, since he made you sleep in his dorm every night and fall asleep to kissing you and holding you, be with you all day, groping, touching, sucking on your tongue, and your tits, and your pussy, and fall asleep to you with you on his chest.

He'd never tell you he liked you, but it seemed like you were starting to too. You weren't resistant anymore. You'd ask to hold hands when he was mouthing at your clit. You gave him kisses and helped him with his school work.

God, you did dangerous things to toji, and he didn't like it.

But then, one day toji saw some stupid fucking idiot hugging up on you and you were giggling and letting him hold your ass like some stupid little whore. How could you be so clueless? You were his! How did you not realize this guy wanted the same from you? You couldn't belong to two people. toji knew his guy was trying to make a move on you and he was going to make sure he'd regret it.

college bully! toji got the boy's name from you, and while you were sleeping that night, he opened your phone and texted him. From your messages, it seemed like you two were old friends. Maybe from high school. Maybe family friends. He didn't care. No one but him could touch you. No one but him could look at you.

college bully! toji texted the boy that you needed help and to come to your dorm immediately, and in the meantime, he gently turned you onto your back, stroking your soft, shiny hair with one hand and gently groping your tits with his other hand. His cock twitched at the little sleepy mewls that left your mouth, and he shushes you softly and begins to pull down your panties. He forbade you from wearing pants when you were sleeping beside him.

college bully! toji pries your legs apart and removes your shirt. His mouth waters as your full, perky boobs are on display for him, and the way your nipples harden at the feeling of the cool air hitting them. He licks a broad stripe over one of them, sucking one into his mouth and releasing it with a wet pop, before slobbering on both of them at once.

In the meantime, college bully! toji sticks his fingers, two at a time, in your sopping little pussy, stretching you and getting you nice and wet for his cock. He guides your little hands to his fat fucking cock, half hard already, and makes you jerk him off so he can put his cock in you as soon as possible.

By the time your idiot cuck friend gets to your dorm, which he left unlocked, he finds you bent over, facing the door. drool, snot, and tears coat your face as he pulls your hair back so you can look at him. Your friend freezes, making eye contact with you as toji stretches you out with each thrust, pounding into you hard.

college bully! toji has one thumb in your butt, watching you clench down on him as you babble incoherently. His heavy balls slap against your dripping pussy with each thrust, fucking you into a dumb little mess in front of the same boy you used to play with in primary school.

Your body jolts with each thrust, ass bouncing back against his cock as your pussy sucks him in greedily. You're hardly coherent, drool dripping down your chin while your friend watches in disbelief, a hand discreetly rubbing at the growing bulge in his jeans.

"toji!" You cry out, moaning loudly. You've never been fucked like this before. Not with a cock so fat, not by a guy who acted like he hated your guts and wanted you all to himself at the same time. He tugs your hair back a little tighter. "That's right, princess, tell your little friend who makes you feel so good…"

"Ngh…" Your tongue lolls out of your mouth. toji's cock plunges so deep inside you that you can swear you can feel him in your womb. Your legs shake as you struggle to accommodate his size. "Daddy does…mmh- m-makes me feel s’good,” you slur out your words like you’re drunk off him.

He can feel you tightening around him, your pussy fluttering and clenching desperately as the his cock fills you. His thumb presses roughly against your puckered hole, applying pressure. Your friend finally catches his bearings enough to stumble out of the room with flushed cheeks and a stiff cock.

college bully! toji tells you to be his girlfriend right after he fills you to the hilt with his cum.

see more in my jjk masterlist

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keep this fic alive by reblogging it and commenting if you loved it!

[lacedwithbows]

gosh I fucking love this creator

[lucidsei]

18+ when did nerdjo get so hot ? . . . ❤︎

when you saw him again in a university building across the world, no words could really explain the shock. he was still the same — dumb glasses, dumb face, and somehow stupidly hot. what the hell happened to him?

back then, “i like you!” used to be something you’d hear at least three times a week, blurted out by none other than your childhood best friend, gojo satoru. you never really took it seriously, always thinking he’d grow out of it eventually. but even when you moved away and lost contact, the last thing he said to you stuck. it wasn’t just another “i like you” anymore. it was an “i love you!” with snot and tears dripping down his face.

and now, many years later, things weren’t all that different. the words leaving his lips sounded almost the same — only this time it was breathless, broken sounds, spilling out in between moans.

“haah—i love you—fuck, feels so good—gonna lose my mind.” he has you splayed beneath him on his bed, legs pushed to your chest as he’s frantically rutting into you, letting out loud groans every time you clench around him. he was ridiculously huge, fat cock mercilessly slamming into you, thick and raw. “mmh—so deep—you’re so deep, ‘toru—fuck—!” every cervix battering thrust had you screaming his name, nails digging into his back as tears streamed down your face.

“f—fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight—hahh—“ he leaned in close, panting against your lips as your tongues danced in a sloppy kiss. sometimes, he missed the target, kissing your cheek and jaw instead. the sight of him pounding into you — cheeks glowing pink with a needy expression — had you drooling, walls fluttering around his length. and your dazed, fucked out expression always did something to him, making his cock throb when you were wrapped around him. “hnnngh—wait—don’t look at me like that—i’ll cum..”

gojo was messy, obscenely so, keeping his glasses on despite it slipping down the bridge of his nose just to watch himself pump in and out of your sopping cunt. he observed every detail, watching your cream form a ring around the base of his cock that was glistening with your slick, bearing the annoyance of pushing his glasses up every few seconds.

“so pretty, baby—so fucking pretty.. want to be inside you forever—feels so unreal—shit—“ the longer he was inside you, the more erratic and desperate he got, losing control of himself as he threw his head back from the surreal pleasure, babbling nonsense. “nnnhh—right there, ‘toru! oh my god—gonna cum, gonna cum—!” you cried, your moans drowning out the loud plapping noises of wet skin on skin. your legs trembled as you completely soaked the sheets, arousal dripping down your thighs. he was still pounding into you, plunging so deep that it had you seeing stars, ears ringing from the orgasm.

“fuuuckk! aah, shit—love you—love you s’much, ‘toru—love you, love you—“ your eyes rolled back, words tumbling out uncontrollably as gojo fucked you through your release, thick ropes of cum spurting inside you the moment he heard the words “i love you” spill past your lips. “nngh, shit—fuck—you mean it? you love me?” he asked eagerly, breath hitching as he rode out his high. his grip on your hips got tighter, dragging you back down onto him so he could fuck his cum deeper inside you, keeping himself there.

he soon collapsed onto you, whimpering as he buried himself in the crook of your neck, cock still twitching inside your warm pussy. “you’re heavy, ‘toru..” you said breathlessly, tapping his back as you came down from your climax. “mmm, sorry.. just a little longer, please?” he mumbled into your shoulders.

and when he finally pulled back, he looked at you with glassy eyes and the dumbest grin you’ve ever seen. “so uh.. you said you love me. does this mean you’ll finally be my girlfriend? we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now, right?”

© lucidsei

[miisbehaved]

STARGIIRL!

feat quarterback!toji x camgirl chem partner!reader

summary: Toji Fushiguro considers himself a very generous man, especially after using part of his D1 quarterback paycheck towards his favorite camgirl. If anything, he's a patron of the arts: dedicated, curious, and always ready for the next big thing. So when he finds out his quiet little chem partner has the same bedroom as his idol? Well... color him intrigued.

content: MDNI 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, camgirl!reader, chem partner!reader, quarterback!toji, fratboy!toji fanboy!toji,  jjk college au, no use of “y/n”, porn with a ridiculous amount of plot, vibrators, oral sex (m!receiving, f!receiving), piv sex, squirting, dumbification, toji has a biiiiig dick, daddy kink, size kink, breeding, etc.

word count: 10.1k (i don't play abt this man)

author's note: all credits of the above pictures go to their creators. The left-most picture is from thatsallitchief on X or tiktok. If anyone knows the artist of the right-most picture let me know so I can tag the m!

toji's pre-game playlist: gemstone - don toliver, homecoming - lil uzi vert, don't kill the party - ty dolla $ign, love me - lil wayne, you - don toliver, nightcrawler - travis scott

These were intense times. 

The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed. 

There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft. 

As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses. 

It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk. 

Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones. 

As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf. 

Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field. 

His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table. 

He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer. 

Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls. 

She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself. 

And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts. 

His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded. 

“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”. 

Part one?!

He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20. 

And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name. 

“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”

He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty. 

But in the lecture hall? Well… 

His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II. 

He was truly a lost cause. 

He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never). 

So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago. 

At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast. 

Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you. 

And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter. 

It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.

In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.

“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”

It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.

You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.

He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.

He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him. 

His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter. 

Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”

You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen. 

For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.

What the fuck? 

He took your phone. 

“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”

He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones. 

“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”

He hated how his dick twitched at your words.

But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.

He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake! 

His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”

You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!

And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.   

After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.

He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.

You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday. 

The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission. 

And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill. 

He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.

Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days. 

And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days. 

“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both. 

You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe. 

He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…

“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare. 

“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power. 

You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!

You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache. 

The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?” 

He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly. 

You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips. 

“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you. 

He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag. 

“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”

And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest. 

A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand. 

“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.” 

His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away. 

“It’s a small place,” you warned. 

He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”

He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them. 

You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”

For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world. 

All he could do was swallow and nod. 

He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door. 

The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road. 

Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row. 

The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen. 

Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.

And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.

He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–

He coughed lightly.

What was he thinking?

As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine. 

Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.

It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.

“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table. 

You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down. 

He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room. 

And, holy shit. 

No. 

There was genuinely no way in hell. 

He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it. 

His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body? 

Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.

His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it. 

Everything looked familiar.

Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–

“Can I help you?” 

You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours. 

You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.

And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words. 

All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.

“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

He scoured through every single video and rewatched every single clip that night.

The furniture, the decor, the walls, the window placement: everything was the same.

And so, the verdict was in: you–his quiet, guarded, asocial, and steely chem partner–were none other than stargiirl herself. 

What. The. Fuck. 

It was confusing to wrap his head around, this whole stargiirl-chemgirl business. But would he go as far to say that it wasn’t attractive? That he didn’t pop a boner every time he thought about it? 

No. He couldn’t. He’d never.

Was this divine intervention or his own personal hell? 

He couldn’t tell.

What does this mean? How should he act?  What does he fucking do with this information now?

He rubbed his temples before running a tense hand through his hair. At the same time, a notification popped up on his computer. 

“Check out a new post from stargiirl_xx !”

He could feel the blood in his veins thumping against his skin. 

“Don’t do it. Please don’t fucking do it-” he mumbled. 

He tapped into the link despite himself. 

“Lessons In Vibration Pt II”

He wordlessly clicked the play button on the video. 

For a moment, he thought his screen was buffering. The camera was set up to look out onto your bed, though you were not in frame yet, presumably twiddling with the settings of your camera. 

But when you finally did walk into view, his heart nearly imploded. 

The frame only showed you from the mouth down, your identity mainly concealed. You were bottomless, bare legs walking across the floor as you situated yourself on your bed. The only piece of clothing you did have on was an overlarge sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, one that he, in his panicked daze to get out of your apartment earlier, forgot he had left behind. 

He didn’t dare breathe, nor could he move. His head was craned so close to his computer, as if he wanted to go through the screen itself just to get a better look. 

He noted how his hoodie fell past your ass, large and consuming and honestly? So fuckin’ perfect on you.

You were nearing the end of your normal introduction, and he realized you spoke differently on video, low and confident and sensual and hypnotic.

“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about my content throughout the years,” your hands started to draaag the bottom of his hoodie up, letting it bunch just slightly above the dip of your waist, enunciating your curves. “-And I’ve realized I’ve never had a partner during any of them.”

The comments on the side bar started to flood through, hundreds of viewers already volunteering themselves to be your +1. 

His jaw ticked, hard.

“I think,” you leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. Toji gripped onto his computer until a faint pop! could be heard of one of the inner screws coming loose. “I think I would like to change that in the future,” and then you smiled, really smiled, a full, playful grin wiping across your features in a way he had never been able to see in person before. 

His dick bobbed in his pants. 

This could not be happening to him right now. 

You continued, “but for now, welcome back to my Lessons in Vibrations series.”

He watched as you started introducing the toys you would be using today, before you slowly began to touch yourself, teasingly showing glimpses of the purple lace panties you had on underneath his hoodie. 

And he couldn’t help it, really. 

Because when you started rubbing your vibrator against your clit, your deft fingers plunging skillfully into your cunt, soft whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy started squelching out a fucking melody – all while wearing his fuckin’ sweatshirt – what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

His sweats were already halfway down his thighs, and his meaty hand greedily pumping his own cock in sync to you fucking yourself on your fingers. 

He watched hungrily as you pushed his sweatshirt up further along your body, exposing your stomach, teasing the view of your bare tits. He bit back a groan at the thought of your scent lingering in the fabric, and prayed to whatever deity above that you wouldn’t wash it out before he got it back. 

Below, your fingers languidly teased the head of your vibrator against your entrance. It was the insertable kind, with a slender tip and curved body, the type that had your hole trying to suck up the device with every rub against your dripping slit. 

He could feel the veins in his cock pulsing hotly in anticipation, pushing up thick pearls of precum out onto his flared tip. 

He wondered what it would be like to slip his shaft against your drenched pussy lips, to massage the underside of his cockhead against the tight ring of your entrance, to feel you squeezing around him, and to hear the sounds you would make just for him. 

He gulped, cool sweat starting to form on his brow. You were beginning to fuck the device into you, pumping the vibrator in and out and in and out. He could see your legs trembling, your juices starting to  uncontrollably splash outside of you, and your pussylips fluttering with every bzzz bzz bzzzzzt of the vibrator fucking and swirling and massaging into your g-spot. 

He was matching your pace, furiously pumping his dick, thinking about how you looked on all fours earlier, thinking about how you smiled when you called him his name, thinking about how you look when you concentrate and the mole above your brow, thinking about the coffee you made for him and the weird shitposts you sent and the way you could look at him like he was nothing, and everything, all at the same time.

And suddenly, he wasn’t climaxing to the stargiirl he had always seen on screen.

It was his tough, quiet, calm chem partner. 

And as he shot hot spurts of thick, ropey cum all the way from his dick to his chin (the most he’s ever released before), he realized only one thing. 

He just finished to the thought of you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Toji Fushiguro had a problem. 

No, scratch that. 

He had a fucking crisis. 

It was drill day, and his head was absolutely nowhere near the turf. He fumbled balls, missed targets, and was a full thirty-seconds under his usual sprint times. 

And that was only how one of his practices went this week. 

It had been five whole days since he last saw you. 

Five days of being dogshit at his sport. 

Five days of holing up in his frat, avoiding campus, avoiding class, avoiding your texts, avoiding you.

It’s not like he wanted to do this, but he didn’t know what to do, how to act, or what to even say. 

How could he talk to you casually while knowing he’s given probably a third of his checks to you? How could he be normal in your presence knowing that he’s watched every single one of your streams, and in turn has finished an embarrassing amount of times to each of them?

How could he trust himself when the thought of you alone had his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt? Or how his chest squeezed so tight he almost went to urgent care, just because you texted asking where he’s been and if he was okay? 

How could he face you, knowing that he somehow developed the largest, fattest, most egregious fuckin’ crush on you?!

And, for the record, Toji Fushiguro did not do crushes. He hadn’t necessarily “ran through” the entire roster of available chicks on campus, but he did have an occasional fling, nothing serious, nothing long, nothing that would distract him from football and his dreams.

He was known as the campus heartthrob and heartbreaker. He was Mr. Non-Chalant, Mr. Everybody-Wants-A-Piece-of-Him, and Mr. I-Don’t-Get-Attached all wrapped up in one 6’4, 230 lbs body. 

A crush? That was new, unexplored territory for him. 

He stared down at your last texts to him.

⭐️(Thursday, 12:03pm): i got us a nice spot!! im sitting on 2nd floor @ clark  ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Ba-dump!

⭐️(Thursday, 12:18pm): knock knock, is mr. toji theree 

Ba-dump! Ba-dump!

⭐️(Thursday, 12:56pm): hey, is everythin ok? r we still on for today?

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–

⭐️(Saturday, 10:01am): r u alive

It physically sickened him that he couldn’t get his cowardly fingers to just fucking write back. But every time he opened up your text chain, all he could do was stare. 

Which is exactly why he couldn’t see you yet. 

He needed time. 

He needed space. 

He needed to get this shit under control.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, the Kappa Epsilon fraternity was throwing a rager tonight. With the group of men only one week out from the next bracket of playoffs, this would be the last night the football frat would get to drink together for a while if they were to make it to the finals. 

It would be the perfect distraction. 

About an hour or so into the party and he was buzzed. He absolutely demolished that shithead Ryomen in beer pong, crushed a pack of PBRs, and now was cooling off in the kitchen, his body feeling swimmy and light. 

He reached for his phone. Maybe, just maybe, if he looked at your messages again for the umpteenth time today, maybe he would know what to say, maybe he–

“Ah, so you can come out and party but ignore all of my texts?”

His heart did that stupid thing where it pounded so hard against his chest he wondered if his ribs bruised. 

Despite the booming of the bass coming from the room over, and the idle chatter of randoms idling in the kitchen, he could hear the dry, unimpressed, and entirely too familiar voice coming directly from behind him. 

He turned, his eyes lowering to find you, as if it was muscle memory, as if it was his second nature. 

You never showed up to these parties (and trust, he has invited you to them all). Yet here you were, your body leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest, and your hair falling around your frame. 

He grinned, the buzz in his head making it easy for a stupidly cheeky and wide and boyish smile to plaster onto his face. (a/n: toji has a hung smile. Okay? Okay.). 

“Hey, party animal,” he said, almost dreamily. 

The top you wore clung to you like a second skin, accentuating the swells of your breasts and the dip of your waist: features that you usually hid underneath your normal, bulkier campus-attire. 

He was indecisive, his eyes bouncing between the unreadable look on your face to the sliver of exposed skin right above your miniskirt. 

You looked good, really fuckin’ good. 

Your eyes widened, before your cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of red, your manicured fingers tightening around the plastic solo cup you were holding

Did he say that outloud?!

You straightened, steeling yourself, willing the warmth in your cheeks to go away. “You’ve ignored me for five days, Fushiguro-” your voice was firm and cool, cutting sharply through the noise of the party.

Back to the last name basis. 

You looked away, before adding, “-and you ditched me on Thursday.” You spoke that last part softly, deliberately, a look of sadness flashing briefly in your pretty, doe-like eyes. 

A dull pang rippled through his chest. 

He knew the implications of your words – the two of you never missed a meetup since this whole “deal” started. 

And, like those days in the libraries or cafes where he found himself sitting before you, following your every word and direction, he now found himself moving towards you, a small pout forming on his scarred lips, as his strong arms caged you in until you were wedged between himself and the counter. 

And, you knew he was huge before. 

But now, up close, you realized just how large he was - his broad shoulders obscuring your view, his muscular chest rippling under the tight black shirt he wore, and his huge hands riddled with veins that climbed up, up, up his forearms. 

He was overwhelming and all-consuming, surrounding your senses with the kind of intensity only he alone could pull off. You breathed in, your chest rising, fighting against the cotton of your ill-fitting top. He smelled of fresh pine and warm leather, clean and raw and manly. 

You came here pissed, but now found your resolve completely fogged and muddled. 

He leaned forward, dipping his head low, until his shaggy fringe tickled softly against the shell of your ear. 

You knew he had been drinking, but the question was, did he know what he was doing right now? Was this purposeful? Was this real? You couldn’t quite tell, but the way his breath stuttered as his nose traced light patterns into your neck, the way he was breathing you in, and the way his hands periodically clenched onto the countertop as if to restrain himself, told you he was at least semi aware of what he was doing. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest. The two of you never stood this close before, let alone touched each other. 

You turned your head slightly, trying to put at least some ounce of space between your face and his.

But for him? That just would not do. 

He slowly pulled away from your neck, his nose lightly mapping a path from the base of your neck, across the soft expanse of your cheek, to the tip of your own. Noses brushing, breaths mingling, chests heaving, and hearts pounding as his scarred lips hovered your glossed ones. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” 

The air between you was warm and thick, charged with something tender and so deeply intimate. 

“Because you scare me,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, really?” Your mouth twitched. 

“Mm.” He nodded once, nose rubbing softly against yours in an eskimo kiss. You could see how his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips dangerously close to pressing against yours.

“‘Think ya cursed me.” His neck flushed red, his low voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I can go-”

“Don’t.”

And then his large hands were latching onto your waist, the heat of his skin searing through the thin material of your skirt. 

“Don’t. Don’tDon’tDon’t.” His brows scrunched together, his face becoming serious. “Don’t go. Don’t leave. Not when you’re here, with me, pretty girl.” 

You breathed, taking your time to steady your voice after hearing the pet name roll off his tongue. “Then what should I do?”

“Stay.”

It was as simple as that, really. 

And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft and commanding. He kissed you like you were sin, drinking you in, savoring you on his tongue, before inevitably, always inevitably, going back for more. He didn’t let you breathe; he wouldn’t. He was greedy and wrong and possessive, claiming your mouth like it was his alone to conquer. Your knees weakened as his tongue massaged against yours addictively, molding against you like you were made for him; like he was made for you. 

Your hands moved before you could think, before you could decide if you were angry with him or if you hungered for him. You found purchase on his broad shoulders, before making your way up, up, up to his neck, one hand running through his dark hair while the other held onto the underside of his strong jaw, thumb gently caressing the scar on the side of his mouth, pulling him in.

He pressed into you further, your ass hitting the lower counter. His body was flush against yours, his chest purposefully rubbing against your tits. 

He could feel your nipples hardening through the flimsy cotton of your top, and he couldn’t stop the sleazy grin that was forming on his face. 

Below, his grip on you was gentle but firm, bringing your body to press and grind against his in an unhurried, languid way, like he had all the time in the world, like all of this was fated from the start. 

And his fingers, oh his fingers, which spanned across your hip, slowly found their way to your ass, gripping and cupping and kneading into the soft, jiggly flesh. 

You could feel something move against your thigh, something sturdy and heavy and completely fucking monstruous. 

“Haah-” you shakily sighed out, breathy and dazed as you looked down to the outline of his bulge. Your eyes widened. 

“I like when you use that smart mouth, y’know,” he was talking against your lips, not able to find it in himself to pull away. His hand slid up the side of your waist, until he stopped right underneath your breast, his thumb rubbing against the underside of where it started to swell. 

His voice dropped an octave lower, whispering to you like it was a secret. “Talk to me. Break this curse. Tell me it’s not just me that feels like this.” 

Please.

His heart was racing. He was stone cold sober. This was it. This was his admission. 

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–

You breathed. 

The party raged on in the background, muddled and distant, like his ears were submerged under water–

“It’s not just you, Toji.” 

Your voice was quiet, your cheeks tinted rouge, your pretty eyes looking up at him in earnest. 

And that was all he needed. 

He picked you up like you were nothing (his bench was 350 lbs, squat 600 lbs, and his hip thrusts? don’t even worry ‘bout it), a smug, victorious grin tugging at his scarred lips.

He carried you out of the kitchen, and a steady stream of wolf whistles and howls erupted from his frat brothers and party goers as the two of you made your way across the foyer, up the stairs, and towards a bedroom. His bedroom. 

He carried you inside, keeping the lights off, letting the warm glow of the streetlamp beside his window spill softly across the room. Without a word, he set you down on his large king-sized bed.

The air in his room was tender and still. You could hear the faint bass of the stereo downstairs, vibrating against his wooden floors like a heartbeat. The distant cheers of the crowd down below faded to quiet as he pressed his mouth to your own. 

He leisurely climbed over you, never breaking the kiss, his muscular arms holding his body above your own. 

It didn’t take long for the makeout to turn heated again, teeth clashing against teeth, bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and teasing in a way that had your head spinning.

You put your hands against his chest. 

“Toji-”

“Stay,” he breathed, whispering the words against your lips, like he could read your mind. “-Stay with me tonight,” he pressed his body closer into you, rutting his hips, “and lemme show you the things I’ve been wantin’ to say to you all week.”

You could feel his cock twitch ominously against your bare thigh as you swallowed. 

His lips were swollen and glistening from your mixed salivas, his eyes glazed over, jade irises almost completely black. His grip on your lower body was unrelenting, holding you in place. 

You lightly pushed your hand against his chest, a hesitant look crossing your features.

A beat passed. For a second, he didn’t even realize he stopped breathing. 

“You’ve been drinking,” You paused, your voice coming out small. “What if.. what if you don’t mean this in the morning?” 

And for all your expertise and genius, oh, how completely wrong you could be.

He let out a humorless chuckle, his sharp canines peaking through his lips in the process. 

“Did it sound like I was jokin’, sweetheart?” He shakily exhaled through his nose as he pressed his erection against your clothed cunt, holding himself there, letting you feel the pressure and full weight of what he was packing. “Does it feel like I’m jokin’ ‘bout this?” 

You bit your lip, pussy throbbing, a warm slickness starting to soak through your panties, before messily spreading between your clenched thighs. 

You shook your head. 

“What’d I say about usin’ your words?”

He pulsed his dick, the sensation making your pussy clench. 

Fuckin’ tease. 

“Nngh- no. No it doesn’t feel like you’re joking,” you almost gasp out. 

A satisfied smirk plastered onto his tanned face.

“Good girl.” 

And then he’s moving down the bed, his calloused hands spreading your legs as he pressed wet kisses against the hot skin of your thighs. He was methodical and slow, making his way up your inner thigh, savoring the small sounds that you tried to suppress as he reached the bottom hem of your skirt, his face mere inches away from your sopping pussy, and his breath puffing warm air against your dampened panties . 

“Ohhh jus’ look at ya,” you could tell he had the most shit-eating grin on his face right now, pride swelling in his voice as he carefully dipped a large, rough finger between the seam of the thin purple fabric you adorned. “This all f’me?”

And - Holy shit.

The videos of you didn’t even do this justice. 

Because low and behold, here you were, under his body, and you were so fuckin’ wet. His finger slid against your folds with little resistance, putting just enough pressure that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he rubbed circles against your clit.

And, Toji Fushiguro never claimed to be a patient man. So, it should’ve came as no surprise when he grabbed your hips and used his hulking strength to push your clothed pussy to his scarred lips, his face nuzzled to your cunt, nose pressed firmly to your clit, and his greedy tongue lapping you up through the soiled fabric. 

It was obscene and perverse and dirty and wrong. 

But oh, how he loved it. Loved the heady taste you left on your panties, and the sweet scent of your gushing pussy, and the excess slick on your thighs that made its way onto his rough cheeks. 

He groaned, a low, guttural sound against your skin that made your tummy squeeze into knots. 

“T-Toji, please,” you whined, pressing your greedy cunt into his face, “need your tongue. Need you. Need more.” You could hardly string a true sentence together, and he hadn’t even fucked you proper yet. 

His heart was thunderous against his chest. 

And his dick? 

Hardest it’s ever fuckin’ been in his fuckin’ life.

He was grinding his erection against the mattress as he obliged your wishes.

After all, how could he say no to you? 

He pushed your panties to the side. 

And oh. 

His balls tightened below him, the urge to cum almost threateningly near as he stared at your bare, swollen pussy. 

Holy. Shit.

Everything was soaked and glistening. 

He rubbed one thumb across your puffy skin, his coarse finger getting soaked in the process. 

He leaned in, gingerly licking fat stripes along your folds, lapping you up, drinking you in. He worked thoroughly, gathering you onto his tongue, until the lower part of his face was a mixture of your juices and his drool. 

It was only after he was satisfied with his work did he make his way to your clit, humming and sucking, the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your cunt filling the air of his room. 

The warm pleasure of it all was beginning to pool in your belly, your toes beginning to curl, legs beginning to shake – but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. 

“Toji, I might-” 

He plunged a rough, thick finger inside you, spearing your tight velvet walls apart, all the way up to his knuckle. 

You saw fuckin’ stars.

The sound you made was so erotic, so loud and depraved and raw, that his dick lurched in his pants, warm gooey pre-cum beginning to leak out from his throbbing tip and into his briefs. 

He wanted to hear you again, and again and again and again. 

He wanted videos, home movies, and spotify playlists of the way your pussy was talking to him. 

Emboldened, his tongue was unrelenting on your clit, as one finger became two, and then two became three. 

You mewled as he crooked them up, massaging against that soft, spongey bundle of nerves that had you panting his name out like it was prayer. 

Your ears were ringing, your eyes beginning to get wet with tears. 

Soon, he was fucking you on his fingers proper, setting a debilitating pace as he plunged his digits in and out and in and out. Filling you up, stretching you out, hitting your most sensitive areas. Again, and again, and again.

The pressure in your core was reaching its limits now, and the pleasure from the sheer fullness of your pussy and the sinful patterns of his tongue were beginning to send violent tremors down your legs. 

You were orgasming before you even realized it.

And yet, he was didn’t stop – didn’t even give you time to breathe as he’s diving into your pussy, slurping you up, his large nose rubbing against your over-sensitive clit as he’s fucking his thick tongue and his fingers past the tight ring of your entrance, fucking you, warm and wet, through each of your peaks. 

Your hands held onto his hair like a lifeline, your fleshy thighs locked around his head as if to keep him in place. 

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes glazed over, completely and utterly pussy drunk, as you looked down at him, his mouth still latched onto your cunt. 

You could see your slick dripping down his face, mixing with the light trails of perspiration that sprouted from his temples. 

Your heart squeezed in your chest. 

It was only after the last few waves of your orgasm subsided when you could finally respond. 

“I think,” you gently reached down to run your shaky hand through his scalp, tenderly pushing away the sweaty fringe by his eyes. “I think I can think of something that might taste better.” 

And then you’re pushing him until he’s moving to the top of the bed, his back resting against the headboard as he pulls his black shirt up and over his head, triceps flexing, exposing his muscular pecs, washboard abs, and the light tufts of hair that sprouted on his chest, and got increasingly darker the further down his abs it went. 

You could feel your pussy walls clamp down, warmth pooling in your core again as you reached out instinctively to run your hands along the length of his torso. 

You never thought, in all of your wildest dreams, that this would be happening. Nor could your dreams do justice to the perfect build of the man before you.

“Well look at you, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your soft hands slowly sliding up, up, up against his skin, all the way from where the dark tufts of thick hair started to disappear under his pants, and towards his pecs, feeling the way his traitorous heart stuttered as you called his name. “Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”

You held his gaze, the air around you charged with anticipation.

Who would move first?

His breathing was shallow as he stared at you, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Your top was rumpled to hell, exposing the line of your cleavage in a way that had his pants tenting painfully, and your mini skirt was so far scrunched that it looked like a belt around your waist. 

“For others, sure…” He grabbed your hands, pressing them deeper into his skin as he slid them up to cup his face. “But for you?” he was whispering now, his ears growing steadily pinker by the second, “I’m afraid you have me beat.” 

Oh. 

And then you’re leaning in, tenderly pressing your lips to his own, mumbling his name over and over again to stop you from saying those other three little words, before sealing it with your tongue. 

And then he’s pulling you into his lap. 

You could taste yourself in his mouth and on his lips, your nipples tightening as his large hands grabbed handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before making them clap together again. 

A muffled groan escaped from the depths of his chest, vibrating against your mouth, as he felt new gushes of your slick begin to dampen the front of his pants.

“Mmmnh- get comfortable, pretty girl.” He slurred out as he pulled at the waistband of your skirt, before letting go, allowing the material to slap against your skin with a light sting. 

“Hmm… only if daddy gets comfortable too.” your eyes were big as you stared at him through your lashes.  

And oh fuck.

Toji had to lean his head back, his skull hitting against the wall with a dull thud! 

The way the words left your mouth had him breathless, brain short-circuiting, and dick throbbing. He needed to recuperate. Calm down.

Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat. 

You smiled slyly, completely aware of how your words affected him, as you pulled your flimsy top off, followed by your bottomwear. Your tits were heavy and full as they were released from the cotton, nipples peaked and stiff. 

You were bare before him, your arms on either side of his hips, squeezing your tits together lightly as you bent low to whisper against his ear. 

“You like when I call you that?” Your voice was sweet as honey as your hands traced the large outline of his dick through his pants, gripping his shaft through the tight material, and feeling the monstrous size of his girth. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” his voice was a mixture of restraint and warning, “don’t start callin’ me that unless y’er tryna see it through.” His neck was visibly tense, and his hands clutched on to the meat of your hips as he stared at you. 

Pretty girl. 

He squeezed tighter.

His pretty girl. 

A moment of silence passed as you considered his words. “And what if I do wanna see it through…?” Your head tilted cutely while your mean hands found their way to his happy trail, running your nails down through the thick tufts of dark hair, dipping juuust below the waistband of his pants, before retreating back up again in slow, agonizing loops. “Show me your worst, daddy.”

And who was he to deny you? 

Before you knew it, he had his pants and briefs shoved down his legs, his massive cock heavily thudding against his washboard abs

Your mouth gaped open.

And ohhh how he relished the dumb look on your lil’ cute face.  

You didn’t even think anyone could be this large. 

Yet here he was, with a dick that looked like it belonged in a porno, pulsing fat and heavy and huge as he leaked pre-cum all over the angry mushroomed head. 

He smirked, cocky as ever, as you subconsciously licked your lips, eyes glazed over, cock drunk just off the look alone.

Your pussy gushed warm, new slick between your legs as you carefully leant down, your hands grabbing around his base, slowly bringing his dick closer to your face.

He could feel the warm puffs of air coming from ur plush lips, his dick twitching like crazy at how close you were to finally, finally getting your mouth on him. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to his leaking slit, before running your lips over the excess pre-cum, painting your lips with the milky substance.

He swallowed hard. His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged.

He groped your tits, rolling your stiff nipples in his calloused fingers, eliciting the sweetest moan from you that reverberated around his dick.

You gave him small kitten licks at first, teasing the idea, before gradually licking thick fat stripes up and down the length of his huge dick. You traced the pulsing veins that climbed up his hot shaft and licked around the sensitive underside of his throbbing cockhead. 

And it was only when his chest was heaving, his impatient hands gripping onto your skull, did you finally, finally begin to throat fuck the shit outta him. 

None of the videos he had watched of you before even came close to the sensation of seeing the bulge forming in your throat from where his cock was buried inside of you, or the way your nose tickled against the tufts of dark hair at the base of his cock. 

You moaned dreamily around him at the feeling of his heavy dick pounding against the back of your throat, filling your mouth and overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you bobbed him in your mouth, hands jerking off what you couldn’t reach, and your thighs rubbing together greedily, craving any ounce of friction against your throbbing pussy.

But before you knew it, he was lifting you off, a light string of saliva following en suit, connecting the two of you together. 

“What’s wrong?” You had a devilish grin on your pretty face. “Scared you're gonna cum too quick?”

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through his body as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, while the other smacked your ass. 

“Nah,” his canines glinted in the lowlight, a predatorial grin etching into his features. “Just tryna make sure nothin’ gets wasted.” And then he's shifting you up, rubbing his thick cock against your gooey cunt, mixing his thick pre with your juices. 

Your heart fluttered.

His dick was so warm against your skin – so, so much better (and bigger) than the toys you regularly used to get yourself off. 

You’ve had enough. You’ve done your waiting. You needed him inside you. 

You lifted yourself up, your hands bracing themselves on either side of Toji’s broad shoulders. Your pussy was dripping down onto his angry dick as you slowly lowered yourself, hips circling, letting his throbbing head trace your sopping lips. 

He could have almost passed out from the sight alone.

Instead, he panted out a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to restrain himself from bucking up into your cunt. 

You paused your hips, lowering yourself again ever so slightly so that his leaking head was now smooching against your gummy entrance, the heat of his cock stirring something warm and familiar in your belly. 

Please, please, please, ple–

And then your pussy is swallowing his head whole. 

“Oh, fuuuck you’re tight mama,” his eyes squeezed shut, fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead as Toji gasped out at the sensation of his thiiick cockhead squeezing past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. 

Your gummy walls sucked against him from all angles, squishing into his hardness and rubbing deliciously against the sensitive underside of his mushroomed tip. 

And this was just the tip.

He didn’t know if he would make it out of here alive. At least, without getting you pregnant. 

You whimpered, actually fuckin’ whimpered his name as you reached down, touching where he was spearing you apart, your lips drawn thin and tight to accommodate for the sheer size of him. 

“You’re so big Toji,” a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. “Look at how much more I gotta take.” And he did, he really did look. Because you began to let your finger slowly slide from where the two of you were connected, down, down, down to the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.

“Haah- Ya’ think it’ll fit, sweetheart?” He grunted, his lips involuntarily bucking as you pouted cutely at him. 

Something impassable flashed across your feature. “I’ll make it fuckin’ fit.”

And then you’re slamming down onto his dick, and it feels like the literal wind gets knocked out of both of your chests. 

He has never felt something so deliciously tight before.

You have never felt so goddamn filled up before.

You’re clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering and smooching around his raw cock as it pulses heavy and thick with animalistic need. 

It took you several moments to orient yourself, to gather your scrambled senses back together to remember what you were doing, what your goal was, why you were here. 

“I have a secret to tell you.” You stared down at him, an unreadable look passing over your features. 

“O-oh really?” you squeezed your walls around him, catching him off guard.

“I know you watch me touch myself,” you whispered it like it was a secret, sly and just a touch proud.

And of all the things you could’ve said, nothing would have prepared him for that.

His dick bobbed from inside of you. 

“Fushi-daddy420 isn’t the most subtlest of names, no?” you grinned meanly as you watched his jade eyes turn impossibly black as you began to slowly, teasingly, mercifully bounce on his cock. Up and down and up and down. 

“But-?”

He thought you would hate him if you knew. 

He agonized for days for this reaction?!!

“And after you ran out on me after seeing my place?” you were panting, riding him as you talked. “Yea, that kinda solidified it.”

And just when he thinks you’ve found your rhythm and set your pace, you slowly begin to circle your hips, hitting new angles deep inside your guts that have his throbbing tip pressing into the spongy part of your pussy. 

“You don’t -fuhh- don’t hate me?” his mind was swirling, how could he focus when you felt this good?

“Never.” Your hips rolled, and you pressed your tits together, giving him a show.  

And you were doing so well, and felt so good. He pressed a fat thumb against your clit, spelling out his name, as if to claim you, mark you, over and over and over again. 

T-O-J-I !

He throws his head back as he feels you creaming around his cock, while your eyes are rolling into the backs of your head as you feel his thick goopy pre frothing at your entrance, dripping down onto his balls. The pace is getting faster, the air getting hot, and thick beads of sweat are rolling down your back. The obscene sounds of sweaty skin slapping against skin filled the hot, sex-scented air. 

You lean down to kiss him, tongues messily entangling, drool spilling from the sides of your lips as you ride his cock like a fuckin’ animal, ass jiggling from the force of his hips rocking up to meet you, his heavy balls smacking against your pussy like a promise. 

In one swift motion, he’s flipping the two of you over, your back to the bed, his dick never leaving your pussy, as he continues to fuck into you. He has your legs spread wide, your knees to his sides as he buries himself deep within your warmth, the new angle allowing you to feel his fat tip smooching against your cervix.

He’s panting, breath shaky as he slows down, rutting shallowly, not allowing himself to be too far from your gummy insides. “T-tell me where you want it,” his voice came out strained, and you could see where his veins were protruding on his neck. 

Oh. His cum.

His balls were pressed against you, tightening with every passing second. You could feel his dick bobbing against your walls as he was direly trying to stop himself from cumming. 

You smiled, soft and sweet, as you pressed a hand against your lower tummy, feeling the bulge of where he was nestled inside you. 

“Oh, you already know,” and you were batting your pretty lashes up at him, making his heart stutter. “Isn’t that right, daddy?” 

And oh, how his broken mind snapped. 

The next thing you knew, he’s pressing your knees so far up they’re knocking against your tits, his hulking body leaning over and pressing down into you, chest against chest, until you could feel his warm lips sucking bruises by your ear. 

And then he’s draaagging his thick cock through your pussy until only the tip is inside you, before snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock the deepest it could go back inside you, spearing you apart, and setting an absolutely cruel, delicious, depraved pace that has his balls bruising your ass and his cock breeching your womb. 

It goes for what feels like seconds, minutes, hours.

Your legs began to shake at all the sensations, your pussy walls convulsing around him and your ears ringing as you started to see white. 

And he truly couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

Not when you sounded so hot, with your face scrunched up in the prettiest ‘o’ and your nails digging crescents into his back as you called his name, begging for his seed. 

And so he bucked up, his hips flush against yours, locking you into the meanest of mating presses, as his dick lurched, balls scrunching, as he pumped copious amounts of his thick, sticky cum straight into your womb.

And he’s still bucking his hips, through each of your peaks, fucking his cum deep inside you, until your belly was bloated and full of him.

“Thattaa girl,” he pressed a warm kiss to your mouth as he fucked you through the last few peaks of your orgasms, gingerly swiping his thumb across your cheek as if you were something precious. “My girl.”

And as you softly drifted to sleep, with a belly full of his cum and his softening dick still inside you, you could feel his scarred lips pressing light kisses across your face, and the mumblings of something that sounded vaguely too close to “iloveyou” whispered into your warm skin.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.

After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.

There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side. 

Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).

He still kept his same protein shake recipe.

He still kept his same choice of attire.

But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb. 

And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38. 

And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend. 

a/n: lmk if u want a part 2! mwah! <3

[shawtuzi]

ANGELS ALL AROUND ME ft. toji fushiguro

a/n: lemme know if i should make a mini series w these two, and their little family!! i very much enjoyed writing for them hehe

synopsis: toji’s bunny hybrid wife is desperate to have him put a baby in her

cw include: bunny hybrid!reader, black fem!reader, super fluffy & domestic asf . . and then things just get super horny, she sends him a naughty pic, phone sex??, masturbation, pillow humping, lowkey scent kink, some sloppy kisses, lots of praise, 69 position, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (baby, babe, bunny, honey, sweetness), spanking, multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex, tummy bulge, rough sex & slow sex, breeding kink, creampie, cervix fucking bc it’s toji, choking, breath play, lactation kink, body worship . . i think that’s about it . . . wc: 17.9k

“i’m home.”

the sound of the door shutting, and boots being kicked off brought a smile to your face, your hands quickly wiping against your apron to semi-clean them off.

“i’m in the kitchen!” you called back, opening the oven to place a pan full of one of tojis favorite meals inside. while you were bent over, you felt a sudden presence behind you, making you smile the tiniest bit.

while closing up the oven, a pair of hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you back even more. you were instantly relaxed. his chest felt hard, hot, comforting.

“hi bunny,” your husband whispered into the crook of your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft skin. your caramel colored, floppy ear twitched at the affection.

“hi honey . . i missed you.”

he hummed into your neck, and maneuvered you both to the side, away from the stove. the last time he surprised you in front of the appliance, he accidentally set half of his hand on one of the slowly cooling eyes while getting lost in your kisses, leaving him with a nasty burn.

it made him laugh thinking back on it, but you on the hand didn’t see the humor in it in the slightest.

“what smells so good in here, hm? smells like—”

“turkey wings,” you grinned, running your hands over his shoulders, and down his beefy arms.

he was wearing a black, long sleeve shirt, and on top of that were his navy blue overalls. his boots were long discarded, and sitting on the shoe rack by the door. they were replaced by his thick, black slippers that he’s had since you first moved into the cottage—they were a little . . well, a lot worn out, but he insisted they still felt as new as the day he got them.

his hand, calloused, but kinda soft from the lotion he applied before leaving work, caressed the apple of your cheek. “mm, you spoil me. s’just what i needed after how fuckin’ cold it was today.”

his fingers trailed from your cheek, to your jaw, and down to your neck, grasping it from the side so he could pull you in for a sweet, but quick kiss.

“yeah, i was . . mm, shocked that you guys didn’t wrap it up early from how low the temperature dropped. i hope you don’t catch a cold from being out in that all day,” you pouted, melting into his touch as his hand moved back up to cup the entire left side of your face.

the size of his hands never failed to shock you every now and again.

“heh, as long as i’m drinking that elderberry tea every night n’ morning, i don’t think i’ll be getting sick anytime soon,” he grinned, nose brushing against yours. “you started nesting yet?”

your head shook back and forth slowly, “nah, not yet. the urge to do it is getting stronger though, so i’ll probably do it either tomorrow, or the next day.”

three days from now, you would be going into heat, and toji always liked to be prepared for it.

he made sure his shifts at work were covered for the next ten days—starting with the day before your heat comes on. a heating pad and raspberry leaf tea were always on standby to help your intense cramps, and he kept the fridge packed with prepped meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. once your heat started, you were glued to him for the entirety of it, and because of that, cooking became a bit of a hassle. so, he started meal prepping, and so far it’s been his savior.

when it came to you nesting, he liked to leave shirts, hoodies, and occasionally sweatpants—so you could drown yourself in his scent to your hearts content. it was never as good as getting it straight from the source, but when he had to detach himself to use the bathroom, or take a phone call from work, it sufficed.

“you smell nice,” you hummed, trailing your nose along the edge of his jawline, and up to the spot below his ear—that’s where his scent was strongest.

your ears perked up, brushing over toji’s face and tickling him. he brought up a hand up, softly scratching the back of them. the slight tremble in your body had the scarred side of his lip quirking into a smirk.

“i-i made you some pound cake too—‘know you been craving it real bad.”

god, you always knew the right things to say to make him wanna bend you over, n’ fuck you silly.

his lips were soft against the skin of your neck as he pressed a wet kiss to it. “you know, i was gonna go shower, but i think i might justttt—”

“not while my turkey wings are vulnerable of being overcooked,” you grinned, licking the shell of his ear, “and no, i won’t just ‘turn it on low’.”

“mmcht, whatever—at least let me get some sugar before i go. ‘been thinking about your lips all day.” he was already leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss, stealing nearly all of your breath away.

you smiled against his lips, hands clutching onto his shirt. “i’m sure you have been with that nasty mind of yours. now go shower, and stop distractin’ me.”

and off he went, not an ounce of shame in his eyes as he basically eye-fucked you on his entire assent up the stairs.

he didn’t know it, but you were secretly buttering him up as much as possible so he would say yes to your newest request.

a baby.

your own bundle of joy that was yours, and tojis, to love and nurture.

you wanted it to have his eyes, with your lips, and his precious smile, with your dark curls. you wanted toji’s love for music, and your love for reading to pass onto them, and if you were lucky, you’d get them to love baking just as much as you did—boy or girl, it didn’t matter in the slightest.

at first you thought it was your heat talking—which was why you never said anything, but even after it passed, the thought of bearing toji’s children never failed to cross your mind at least three times a day now.

so here you were, nearly at peak ovulation with hope in your heart that he’d give you what you wanted.

kids were discussed, but not frequently—and you didn’t want to scare toji, but you feared that if he didn’t put a baby in you soon, you would surely lose your mind.

you skipped your past few birth control pills, and you had plans to skip them tonight, hoping that this would give your body enough time prepare itself for his seed.

on the off chance that he actually declined your offer, you were prepared to take your birth control once more, but if the universe was on your side, you’d be pregnant within the next couple of days.

while you iced the poundcake, and hummed a quiet tune to yourself. your imagination ran wild, filling your head with different scenarios of your future family.

you imagined toji building your little one a mud kitchen, and how they’d play with it together while you watched from afar, probably baking something because you were sure your baby would develop your sweet tooth.

“god, it smells like heaven down here.”

his voice made your heart swell. you were so in love.

“and it’s just about finished. why don’t you go play us a little something to listen to while i make your plate, hm?” you grinned, turning the eyes of the stove off.

“will do!” you heard him call from the living room, and by the sounds of it, he had already started rummaging around for a vinyl.

watching television during dinner was something you didn’t typically do—instead you would take turns playing different vinyls while you ate and cleaned up.

just as you finished plating some garlic mashed potatoes onto his plate, a song started playing.

la, la, la—never thought that we would ever be more than friends

now i’m all confused ‘cause for you, i had deeper feelings

“haven’t heard you play this one in a while,” you commented, carefully placing four turkey wings on the white porcelain.

toji peeked over your shoulder, hungrily swiping his salivating tongue over his bottom lip. “yeah . . couldn’t get this song specifically out of my head today.”

“mm, well good choice—now go sit. you want sweet tea? or i made some raspberry lemonade earlier?”

“ouu, lemonade please, baby. i just downed a glass of whiskey n’ need something sweet to chase it down with.”

your nose scrunched up at the mention of the foul tasting drink, “i don’t know how you drink that shit.” your body did a one eighty, and you quickly made your way over the table to set his plate in front of him. “but one raspberry lemonade coming up.”

the two of you ate in a comfortable silence, too busy indulging in the delicious meal you cooked to carry on a conversation.

“is it good, honey?” you asked after a good fifteen minutes, dabbing your lips with a cloth napkin.

toji took a long gulp of the lemonade, and relaxed more into his chair making you giggle. “i swear every time you make these, they get better and better.”

you smiled, floppy ears perking up at the praise. “i injected them with this herb butter i made, so they’d come out juicer. pretty damn good idea if i do say so myself.”

“you’ve outdone yourself again, baby. thank you so much. now, lemme get these plates up—”

“oh no, no, no—i’ll do it!”

toji raised a thick brow in confusion, head cocking slightly to the side. “baby . . you’ve done more than enough tonight. let me at least get the dishes.”

you were already pushing out of your chair, shaking your head back and forth in protest. “and you’ve just spent the whole day building houses, and managing people in the cold. let me do a little extra tonight, yeah? sit tight, and i’ll cut you a slice of poundcake.”

when you swiped up his plate, he gently grabbed your wrist, keeping you in a place.

“ . . . thank you. you’re such a doll.”

“anything for you, husband.”

toji bit his lip, and laid a firm smack on your behind, making you giggle like a school girl with a crush.

thoughts of taking turns feeding your child in their high chair crossed your mind, and you couldn’t help but smile about it to yourself. you’d make them their own baby food, of course, and purée everything by hand because nothing was better than homemade food prepared by ones own momma.

“here you go, honey. i hope you enjoy it,” you muttered, setting the plate containing a hefty slice of poundcake on the table.

“mm, thank you, sugar. looks fuckin’ great.”

you hummed, and nibbled on your lip, deciding if you should turn the charm up a notch.

toji let out groan when you firmly squeezed at his shoulders, your thumbs digging into the tense muscles. “that’s right, honey, just relax for me. you had such a long day, n’ i wanna make it better,” you spoke softly, rolling your hands over the muscles on his back.

his favorite dinner, poundcake, and a massage??

the cogs in toji’s brain began to turn, and it was around his fourth bite when he realized you were up to something.

“baby.”

“hm?”

“what do you want?” he spoke lowly with a mouthful of cake.

your hands briefly paused, confirming his suspicions. he couldn’t help but smirk. what a sneaky little bunny of a wife he’s got.

“w-what do you mean, lover? i always try my best to spoil you after you’ve had a hard day,” you mumbled, digging your thumb into a particularly large knot.

toji’s head tipped low, his eyes fluttering shut in pain threaded with intense pleasure. you always gave the best massages.

his hand wrapped around your wrist, pausing your movements. “hah—yeah, but you only make poundcake for special occasions. it’s your tell. so, what do you want, hm?”

you sighed letting your hands go limp, and fall to your sides. it didn’t shock toji in the slightest when you took your rightful place in his lap, your hand coming to scratch at the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“well . . .”

“heh, i knew it. what does my baby need, huh? name it, and its yours.”

your lips parted, then shut, a furrow coming between your brows. why were you so nervous all of a sudden??

toji noticed this, and thumbed the space between your eyebrows, his lips lifting into a small, but comforting smile. “don’t think too hard about it. you don’t need to be scared to ask me nothing, you know i’d do anything for you.”

anything.

anything had to include a baby right? right.

“well . . i’ve been doing some thinking, and i think it’s time we thought about . . . um, expanding our family.”

when he didn’t say anything, you continued.

“i think i’m ready to be a mom, a-and i think you’d be an amazing dad. we have that extra room that’s just going to waste, and a huge backyard just waiting for be filled with little dark haired babies!”

“babies,” toji breathed out, his eyes widening slightly.

you offered him a smile, and another forkful of poundcake, which he hesitantly accepted.

“ideally, i would like three, but two is fine. i jus’ want lots of kids, and then grandkids, and then maybe even some great—um, honey? are you alright? you look like you’re about to go cross eyed.”

toji blinked slowly once, twice, thrice.

he couldn’t remember the last time you discussed children together, and now you were talking about your future great grandchildren.

he simply couldn’t wrap his head around it all.

“okay, one more thing n’ then i’m done—but just imagine how cute i’d look pregnant! and odds are if we have three; at least two of the little cuties will get my bunny gene.”

he could feel your tail twitch underneath your dress, indicating that you were getting more and more excited as the seconds passed.

“say something, please.”

his eyes flit to yours, and he practically melted on the spot. you were extremely hopeful, he could see it in your eyes—they were sparkling.

“i think . . . i think it’s a fuckin’ great idea, baby,” he grinned, mossy green eyes brightening up just as much as yours. “we’ve been married long enough, i think it’s about time we bring a couple of brats in the world.”

you told yourself you wouldn’t cry if he said yes, but that didn’t stop hot tears from pooling at your lash line.

“you really mean it, love?”

toji’s fingers scratched at the tender spot behind your drooped ears, making you shudder. “i mean, i was shocked for a second, but then i started thinking about a mini us . . . and you being pregnant. i think you’d make a rather cute pregnant lady.”

his hand trailed down to the back of your neck, cupping it gently, “i can picture it now—you all round n’ cute while taking care of the garden in the spring. if we’re successful in the next couple of weeks, we’ll have ourselves a little autumn baby, which is what?”

“our favorite season,” you sniffled, nose twitching cutely in an attempt to hold your tears in.

“did you really think i would say no, and break your heart like that?” he chuckled, pushing down on your neck gently so your lips could meet his in a kiss.

“stopppp! i don’t know!”

the fluffiness of your ears tickled his jaw as you burrowed your face in his neck, a dopey smile spreading across your lips.

“i think we should wait until your heat starts. you’re fertile, n’ you’ll be ovulating like crazy. i reckon it’ll take much better if we do it around then, yeah?”

gosh, it was really happening. you couldn’t believe your ears.

“oh! i guess we should scrap your birth control too, huh? by the look on your face, though, i’m assuming you stopped already?” the smirk he was sporting was almost irritating. he was always able to read you so well.

you twiddled your fingers together, a fresh wave of heat spreading across your cheeks from embarrassment. “maybe . . . it’s only been a couple days, though. i’ll throw them out tonight.”

it was silent for a few beats, but it was a comfortable silence.

you found yourself nuzzling your face back into his neck, while he slowly rocked you both back and forth, back and forth.

there were other things that needed to be discussed regarding this topic, but all toji wanted to do was just bask in the silence. a few days from now, your lives will change forever, and although it lowkey scared the shit out of him, he was also queasy with excitement.

you’d be the perfect mom, he was sure of it.

and because female bunny hybrids were built for carrying multiple children on multiple occasions (if they choose) you both knew there would be little to no risks involved.

toji was so lost in his thoughts thinking about the next couple of months that he didn’t even notice you were snoring until a few minutes after.

he looked down, and there you were—ears drooped over your shoulders while little snores left your parted lips. after being anxious all day about the baby talk, and indulging in a big meal, you were absolutely slumped, practically melting into a puddle of nothing but sugar, spice, n’ everything nice as he rocked you side to side.

unfortunately, your slumber was soon interrupted.

“mm, hey. wake up, bunny.”

“nooo . . .”

“yes. you already know i plan on carrying you, so why’re you fussin’ at me, hm?” his tone was gentle, almost teasing like.

you fell silent again, drowsiness overcoming you heavily.

it was impossible to keep your eyes open at this point, so you just gave in, mumbling something about how he’s on cleaning duty before falling asleep once again.

you didn’t stir out of your sleep once as he carried you upstairs, and tucked you into bed, but he was rewarded with an adorable nose twitch when he slipped your bonnet over your hair. you didn’t exactly make it easy for him, but he was eventually able to remove your dress and bra, leaving you in nothing but some cotton, baby pink panties.

that night, you had one of the most vivid dreams you’ve ever had in your life. visions of children with caramel colored skin, and dark hair to go with their fuzzy ears played behind your closed eyelids. you could hear their giggles and playful shrieks as if they were really there.

and when you awoke the next morning, your heart was heavy, but full, because you knew in the days to come, toji would successfully put a baby in you, and make you the mother you’ve been dreaming about becoming.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ .

the first few hours of your heat were always the worst.

before becoming unbearably aroused, you were greeted with nauseating cramps that left you a teary, curled up mess. drinking tea or a heating pad helped—sometimes.

but nothing could compare to the human furnace that was your husband.

he radiated the warmth of a thousand suns, and then some more, bringing you just enough warmth to lull you into a painless sleep.

so here you were, curled into his naked chest while you whined into his ear every now again about how miserable you were feeling.

“tojiiiii.”

“i know, honey, i know,” he sighed into your hair, running a rough hand over your back.

the thin shirt you were wearing was damp with sweat, clinging to your slicked skin so uncomfortably, you almost wanted to cry from overstimulation.

“you want me to run you a bath? might help you a little—”

“noooo! too much movin’ around. plus the soap will make your good smell go away.”

‘good smell’ being his natural musk that would only get stronger as the hours ticked by. it was a woodsy scent with a tinge of vanilla and bourbon mixed in. it was intoxicating, and if you could inject it into your veins, you would without a single bit of hesitation.

before toji could even get another word out, you were letting out a strained yelp, your head burrowing itself further into the crook of his neck.

god, he hated this.

he hated seeing his wife in so much pain, and the fact that there was absolutely nothing he could do besides let it take its course frustrated him greatly.

they only lasted for a few hours, but it somehow always felt like a century to you.

“just stay here, and listen to me complain please . .” your voice was weak, barely above a whisper as you relaxed more into his muscly arms. you could feel sleep overcoming you for the second time that morning, your eyelids already beginning to droop.

toji’s arms tightened around your form, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. his nostrils flared in a sigh of relief. you were finally going to sleep again.

if he was lucky, you’d be knocked out until that familiar gnawing arousal woke you up, and you could use him to your hearts desire. finally, he’d be useful to you, and not just some big oaf, holding you and cooing in your ear about how he wished he could take your pain away.

“of course, pretty girl. i’ll be here as long as you need me too, i’m all yours. forever.”

slowly, your eyes shut, and your breathing had gone shallow. a few minutes later, tiny snores could be heard from your parted lips, and that’s when toji could finally relax.

he didn’t dare move a muscle, too scared that he’d stir you awake and keep you up.

it worked for a good half hour, and he even caught himself drifting off, but then his phone started vibrating, instantly souring his mood.

his phone was on do not disturb, obviously, but there was only one person who was able to call during the ten days you were both isolated from the world; satoru gojo.

he was toji’s right hand man at work, and by the grace of god managed to hold it down whenever he was away—which wasn’t very often except for special occasions like now.

he knew not to call unless it was an emergency, and was in dire need of toji’s help—and even then he should tread lightly when calling, so toji could only imagine the bullshit he was about to hear.

“this better be good,” he sighed into the phone, voice laced with pure annoyance.

“uh, yeah, we got a bit of a situation here, boss. i’m here with the couple whose house we’re workin’ on, and the wife is having a shit fit because we got the wrong hardwood flooring.”

toji could’ve sworn his heart stopped right then and there. he almost jolted up, but then he was reminded of the sleeping bunny hybrid in his arms, and let out a deep, shaky breath.

“what do you mean we got the wrong fucking— *sigh* what do mean we got the wrong wood, satoru? did she, or did she not request brazilian walnut flooring?”

“w-well that’s what i told her, but she insisted she requested brazilian cherry. her husband looks terrified of her, so you already know he’s taking her side, and now they’re threatening to pull the entire project, and—”

oh, he could’ve went into cardiac arrest right then and there.

in all the years toji has been in this line of work, he’s never had a customer so dissatisfied they wanted to stop working with him. he would be damned if that started now—right as he was about to start a family of his own.

his jaw ticked, a furrow nestling between his brows. “okay, okay, stop talking. just let me think for a sec.”

“there is no time for thinking, fushiguro! i need you to get your ass up here right now, and sort this shit out before this woman has an aneurysm. let’s not forget there’s also a couple hundred thousand dollars on the line.”

all toji could do was let his head flop back into the plush pillow beneath him, his heart feeling heavier by the moment. his fingers trailed over the soft tufts of fur on your ears, eliciting a quiet, sleepy noise from you.

you were so precious is actually strained him.

“but—but i can’t. i-i can’t just leave my wife here now! you already know how it goes, ‘toru, she needs me here—”

“well, i need you here, man! look, we’ll try to keep it brief, and fix the problem so you can get home to the missus on time, but we cannot lose this client . . . you mentioned like a day ago that you two were thinking about kids right?”

toji’s lips quirked into a small smile at the mention, “yes . . .”

“if we seal the deal with these guys, and make ‘em happy, that’s your kids college fund right. fucking. there. or better yet—! that’s money for a . . ah, what’s that shit called where you vacation before it’s born?”

“a babymoon?”

“yes! precisely! now are you with me, or are you with me? it’ll take like a half hour—forty five minutes tops.”

“yeah, plus the hour long drive it takes to get there n’ back,” he sighed, already eyeing the walk-in closet.

as much as he hated it, his mind was made up, and he was not pleased with the decision.

with a low grunt, he maneuvered your sleeping form to the side, careful not to jostle you awake. thankfully, you only stirred a bit before going still again, your face nuzzling into the plush of your pillow.

“tell those assholes not to lose their heads, n’ that i’ll be there soon.”

and with that, toji was hanging up with a frustrated grunt.

for a moment he just stared at you, lips drooping into a frown at how content you looked. he didn’t want to leave your side—not even for a moment, but selfishly enough there was too much money on the line that could be put towards his family. he had to do it.

at least that’s what he kept telling himself as he got dressed. guilt was laced in every movement he made, only making it harder for him leave you.

he trudged over to the bed, and looked down at you with nothing but love swirling in his green irises. “i’m sorry . . . so sorry, honey. i’ll be back as soon as i can—before you even wake up, i promise.”

it was a risk giving you a kiss, but he didn’t give a shit in the slightest, giving your forehead three quick kisses that simply weren’t long enough.

“i’m sorry . .” he muttered once more, his heart nearly cracking in two as he exited the bedroom.

[ new message sent to bunny ᰔ ]

hi sweet girl. i’m hoping you won’t even read this, but if you are . . i promise, i won’t be gone long. 911 emergency @ work.

in fact i might even be otw home as you’re reading this!

just remember to keep a steady mind, and take care of yourself. i love you!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ .

the first thing that greeted you when you opened your eyes was darkness.

the bedside lamp that was once on before was now turned off, and the midday sky had now gone black thanks to daylight savings.

sleepily, you nuzzled your face into the plush of your pillow, your hand reaching over to the side in search of your husband.

strangely, you felt nothing.

your eyes snapped open, manicured fingers clenching around the cold sheet. this was odd . . . extremely odd, because even if you were asleep, and toji needed to take a piss, he’d bring you with him without a second thought.

so, where could he have gone?

“tojiiiii!” you called out, face nuzzling into the hoodie he left beside you.

when you received no answer, you slowly sat up, ears perking up to hear any noise or movement around the house.

you heard absolutely nothing.

“what—? hah,” you hunched over in pain, lashes fluttering shut as your last cramp of the evening washed over you.

it was only a matter of time before the real shit kicked in, and you’d turn into a blubbering mess with soaked panties.

“what the fuck,” you hissed, snatching up your phone. the sudden bright light stung your eyes, but what stung even more was the text you read over three times from your husband.

it was almost comical how big your eyes got, but what wasn’t funny, was the way your ears straightened and how every hair on your body stood up in anger.

“i’m . . i’m gonna kill him. i’m gonna murder him—fuck, fuck, fuck!” you whined, dramatic tears filling up your lash line already.

out of all days, toji just had to pick up a shift today? at the start of your heat? the day when it would be at its strongest, and most unbearable?

[ new message sent to husband ㅤꨄ︎ ]

oh my god.

i could literally strangle you right now!!!!!!!!

look at this!!!

[ 1 new image sent to husband ㅤꨄ︎ ]

you’ve never sent a nude to your man out of pure anger before, but here you were; knees nearly stretched stretched to your shoulders while you held your phone out to take a pic of your soaked, panty clad pussy. the lavender colored fabric was now more of a dark purple thanks to obscene amount of slick dripping from your cunt.

with a whimper, you pressed two fingers rather roughly against your covered, clit. your body tensed, a surge of pleasure shooting down your back.

it was ridiculous at how quickly you became aroused, and usually, toji would be on his stomach first thing, nose pressed against your clit all while his skilled tongue caressed your entrance—but today for the first time since you met him, he wasn’t there.

you only suffered through three heats by yourself since you began having them, and right now, you couldn’t even remember how you were able to get through them alone.

buzz! buzz! buzz!

your breath hitched at the sound of your phone vibrating, and when you peaked over to see who it was, it was none other than the man of the hour; toji.

with a growl, you snatched your phone up and answered the call, angrily pressing the speaker button afterwards.

“you motherfuck—”

“i know! i know, i know, i knowwww—i’m an ass, and the worst husband in the world i’m so sorry, baby.”

your nostrils flared in a sigh, the furrow between your brows deepening, “why are you at work right now? what could’ve possibly been so important—more important than my heat?! the baby making?!”

you really didn’t mean to sound so bitchy—especially when you needed him, and his stupid dick more than oxygen right now, but whew!

angry wasn’t even the word.

“when are you gonna be homeeee? i’m this close to touching myself, and you know how i feel about that.”

you could hear him sigh on the other end, followed by some low curses.

“look, i know you’re really upset, and you have every right to be, but there was a situation involving a high end client that i had to take care of. they were threatening to pull the project, and that’s the last thing we need right now—especially if you’re gonna be having a baby this year . .”

and just like that, your brows drifted back into place, and the scowl on your lips was replaced with a thin line.

“you know i wouldn’t have left you there alone if it wasn’t important, sugar. fortunately for you though, we just finished up so i’ll be home within the hour.”

your teeth caught onto your bottom lip, fluffy tail twitching in excitement. before you could even realize what you were doing, your hand was trailing between your thighs, and resting on the mound of your pussy.

he always had his most attractive voice on when he apologized to you. you didn’t know if it was purposeful or not, but right now you didn’t care to know—all you knew was that it was turning you on more than it should’ve, and those images you had of yourself throttling his thick neck in anger soon turned into a fantasy.

“you’re not too mad at me, are you? i’ve missed you like crazy since i left . . . although, i did enjoy that little picture you sent.”

the small chuckle you heard on the other end had your cunt clenching around nothing almost painfully.

your brain was so muddled from horniness, you quite literally forgot the nude you sent to him out of pure irritation that quickly.

“mmcht. it wasn’t meant to arouse you, it was meant to show you how angry i am!”

“well anger has never looked so good on you before. have you taken them off yet? i know you hate the feeling of the fabric against her when she’s too wet.”

your breath hitched, trembling fingers bunching up the soft garment. irritatingly enough, he was right—you hated the feeling of sitting in slicked up panties for too long. it was a sensory overload, and not the kind that you were into.

with a huff, you were yanking them down, and kicking them to the side. “i just took ‘em off. now what’s your eta? it’s really starting to—ngh, h-hurt.”

your voice was calm, and laced with faux irritation, but it was slowly crumbling away the more your husband talked to you in that soft, low tone.

“m’on the highway now . . shouldn’t take no more than forty five minutes, maybe an hour tops if it rains. just remember to stay levelheaded, and not get frustrated with yourself, yes? your body is probably used to me helping you out, so you might not get that feeling you’re looking for by yourself.”

he was right yet again.

every brush of your fingers against your puffy clit felt like nothing but numbness compared to toji’s. you delved your fingers lower, circling them over your dripping hole to collect more wetness, and brought them back up. your clit throbbed from the light pressure you applied.

“i don’t know if i’ll survive an hour . . stay on the phone with me? please? i promise i won’t distract you from driving.”

there was some shuffling on the other end, and then he spoke low, n’ sweet—

“of course, bunny.”

a half hour later, and the thin shirt you were wearing was long discarded, hanging haphazardly off the side of the bed. you a had a pillow, tojis pillow, lodged between your thick thighs, and pathetic wasn’t even the word to describe the scene of you humping the soft cotton.

the phone sitting between your shoulder was slowly becoming slick with sweat from how quickly you were rocking your hips, and if it weren’t for tojis encouraging words going directly into your ear, you surely would’ve collapsed in a pile of defeat and tears.

“g-god, it’s not working babe! i need you here—here with me,” your words were a bit slurred, and laced with pure want.

all the sounds that left your pouted lips went straight to tojis dick, making it almost impossible for him to stay levelheaded. he needed to though—for you.

he could hear your frustration. the wavering in your voice as your fucked out brain tried to form a sentence for him.

he had to keep you calm for just a bit longer.

“jus’ go slow, baby. try to circle your hips like you do on my dick, yeah?”

you let out a high pitched whine, and slammed your phone down on the bed before pressing the speaker button. your clit felt raw against the soft material of the pillow, too spent from chasing a high that was just a few steps out of your reach.

streaks of your essence were . . . well, they were just about everywhere. a couple were at the top of the bed where you unsuccessfully tried to finger yourself, and then a few more scattered around from you basically humping the bed like that would do you any good. it was actually toji’s idea for you to use his pillow since your muddled lil brain didn’t think of it first.

“you’re doin’ so good, bunny . . m’so sorry i’m not there—but hey! you wanna know something?”

“h-hm?”

“i’m so fuckin’ hard for you right now. i promise when i get home i’m gonna put those pretty legs up n’ fuc—ahem, make love to you for hours on end. by this time next week, you’ll be pregnant. i’m sure of it.”

his words had desperate tears springing to your eyes, and streaming down your cheeks. never have you once cried from being deprived of some dick, yet here you were—borderline sobbing because toji wasn’t there to fill your guts.

it was becoming too much.

your hips jerked against the pillow rather roughly, and then . . that oh so familiar electric feeling surged throughout your body, making you collapse into the sheets, heaving and whimpering to catch your breath.

your floppy ears twitched, curling in on themselves from the overwhelming sensitivity you were feeling.

toji heard everything, of course. oh, how he wishes he could’ve seen the look on your face.

“heh, did you just cum?”

there it m was. that teasing, taunting like voice he used to make you feel smaller than you already were. his tone was soft, but there was a slight edge to it that always had your brain turning to mush.

you thought back to the time he first used it—back when you still lived in your entirely too small studio apartment, and he stayed in a dingy one bedroom above the restaurant he used to work at before he got into building houses.

you were at his place, perched in his lap with your arms wrapped around his thick neck that adorned a thin, gold chain you had gifted him, all while your tongues danced with one another.

at the time, it was rare you got to see your man with you working two jobs, and him constantly finding some kinda side hustle—so whenever you did see each other, you couldn’t keep your hands off one another.

he was hard . . hot underneath you, and was twitching like crazy making your pussy tingle in ways you didn’t even know were possible.

but what drove you over the edge were his kisses.

they were always hungry n’ full of want, stealing your breath away each time, and because he was such a greedy man, he rarely let you come up for air unless you made enough noises.

one tongue suckle, and a tender scratch behind your caramel colored ear had you whining into his mouth, your ears sticking straight up as your lower half humped rapidly into his.

“heh, so you like your ears scratched, huh? that’s real cute, bunny.”

it was the first time he called you bunny, and the first time he ever spoke to you in that tone. it made you feel embarrassed . . aroused . . restless.

safe to say, you stuck true to your nature that night, and rode him like that madwoman he made you, your lips not once leaving his even if the breathlessness burned your lungs.

“hello? bunny? where did my girl go, hm?”

and then you were brought back to reality. the ringing in your ears was no more, and black dots no longer clouded your vision—although the intense surges of need you felt in your cunt from your heat never lessened.

your lower half twitched forward, swollen clit smushing against the sticky pillow case with a wet clicking noise.

“bunny?”

“i’m here, sweetness,” you sighed, nuzzling your damp forehead into the mattress. “and i’m ready for you, so please hurry.”

and with that, you were hanging up, and swiping your phone to the side with a grunt.

feral would be the correct word to describe you right now. you felt tense . . out of body—you needed your fucking husband! your human mate, the future father to your children—the only person who could bring you down from this crazed state.

his voice wasn’t enough.

you needed to smell him . . taste him . . sink your teeth into his skin for whatever reason.

it’s been about forty five minutes now, and you could only imagine the look on your husbands face when he walks in and sees the state of his, usually composed, wife.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ .

just as toji pulled in front of the cottage, it began to rain like all hell. random droplets soon turned into a downpour, but that didn’t stop him from bolting full speed to the front door. he nearly busted his ass while kicking off his work boots, but he managed to get inside all in one piece, with no mud trailing behind.

you loved nature, and all it had to offer, but you without a doubt drew the line at mud being brought into your home.

he couldn’t help but wonder if that hatred would dial down once your little one comes into the world.

he blinked three times, and looked around. it was pitch black all around, but he could hear the presence of another in the house—you.

creak . . creak . . creak . . .

the unmistakable sound of your shared king size bed scraping against the hardwood floor had his nostrils flaring. a familiar warmth trickled down his lower belly, and to the tip of his cock, the thick muscle now straining against his jeans.

“my poor bunny,” he hummed, slowly making his way up the stairs. his ears perked up at the salivating noises he heard coming from the bedroom, and although his heart was heavy that you were even brought to such a state, he secretly couldn’t wait to see it.

upon entering the bedroom, toji honestly could’ve fell to his knees, and started crying.

there lay his wife—his sweet, beautiful, bunny of a wife, with not one, but two of his shirts pulled close to you doing unspeakable, disgusting things that would surely leave your cheeks burning if he ever decided to bring it up—he will.

one of the shirts, a plain, black compression shirt that he usually wore on his early morning runs was squished between your trembling thighs, meanwhile the other . . a sleep shirt he wore frequently was covering your nose n’ everything below it.

he couldn’t tell, but you were actually sucking on the shirt—you weren’t sure why . . maybe a comfort thing? it just felt right.

toji took a step forward, a small creaking sound following, and that’s what pulled you out of your daze.

he heard you take a deep inhale, and when you sat up with his shirt dangling from your teeth, he felt his heart swell. you wanted to say something—anything, but all you could mutter out was a weak—

“h-hey?”

toji tongued the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows settling back into place. “c’mere.”

just as he took three long strides forward, you were practically pouncing off the bed, your bodies meeting in a rather rough embrace.

it was like two puzzle pieces perfectly coming together. the way your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands cupping your backside to pull you upward like it was second nature.

the kiss was messy; a clash of tongue and teeth that left you breathless, and squirming against his form.

“god, i should rip your head off for leaving me like this you . . y-you . . a-ahh.”

your head tipped back onto your shoulder, puffy lips parting as toji lifted you higher to capture one of your nipples between his lips. with the way his nose smushed against your chest, he could barely breathe, but did he care?

the noisy grunts he made against your damp skin was the answer.

“got your . . y-your nerves leaving me here all by lonesome.” one of your hands fisted at the dark hairs at the nape of his neck, making him groan. “i’ve never had sooo much trouble orgasming before—ngh, it was torture, honey.”

toji released your nipple with a pop before lowering you back down, his lips pressing against yours feverishly.

“m’gonna make it up to you, bunny, i promise . . n’ i know exactly how i’m gonna do it.”

you didn’t bother to ask any questions, or even put the energy into forming one, you just let toji do what he did best.

treat you like his personal plaything in the most loving way possible.

“you wanna undress me, or get right to it?” he spoke lowly, setting you on the edge of the bed. when your knees collided with the mattress, your arms hooked themselves around his slim waist, pulling him closer.

“mm, undress yourself n’ lemme watch,” you mumbled into his hard stomach. he smelt of cinnamon, spice, and musk—a deadly combination for someone in a situation such as yourself.

his jacket was discarded first, and then the black long sleeve shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly. the second a sliver of skin was shown, you were mouthing at it, making him grin.

his abs that he didn’t try very hard to get clenched under your soft tongue. “watch closely now,” he chuckled, veiny hands settling on his belt buckle. he undid it slowly, gauging your every reaction with a predatory stare.

“o-oh!” your lips parted in a moan when he wrapped the belt along the back of your neck. the leather was cool against your scorching skin, and when he tugged justtt a little bit, your chin was pressing against the thick bulge in his jeans.

“let me have it, honey . . please.”

with a groan, toji released the belt, and cupped your cheeks in his rough palms. “as long as you keep on lookin’ at me like that, you can have anything you want from me, gorgeous.”

your eyes never once left his as you pulled his jeans down almost torturously slow. brown irises that were usually so soft n’ bright were eaten up by your blown out pupils, giving you that dazed, spacey look like an actual bunny.

“you’re so hard . . does it hurt?”

his breath hitched when you hooked two manicured fingers in the waistband of his gray briefs. “just a little—nothing compared to what you’ve been dealing with though, my strong girl.”

your nose ran along the veins that trailed into his briefs, and without an ounce of shame, you inhaled . . deeply.

toji’s musk was something you were more addicted to than anything on this earth. it was so uniquely him, and never failed to make your mouth water, even after all these years of being married.

“stop torturing yourself, n’ suck it, baby. shaking like a leaf down there.”

and he wasn’t lying—you were almost vibrating in excitement, but it was only in your nature to get your fill of his enticing scent.

with a quick tug, toji’s briefs were pulled down mid thigh, exposing his most mouth watering appendage.

toji was big . . like intimidatingly big. he had the kind of dick that would have literally anyone’s eyes bug out of their head. he was so long n’ thick, that it didn’t even stand up . . . no, no—it just sat hot and heavy on his muscly thigh with thick, shiny globs of pre dribbling from the tip. two thick, mean veins throbbed on the underside, and trailed all the way down his base where a coarse patch of jet black hair was. he didn’t like the clean shaven look, but he also didn’t like the unshaven look because in his opinion, it made him look rather beastly—he eventually found a happy medium that worked for the both of you, though.

the tip, pretty as ever, was a dark pink color that matched his full lips perfectly, but if he waited long enough, like now—it’d eventually turn into this deep mauve pinkish color. the underside beneath was terribly sensitive, and he constantly had to remind you that since it was your favorite spot to lick at.

“remember,” he spoke lowly, gripping your chin between two fingers, “this is all about you. whatever position, whatever pace . . anything you want, i’ll give it to you. jus’ make sure you don’t overdo it n’ pass out on me, okay?”

there was a slight humerus tone in his words, but his eyes were as serious as ever.

as silly as it sounded, you had a slighttt problem with not knowing your limits, but how could you when your husband had the stamina of a bull hybrid! it didn’t matter if he came twice or five times, his dick would still be hard, and ready to give you more cum if you were ready for it.

“i can’t make any promises, but i will try my absolute best,” you grinned up at him, already looking cockdrunk just from his scent.

“that’s my girl—hah, m-my good girl,” he hummed, patting over your messy curls as you gripped his cock gently.

your tongue poked out, carefully tracing around the bulbous tip before licking over his slit. it was salty, but because of his healthy diet, there was this slight sweetness that had you drooling.

before toji met you, he was surviving off of takeout from his job and instant ramen, but once you came into the picture, his eating habits became a top priority of yours—not because you wanted to change the he looked or make him feel bad, but because you wanted him to feel like his best, most healthiest self.

“you need more fiber in your diet, babe.”

“this ramen contains soooo much sodium, you’d be better off with me making it for you with some extra stuff added!”

“we live in a society where people are dying more n’ more often because they aren’t getting enough fiber! you need need fiber—you got any lentils in here or something?”

one would think this might be annoying, but it actually made toji’s heart swell that you cared so much for him.

and because of this diet change, he started feeling better mentally and physically! he sleeps better, is wayyyy less tired, less sluggish, and now you can actually swallow his cum instead of making that face like you did the first few times he nutted in your mouth.

“tastes really good . .” you muttered, pink tongue swiping over your bottom lip before fully wrapping your lips around the oozing tip.

“mm, yeah. been eating more fruit lately if you haven’t noticed.” his eyes flicked down to yours, and he could’ve busted right there just from how precious you looked beneath him. if he could have any image burned into his brain for eternity—it would be the sight of your glazed over eyes looking up at him like he handcrafted all the planets, and the stars by hand. “you’re so beautiful y’know that? prettiest little bunny that ever walked this earth.”

you hummed at the praise, removing the tip from your mouth to press wet, sloppy kisses up n’ down the length of him. “you gonna still think that even when i’m blown up like beach ball?”

while you thought your little joke was funny, toji could only snarl, and wrap a fist around your hair, pulling you back. “don’t talk like that . . even as a joke. i already know your body is gonna start lookin’ a bit different n’ i don’t want you to think for even a second that it would make me any less attracted to you. i love your body now, and i will love your pregnant body, and then the mommy body you will have afterwards just as much.”

woah . . .

you didn’t expect toji to say such sweet words, but they had your hormonal brain in a whirl. you didn’t know why, but him talking about your ‘mommy body’ made you want to cry.

just another reminder that this was all very much real and happening.

“don’t get all emotional on me now, baby.” his snarl was replaced by a soft smile, and the grip he once had on your hair was now nothing more than him just cupping the back of your head. “i didn’t mean to get all sappy . . just had to let you know that real quick, even though you should already know.”

“i do, honey, i do. you’re so sweet to me,” your voice was low, breathy, n’ seductive as ever as you pressed a tongue filled kiss to the spot below his tip. his cock twitched against your lips, smearing the tiniest bit of pre on the side of your jaw. “you’re gonna be such a good daddy.”

“fuck—and, you’re gonna be such a good fuckin’ momma. c’mere—”

in this moment toji didn’t much of a damn about his own pleasure. all he wanted to do was get wrapped up in you! he wanted to smell you, taste you, caress any part of your supple skin that he could get his hands on.

so to satiate both of your needs, in came one of his favorite positions; the sixty-nine position.

it was a favorite of his for many reasons, and at the top of that list was the mutual pleasure you both got from being able to give to the other at the same time.

toji was now completely undressed, back pressed against a mountain of pillows all while he held your hips in a firm grip. your weeping cunt was just inches from his lips, looking more enticing than ever all slicked up n’ puffy for him.

you are already working on his dick, kiss bitten lips slobbering all around the length while you tried to keep your gag reflex at bay.

“makin’ me feel so good down there, bunny,” he groaned, pressing a sweet kiss to your clit. when he pulled away, a line of your essence stuck to his bottom lip, keeping you connected. “come closer . . put that pussy on me.”

your hips lowered slightly, and you could practically feel toji’s smirk burning into your skin, until you finally felt the familiar pleasure of his tongue caressing your clit.

he was soft with it as always, because you hated when men used to lick your pussy too hard. you didn’t know there was such a thing as receiving some actual good head until toji became yours. maybe it was because he was a few years older, or maybe he just had the common sense, but there was a never time you had to fake an orgasm or a moan with him.

he took his time no matter where you were, or what time of day it was, because there was no sense in rushing something as sensual as eating pussy.

the only downside to him being so good at it, was that it made it so hard for you to concentrate on sucking him off!

when you pulled off of his cock with a lewd pop, he let out a long exhale, and relaxed more into the bed. the center of his tongue laved over your swollen button, alternating between moving left and right, and slow figure eights.

“gosh, honey,” you mewled, lips curling into an adorable pout. this . . this was the feeling that you had been waiting for ever since you woke up about two and a half hours ago, and although waiting for toji that long had you feeling less than ungodly, he was more than worth the wait.

toji mumbled something incoherent into the soft skin of your folds, and then brought a hand up to touch softly at your tail.

besides your ears, your tail was one of the most sensitive parts of you—a part only toji is allowed to even think about touching. the feeling of his skillful fingers running over the soft, white tufts of fur never failed to get you noisy.

“s-soft, honey, soft please . .” your head drooped forward, and your hips completely dropped, engulfing toji between your soaked thighs. “oh fuck, y-your nose!” you squealed, moving forward only for toji to pull you right back, his nose prodding at your entrance once more.

“keep still,” he growled into your pussy, pulling away only slightly to get some air. his lips smacked together noisily, making your cheeks heat up. “the more i make you cum, the more likely my cum will take when i finish inside you. now relax, n’ put me back in your mouth—don’t even gotta try to make me cum. just keep daddy warm.”

if you weren’t already in subspace before, you were surely submerged in it now thanks to that last sentence.

it was a name you didn’t use often, but when it was used, trust the night always ended in a blur for you.

“okay *huff* i-i can do that, daddy,” you parroted the name back to him, and took his cock back into your mouth, only stopping when he was halfway in. he was a mouthful, and you loved it. the dizzying feeling of all your senses being consumed by nothing, but him was nothing short of addictive.

“there you go,” he hissed, spreading your folds with both thumbs so he could spit right on your entrance. the clear glob of saliva mixed right in with your juices, and dribbled down the mound of your pussy. “good pussy,” he muttered before sucking your clit between his plush lips.

your hips had a mind of their own, alternating between swaying side to side, and moving back and forth so you could feel his nose graze your entrance.

“m’gonna cum, baby. i-i’m—hah!”

that ringing you heard earlier returned as your second orgasm of the night washed over in harsh waves. your hips jerked violently, but toji kept a firm grip on you, so he could continue eating with no interruptions. his tongue swirled over your abused button before cupping it, and suckling on it once more to milk your orgasm for all it was worth.

“oouu shit,” toji moaned into your cunt, his thighs flexing when you squeezed roughly at the tip of his cock. “gimme one more, n’ daddy’ll fuck you nice and sweet.”

he pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, the scarred side of his lips quirking up when you jerked forward. “that sound good to you, bunny?”

you didn’t say anything, too far in your daze to even register his words. all that you knew was that you needed more. your eyes flicked down to toji’s neglected dick, and you almost whined at the sight.

he looked even bigger than usual, stretching nearly to be the size of your forearm. the tip had somehow gotten darker, and the mess that oozed from it only got bigger, smearing across his pale thigh.

it was honestly a wonder how he managed to bottom out every time you had sex.

back when it was your first time with him, you admitted out loud, and quite nervously that there was just no way he’d be able to make it fit. his response . . ?

“don’t worry. i’ll make it fit tonight, and all the days after that.”

and he did, but never once with an ounce of roughness, unless you asked for it.

smack! smack!

your chest arched into toji’s abdomen, a stinging sensation now traveling all across the expanse of your right ass cheek. “o-owww! what’d you do that for?” you glanced over your shoulder, lips wobbling into a pout.

toji smooched at the warm skin, his tongue lolling out to soothe the burning feeling. “because i asked you a question, and you didn’t respond . . needed to get your attention some way.”

before you could even respond, toji was licking a fat stripe up your pussy, his tongue circling over your entrance, and pushing in carefully.

a pleasurable furrow settled between your brows, “if you wanted my—my attention, all you had to do was speak up a littleeee—fuck me!”

“mmph—i’m gettin’ to it, mama.”

he was making out with your pussy as this point, and you were leaking like a faucet. creamy dribbles of your cum mixed with spit trailed down his jaw and neck, but the mess didn’t even bother him. it only encouraged him to keep going.

maybe this was a little mean of him, but toji was in a mood to tease you, and what better way to do that than mess with your most sensitive spot?

while he sucked your dewy folds between his shiny lips, two of his fingers circled over your tail before pressing down hard on the area above it. that pressure point right there was your weakness above all weakness, rendering you at his mercy entirely.

“o-oh my . . oh geez . .” your upper body slumped forward, making the lower half push more into toji’s eager tongue. his fingers continued to massage that area above your tail, easing up only slightly on the pressure so you wouldn’t become overstimulated too quickly.

all you could do was move your hips in synch with his tongue, your third orgasm of the night approaching faster than you anticipated.

toji backed away only an inch with a loud smacking sound, his tongue poking out to swipe over his lips and chin. “you’ve gone completely limp. you’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

your eye twitched when you felt the rough pads of his fingertips ghost over your folds, simply feeling up how wet and soft you were. you clenched around nothing, hips bucking forward in a silent plea for him to work you open with those same fingers.

“i can’t do nothin’ until you open that mouth, and use your words.”

smack!

the same hand that was once messing with your tail, came down on your ass hard with a loud swatting sound. “i know what you want . . you want these, right?” his fingers tapped gently at your clit, creating a wet, dewy noise.

“yes . . y-yes, daddy.”

“mm, don’t worry. i’m gonna give ‘em to you.”

he brought his fingers up to his lips, and wetted them up with his tongue—though it wasn’t really needed with how wet, and eager you were to have something stuff your needy cunt.

after being together for almost a decade, toji knew the ins and outs of your body so fucking well. even the little things such as which fingers you preferred most (his ring and middle fingers).

they always curled just right, knocking against that special spot deep inside of you that had you drooling—and when he added his thumb into the mix?? quickest way to get you squirting for him.

which was what he was trying to accomplish now, because why not?

he needed to get your insides nice n’ ready to take his seed, and he was willing to do it by any means possible—even if it meant making you shed a couple tears of overstimulation.

he could hear you sniffling into the sheets . . the way you nails clawed at them in pleasure. you wanted so desperately to move away just a little so you could catch your breath, but the arm toji had slung across your lower back kept you in place.

his fingers moved quick, but his thumb was slow—a talent that you didn’t even know was possible until you met him.

“m’gonna cum, babe, i can’tttt,” you sobbed into the sheets, cunt clenching around toji’s fingers so tight it almost slowed their movements.

“i can tell. looks like it’s gonna be a messy one, bunny.” his fingers pressed down harshly on your g-spot, and moved in slow circles before they continued to fuck back into you.

you were dripping everywhere.

down his wrist, on his chest, down the sides of your trembling thighs. the sounds your pussy was making were just as lewd. a suction-y, wet noise that increased as the seconds ticked by.

he wanted a taste. just a small suckle to your clit to clean it of the cream that covered it, but you were too far gone to have your orgasm stalled any longer.

your body jerked, pedicured feet kicking wildly against the bed, “i’m cummin’, daddy—please!”

at first it was a couple droplets . . then a steady stream . . and soon it turned into a full on fountain, covering toji’s chest and collarbone.

swiftly, he removed his fingers, and latched onto your pussy, his tongue swirling around the entirety of it as you rode out your high. his hands grabbed roughly at your waist, and dragged you up n’ down on his tongue. you, being the fucked out bunny you were, surrendered to him completely, and let him get his fill.

“oh my fuckin’ goodness,” you mewled out. another fresh batch of hot tears brimmed at your lash line, and embarrassingly enough, you could feel a line of drool trailing down your jaw.

“alright now,” toji chuckled, giving your clit one last suckle before releasing it with a lewd smack. “don’t need you passing out on me before we even get to the main event.”

he eventually got you on your back, your head now resting prettily on the same mountain of pillows he was once laying on. your thighs were draped over his, and he was basically hovering over you, giving you nowhere else to look besides in his eyes—or so he thought!

“hey . . cmon now. lemme see that pretty face—i need to see it,” he grinned, bringing a finger up to stroke at one of your ears that was currently covering your face.

“that was a lot, honey. you’ve never eaten me like that before n’ now i feel embarrassed.” your body grew hot remembering the sounds that flew past your lips not even five minutes ago.

“mmcht.”

one of your ears perked up, revealing your right eye. toji was still staring down at you, his lips pulled into a thin, unamused line. “you’re embarrassed because i was eating your pussy too good? that’s a new one. now lemme see the rest of your face, or i’ll leave you to handle this with your fingers.” the tip of his dick rubbed between your sopping folds, only pulling away once he saw that you were enjoying it too much.

you huffed, slowly lifting your ears completely so he could see you.

your eyes were a little red and puffy from crying, which was unfortunate because there would only be more tears to come. your lips were swollen . . a bit raw from chewing on them to keep yourself grounded to earth while he was giving you head.

“there she is . . . my pretty little wife. you ready for me, mama? ready for me to put a baby in this cute belly?” his hand ran over the pudge of your stomach, and then trailed up your chest to wrap around your throat. his hand wrapped around his cock, carefully circling the fat tip around your entrance to collect some of your slick.

you welcomed his touch, melting more into the pillows as the pouring rain outside lulled you more into sub space.

“m’ready for you, honey. been ready for days actually,” you grinned, wiggling your ear under his jaw to tickle him. “i love you.”

almost instantaneously, toji’s eyes softened. the hand that was wrapped around your neck, moved upward to cup your jaw. he kissed you slow n’ sensual, tongue licking over yours because you loved his nasty kisses.

when he pulled away, your lips chased after his absentmindedly, bringing a smirk to his lips. “i love you, bunny. wanna love you forever . .”

“and you will, you big oaf. this is it, this is all i’ll ever need.” emotions were starting to run high, and you both felt it. you could hear the way toji’s heart thudded against his ribcage at your words. not out of nervousness, but of pure love and adoration for the woman beneath him.

your mouths dropped open, synchronized and all as toji pushed the first inch of his cock past your opening. “ngh—who woulda’ thought i’d go from a broke fry cook to a husband who’s rich in more ways than one. heh, my parents would fuckin’ flip.”

when you cupped his cheeks, toji leaned down more until his forehead was grazing yours. his skin was still smooth from shaving that same morning, the smell of aftershave lingering into your nose.

“i’m sure your parents would be very pleased to see that their son started his own housing company, and family. don’t worry though . . they’re watching, and they’re gonna see what a good dad you’ll be. m’sure of it, sweetness—oh!”

in the midst of your sappy rant, toji took it upon himself to sheath the entirety of his cock inside you in one, swift thrust.

truth be told, toji was dangerously on the verge of tears, and he feared that allowing the salty droplets to fall on your cheeks would embarrass him greatly—even though you’ve scolded him many times about doing such a thing.

his lips were pressed firmly against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut so tight it almost hurt. “i won’t move, don’ worry. just feel me,” he mumbled into your skin, hiking one of your thighs over his slim waist.

oh, you felt him alright—all eight and a half inches.

he was so fucking hard, every protruding vein along the base thrumming against your gooey walls. his tip was nearly kissing your cervix, yet another thing you’d never experienced until you met him.

when you would hear your girlfriends, or even read in your romance novels about the women ‘feeling him in their stomachs’, you couldn’t help but scoff.

now you know exactly what the poor, but also very lucky women, meant.

toji filled your guts so much it made you dizzy sometimes, but he knew how to work your body well enough to not cause any actual pain.

a sore behind and thighs was as extreme as it got for you, and that’s how toji intended to keep it for the rest of his days.

“you feel me, baby? all that love i got for you?”

you sighed almost dreamily, your lashes fluttering rapidly. “i do, honey . . . feels r-really good.”

your words brought a smile to his lips. teasingly, he set his pointer and middle finger right on the top of your mound. he pretended they were a pair of legs, and moved them an inch further. “feel me right here?”

you gave him a smile that matched his own, already knowing the game he was playing. “a bit higher, honey.”

“hmm, right here?”

“higher.”

“oh? so, right here then?”

“higher.”

his fingers stopped just below your naval, where a barely visible bulge sat. “you’re just stroking my ego now, gorgeous, but—oh? what’s this . .”

suddenly, his palm pressed down, hard. out of instinct your foot kicked at his lower back, a whine now brewing in the back of your throat.

“thereeee it is. n’ you’re taking it so well—almost like you were made for me.” his nose brushed against yours, pulling you out of small daze you were in.

your hands flew beneath his underarms, and wrapped securely around his rippling back, pulling him as close as possible. his body was your shield at this point, covering you completely like the warmest of blankets. your fingers sprawled out, nails tickling his back n’ making him purr. not so much like a house cat, more like . . a panther. it was a deep noise that rumbled in his chest, bringing you more serenity than the rain pelting the roof.

“because i was made for you. haven’t i already told you that the universe brought us together for a reason? you know how it goes, baby—if my date would’ve never stood me up . .”

“then i would’ve never been able to make the prettiest bunny i ever saw my famous steak and shrimp bowl to cheer her up. i gotta say the one thing that tool did right was recommend you eat there . . wasn’t everyday a man saw a beauty like yourself.” he drew his hips back, then slowly pushed forward, his forehead gently smushing against yours. “i think about that day almost everyday, baby. the day my life—our lives changed forever.”

you had full intentions of having toji put you through the mattress the second he slipped inside you, but now all you wanted to do was go slow. make love like it was your last time seeing each other. so dramatic, but oh so good.

“that feel good? sounds like she’s enjoying it,” he chuckled, slithering his arm beneath your back to pull you closer. his strokes were slow, but precise, the curved end knocking against your deepest parts with ease.

“mhmmmm.”

“sounds real messy too. bet she’s creamin’ all over me.” the sounds your pussy made were deafening, but in the best way possible. each time pushed in, a loud squelching noise followed, and whenever he pulled out, the white, frothy ring of cream around the base became more prominent.

your nails dug into his back, red streaks lifting not too far behind. “she is, daddy—oh shit, shit, shit—!”

toji cut off your curses with a kiss, his hips stilling only a moment so he could circle them a few times. “fuck yeah she is.”

the poor, wooden headboard nearly split in half from how hard toji grabbed it, his thrust quickening only slightly. his balls felt so heavy with cum, and it didn’t help how petal soft your ass felt smacking against them.

he was already close to cumming. so fucking close.

and from the sounds of it, you weren’t too far behind either. an adorable symphony of moans and ‘ah ah ah’s!’ spilled loudly past your kiss bitten lips left and right, echoing throughout the master bedroom.

it was times like this when toji reallyyyy loved living out in nature, and away from the city. before, when you would have sex at your apartment or his, you were always so self conscious of the noises you made, even going as far as covering your mouth to prevent them from spilling out. it didn’t make things better when the one time you actually let loose, and let them out, you got a complaint from your next door neighbor the very next morning, which left you utterly embarrassed, and toji pissed off beyond words because how dare they try to silence his beloveds pretty noises.

don’t worry, though. during your final night there before moving, toji paid you a visit that involved lots of wine, and once you were tipsy enough, he fucked you against the wall so hard that when you left the next morning, that same neighbor couldn’t even bring themselves to make eye contact—let alone complain.

good fucking riddance, honestly.

things were different now. any loud noises you made in your personal moments were drowned out by nature, not to be heard by no one else, but the trees, wind, and curious deer.

“fuck m’gonna cum, daddy—i’m cumming, i—!” your words sat heavy on your tongue, almost like molasses.

toji’s arm removed itself from beneath you, and maneuvered back up, his hand wrapping itself securely around your throat. he squeezed harder, and then a little harder, until he felt your silken walls spasm around his cock.

“that’s right, bunny. get it out for me,” he growled, squeezing justtt a bit harder, nearly, but not entirely, cutting off your airway.

you loved that shit. having your breath taken away for just a mere few seconds before your orgasm hit, and then—

“tojiiii!”

everything went white, and your ears suddenly felt as if they had cotton stuffed in them from how muffled everything sounded. your body went completely limp, and that’s when toji released his grip on your neck, though you still found it hard to find your breath.

“shitttt, baby.” toji’s hand pushed up on your mound, exposing your clit more to the cool air. “keep cummin’ on that dick. please don’t stop,” he gasped, mossy green eyes zeroing in on the steady stream of cum that soaked his cock, and the sheets below.

“god, i think m’gonna—”

those words were like a trigger, bringing you back to reality for just a split second so you could wrap your legs tightly around his waist. because you were a bunny hybrid, it was just in your genes to have impressive leg strength. so when your legs locked around him, toji knew there was no breaking free.

“yes, yes, yes—god dammit!” toji’s hips stilled, abs clenching wildly over n’ over until a familiar warmth flooded your lower belly. you glanced up to peek at his face, and he looked . . well, he looked beautiful.

his eyes were squeezed shut, black lashes dusting over his pink, heated cheeks. the blissed out pout on his lips was almost adorable, and the way he scrunched his nose up almost reminded you of yourself.

“mmmm, fuck me. jesus . . you alright down there?” your husband panted, hesitantly cracking one eye open, and then the other. “you look spacey, mama. you need a break?”

he stroked tenderly at one of your ears, making your lashes flutter. the fur felt almost cottony between his fingers.

“no, i’m okay. in fact, we’re just getting started, sweetness,” you grinned, fingertips grazing over the risen, red streaks across his back. “don’t forget m’still in heat. i got the stamina of, like, a thousand bunnies right now.”

“ah, i actually forgot you were in heat for a second. usually we’d be turning the bed into splinters right now—instead we’re just makin’ love like a coupla’ saps.” carefully, he removed his hand from the headboard, and kneeled upright, now towering over over you.

his hands ran over the tops of your thighs before pushing them upward. “now that’s quite the sight,” he chuckled, low and teasing as he examined how utterly stuffed you looked.

your bunny cunt, all battered and puffy was soaked beyond belief with a mixture cum and spit—just the way toji liked.

“spit on it.”

toji glanced up, and there you were with the teeniest of smirks on your lips. the tips of your ears were slightly curled—a silent indicator that you were feeling rather playful or naughty.

he tongued at the inside of his cheek, “you nasty little . .”

his hips drew back an inch, an obnoxious wet noise echoing throughout the room. his cock was shiny from the white, translucent mixture you both created. it made his mouth water, a dollop of saliva pooling on the center of his tongue.

he puckered his lips, green eyes never once leaving yours as he let that saliva fall directly onto your exposed clit with a wet plap!

“that what you wanted, babe?”

“mhmmm. now make me cum again.”

and so he did . . a lot . . like a lot, a lot.

usually, you’d be passed out by now, or at least on the verge, but your heat gave you enough stamina to keep up with him.

he had you in missionary again, and then a mating press so he could you fuck faster, harder. you couldn’t believe this man actually had your knees touching your ears, all while his thighs smacked violently against the back of yours. that was when he came in you a second time, his cum coating your fluttering walls in milky ropes.

it was messy, dripping straight from your pussy, and down the pudge of your stomach. toji, thrived in the mess, his thumb running sloppy circles around your throbbing button to trigger another orgasm from you.

“oh my fuckin’ god . .” your words came out as a sob when you came, fat tears now falling down the sides of your face. “t-take it out, daddy—take it out!”

toji pulled out with a grunt, his lips curling into a handsome snarl. “there you fuckin’ go. look at that pussy cummin’ all pretty for me.” his tip slapped continuously against your sticky clit, dragging on your orgasm as long as possible.

finally, after what felt like hours, he was lowering your legs back down with a heavy sigh. “c’mon—grab onto me, mama.” he leaned down with a grin, damp, black hairs tickling your forehead.

you bit back a dopey smile, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “what if we waste some . . you know what.”

you were answered with a kiss. it was sloppy, and slow, almost making you forget what you even asked him in the first place.

toji sat back on his knees, keeping you hovered just a few inches above his dick. “there’s plenty more where there came from, and we got nine more days to go after this. i’ll bet you, you’ll be able pregnant with some twins by the time i’m done with you.”

twins.

a boy, and a girl—or bet yet, two girls.

toji would make an excellent girl dad. he was so patient, understanding, a good listener. all things you would want your little girls to want in a man.

“oh, that got you a little excited, huh?” he snickered, gently tapping on your twitching tail.

“is that a promise, honey? i just got the cutest little daydream of me, n’ two little girls who look like you, swiping your credit card all day.” you brushed your nose against his, biting back a giggle.

tojis eyes fluttered shut, his forehead drooping softly onto your collarbone. “nothing would make me happier. seriously.”

you weren’t sure what the next position was called, but toji basically lost all sense as he slung your knees over his forearms, and bounced you on his lap like a dog in a rut.

it was quick, sloppy, loud.

between your blissed out moans, toji’s overly loud groans, skin slapping on skin—the thunderstorm outside was now nothing more than a distant memory.

“you’re—you’re fucking me so good, ‘ji. i *huff* i can’t even think straight.” your nails dug into the straining muscles of his back for the second time that night, adding more red streaks on top of the others.

it hurt like a bitch, but toji thrived on the pain. it only encouraged him fuck you even harder.

“just. don’t. forget. to breathe,” he growled out, bouncing you on his cock with each word. “i swear . .” he muttered, lowering you down until he was fully sheathed between your gooey walls, “the way you feel right now is makin’ me wanna marry you all over again.”

you smiled, “yeah?”

“heh, yeah. maybe we should renew our vows soon, and remake our wedding night tape.” he whispered the last part into the skin of your neck, his tongue lolling out a second later to lick over the sweaty skin.

you clenched at the mention of your sex tape. it was the first of many, and was made to preserve that special night forever. not including breaks, the video was almost three hours long, and consisted of footage that showed both of you at your most feral.

you didn’t like to watch, or even mention it much—only because it made you blush like crazy, and toji loved to tease you for being bashful. the only time you will sit, and fully watch it through is on july seventeenth. your wedding anniversary.

“i don’t think we could ever recreate that. i came so hard that night, i thought i was going into the light,” you giggled, breathlessly and bashful making toji grin. his dark lashes fluttered when you cupped the back of his head, dark locs slightly damp beneath your fingertips. “but, i do agree that we should renew our vows one day. maybe on our babymoon!”

“you know it’s funny,” he paused, pink tongue darting out to run over his bottom lip, “satoru mentioned a babymoon earlier too . . said that when all the money comes through we should use it for that. it’s starting to sound more n’ more like a good idea.”

toji could see it now—the two of you in another country, preferably one that’s warm year round, and embracing each others company. you’d have a little bump by then, all round n’ cute, and because you were you, he knew you’d be using your belly as an accessory—something to match with your outfits, and make them even more cuter than they already were.

he’d make love to you every night, careful not to push you too hard or put any strain on your body—but ask nicely enough, and he may reconsider it.

“we could always go back to greece, or i know you’ve been wanting to go to thailand. d-does that sounds nice? i heard the water there is—mmm . . beautiful.” all while asking you these questions, he steadily began moving you up and down on his cock, making sure to bottom out each time.

you were so warm, he just couldn’t deal, and have you stray away for too long. that’s why he only pulled out a couple inches before hurriedly sliding back inside.

“you’re rambling, babe,” you let out a giggle that was interrupted by a moan, your head tilting back onto your shoulders.

“fuck, i know—i’m sorry.”

suddenly, your back was colliding with the mattress rather roughly, and toji’s body was serving as your shield once again, preventing you from looking at anything that wasn’t him.

his thrusts were quick, but deep, hips pulling back only briefly before dropping forward. “i love you—love you so much, bunny.”

“i love you m-more, sweetness.”

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four months later . . .

“look, look—you tell that asshole that the timeframe to get all that shit done is simply impossible, and that we don’t do rush jobs no matter how much he offers. if he has anything else to say, he can leave me a voicemail that will not be listened to for the next two weeks. now don’t call me again unless someone has died on the site.”

“gotcha, boss. you two have a fun babymoon! tell the missus i said hello!”

the scarred side of toji’s lips lifted into a small, but grateful smile. “thank you, satoru. see ya when i get back.”

click!

after ending the call, toji made quick work to switch his phone off, not wanting any interruptions for the rest of the night. it was day three of your two week vacation in bali, and so far he’s only received two phones calls, which was two phone calls too many.

“was that satoru? is everything alright?” he heard you call from the bathroom, followed by some rustling noises.

he pushed off of the king sized bed, his head tilting to the side to crack his neck. “yeah, baby, jus’ some shit with work. nothing that can’t wait a few weeks, though.” when approaching the bathroom, he stopped at the entrance, his large form leaning against the door in an annoyingly attractive way. “you look pretty.”

“i’m naked, toji,” you giggled, reaching your arms out for him. he happily obliged, and closed the gap between your bodies—well, closed it as best as he could with a decent sized bump in the way.

his lips pressed against yours softly, “you gonna need some help putting that on?” he muttered, head tilting slightly toward the container of shea butter on the porcelain sink. the warm, muggy air had melted it just a little, making it the perfect consistency to apply with little trouble.

“you know i am . . especially on my back. maybe you could massage it a little as you go? . .” you ended your sentence with a bashful smile, the tips of yours ears curling slightly.

toji hummed, kissing your lips three times, each one longer than the last. “do you need to sit before we get started?”

“m’okay, honey.”

toji was careful, but firm as he rubbed the earthy scented shea butter over the expanse of your back. when he reached your shoulders, you let out a small groan, and leant forward using the sink to keep your balance.

“these two sure are getting heavy for me only being eighteen weeks,” you muttered, nose twitching cutely from the pressure being applied to the middle of your shoulder blades.

yes, you heard that correctly—two.

either the goddess of fertility heard your prayers the night you conceived them loud and clear, or toji just had magic sperm—something that he personally liked to believe.

toji grinned, scooping up more shea butter with two fingers. his naked chest pressed into your back, a searing heat traveling all along your tingling skin. ever so gently, he began to rub the butter all across your belly.

“your body just isn’t used to carrying all this precious cargo, mama. m’gonna try to help relieve you as much as i can though.” just as he finished speaking, his hands cupped underneath your belly, and pulled it up only slightly.

and then, you were met with intense relief.

you relaxed into toji’s chest, head tilting back until it was met with his beefy pectoral. “that feels nice . . . i need you to do this at least five times a day.” the laugh you let out was sweet, but tired.

you were ecstatic to be carrying twins—girl twins at that, but you couldn’t deny the slight strain that came with carrying them. your posture was slightly changing, causing some of the most irritant back pain you’ve ever experienced, and your feet were already starting to shift to the swole side. everything nowadays was just so dang sore.

there was nothing you would change about it, though.

all these sore muscles only meant more massages from toji, and it was so beautiful, and fascinating to see your belly change throughout the days that passed. according to your first time mommy book of many—your girls were currently the size of mangos, which you found utterly adorable each time you thought about it.

“i’ll do it as much as you need me to, beautiful,” murmured into the silk scarf wrapped around your hair. “just don’t go falling asleep on me.”

“can’t make any promises, honey . . unless you have any ideas on how to wake me up.”

his thick brow raised, thumbs now tracing medium sized circles into the sides of your stomach. “oh?”

your suggestive tone threw him off just a little. with all the new changes happening to your body, you haven’t been on the sexual side very much—which toji never minded, of course. it only just made him yearn more for you, and instead of jerking off that yearning feeling, he put it into taking care of you, and the two growing lives inside your womb.

he rubbed your sore feet whenever his hands weren’t busy with something else . . he created a mix of different herbs, and oil to put into your hair, and the fur of your ears since you couldn’t take your fish oil supplements . . and most recently, you were under a morning sickness spell that lasted way longer than just the morning, and toji was there behind you every time—rubbing your back, and brushing your teeth for you afterwards, because vomiting your guts out four to seven times a day was exhausting to say the least.

and those things only scratched the service of what he’s done. you couldn’t even begin to imagine how doting he’ll be once the babies were born.

moral of the story is, his acts of service never went unnoticed—especially right now when he looked so relaxed n’ handsome.

carefully, he set eased your stomach back down, mumbling an abundance of apologies into the crown of your head. “is there anything in particular you’d like to do, my love? it’s your vacation, and anything you want goes . . unless it’s, like jet skiing, or some shit,” he grinned, laying a wet kiss into the crook of your neck.

the conversation you were having didn’t stop toji from continuing to moisturize you. he scooped another handful of shea butter into his hand, and got on his knees, “turn please.”

you hummed out a small laugh, and turned around. “you’ve been so sweet to me lately. sweeter than you’ve ever been . .” your hand eased upward, placing itself on his dark locs. while he rubbed the shea butter into your petal soft legs and thighs, you scratched at his scalp, the grin you were sporting growing wider by the minute.

“and i’ll only keep getting sweeter the older we get.” he laid a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh, leaving a tingling feeling in your cunt that you haven’t felt for quite a bit. “now what did you have in mind for us tonight?”

before you spoke, he was up again, softened hands cupping your enlarged breasts, “i’ll be extra gentle up here.”

he was careful, calculated, making sure not to run his thumbs over your tender nipples because they were now more sore than they weren’t. he couldn’t deny how divine your breasts had become. they were fuller, pretty, and sometimes they’d even leak a creamy white, yellowish substance.

‘can i try?’ always laid heavy on his tongue, but the six five man was more bashful about it than anything he’s ever experienced. plus, he never wanted you to think he was over-sexualizing you or your body with the greedy request.

and usually whenever he did this, you’d just relax, and melt into his touch . . maybe even doze off a little, but tonight something was different. tonight, you kinda wanted him to—

“you wanna put them in your mouth?”

it was almost comical the way he froze with your breasts still cupped securely. “what was that?”

“or maybe i could . . i could just . .”

when toji realized you were getting ready to kneel, he went into full husband mode, and held onto your hands to make it easier for you. “hey now—what’re you doin’ down there, baby? your knees are gonna start—hah . . h-hurting . . . n’ the babies . .” his words trailed off when he looked below.

floppy ears tickled the skin of his bare abdomen as you nuzzled your face into his crotch area, those big brown eyes of yours flicking up to his a second later. “my knees, and the babies are fine, sweetness. i just wan’ you.”

thankfully, there was a white, fluffy rug beneath you cushioning the extra weight—otherwise you would be saying something very different.

“i know my body, and my body is telling me to suck my husband off. you got a problem with that?”

your fingers tugged at the waistband of his pajama pants, and his breath hitched. “no . . n-no, ma’am.”

it’s been a while since you’ve given toji head, not that he pays much attention to it anyway. between work, doctors appointments, and making sure all your needs were met—he never had the time to dwell on such things.

this was a nice treat for him, though. he’s never felt more grateful.

“how’re you doing? i know things were getting a bit stressful before we left,” you whispered, tugging his pjs down with one, swift pull. he was half hard, and plumping up with each second that ticked by.

“m’doin’ good, mama. last coupla’ weeks were just a little bit more stressful than usual because—shitttt,” he groaned out, head tilting back slightly when you suckled the tip between your lips.

you let out a small ‘mhm?’ indicating that you wanted him to finish talking.

“i just—just wanted to get a whole bunch of s-stuff done, so i’m not up to my shoulders in shit when we get back.” his words were quiet, and rushed, like he was already fighting for his life to not bust—which he lowkey was . .

you pulled away, tongue laving out so you could lick over the length of him. his scent was intoxicating, itching that special part in your brain that only he could get to. it was so nice to finally get some of your libido back, and get lost in your man without any aches or lingering nausea.

“you need this break,” you murmured into his skin, lashes fluttering slightly, “m’so happy we get to relax with a care in the world out here—all four of us.”

his cock twitched at your words, a pearl of pre dribbling from the mauve colored tip. you caught it with your tongue, lips parting to take less than half of him in your mouth.

dark lashes fluttered shut, and his nostrils flared, “you really have no idea what it does to me when you talk like that. makes me feel all . . mm, w-weird inside.”

his words went straight to your pussy, a whimper bubbling in the back of your throat. he just kept on praising you, like listing your perfections were the only thoughts he was capable of conjuring. they only encouraged you further, and soon, his cock was more than halfway down your throat.

you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted him to finish quickly—finally release all the pent up energy he didn’t even know he was harboring.

gluck! gluck! gluck!

his tip knocked against the back of your throat, and you took it with ease. all those weeks of him throat training you paid off to day the least.

“mmm, baby.”

toji leaned back only slightly, his hands blindly reaching for the doorframe to find some balance. “you’re gonna make me cum if you keep on sucking me like th—at. fuckkk me.” his hands slid up the frame, head tilting back down to you—only this time, his eyes were clenched shut. “please, bunny.”

he didn’t know if those words were a plea to stop, or keep going, but you kept on, hot tears now brimming at your lash line.

when your freshly manicured nails clawed at the backs of his thighs, he knew what you were wanting—even if his brain felt like it was nearly splitting in two.

his balls throbbed—god, this was gonna be a heavy load . . should he warn you? let you be surprised, and relish in the choking noises you make?

then he came, loud and trembly. his thighs clenched and unclenched under your grip, all while he painted your throat white in long, twitching spurts. you pulled back only slightly, so you wouldn’t choke, but toji had other plans, and thrusted forward making you gag.

“shit, i’m sorry. you’re jus’ really draining the fuck outta me.” his lips curled into a snarl, fingers tightening around the frame. “come on . . ease up.”

your eyes widened when you felt a slight tug on your ears, removing your lips entirely from his throbbing length. the last few dribbles of cum hit your puffy lips, and with a shaky hand, he we swiping at your chin to prevent any from dripping on your chest.

it’d be a shame if he soiled your chest right after you were freshly showered.

“that was *huff* a lot,” you breathed out, swiping your tongue over your lips. “tastes really good though . . i want more. please?”

you had your time to be in control, but now all you wanted was for your husband to dote on you, and make you orgasm to your hearts content.

so, that’s exactly what you had him do.

while your back was propped up on the fluffiest of pillows, toji was laid up between your thighs, kissing and suckling on the supple skin until your cunt was covered in a thin sheen of slick. only then did he finally indulge in you, slurping at your folds as if it was liquid gold.

he was soft with it as always, parting your lips with both thumbs before cupping your clit with his soft tongue.

you missed this . . this intimacy, and you didn’t even realize how much you really did miss it until he was making you cum with an obnoxious slurping noise, all while one of his hands caressed the top of your belly.

“and how was that?” he smirked, drunkenly tilting his head to the side with those low, dark eyes that always had you feeling smaller than you already were. “s’good thing i put this towel here. made a big fuckin’ mess.”

“honey don’ttttt!” your hands covered your face, and so did your ears, making toji’s smirk grow wider.

“weren’t you the one who was just begging for more of my cum a bit ago? yet, i’m the nasty one, huh?”

your thighs squeezed together at his teasing tone, “precisely.”

he eventually got you to reveal your face again at the mention of taking you from the side, and that’s how the rest of your evening was spent—with your back pressed firmly against his hot chest while he cautiously filled you with his length.

his bicep was your pillow, keeping you propped up just enough so you could turn your head, and kiss him whenever you needed it.

“feelin’ good for me, bunny? you sound so pretty.” his words were like purrs into your ear, sending shivers down your back. he propped your leg that was resting on his free arm a bit higher, just so he was able to rest his hand atop of your stomach. “i love you . .”

the tug at his hair from you had his teeth clenching together. “i love you mostest,” he heard you sigh out, those same fingers that were yanking at his soft strands of hair, now caressing his damp scalp.

“yeah, bunny? i think daddies got you beat, no? just listen to how messy i got you—”

fwop! fwop! fwop!

“that’s alllll love right there.”

“y-yeah it is. thank you, thank you—!” you cried out, thighs beginning to shake with each calculated thrust toji delivered. his balls slapped against your clit nastily, translucent webs of your cream keeping the two connected.

toji was mouthing softly at your shoulder when he noticed something . . interesting.

your nipples were leaking, the milky white substance dripping down your breasts and onto the sheets. you didn’t notice—clearly, your mind too focused on the nearing orgasm that brewed in your lower belly.

what he would give for just a taste.

suddenly, his thrusts slowed until he was fully sheathed inside of you, hot and throbbing.

“my love . . look at what’s happened.” he set your leg down with ease, then cupped your breast, his thumb running over one of the trails of milk.

he felt you tense up, and shushed your whines. “m’not makin’ fun, pretty girl, i promise. i actually wanna try some . . i-if you don’t mind, of course.”

fluffy ears grazed over his face as you craned your neck back to look at him, pupils fully dilated. he could feel your walls pulsing rabidly the more he massaged at your breast. “y-yeah? that would help me a bunch . . it’s always such a—mmm, h-hassle cleaning them up.”

that was all your man needed to hear to have you in his lap, cock nestled snugly between your gooey walls while he sucked at your nipples—although, he didn’t have to do much sucking. one brush of his tongue over the tender buds, and they were leaking like crazy, coating his tongue in the overly sweet liquid.

“hah, honey . .” you mewled, chest arching into his greedy tongue. all you were answered with was a lewd—

suck! suck! suck!

your hips had a mind of their own, moving in semi-fast paced circles as best as you could with your bump in the way. he was so. fucking. deep—bulbous tip brushing against your g-spot with each swish of your hips.

“m’gonna cum again—please don’t stop, ‘ji.”

oh, he wouldn’t stop even if the big man upstairs came down, rested his hand on his shoulder, and told him stop. nothing could pull his mouth from your dripping tits.

a particularly harsh suckle had your hips spasming, a loud moan ripping past your kiss swollen lips. toji continued to move your hips for you, small moans rumbling in his chest from how fucking tight your pussy was gripping his dick.

“o-okay now. ease up, love,” you parroted his own words back to him, supple hands cupping his jaw so you pull pry him away. when he unlatched, his jaw stayed parted, the sweet liquid dripping from the corners of his mouth, and into his heaving chest.

“you’re—you’re gonna have to let me do that again . . i’ve never tasted anything like that before, and fear i may be addicted now.” his grin was almost playful, but that look in his eyes told you he meant business.

soon after that, he was finishing inside you for the second time that night, filling your cunt to the brim with his thick seed. the warmth had your chest fluttering, and your mind going drowsy.

and then, you got to do something you haven’t done in what felt like ages—keep his dick warm for him. he knew you’d have to get up eventually, and take care of business, but there was no harm in waiting just a bit longer. especially when you looked so cute nuzzled his arms.

it was silent for a good while, the only sounds to be heard being the wind, and waves crashing against one another outside.

“i really like the name mina.”

“hm?”

“i said, i really like the name mina. very soft, pretty . . girly,” you giggled at the last part, heat blossoming in your cheeks. “i was thinking you could pick the other name—seeing that there’s two n’ all, yeah?”

toji blinked once, twice—

“yeah . . i-i guess your right. um, i do have one suggestion, but if you don’t like it, we can always scrap it—”

“toji.”

“yes?”

you lifted your head up, tired eyes locking with his. “i’m sure you’ve got a beautiful name picked out—now let’s hear it!” your hands ran comfortingly up and down his chest, until they finally stopped at his shoulders, giving them a tender squeeze. “c’mon now. don’t be shy.”

he blew a light raspberry, eyes darting to some random corner so he would’ve have to look into yours. “well . . i really the name emersyn . . maybe emmy for short. it means brave . . powerful . . diligent. all things her mother is.”

when he glanced back at you, your face was blank, immediately putting a pit in his stomach.

“heh, not very cute, and girly like yours is it? we obviously don’t have to choose that—”

“oh, you dummy!” you sniffled, nose twitching oh so cutely. “i’m not making that face because i hate it, i’m making that face because i love it, obviously.”

his thick brows raised high, that pit in his stomach disappearing quicker than it arrived. “oh! really? you really like it? enough to give it to the baby?”

“yes, honey,” you spoke softly, grasping both of his hands in yours so they could rest on your belly. “baby mina . . and baby emersyn. i freakin love it!”

suddenly, you felt a jostle in your stomach. not so much a kick, but a small, very noticeable flutter.

“you think they hear us talkin’ about them?” toji chuckled, his nose brushing over yours.

“if they’ve got ears like their momma, then absolutely.”

❤︎₊ ⊹

[madamechrissy]

i wanna be yours

You found out your boyfriend of a year was literally stalking your every move, tracking your car, cameras in your house, the man was also extremely jealous and just... well, psycho. As much as you love Satoru Gojo - your fellow professor - you can't just accept this sort of thing! Six months later, you are trying to move on with someone 'normal' but Satoru Gojo is not letting you go that easily - he needs you to see that you should be all his, and if that means baby trapping you and ruining any chance you have with that nerdy professor Nanami? That's what he'll do. <3

pairings - yan professor! gojo x professor! reader

warnings - stalking, yandere behavior, obsession, jealousy, masturbation, panty stealing, Satoru is SO unhinged lmaoo, Gojo ruining Nanami's date with us, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, edging, overstim, spitting, creampie, babytrapping, heavy breed kink, tummy bulges, Nanami slander tbh lol, size kink, Satoru being a giant red flag but we get fucked dumb by him <3 wc- 10.8k

this was a commission for one of my favorite ppl @getorade!! You're so sweet bb, I love you so muchhh!! i hope you enjoy, angel!

art is by teaforgods on x/ig!

Satoru couldn’t stand how badly it made him angry when he had to watch you in those little pencil skirts, walking down the fucking halls – that ass just begging for his hands. You are smiling all pretty at everyone there – aside from him of course, all Satoru gets from you is a mean little scowl, your brows lowered and your lips pursed.

Lips he remembers wrapping his cock just six months ago, fucking your pretty throat till you were hoarse during your lectures, and fuck did he love that too. He loved to sit in on them after, smirking at you and leaned back on the wall of that class, seeing how utterly flustered you become.

Satoru loved to bury his face between your thighs as you graded papers, loved to fuck you right on his desk, bending you over and pumping you full of cum. If you weren’t so stubborn he’d have had you pregnant, but of course you took your stupid birth control, taking all those creampies and not realizing the goal of them was to knock you up.

You wanted your career, but you didn’t need it – Satoru was filthy rich, you could easily just be his pretty wife and let him fill you with all his babies. Surely that was what you needed, even if you couldn’t see it, but perhaps Satoru should have just told you all along that he planned on it, rather than acting even semi-normal.

He was sort of normal before he met you, before he started watching you, making sure you ‘needed’ him in any way he could figure out, and the moment he got his mouth latched around your clit you’d forgotten your own name. The first night he fucked you right against that wall and he busted inside you, licking it right back out of your drippy cunt?

Well you had hearts in your eyes.

Yet you got tired quickly of his jealousy, of how psychotic he was when even the slightest thing made him possessive. Professor Nanami getting a little too flirtatious? Satoru dragged you into the nearest classroom and fucked you right on a lab table, uncaring of the noise your slutty hole was making, whispering how you’re – his, his, his – over and over again.

You’d act all mad at him too but he knows how wet you were, how you’d arch and cry out, when he’d tell you to keep his cum inside all day and he’d finger it out of you after work was done. Have you at his penthouse every day of the fucking week, keeping more and more of your things there, making sure to lick the mess off your panties when you left them.

When you were back at home? Well, Satoru watched you then too, he had to make sure his girlfriend was safe, after all, but you eventually found the camera and lost your shit on him. He’d made sure to fuck you right in front of it and have you watch it later, until you forgot all about how mad you were, thrown in a mating press with spit dripping in your mouth.

Satoru loved you and you left him because he’s what – ‘too psychotic’!? Well how else is he supposed to be when he can smell your very scent from across the damn hall? When you’re in his every dream – even the filthy little daydreams? When he knows your future is to have his babies and be his wife? What was normal about any of that, really?

He’s tried for months to get you back, but showing up to your house, even with a fucking vintage boombox playing your favorite song didn’t work. Sneaking touches and kissing your neck anytime he got close didn’t work. Sending baby clothes to your house with a little note how he will fill you up with kids?

Even that didn’t work – you left his gifts on the porch!

Satoru walks up to you now in that hall and you’re trembling just a bit, your thighs pressing together like on instinct. His pretty blue eyes dart to the motion, knowing how fucking needy you are, he knows your little fingers aren’t doing anything. It’s almost cute how you try to make yourself cum, he loves to watch it on the one camera you haven’t snuffed out yet.

Was it so wrong to do that?

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs, in the way that always fucks you up.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you whisper, his smirk curves up even more, tilting his head and studying you in that maddening way only he can. “What do you want, Gojo?”

“Ouch, I’m Gojo now, huh?”

You will not fall for his pretty blue eyes and how good he smells, your body may remember how good it felt to get bent over and filled by him, but you can hold strong. You have a date with a normal human being soon, after all, and the last thing you need was Satoru to fuck you up all over again.

Toxic, spying, obsessive and jealous. You don't want to handle phone tracking and constant jealousy, and you sure the fuck weren't going to go back.

Right?

Right.

He licks his plump lower lip, making it impossibly glossy, your heart hammers in your chest at the sight, your eyes glossing over as you study him, breasts rising and falling with your quick breaths. How he looks at you like he can already picture you on your knees, choking on him, that damn smirk as if he can just tell where your mind is – it's maddening.

“Mr. Gojo I mean,” he laughs softly, leaning low so that he's almost touching you, so tall you have to crank your damn head up. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Oh you wanna call me sir, hmm? Just dying to have me leak pre in the halls,” you scoff and walk past him, making him follow you on your heels.

“I'm busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Getting ready to go home,” you look over your shoulder then. “For a date.”

Satoru Gojo glares, his jaw setting.

You think you can date anyone but him?

“A what now!?” He hisses, catching up to you quickly with his long ass legs.

“A date, yes, why are you following me? Oh god, are you sniffing me, Satoru!?”

“Hah… yeah,” he straight up inhales you when you pause, earning a smack right on his shoulder. “You changed my favorite shampoo, too? How much are you trying to break me.”

Satoru Gojo is like a six foot four puppy really.

He’s pouting as you walk even faster, not like you can out pace his lanky ass legs though. He’s quickly following you towards your car, you spin around and raise a brow. “Gojo, seriously back off.”

“Who are you going on a date with?”

You roll your eyes again. “I said it’s really none of your business.”

“What if he’s a creep?”

“Like you?” He pouts more, and you sigh, rolling your eyes and leaning back against your car door. “It’s Professor Nanami.”

Satoru’s brows lower, his lips pressed together. “What?”

“You heard me, Professor Nanami,” you sigh and turn to get in your car, he stands right behind you, making you tremble with his hard body pressing against your back. “Gojo…”

“You don’t miss me at all?” He brushes your hair back as he leans over you, his lips barely brushing against the shell of your ear, your body immediately responds – nipples pebbling right up, cunt aching and wet.

Fuck Satoru Gojo.

“I can’t miss a psycho who has no sense of personal space,” your words are not matching your tone – all breathy and weak, trembling with need – his hand pressing on your tummy, sighing against your neck.

“I wish I put a baby inside you last time I pumped you full of cum,” you suck in a breath, glaring back at him, with his psychotically glinting eyes. “Imagine, you’d already have been so round with me, what – six months now?”

“Gojo…”

“Your tits would already be dripping milk,” he sighs, inhaling you again, fingers splaying that still flat stomach that he’s aching to see round – he feels you tensing in front of him, your breaths coming quicker. “You’d be so fuckin’ pretty having my babies.”

“What’s wrong with you, god you’re so…” You want it all, and you can’t – you have a damn career, you’re not a baby maker for a psycho.

Right?

“I’m so – what?” He taunts you now, you know anyone could fucking see you both and you’d be the talk of the damn school – they already gossiped to all hell when you two started dating and when you broke up.

“So psychotic,” your hand goes on his to yank it off but you keep it there instead, trying to remember all the reasons you left him. No privacy, jealousy, literal stalking and tracking, you can’t just forget it all because you’re aching for him, because you miss him – all of him, not just his body.

You miss how good you felt in his arms, laying next to him – why did he have to be an insanely jealous psycho?

“You love that about me,” you shake your head, resting it against his chest for a quick moment, before tugging his wrist off and looking back at him. “Don’t go on a date with him.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, we’re not together,” Satoru glares when you slip in the door. “I’m going on a date with a normal man, one who doesn’t stalk me.”

“Boring as fuck,” you snort and roll your eyes, shutting the door and putting your car into drive, leaving him just standing there when you glare out your window, hands clenched into fists.

No way would he let his future baby mama and wife just casually leave him for Nanami of all people. Satoru walks back into the college and towards the break room, seeing Shoko talking to Nanami then. He pretends to go make coffee – as if he’d drink anything but a mocha frappe with extra foam – ears all sorts of perked up to their conversation.

“You’re going to that Italian place on fifth?” Shoko asks, sipping on her espresso and peering at Satoru curiously.

She better not say anything.

“Yeah I wanted to take her somewhere nice,” Nanami clears his throat, realizing he’s talking about the love of Satoru’s fucking life – or to him, Satoru’s ex girlfriend, dropping his tone a bit. “I never thought she’d say yes.”

“Of course she would, she’s a sweet girl,” Satoru turns and they look at him. “Isn’t she sweet, Satoru?”

“So sweet,” he smiles all friendly, sipping the coffee and grimacing, pouring that shit right down the drain as Shoko snorts in laughter. “Aha, we are still really close.”

“Are you? I thought she couldn’t stand-”

“To be on bad terms, yeah,” he slings his arm around Shoko’s shoulders, she shoves at him. “You know she’s sweet for sure, I wish the best for her.”

“I’m glad there are no hard feelings,” Nanami says, clearing his throat, tugging the knot of his tie. Satoru grins at him.

“You know, some advice? She just loves when you order for her,” Nanami blushes a bit.

“She does?”

“Oh yeah, she loves a man who takes control,” you fucking hate when anyone orders shit for you, but Satoru is feeling devious. “She really just hates spaghetti though, so don’t order any of that.”

“Oh, is Italian not good?”

“No she doesn’t mind other things,” you love spaghetti but you don’t deserve it – breaking his heart the way that you do. “Oh and red wine.”

Just to really piss you off.

“Red wine, order for her… got it,” Nanami clears his throat now, sipping his coffee. “Thanks, Gojo.”

“Of course!”

Satoru cancels his own plans for the night – he has a date to ruin.

*****

“Oh um…” Nanami quickly takes your drink menu that night in the cozy little Italian restaurant, smiling at you and looking at the waitress that evening before you could even look at the options. “I wasn’t-”

“She’ll have the red – a cab.”

Fucking red – it gives you heartburn.

“Oh okay,” you smile thankfully, maybe Nanami is trying to be sweet? He’d held the door open for you and all – Satoru did that too but he also grabbed your ass everywhere you two went as he did, like the little pervert he was. “Uh, thanks, Nanami.”

“Of course, I think I’ll order for us too, appetizers?”

“Sure!” He proceeds to order things you hate, you sigh and peek at the menu, craving spaghetti – it was why you brought this place up anyway, but you’re too polite to say anything, taking your wine and wincing as it touches your tongue. “It’s so… so…” He eyes you, and you put on a fake smile. “So yummy!”

“I’m glad,” he puts a hand on yours over the table, making you blush – you haven’t done anything since Satoru, and honestly?

You wonder if that freak of a man ruined you forever.

The things he did and said were depraved and utterly burned into your brain – how he’d fold you in that mating press, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix over and over. Even now it’s flitting through your mind, you’d had to fuck yourself with your fingers to not completely jump on Nanami. Satoru’s presence triggered your ovulation early, you swear.

You’d tried to kiss him in the car but he’d sort of smiled against your lips – fucking embarassing, his hand on your waist as he murmured against your ear –You look lovely, darling. That made you blush, his lips on your cheek, fuck Nanami smelled good and he was hot, but the man seemed to be an utter gentleman.

Isn’t that what you wanted? Not a depraved slut like Satoru Gojo?

You try to remind yourself of that when the appetizers you absolutely hate come out, and then you see it right over Nanami’s shoulder – Satoru walking right in. His suit tailored perfectly to that well muscled frame you miss over you, Satoru looked lanky but his body was buff underneath all that, a body you remembered far too fucking well – driving you insane just existing in the room.

You did change your shampoo out of spite, but tonight you used the old shampoo, the fancy stuff Satoru bought you that was hundreds of dollars a bottle, and you couldn’t answer why you did it. Touching your cunt in the shower and picturing Satoru on his knees, licking your cunt the hungry way only he ever did.

Your hand comes to brush Nanami’s hair back on purpose, smiling just a bit, you can be flirtatious again, you can be sexy, and you can ignore Gojo.

Gojo who is glaring right at you, walking in your direction.

“Are you fucking serious,” you mumble under your breath, seeing your psychotic ex right across from your table, Nanami is talking about his 401k already, and you have to be honest – you weren’t paying attention.

But you were trying!

“What was that?” Professor Nanami asks, raising a brow – it doesn’t help that Satoru and Nanami haven’t ever been able to stand each other. Apparently friends since high school, he just calls him ‘nerd’ or ‘emo’ every time he's near him.

“Nothing, it's nothing,” Satoru's grinning and walking over, taking a seat and sitting right down in it, leaning back and crossing his legs all casual. Nanami blinks those blond lashes in confusion and you slap your head with your hand.

Fucking Gojo.

“Hey nerd,” Nanami’s lips purse together, his eyes narrowing just a bit as he studies Satoru next to him.

“What are you doing here, Gojo?” Satoru smiles all friendly at him, winking over at you and earning your eye roll as you peer at the menu, shoving it in your face so you can avoid his blue eyes.

“Ah I just love this little restaurant, ya know? I was gonna meet a friend here for drinks, but she’s running late.”

Your turn to look at him.

“She?” Satoru grins.

Good, you should be as jealous as him – if it were possible, of course. Satoru doesn’t have anyone coming, but it’s worth it to see your nostrils flare the tiniest bit, your lips trembling before you bite your lower one, hard. You always did that, always left little teeth marks right in them, he used to love to kiss them, or to run the pearly tip of his cock along it.

He loved to bite them for you.

“Yeah, she is just hitting traffic, thought I’d see how my two favorite colleagues are – ya know, it’s been a week at work, huh? Nanami, how are those stocks?”

“Oh, which stocks?” You almost scream out loud, gratefully taking the water from the waitress, seeing Satoru get her attention with a bat of his pretty white lashes.

“Hey sweetheart,” oh fuck him. “Could I get a sweet drink?”

She giggles at that, and you roll your eyes, gulping your wine too quickly, much to Nanami’s utter horror. “You’re supposed to sip a red like that!”

“Oh… my bad…” You mumble, Satoru’s smirking as the waitress slips him her number, whispering in his ear.

“Uh huh, yeah that’d be great,” when you glare he leans over, a hand on your thigh underneath the table. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing!” You shout it practically, clearing your throat, then leaning close and whispering. “You’re a little whore.”

“Hah, me? Funny since you’re on a fucking date,” his words are mean, a little hiss that tickles your ears and rushes to your core. “It’s funny that you’re jealous when you’re so done you broke my fucking heart.”

“You can’t spy on your girlfriends?!”

“Then become my wife.”

“What!”

“Ahem,” Nanami looks between the two of you, adjusting that tie and sipping his whiskey slowly. “What are you two talking about?”

“Stocks,” you both answer at the same time, laughing even though you can’t stand this little shit.

“Um, Tesla stocks,” you mumble, Nanami lights up.

“Oh! I know a lot about that, so you see – the prime time to…” He goes on until you want to cut your ears off your damn head, and Satoru keeps asking him questions, egging him on.

The waitress brings him this giant rainbow slush drink that looks utterly ridiculous. “Oh thank you! Sweetheart.” He draws out that word on purpose, what he always called you.

“Of course Mr. Gojo,” she’s batting her lashes, standing there far too long, Nanami’s still talking about the market and you want to go the fuck home.

Satoru’s hand won’t leave your thigh, and you don’t push it off like you should – like he’s drawing you in with his toxic ass nature.

“That’s pretty fascinating Nanami,” Satoru says, slurping his drink obnoxiously loud through his bright blue straw, his other hand slipping higher until his thumb finds the slick trailing it, the telltale sign of just how much you miss him. “I think she finds it really interesting too, huh?”

“Y-yes I do,” you bite down on your lip, gulping wine once more, Nanami’s brows drawn together.

“You’re gulping a cabernet!” He chides, Satoru can’t stop snickering next to you.

“Aha, sorry… it’s so yummy!”

“I should take you to a wine tasting, so you can earn a little bit of decorum,” Satoru snorts out his drink and you stomp on his foot with your heel, glaring as he dies laughing over your embarrassment.

“Where’s your date, hmm?” You ask, he sighs dramatically.

“Oh she must be running even later,” he grabs his phone and texts you instead, looking at you under his lashes. “Fuck she’s not feeling well. Oh no I was looking forward to it.”

“What a shame.” Nanami clears his throat and looks at you, when Gojo grabs the waitress’ attention again.

“I’ll just eat with you guys!”

“What now?” Nanami’s glaring when you peek at the phone and see the text from ‘Psycho Toru’.

You’re not changing that name either.

There’s no date, think I’d want anyone when you exist?

You ignore it and put your phone down. “Are you all ready to order meals?”

“Yes-”

“She will have the chicken parm,” you pause, looking at Nanami again.

“I wanted s-”

“Of course,” the waitress cuts you off, leaving you to sigh and sink back in your seat. “And you, Mr. Gojo?”

“Spaghetti please,” he smirks over at you. “So much of it – extra garlic bread too, please? I’m starving.”

Oh fuck him.

“I’ll have the spaghetti too,” Nanami says – you’re sure Gojo is up to something now, the way he’s practically laughing right at the table.

“You would have it,” you grumble, Nanami looks between you both curiously, before peering at his phone. “Gojo, get out of here.”

“What, I can’t have a friendly dinner?” He asks all innocent and cute, like he’s not rubbing the slick on your inner thigh, his eyes so blue they hurt to look at. “We can be civil and move on, right?”

“Sure,” does being civil involve his fingers brushing over your panties, does it involve you pinching his thigh so hard he yelps? “Hah, so civil. Let’s be friends, right Gojo?”

“Right, we can all be friends,” Satoru pulls his fingers back when dinner comes, and you stare sadly at chicken parm, looking longingly at their plates as they slurp the noodles down. “God it’s so yummy.”

“Darling,” Nanami says to you now, pointing at your plate with his fork. “Are you going to eat your meal?”

“Oh sure,” you poke helplessly at it, sighing and then cutting a piece, putting it in your mouth and chewing – it was fine, but the spaghetti looks so good. “Mmm. Yum.”

Satoru bursts out in laughter and you scowl at him, smacking right at his shoulder, he sucks in a breath.

“Ouch! Sure you want an abusive girlfriend, Nanami?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” ouch. Okay big ouch. You blink a bit, Satoru raises his brow at him. “Not yet at least. This is our first date, as you already know.”

“Right, our first date?” He leans back in his chair and grins. “Well she had her mouth-”

“Full of wine!” You gulp down the rest and hold your glass out, the waitress takes it, brushing her hand against Gojo’s shoulder and making you unreasonably jealous.

How can you be jealous when you left him?

You left him for a reason, right?

“Have some ‘decorum’ sweetheart,” Satoru says, snickering as his hand lands back on your thigh, trailing up and leaving goosebumps, you’re trembling – aching and needy in ways only he can make you. “Sip your cab, isn’t it your favorite?”

“God I love it so much,” Nanami keeps looking between the two of you, lips pressed in a tight line as he dabs the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief. “Yay, more cab!”

“Remember the decorum,” you snort then, almost snorting wine out of your nose when he touches your cunt, brushing your slit up and down. “She’s not very lady-like, I’m afraid. Can’t take her anywhere.”

“Can’t take you anywhere!”

“Ahem…” you blink and look at Nanami, who is standing up, taking money out of his wallet and throwing a fuck ton of it down.

“Nanami?”

“I’m… gonna go,” you yank Gojo’s hand off and panic. “I’ll pay for yours too, I guess, Gojo. Even though you’re a rich little idiot.”

“Aww, Nanami! You’re such a sweet nerd.” He grimaces in disgust and turns, leaving your mouth wide open.

“You dick!” You shove at Gojo, he shrugs with his pretty pink lips curved up.

“What, I’ll give you my spaghetti?"

“You did this, I swear,” you hop up and rush after Nanami, catching him out front waiting for the Valet. “Nanami! I’m sorry Gojo came and…”

He looks utterly bored and annoyed, you step back a bit, frowning as he runs a hand over his jacket, smoothing it down on himself. “Ah, I think there’s too much still going on between you both.”

“I mean we did date for a year, so of course there are a lot of feelings… but I was looking forward to tonight! Um, and to get to know you.” Nanami walks over and leans down, you think he might kiss you – but instead he pats your head.

Oh it’s bad.

“Have a good night, you will probably ride home with him, right?”

You blink at that. “I mean I didn’t want to –” 

“My car is here,” he smiles awkwardly and just walks the fuck away. “Bye.”

Okay!?

“Well shit – so much for a nice guy,” you grumble to yourself, you drove with Nanami and now you’ll be at the mercy of Satoru or have to grab a ride home on your app. You trudge back in and he’s scooped half of his plate onto yours, you can’t help but melt.

“I got plenty,” he murmurs, letting you sit next to him, acting all innocent and sweet like he didn’t cause all of this. “Did you get a kiss?”

“No, I did not…” You sigh and take your fork, nibbling on it and moaning. “God, that's so good. What, did he think I should watch my carbs or something?”

“No clue,” you narrow your eyes at him, acting all innocent is making you even more suspicious. “You should eat all the carbs you want, baby girl… especially if you wanna carry-”

“Do not breed kink me in the restaurant," you press your thighs together and eat more of it, sighing. “Fuck it’s good.”

“Is it good, baby?”

“I’m not your baby,” you snatch up his drink, slurping it down. “Yum!”

“Hey it’s mine! I’ll get you one,” Satoru calls the flirty waitress back over, and it’s not long until you two are laughing, eating, you’re buzzed from Gojo’s fruity drinks – and it feels too good.

It was good with you all, wasn’t it?

Until you had to find out he bugged your apartment and tracked your car – this psycho would have tracked your body if he found out how.

“Why’d you have to be so toxic, hmm?” Satoru blinks his snowy lashes, leaning close and slipping his hand around, gripping your waist.

“Me, toxic?”

“Yes you,” his fingertips drift up your waist, making you almost arch into the touch, lips a breath from his. “So toxic.”

“I’m just devoted,” you snort and roll your eyes. “Are you done? I’ll take you home, okay?”

“Well you chased my date away, it’s the least you can do.”

******

Satoru loves having you in the passenger seat once more, god it’s been such a shame to not have you dripping on that leather for months now, not to have you humming off key and laying your head on him. Driving alone was shit, and he’s been dying to do anything to have you back with him.

Being alone was shit, when he knew you existed.

“Would I ever have just left you?” Satoru asks, the rain starting to downpour, he sees you trembling and goes to flick on the heat, the wipers flicking back and forth quickly, unable to keep up with how much is coming from the gray clouds.

You say nothing, because you know he’s correct – but damn if you’ll say just how right he is. No matter what you and Satoru went through, he was always one to make sure you made it home safe, even during your worst arguments – the most toxic fights where you’d rush out the car when he was at a red light and try to walk your ass right home.

No, Satoru never let you.

“You had no right coming in and crashing our date,” his hand rests on your knee and you smack it. “I’m serious.”

“Were you having so much fun?” He raises a brow as you hit a red light, it casts a soft glow across his pretty face, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh, it’s giving just a bit underneath his touch, you feel your body responding and curse it.

“Maybe I was.”

“Listening to his accounting?” Satoru leans closer, you can practically taste those mints he always sucks on, your breasts rising and falling with your quick breaths. “His business plans, the 401k? Fascinating.”

“He talked about other things…” Satoru smirks, you roll your eyes. “Fine, it was boring – okay?”

“And he left you without a ride.”

“He surely knew you would.” He looks at you, lashes flickering, reading you like he always was able to.

“Admit you’re glad I came.”

“I’m not,” he scoffs and starts driving, the rain has gotten worse, the very white noise making you sleepy, you find yourself just drifting off just a bit, eyes heavy – yawning and getting far too comfy.

“Nap on my shoulder like you used to.” His voice is too soft, you love it too damn much, you almost forget just why you’re mad at him.

“You mean before I knew you stalked me like a psycho?” He smiles all innocent and cute like he’s not a fucking deviant. “It’s not funny!”

“You love that I watched you play with your pretty cunt.”

“I can’t stand you…” You’re aching even more, his fingers are dancing across your thigh, you’re barely able not to beg him to touch you, not to shove his hand up higher between your thighs.

“Is it my fault that I’m obsessed?”

“It’s not mine!”

“It is, you drive me fucking insane,” you hate what that does – his desperate, insane tone he gets with you, thumb brushing on the outside of your thigh, you barely bite back a whine. “Why do you drive me this crazy, then act like you don’t feel the same?”

“I don’t. I want a normal relationship where I’m not stalked, you psycho!”

“Well sorry that I want to make sure you’re okay!?” Your jaw sets, eyes narrowing as you look at his profile, his eyes dark. “I just need to know where you are and who you’re with.”

“That’s psychotic!”

“It’s loving, you damn brat.”

“Loving, oh god now you’re claiming you loved me?” He comes to a park, the car warmed to the point your cheeks flush, Satoru leans over and cups your face in the way only his big hands can, the ones that cradle you and make you feel so small.

“Of course I fucking love you,” you shake your head, goosebumps rising all over your skin from his touch, heart hammering in your chest so loud it’s deafening – mixing with the rain coating the windshield louder, enshrouding you both in the cool gray fog. “I am so in love I need to make sure you’re mine.”

“That’s possessive!” He hums a bit, turning his head to study you, brushing his other hand down the side of your tit, making your nipples harden to little sensitive peaks underneath your pretty black dress. “Gojo don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what, sweetheart?” You bite down on your lip when his blue eyes swirl and glitter – a million shades of colors, ones you drown in.

“Like that – freaky ass Gojo way you do…” He chuckles softly, sighing and brushing his lips across yours in a ghost of a kiss. “Gojo…”

“Satoru. No, call me Toru like you used to.”

“But-”

“Call me Toru and I’ll get your pretty, needy little cunt off,” you moan when his fingers find you over your panties, the material damp and sticky from a light touch, you’re whining out quietly, hands gripping his dress shirt. “Your fingers never could hit, hmm?”

“Are you s-still spying!?” He just grins and you sigh, shutting your eyes.

“I just love you, and want to make sure you’re mine – all fucking mine, sweetheart, every bit mine.”

“That means watching me touch myself? Ngh!” Satoru’s pressing that cotton up more flush against your plump lips, your nails dig into his chest and earn his moan, breaths coming faster – you can’t just forgive him for stalking you.

Right?

No, just maybe let him make you cum – you’re needy and soaking wet, that’s all this was, right? You’re not excusing the man who tracked your car, cammed your damn house and followed you all over in just a year of being together. You’re not excusing him finding out where your date was somehow and crashing it, ruining it.

“Do you want me to make you squirt again, baby?” You scowl – he’s diabolical and he knows it, voice all husky and sweet like bourbon. “You know that man wouldn’t have been able to handle you – would have scared him.”

“W-would not have… you’re just… mngh, it doesn’t mean I forgive you,” Satoru grins against your neck, his long lashes fluttering against the curve of your neck, moving your panties over just a bit, exposing them to the warmth of the car. “Don’t… I can’t just… ah!”

Suddenly it’s suffocating the need – the scent of Satoru’s practically embedded into your very psyche, the way he takes you over brings you right back to how you were before you acknowledged all the signs. He constantly knew where you were when you weren’t with him – he’d just pop right up. He knew everything about you, including things you’ve never shared.

Anyone who was interested in you before you and Satoru got together quickly disappeared when he started dating you, he always wanted time with you to the point it was as if you all damn near lived together week one. Needy and clingy – you thought it was adorable, his puppy eyes, his needy kisses and pouts when you didn’t give him enough attention.

You didn’t realize just how psycho he was – and you’re not sure you want to know how much more he is than what you’re aware of.

“Admit you miss me,” his whisper ruins your mind – he knows it will and hones in on it like the psycho he really is, pulling back to look down at you, tracing his fingertips in your soppy mess. The sounds of it are filthy, the trail of slick he uses to tease your clit, running little circles until you’re arching your hips. “Ah, guess you don’t wanna cum.”

“I do, I do – god you’re a dick,” he smirks and you drag him down for a kiss.

That’s when you’re done for.

You’ll think of how he’s a psychotic ass, jealous, sadistic little demon tomorrow, not now. Not when the rain is pounding down hard and the windshield wipers stop, letting you both get enshrouded in that cloud. His fingers sink inside and curve up right on your spot, dragging over and over and making that squelch echo in his car, mixing with his deep little chuckle.

“Fuck, you’re already soaking wet, baby I barely touched you. Tch…” Satoru loves to taunt you, to make you lose it even when he’s fucking those long fingers inside your hole. Your thighs clamp down when his thumb brushes your clit. “Ah - ah, keep those thighs open. There you go, listenin’ so well.”

Your thighs tremble as Satoru spreads them, pushing you back just a bit in that leather seat, leaning over you. He fucks you deeper with his digits, lips moving over yours, his long tongue pressing against your much smaller one, swirling it and dripping all his saliva right in your mouth.

It’s like you’re high on him, so dizzy and weak, just gripping that expensive dress shirt and rocking your hips. “That’s it, fuck yourself on my fingers, god you really did miss me, hmm? Could he not make you cum?”

“D-didn’t even kiss him, psycho,” he grins against your lips, you’d tell him to stop gloating but he’s curling them again, hitting this spot of yours only he can. Your walls are gripping his digits tightly, earning his desperate groan. “Mnh!”

“No, haven’t kissed anyone this entire time?” He asks softly, possessive look ruining your mind.  “Just me, all me? Only me?”

“Just you, fuck you’re s-so insane I swear to - ah! There, there,” you’re yanking at his wrist, keeping his fingers right where they feel so good, shuddering as he looks right at you. Your eyes flutter closed for just a moment, dizzy from the heat, the pressure, the rain making you feel even more light headed. “Gonna cum, gonna cum…”

“You’re still so easy for me,” you can’t manage your usual glare, not when you’re shattering with two more pumps and a whisper of – ‘Go ahead and cum, that’s it – what a good girl.’

“Ngh!” You scream out in the car, head falling back for his hand to wrap your throat, his fingers damn near pushed out with the force of your orgasm, with how much you’re squirting all over. “Satoru… Satoru please…”

“Ah, I’m not Gojo now,” he chuckles, pulling back and pinching your clit between two fingers. You’re gasping out when he pushes your overstimulated cunt right over the edge, leaning low over you – breath ghosting against your swollen lips. “Squirting all down these seats, aren’t you? Messy little slut.”

“You’re… a bratty… slut,” you hardly get the words out, seeing his smirk widen as he rubs your clit back and forth, having squirt embarrassingly gush all down his hands, down the chair and pooling between your thighs.

“You love me, don’t you? Love when I make you cum, love when I fucking ruin your mind,” his words make your breath catch in your throat, that switch of his flicking on and off. “Love me ruining you?”

“I do… fuck you, though…” He’s chuckling, pulling back his long fingers and sucking your juices off them, moaning out loud.

“Your taste, god I need more,” his gaze flickers to your lips, hands brushing over your waist and lower, tugging at your hip and dragging you impossibly closer in the cramped space. “You really wanna go inside and end the night?”

“I have to,” you bite your lower lip and he tugs it out from that grip.

“You'll bite it off…” you stay like that, his thumb tugging your lower lip, smoothing over it. “You have to, huh?”

“You’re toxic…” You whisper, kissing him once more then grabbing the handle, leaving him smirking at you. “Good night. This doesn’t mean shit.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” you rush out in the rain and run inside, Satoru whines when he touches his cock, leaking and sticking to those digimon boxers you thought were so cute.

He sucks what was left of your juices off his thick digits hungrily, slurping it and moaning as he unzips his pants. He sees your silhouette in the window and does his nightly routine – jerking off in front of your living room window, it’s what you’ve reduced him to, after all.

Pathetically stroking his cock and laughing to himself as he runs his palm up and down his shaft – he fucking knows you want him back, you’re fighting it, trying to be all ‘normal’ and shit. But you’re not normal, he knows you love how jealous he is, how you love to get railed by him when he’s furious, you even make him jealous on purpose to see how hard he’ll fuck you.

Now suddenly you’re ‘wanting something stable’!?

No, Satoru knows what’s best for you – and that’s him fucking all your holes, making sure you drip cum – his cum. Drip it next time anyone touches you, be so sore you can’t stand and give your lecture, knock your pretty cunt up so you’ll have to quit, to be all his. It’s just what you need, to be a mom to several babies.

At least six.

“Six babies inside you, hah-” He strokes it and moans, the sounds filthy in the car as the rain pounds down even harder, picturing having you in a mating press after these months of torture. “You want ‘em all, don’t you? I’ll give them to you, don’t worry.”

The thought alone nearly makes him bust right then and there, his fist tightening around the base of his cock, squeezing so he can just fucking prolong his torture – he swipes his fingers right along the seat you squirted all over, moaning.

“Messy little girl,” he whispers, bringing his cum covered fingers to his lips, but it’s just not the same as having you drown his face.

His phone rings and he smirks, putting you on so your voice is echoing through his speakers. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You’re just sitting out there…” You sigh and peek at him in the window, shivering just a bit from your clothes, the rain pouring even harder.

“I am,” his hips jerk up, cock thrusting into his closed fist as he hears that pretty little voice. "F-fuck…"

“Satoru, are you jerking off in front of my house!?”

“Yeah – hah, why wouldn’t I with your cunt all over my fingers,” you bite down on your lip, resting your head on the cool glass. “Perfect, pretty cunt just made f’me, think I don’t jerk it every day to you?”

You sigh, hearing the sounds of his strokes, Satoru can see your silhouette move in front of the window, pumping his cock faster, the slick sound obscene even over the storm through the phone. “Every day?”

He smirks when he hears it, your soft little voice, you breaking for him finally. The pad of his thumb smears the beads of pearly pre cum over his reddened tip, sucking in a breath. "Yeah I do it every day, do you like that you drive me to this?”

“How do I drive you to do anything,” you can barely see any silhouette of Gojo in his dark tinted windows, you can just hear him – his soft little pants and breathy moans are wrecking any hope you have, you miss hearing his pleasure in his voice. “What are you thinking of?”

“My cock wrecking your throat,” you whine out before you can stop yourself, hand trembling on the phone. “Have you so full of me you can't think of anything else, can’t talk during your fucking lecture, all hoarse so everyone thinks you’re sick.”

Damn it, you can’t… “Where are the cameras?”

“Your plushie on your dresser,” you sigh, shaking your head. “That’s the only one now, okay? I’m trying to l-learn… boundaries, fuck…”

The tension in his stomach tightens, his balls tightening as they’re full of cum, picturing you on your back, legs spread wide as he pounds into you. Imagining his hand on your belly, feeling himself deep inside, bulging and moving – taking over your whole body with how huge he is.

“Boundaries?” You laugh but it’s a weak little sound, Nanami texts you then and you peer curiously.

Nanami - I’m sorry that I left our date so early… I hope you made it safely home, I should have offered a ride.

You frown a bit, hearing Satoru jerking off on speaker, mumbling your name like he’s drugged, fingers typing.

“Who the fuck are you writing?”

“Nanami,” Gojo pauses, glaring at his phone screen now.

“Really!?”

“What!?”

“I’m jerking my cock for you, pay attention to me, you brat!”

Your lips twitch. “He’s apologizing-”

“And what, are you writing back?” He whispers, you curse, shaking your head and shutting your eyes.

“It’s raining too bad for you to drive,” you say softly, looking out the window where the lightning is going fucking insane. “I can’t stand your psycho ass but I don’t want you hurt. So…”

The door opens before you finish your sentence, Satoru rushes to your front door, dripping wet all over your floor, breaths coming in fast, his hands just gripping the door tightly.

“That was stupidly fast,” you shut the door and he instantly picks you up, soaking wet all over. “Satoru…”

“Tell him you never want a date again,” the lightning flashes into the room, casting Satoru in an eerie glow, his blue eyes glacial with just how insane you’ve made him, gripping your shoulders tightly, backing you up against that wall. “Tell him you want to be thrown in a mating press by your psycho ex boyfriend.”

“Oh do I?” You whisper now, getting cold from the water dripping from Satoru’s clothes, his white hair all silvery and damp, hanging just so over his brow.

“You do,” he leans low, tilting your chin up to look at him, lips just a breath away from yours. “I’m gonna make you quit that stupid job, stay home with our babies, where you belong."

“You’re not, psycho,” you whisper back, but your hands are already trembling, unbuttoning his dress shirt in a haste, little buttons rip off and clatter to your hardwood floor, showing those strong muscles of his chest. “Just once.”

“Hah, just once?” You nod quickly and he smirks, slipping off his belt as you take off your dress, just in a lacy damp bra and panties. “You wore that for him?”

“Maybe – ah!” Satoru carries you unceremoniously to your room, throwing you right on that bed and unzipping his pants, eyeing the slick that poured down your inner thigh. “You’re such a dick!”

“You are an evil little brat,” he leans forward, pants undone, his cock has cum leaking from his boxers, soaking those pocket monsters – the duality of this man in a suit with digimon underwear is just too much.

You still love him.

But he’s toxic, he’s possessive – you can’t have a life with a man who haunts your every step, who stalks your every move, even if you want him, even if you love him. That’s not healthy or okay to do… it’s not stupidly hot that he loves you that much, right?

You tell yourself that when he sits you up, hand entangled in the slick strands of your drying hair, his abdomen flexing when he takes you with a rough grip, taking that belt and wrapping your wrists with it, lips brushing against your ear.

“Are you gonna make it up to me, being so fucking mean? Being such a bad girl?”

“Mhm,” you can’t help but want to do it, feeling the leather tighten, Satoru’s hair is still dripping little drops of rain on your skin as he tightens it down, pushing you to the ground – your knees hitting the soft rug beside your bed.

You look up at him so pretty then, when his fingers slip across your jaw and tilt your chin up, he watches your lashes flutter open, eyes dazed for him – those hearts he’s missed so goddamn much. For every bit of Satoru that wants to bury his face in your cunt, there’s just as strong of a part that wants to fuck your throat until you can’t swallow.

"Open up," he murmurs, his voice just a bit hoarse, he’s not teasing or silly Satoru – he’s not crazy ass psycho Gojo, no he’s fully in command of you like this. His hand frees his cock from the sticky mess of his boxers, and it springs out, thick and veiny, leaking precum.

Fuck you missed his cock.

You swallow nervously, staying open like an obedient girl – you know that you’ll probably regret letting Satoru back in your life, and you know you can’t just fuck this man – but you’ll think of that tomorrow. For tonight, you’ve got the pink cockhead all angry and flushed in your face, he jerks his cock teasingly, just close enough but not fully on your tongue.

“Wider,” you do as he asks, Satoru spits a long trail of saliva that dissolves and falls into your open mouth, he moans and uses his own spit, sliding his cock into your mouth, the heavy weight of him on your tongue making your core tense up. God you missed it, the way he looks down at you under his snowy lashes, his tip drooling those salty drops.

He's hot to the touch, his cock so hard it’s impossibly bigger, your lips wrap around him and earn a soft moan that breaks in the middle. You suck deeper, taking about half of him inside your mouth, slurping him right down as you feel the belt pressing your wrists tightly.

"Fuck, yes," his fingers are tightening in your hair, guiding your movements with firm tugs, a snap of his hips almost choking you out, making tears stream from your eyes. "Just like that, take all of it baby, s’all yours. Fuck it’s only yours."

You suck him eagerly now, lost in how he’s moaning, whimpering – six-foot-four Satoru whimpering for you, sucking in his breaths as he fucks your mouth harder, whispering your name over and over. Mixed with - mine, all mine, fuck take it - toxic things he shouldn’t say.

You can’t help but get even wetter until he could easily slide his thick cock in your cunt, even if it’s been months since you’ve had him. Your tongue swirls around the sensitive underside of his cock, tracing a thick vein and making his head fall back as you look up, the strong lines of his neck showing – even when he doesn’t look at you he murmurs your name, snapping his hips even faster.

“God y-yes, fuck you take my cock like you’re made for it – hah, there, f-fuck please,” Satoru is stuttering when you take him deeper, the tip of his cock slamming against your uvula, making you gag. He brushes your hair back gently, not pulling back, easing even deeper. “Relax that throat, sweetheart, you can take me. S’okay – you’re doin’ such a good fucking job.”

You are – Satoru has never even had you suck him like this, you loved to suck his cock but you’re slow with it, like you’re savoring every bit, listening unlike the bratty little thing you usually were. He loves it but he also fucking loves when you listen, when you relax your little throat ans let him push past that resistance, stretching it out until your nose is buried in the snowy white hairs at his base.

“Oh fuck,” he sucks in a breath, brushing your cheek reverently, the feeling of him using your mouth, using your throat like this has you done for, cunt fluttering around nothing. “You took all of me, god look at that.”

You pull back slowly, your cheeks hollowing as you suck even harder, making his hips jerk, hands tightening on the back of your neck. He’s so sensitive then he can’t stand it, when you look up at him through your lashes, so fucking pretty, watching his cock disappear between your lips and bulge in your throat, slurping up and down.

“M’gonna cum, sh-shiittt….” He can’t even think, pulling back quickly with a suctioned pop, eyeing that plushie and smirking before he looks down at you, thumb slipping in between your lips.

“Cum in my mouth,” he moans, shaking his head and tugging you up by the back of your hair, making you gasp out. He turns and bends you over the bed, tugging at that belt to tighten it. “Satoru…”

“I’m not wasting cum in your mouth,” he whispers, leaning over and turning your face to hip, lapping up his cum off your lips with a filthy swipe against the seam of them. “I’m pumping you full of me.”

“I’ll take my birth control,” you whisper, he smirks then, lining his slick, throbbing cock up with your dripping entrance, you’re sucking in a breath, thighs trembling, one of his hands braces on the bed as the other grips his length at the base, gliding it up and down.

“No you won’t,” Satoru slams into you in one brutal thrust, bottoming out in your tiny, unstretched cunt that’s soaking wet, you gasp out at the pain and stretch – it fucking burns but in the best way, making your head fall back, your mouth wide open. “You wanna be full of my babies, don’t you?”

“Mmm, n-no,” he leans back and pulls your hair, making you arch even more for his mean strokes, cock working in and out of your cunt faster and faster, the sounds of the smacks filthy as you feel him everywhere. “Ngh! Toru…”

“That’s it, fuck there you go,” he slams deeper, undoing the belt and letting it fall to the floor, the metal clicking and echoing. He takes your delicate wrist in his big hand, rubbing the mark and then shoving it back and bending it, using it as leverage to fuck you harder. “God, takin’ it like you’re made for it. Are you made for me?”

“Mmm,” you shake your head, he laughs softly, pressing your head down into your mattress, slipping your panties right off. “N-no…”

“You’re so fucking mean,” he groans and leans over you, his weight heavy as he presses you down, your feet dangling practically with how high your bed is when he shoves your hips up and bottoms out. “I love you.”

“Y-you don’t, mnph!” He shoves your head further into the bed, cock gliding in and out of your gummy little walls that are dripping all over, spasming around him and trying to milk him for all he’s worth. Your muffled sounds and cries, the little tears soaking the blanket making him harder.

“I do fucking love you,” he leans close, his lips on your ear, bending you impossibly as his cock drags on your spot and you shatter, squirting and almost pushing his cock out with how tight you get. “That’s it, squirt all over, make me a fuckin’ mess – cunt is begging to be filled.”

“Toru,” you turn and blink your pretty eyes that are dripping tears, sniffling as Satoru fucks deeper, moaning right with you, his eyes black. “Please…”

“I’ll give you it,” he flips you around, shoving you up the bed and climbing, shoving those thighs apart and slapping his cock on your clit, rubbing it until you squirt again, the gush of it all over your blankets and his thighs. “Fuck, I’ll cum in you now, I’ll cum in you while you sleep, I’ll keep cummin’ inside.”

“You’re f-fucking crazy,” he laughs then, grin feral as he slams his cock into your messy cunt, leaning over you and cupping your face, and that’s when you can’t deny it any fucking more. “I love you too.”

Satoru pauses, easing his cock so deep you whine out, watching your head fall back, your eyes roll back in your skull, sighing and resting his forehead against yours. “You still love me?”

“Even if you’re f-fucking insane,” you sigh, tears hitting your eyes, your sore wrists aching when your hands slip up his back, nails pressing in and making him suck in a breath. “Love you, love you…”

“Gonna give me my babies?” You bite down on your lip as Satoru starts fucking faster, shoving your thighs up against your tits now, hitting so deep you scream out. “Are you?”

“Shh,” he scowls at you. “Stop filming m-me all the time.”

“No,” you gasp and he shoves his cock again, smirking down at you. “Move in with me and I’ll stop.”

“You’ll w-watch me there…”

“Yeah,” you laugh but it’s cut off, he’s pounding you into the mattress eyes feral and fucked out. “You think that straight laced fucking nerd could fuck you like this? Think he’d make you squirt, spit in your mouth, choke you?”

You bite your lip hard, screaming out when he spits down on your clit, letting it drop down your slit and fucking it inside you, a creamy ring forming at the base as he rocks inside you faster.

“Answer me.”

“No,” you whisper back, moaning as he hits you so deep, his heavy balls soaking wet from your messy cunt, slapping against your ass. “No, he c-couldn’t…”

“No one can fuck you this deep,” he lets your thighs go, touching your tummy where his cock is bulging it, laughing softly and grinning down at you with a white flash of teeth. “No one can spit in your slutty holes, fill you up like me. Fuckin’ say it.”

“No one,” you’re fucked out, you’re dazed, you can’t help it when he looks at you like that, thighs shaking on either side of his hips, clenching against them and whining out. “No one, no one.”

“Just me, say it,” Satoru loves how you look at him then, your swollen lips parted, all fucked dumb on his cock how he likes you. “Just me. Putting babies inside.”

“Jus’ you… babies, mngh… in me,” he cries out and slams his cock deep, fingers bruising your thighs, dimpling the flesh as it gives under his grip. “Please, please, in me – ngh!”

“Gonna take all this cum like a good girl?” He asks, you nod eagerly, making him smile.

You’re his.

He can just see it written on your pretty face, his thumbs brushing your nipples over the lacy bra you still have on, your nipples perking up and out, you gasp out and lean up, kissing him desperately.

“Mmm, say you’ll give me babies.”

“M-maybe one,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Just one.”

“S-six, fuck…” Satoru busts inside you then, moaning out loud, white ropes pumping right inside, you’re milking him for all he’s worth, Satoru’s sweat drips down from his brow onto your skin as he floods your cunt. “Six, mmm gonna give me six babies, aren’t you?”

“One,” he laughs, breathless now, leaning down still intimately pressed inside you, tip curving up pressing into your cervix, dripping more from his pretty pink tip, you gasp out, seeing stars when he cups your face. “Maybe two.”

“Good girl,” Satoru kisses you, smiling against his lips, peering over at the little plushie, making you smack at him. “What!?”

“No cameras here, psycho,” he kisses down your neck, sighing and tickling your skin, lips pressing across it. “I mean it. If you wanna date me again.”

“You’ll date me again?” He leans up all puppy dog cute, like he’s not actively been stalking you, but you fucking fall for it – he’s already thickening back up inside you, easing back and shoving back in. “Really, baby?”

“Things have to… mmm… change…”

“You love me watching you,” a hand comes to rest next to you on the bed, the other wrapping your throat and tilting your chin up, sucking out your oxygen, you’re dizzy, breaths coming in little gasps as you study him. “You know you do, don’t you love that for the past six months I’ve jerked it to you? That I saved every picture you told me to delete, that I came right in those panties you left?”

“You’re so fucked up,” you gasp out, but you’re already too far gone, looking at your psycho ex – well, now on again – boyfriend’s pretty blue eyes and big ass grin. “Mmm, Toru…”

“I’ll give you more cum, baby, don’t worry,” he squeezes your throat and lifts your thigh, nose nuzzling yours all cute as he chuckles softly. “I can’t wait for you to drip me out all day in class.”

*****

“Nghh…” Satoru’s somehow snuck under your desk and is lapping right at your messy cunt that Monday back, slurping you fucking obscene as you struggle to grade your papers. “Toru…”

“Mmm, fuck I missed this,” his tongue drags through your slit, gathering all those juices that just pour. “Can taste myself inside you, god… fuck…”

“You’re s-so crazy, I have a lecture coming – ngh!” You slap a hand on your mouth, Satoru doesn’t stop though, in fact he is spreading your hole wide, your panties already off and slid into his pocket, dragging you by your spin chair closer. You haven’t felt his mouth in months and even last night he didn’t get a chance to lick you.

He was too busy pumping cum and plugging it up inside you.

But now he’s making up for the neglect by sucking on your tiny clit and humming, slurping it up greedily, letting your juices spill down his lips. You’re shattering, eyes fluttering shut, hands tugging at his white locks. “Mmm… so fuckin’ sweet…”

Knock Knock Knock.

“Shit…” Satoru grins against your skin, leaning forward and looking up at you underneath your thankfully enormous desk.

“Say come in.”

“Oh god,” you swallow when you hear Nanami’s voice, and Satoru bites at your clit. “Ah! Fuck!”

“Ahem, can I talk to you?”

“Oh um… yes! Come in,” you scowl and shove Satoru, but he doesn’t stop licking you up, a muffled moan barely quieted by your thighs closing in on him. “N-Nanami…”

“Hey,” he rubs the back of his neck and walks over to you, leaning against the desk, as Satoru’s teeth graze your clit, making you bite down on your lower lip. “I’ve made you uncomfortable…”

“N-no! Not at all um,” you suck in a breath, Satoru’s fingers are parting your puffy folds, exposing your winking hole to his face. “What did you need?”

“Oh,” he sighs and adjusts his tie, walking over to you now. “I just feel horrible I left you alone with Gojo and left the date.”

“I mean, it was a little harsh, but it’s…” Satoru’s fingers glide in your sore cunt, you almost hiss, your nails pressing against his scalp as you tug hard. “It’s understandable, you weren’t v-very… interested.”

“I was just uh… I found it rather forward you tried to kiss me first,” you get bitten by Gojo – hard with his sharp ass teeth.

“You what?” You look up at him and he clears his throat, leaning a hip against your desk and crossing his arms. “Forward?”

“It’s just a bit uncouth,” Satoru’s laughing against you now, as you glare up at Nanami. “It’s not how things are done, you should have waited for me to kiss you – and I planned on it. But that just threw me off, then Satoru.”

“You think a girl kissing you first is ‘uncouth’? Is this eighteen hundred?”

“No, it’s just not how I would conduct myself,” you blink a bit then, laughing and earning his surprised look. “What, is my viewpoint amusing?”

“It’s nonsense, you know I kissed Gojo first,” he smiles against your cunt, pressing kisses on your inner thigh, feeling you about to fall apart for him. “And he didn’t mind that, in fact – he ate me out the first date.”

Nanami goes bright red. “You do that on the first date?”

“I know I’m such a harlot,” you giggle and Nanami turns even redder. “I think it’s definitely best we don’t date again – I wouldn’t want to offend you with my outlandish behavior! On the second date I was swallowing him, so.”

“Oh dear god,” he turns away and you’re bursting into laughter almost, Satoru’s chuckling quietly with you – muffled by your own. Nanami looks back at you, brows lowered. “You and Gojo deserve each other, conducting yourselves in such a manner.”

“We do, that’s why I fucked him last night,” Nanami grimaces and walks out, shutting the door – you scooch back and he kneels between your thighs, lips glimmering with your slick. “I’m uncouth, Satoru – a harlot.”

“You’re my harlot,” he teases, kissing you and moaning against your lips, kissing your cunt off him, his hands slipping up your thighs. “See? He couldn’t have handled you, could he?”

“Clearly not,” you gasp when he lifts you and stands, spreading you wide on the desk, kissing you and leaning you back on it. “Mnh, I have that lecture in ten…”

“I can be quick,” he tugs your panties to the side as you eagerly unzip him, he lines his cock right up with your slick hole and sinks right in, watching your eyes roll back in your skull, groaning as you clamp down on him. “Do you really wanna work? You could stay in my penthouse, have nothing to do but carry all my babies, hmm?”

“Crazy man,” you drag him down for a kiss, whining out right into his mouth. “Mmm, maybe a vacation though.”

“I'll buy you an island, mnh…”

“An island?” Your eyes are lidded and drunk, he chuckles and nods, kissing up your neck, you peek and see the clock – you have five minutes and there’s a cock buried inside you.

“Your own island, you can lay in the sun all day, and I'll fuck you all night," he tilts your chin up, blue eyes glinting. “Have you all to myself, just for a couple months, please baby?”

“An island,” you repeat again, sucking in a breath as his teeth sink into your neck. Satoru may never let you off a private island, but do you care?

“I’ll get you pregnant there,” he murmurs, he’s already thrown out your birth control anyway. “Hmm? What do you say, harlot?”

You laugh, but it turns into a weak little moan. “Fuck it.”

Satoru grins – he knew he’d get you right where you belong <3

hehe I had too much fun!!!

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[an9els]

❥ 𝓗OW TO BAG A HOT DILF: 5-STEP BEGINNER’S GUIDE !

𝓼ummary: the hot, grumpy dad next door won’t give you the time of day? here’s how to make him fuck you stupid anyway. warning: side effects may include pregnancy.

pairing: dilf!toji fushiguro x f!reader genre/tags: smut with (some) plot, kinda slow burn tension, neighbor romance, crack comedy, age gap, manipulative flirting, implied daddy issues, light angst, dom!toji, corruption kink, praise + slight degradation, breeding kink, rough sex, slight jealousy, daddy kink, possessiveness, manhandling, overstim, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral (f. rec), creampie, fluffy ending <3

word count: 8.1k (idk, my hands slipped)

❥ STEP 1 — commit to the bit (and the bit is wanting him SO bad you’re willing to risk federal charges)

you don’t believe in love at first sight. you’re not that kind of girl.

but lust at first sight?

yeah. that one had you in a chokehold the second you saw him hauling a case of bottled water into his apartment, dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants and a faded black tank top— one that clung to the broad curve of his back like it owed you something. like it knew what it was doing.

he didn’t even look at you. not really. just grunted out a soft “hey” when you passed, voice low and rough like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days, and disappeared into the dark crack of his doorway with a hand scrubbing at the back of his neck, muscles flexing under golden skin and black ink.

you’ve been down so fucking bad ever since.

toji fushiguro.

your across-the-hall neighbor. father of one. age: probably late thirties. height: unfair. attitude: uninterested.

the kind of man who walks around the building shirtless at night with a beer in hand, who leaves his door cracked open when he’s working out in the living room, who definitely has a “don’t talk to me” aura and the look of someone who’s been burned by love and never really recovered from it.

and of course, of course, that’s exactly your type.

(but in your defense, it’s not like this came out of nowhere. you’ve always had a thing for older men. it’s the deep voice, the scars, the rough hands and emotional unavailability. it’s the way they look at you like they’ve lived five lives and none of them ended well. also? your dad never called you back after your high school graduation. so. connect the dots.)

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you were just supposed to move in.

fresh start. new city. small apartment, low rent, okay view. the listing said “quiet neighborhood” and you said “sure, whatever” because all you needed was a clean kitchen and decent lighting. you didn’t ask for a brooding, musclebound dilf living directly across the hall like some kind of cruel test of character.

but now?

you’ve memorized the exact time he leaves in the morning. you know which beer he drinks. you know the sound of his shower turning on. you’ve adjusted your hallway appearances to “casually hot girl next door” levels and tried every combination of crop top and pajama shorts known to man.

and the worst part?

he hasn’t made a single move. not one. no smirk. no side-eye. not even the classic “didn’t know girls like you lived around here” line. he’s just… normal. silent. borderline rude. polite only when necessary, otherwise acts like you barely exist.

you wave when you see him— he nods.

you held the elevator door once and he told you, “don’t worry about it,” like he was doing you a favor by taking the stairs.

you’ve walked past him in tight leggings, skimpy pajama shorts, cute little tank tops with no bra underneath, but still, nothing.

not even a flicker of interest. not even a glance.

at first, you thought maybe he wasn’t into it. maybe he had a secret wife. maybe he was— god forbid— celibate.

but then you caught him on the balcony one night. shirtless. sweaty. cigarette between his fingers, hair pushed back, staring off into the distance like he was thinking about his tragic backstory. and when you stepped out to water your plants, leaned just slightly over the railing in your tiniest shorts—

his eyes dropped.

slow. deliberate.

right to your thighs.

then back up to the skyline like nothing happened.

and that’s when you knew.

he’s not blind. he’s just resisting.

which brings you to now.

standing in front of his door like a fucking maniac, heart pounding like you’re about to ring the bell at the gates of horny hell, holding a suspiciously clean, never-before-touched envelope you pulled from the depths of your junk drawer ten minutes ago.

it’s addressed to his unit, obviously.

but it’s been in your apartment the entire time.

because you’re a liar.

and you’re going to get your neighbor’s attention if it kills you.

the door opens faster than you expect. no warning creak, no slow reveal— just a single click and then bam, it’s open, and there he is.

up close. full resolution. shirtless again. grey sweats again. taller than he looked in the hallway. and staring down at you like he’s trying to figure out whether you’re here to sell something or commit a crime.

his hair is messy— fresh out the shower messy, strands curling a little at the ends, pushed back and damp like he towel-dried and gave up halfway. a faint scratch trails down his collarbone. there’s a tattoo peeking from under his left pec. you are not okay.

“…yeah?” he asks, voice still that same low, unbothered gravel. like he was just in the middle of something. like you interrupted him.

you blink once. then twice. and hand him the envelope as if it’s some kind of peace offering.

“this was in my mailbox,” you say, a little too fast. “but it’s for your unit.”

he glances down. doesn’t take it yet. his brow furrows.

“…you live in 402, right?”

your heart drops. you manage a nod. “yeah.”

he looks back at the envelope, then back at you, and cocks his head a little. “this says 404.”

“right,” you nod again, smiling like a liar. “which is your unit.”

there’s a pause. a long one.

toji squints slightly, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to decide whether you’re stupid or suspicious. then— finally— he sighs, takes the envelope from your hand with two fingers, and mutters, “thanks.”

and then. then. a small voice behind him:

“who’s at the door?”

you peek past him instinctively—

and there he is. a kid. dark-haired, serious-looking, big eyes and bigger pout. tiny arms crossed over a cartoon t-shirt like he pays rent. he clocks you immediately, gaze traveling from your face to your outfit and back again, like he’s judging you in 4K.

toji looks over his shoulder. “just the neighbor. ‘gumi, go back inside.”

“you said we could watch something,” the kid says, very clearly not moving. very clearly invested.

“yeah, and i will,” toji sighs, the kind of sigh that sounds like he’s already used to negotiating with a tiny lawyer. “in a minute.”

you’re standing here braless, in a crop top and fluffy socks, trying to flirt with a dilf, and his child— his ten-year-old child— is right there in the background watching this all go down like it’s an episode of Love Is Blind: Divorce Court Edition.

you panic. you smile. you crouch slightly like a Girl Who Is Good With Kids™ and wave.

“hi! i’m your new neighbor.”

megumi blinks once. totally unimpressed. “i know.”

you die a little. “right.”

“you were singing in the stairwell yesterday,” he adds, like he’s filing a noise complaint.

toji exhales through his nose, clearly already tired. “alright,” he mutters, shifting his weight as if he’s trying to end this conversation with his entire body. “thanks for dropping this off.”

you panic again. you’re spiraling. this is not going to plan. you were supposed to be effortlessly hot, a little mysterious, maybe get invited in for a drink. instead you’re sweating through your tank top, getting stared down by a ten-year-old and dismissed like some door-to-door scam.

abort mission. regroup.

you nod, stepping back quickly. “no problem! anytime.”

he doesn’t respond. just closes the door halfway and disappears, voice fading as he calls back to megumi— “pick a movie that isn’t garbage this time” —before the door clicks shut behind him.

silence.

the hallway feels colder now.

you stand there for a second. maybe two. then turn on your heel and march straight back to your apartment, locking the door behind you with a little more force than necessary and collapsing onto your couch with a dramatic, miserable groan.

okay. so maybe the fake-mail delivery thing was a bust. maybe you didn’t make the strongest first impression. maybe megumi’s gonna go to school on monday and tell his friends he saw a thirsty neighbor try to seduce his dad and fail in real time.

but you’re not giving up!

because toji fushiguro isn’t oblivious. he looked. you know he looked.

he’s just being difficult. reserved. nonchalant. you love that shit. it’s practically a challenge.

which brings you to:

❥ STEP 2 — establish neighborly rapport (aka: force more interactions)

you’ve already had contact. now it’s time for consistency. eye contact. hallway banter. the illusion of familiarity. you’re gonna bump into him enough that he has no choice but to acknowledge your existence— and then? then you’ll break him down. slowly. methodically. emotionally.

you have a plan.

a little awkward start isn’t gonna stop you. not when he looks like that with wet hair and lazy sweatpants. not when his voice sounds like it could ruin your entire sense of self-worth with a single sentence.

step two starts tomorrow.

or tonight, depending on how bold you feel. your package is supposed to arrive soon— you could just happen to be outside when it gets delivered. or drop something near his door again. or, worst case scenario, start a small fire and see if he comes running.

you’re in too deep to turn back now.

besides— if megumi’s already seen you at your worst, there’s nowhere to go but up.

you start running into him a lot more.

not in a weird way. you’re not, like, stalking. you’re just… situationally strategic.

like this morning— how coincidentally, you happened to take your trash out the exact moment he left for a run. and when he walked past you in those same criminally low-hanging sweatpants, headphones in, shirt clinging to his chest like it wanted you dead? yeah. totally natural timing.

you smiled. waved. gave a little “morning!”

he gave you a nod and kept jogging.

progress.

and yesterday? you timed your laundry schedule to line up with his, based purely on auditory research (aka: eavesdropping through the vents), and when he came down to switch out his load, you were already bent over the dryer in your tiny shorts like a good little trap.

he walked in. saw you. paused.

you straightened up way too fast and bumped your elbow, trying to look breezy while hiding the way your heart rate doubled on sight. “oh- hey! laundry day?”

toji looked at you. then at the dryer. then back at you. “…yeah.”

another pause.

god, he’s so fucking impossible.

you gave him your brightest smile and added, “mine too! small world.”

“…we live in the same building,” he said, completely deadpan, before opening the washer and pulling out a fistful of dark clothes like you weren’t trying to orchestrate a meet-cute over tide pods. he moved with the exhausted efficiency of a man who hated small talk and suspected you might be trying to sell him essential oils.

you wanted to scream. you smiled instead.

“right,” you laughed. “duh. neighbors.”

he didn’t answer. just shoved his clothes into the dryer, grabbed his detergent, and left the room like it was a hostage negotiation and you were the threat. didn’t even look back. but you saw it.

the twitch in his jaw when you bent over again. the extra second of eye contact before he left. the little crack in his silence when you giggled at your own joke and his mouth twitched— barely, but it did. you’re starting to learn his tells.

like tonight— when you caught him coming back from the grocery store, arms full of bags, and offered to hold the elevator door open for him again.

“you don’t have to,” he said, almost automatically.

but this time you didn’t let him off so easily.

you flashed a cheeky smile, cocked your head to the side, and replied, “well i want to. unless you wanna take the stairs and pretend you’re not tired.”

that got you a look. brief. amused. his lips pressed into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but not nothing either.

he stepped in and stood beside you, towering and silent and pretending he wasn’t eyeing your legs in the reflective elevator wall. you leaned against the side and grinned to yourself like a lunatic.

“what floor?” you asked, already knowing the answer. playing dumb. living your sitcom fantasy.

“…same as yours,” he muttered, setting the bags down for a second. “you know that.”

you beamed. “just making conversation.”

he sighed. quiet. tired. maybe even a little fond, but you couldn’t tell.

and then, just as the doors opened, a sleepy voice echoed from down the hall— “dad?”

toji blinked. glanced up.

megumi stood outside their apartment in socks and Spider-Man pajamas, squinting at the two of you like he was already judging this moment for future therapy sessions.

“you took forever,” he said. “i thought you died.”

“well i didn’t,” toji grunted, picking up the bags again. “get inside.”

you waved. again. because apparently, this is your life now. it’s not enough to get embarrassed in front of your crush— his preteen son also has to witness your descent into neighborhood whore madness.

megumi stared. then looked at his dad. then back at you.

“…hi.”

victory.

you’re three days into operation ‘establish rapport’ and you swear it’s working. slowly. he’s still playing it cool— gruff, quiet, annoyingly unaffected— but you’re catching those little cracks. the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. the tiny pauses before he responds. the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you smile too wide. the way he takes just a little too long to look away.

he’s slipping.

and you’re gonna be right there to catch him.

❥ STEP 3 — engineered domestic proximity (create a situation where he owes you and then emotionally blackmail him with kindness!)

it starts with a fake injury.

not like, hospital fake. just a little casual suffering. something light and flirty and “damn she might be unwell” coded.

you pick a thursday. the hallway’s quiet. you hear his door open— the soft clink of keys, the slow creak of the hinge— and then you strike.

toji turns the corner just in time to see you slumped against your apartment door, barefoot, hair a mess, hoodie slipping off your shoulder, clutching your ankle like a romcom extra who’s about to fall in love with the first man who offers her an ice pack. you even let out a pitiful little “ugh,” as though gravity personally attacked you.

he stops. eyes narrow.

“…what the hell happened to you?”

you wince, voice trembling perfectly as you look up at him with wide eyes and say, “i tripped on the stairs.”

technically true. you did, in fact, trip. you just made sure it was today. and loud enough for him to hear.

“you didn’t even leave your apartment,” he deadpans, looking absolutely done.

“…gravity’s everywhere.”

he sighs like you’re the world’s most annoying problem. runs a hand over his face. and then crouches down.

you try not to short-circuit.

his hand wraps around your ankle— casually, confidently, like he’s done this a hundred times before, and his thumb brushes over your skin, rough and warm and way too distracting. he presses, checks the joint, and you flinch very dramatically.

he doesn’t react. “it’s not broken.”

you pout. “still hurts.”

toji gives you a long, tired look. then rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, probably something that sounds suspiciously like “fucking drama queen,” but reaches out anyway. big hands slide under your legs and back, and suddenly you’re being lifted. literally carried.

you make a noise that is not normal.

“jesus,” he grunts, shifting you in his arms. “what the hell do you eat?”

“excuse me??”

“relax,” he says, toeing open your apartment door. “you’re light.”

you are going to die here.

he carries you across the threshold like a goddamn bride and sets you down gently on the couch, muttering something about “needy neighbors” as he tosses your throw blanket over your lap. then pauses. stares at you for a second too long. his brows draw together like he’s thinking something he shouldn’t be.

“…don’t move,” he says finally. “i’ll get an ice pack.”

he disappears into your kitchen— uninvited, completely aware of where your freezer is— and you clutch the blanket to your chest like it’s holy protection from your own bad decisions and whisper:

“oh my god.”

step three is officially a success.

after that, things shift.

slow. subtle. like the hallway air is warmer now. like he doesn’t avoid you anymore.

the next time you make too much pasta (on purpose), you knock on his door and offer leftovers. “just in case,” you say with a smile. he raises an eyebrow, gives you a long look, but takes the container anyway.

“it’s good,” he mutters a few days later, passing you in the hall.

you blink. “what?”

“the pasta. wasn’t bad.”

you nearly trip over your own shoes.

when you run into him carrying groceries, you casually ask if he needs anything next time you go. he grunts something about paper towels. the next day, you drop off a pack at his door with a sticky note that says ‘paper-towel princess strikes again >:)’ and you swear you hear him laugh. just once. low. barely there.

and megumi? megumi is your new little buddy.

you “accidentally” bump into them on the stairs one weekend and ask him about school— next thing you know, you’re helping him with a science project at your dining table, glitter on your shirt and glue in your hair, and he actually smiles at you when it lights up. his eyes go wide. he looks proud. you melt.

toji shows up to get him an hour later.

he stops in the doorway, arms crossed. eyes flick between you and megumi on the couch, surrounded by worksheets and snacks and a movie playing softly in the background.

“…you don’t have to babysit, y’know.”

you glance up, then nudge megumi with your shoulder. “he’s cool. we’re having fun.”

toji stares. unreadable. his jaw works like he’s chewing on something he won’t say. and then he nods. once. slow.

“…yeah. he’s good.”

he leaves with megumi five minutes later, and you spend the rest of the night curled into your couch like a girl who just got emotionally married in the hallway.

a few days pass.

and then— he knocks on your door.

you open it and nearly fall over, because he’s standing there in a black t-shirt, holding a plastic container full of something that smells like soy sauce and heaven. his hair’s messy. his jaw’s tight. he doesn’t look like he wants to be here. but he is.

“we made too much,” he says. pauses. adds, almost begrudgingly, “me and ‘gumi.”

your brain goes static.

you accept it like it’s a holy relic. your hand brushes his. it’s fine. you’re normal.

“thank you,” you breathe, like it’s something sacred.

you eat together on the steps between your units that night. plastic forks. beer for him, water bottle for you. megumi’s inside watching something with way too much volume. the hallway buzzes with soft domestic noise.

he chuckles— an actual, real chuckle— when you tell him about your failed ankle stunt getting you out of gym class in high school. it sounds like it surprises him. like it doesn’t happen often. you want to bottle the sound and save it for winter.

and then, as you’re wiping sauce from the corner of your mouth, he gives you this long, unreadable look. his eyes flick to your mouth. linger.

“you’re trouble, aren’t you?”

you almost pass out.

“yeah,” you say, smiling slow. “but i’m cute about it.”

he laughs again. soft. huffed. the kind that makes your stomach flutter in the worst/best way.

note to self: a chuckle = an emotional orgasm in dilf language.

❥ STEP 4 — desperate times, horny measures (blur the line between “friendly neighbor” and “would let you hit raw if you asked nicely”)

you’ve played the long game. you’ve laid the groundwork. you’ve smiled, cooked, lingered in doorways and memorized his hallway habits. you helped his child with a diorama. you have earned your place in this man’s orbit. and now, you’re upping the ante.

tight tank tops with no bra? daily.

asking if he needs help lifting shit? always.

bending down in front of him for no reason whatsoever? the moment requires it.

you’ve “accidentally” dropped your keys outside his door. twice.

you’ve complimented his cologne when he wasn’t wearing any.

you’ve said the phrase “you must’ve been crazy hot in your twenties” with a completely straight face and full eye contact— just to watch his eyebrow twitch like he was deciding whether to argue or kiss you.

and toji?

toji has looked.

slow. restrained. but it’s there.

the way his gaze drops and lingers. the way his hand flexes when you laugh too hard. the way he sometimes says your name like it annoys him to have it on his tongue, like he’s chewing on it instead of swallowing. you’re getting to him. you know you are.

especially tonight.

it’s late. you’re bored. your hair looks good and your shorts are criminal. and you know he’s home because you heard the clink of a beer bottle hit his counter through your shared wall. so naturally, you text him:

you up?

no response…

you try again:

i’m making cookies and need a taste tester. u down?

there’s a pause. long enough to make you regret it. then finally:

don’t burn your kitchen down.

which— okay. rude. but also? not a no.

you show up at his door with a plate of warm cookies and the dumbest smile imaginable, leaning against the doorframe like a horny little housewife in denial, praying your lip gloss doesn’t smudge when you inevitably start smiling too hard.

the door swings open. and there he is.

shirtless, because of course. low sweatpants, towel around his neck, hair still damp. a vein in his bicep flexing like it’s personally here to ruin you. he raises an eyebrow when he sees you.

“you actually baked something?”

you pout. “don’t sound so shocked.”

he huffs. not quite a laugh. steps aside and lets you in. silent permission. another small victory.

you sit on the couch, drop the plate between you. he takes a cookie. you take a risk.

“so…” you say, crossing your legs slowly, letting your voice dip soft and sweet. “what do i get if they’re good?”

toji chews. swallows. side-eyes you. “…you want a prize for not poisoning me?”

you tilt your head, smile like trouble. lean a little closer, so your thigh brushes his.

“i want something,” you murmur.

he watches you. unreadable.

your heart’s racing. your leg’s touching his. the tension is so thick it could suffocate a small village. he’s quiet. too quiet. and for a second— a single, traitorous second— you believe. believe he’s going to touch you. say something filthy. kiss you.

and then— he stands up.

you freeze.

no.

he walks to the door.

absolutely not.

he opens it.

“go home, sweetheart.”

you blink. “…what?”

he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t even flinch.

“you’ve had your fun,” he mutters, voice low. final. “time to go.”

the plate of cookies is still on the table. your lip gloss is still perfect. and this man— this walking thirst trap of a dilf— just opened the door and told you to leave as if you were an inconvenience.

you stand there for five full seconds. staring at the wood grain like it personally wronged you. your mouth opens. closes. no words come out.

no explanation. no thank you. not even a cookie to-go.

you take the hint.

you walk home— five steps that feel like a funeral march— let yourself back into your apartment with hands that won’t stop shaking, and close the door behind you like it might collapse if you don’t hold it up. then you crawl into bed, pull the blanket over your head, and try very, very hard not to cry over a man who never asked you to try this hard in the first place.

❥ STEP 5 — let him come to you (the part of the spiral where you stop trying, and he starts breaking)

you’ve stopped trying.

no more cookies. no fake run-ins or conveniently timed errands. you’re done bending over near his door like some desperate domestic goddess waiting to be claimed. no more lingering glances, no flirty texts, no smiles he could possibly mistake for an invitation

you go cold. polite. distant.

“hey,” he mutters in the hallway one morning, voice a little rough from sleep.

“morning,” you reply. clipped. unreadable. no smile.

you don’t linger. don’t wait for anything in return. you catch him glancing over when you pass, but you don’t look back. just keep walking like you’ve got better things to do than pine for a man who slams doors in your face.

when megumi finds you on the stairs the following weekend and asks if you want to help with another project, you smile softly, press a hand to the top of his head, and say, “not this week, bud. busy.” he frowns a little. you ruffle his hair, and walk away without looking up.

you start going out more.

wearing new outfits. dresses you hadn’t felt bold enough to wear before. lip gloss that makes your mouth look mean. you let strangers hold the door for you. let them compliment you. you let them linger.

you laugh too loud outside your apartment one night, on purpose, after coming back from a date with someone who isn’t him. your heels click against the floor. your voice drips with honey. you lean against your door while someone says something into your ear and you throw your head back like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.

you know he’s listening.

you feel his eyes on you like a bruise forming slow.

and then the shift begins.

it’s subtle, at first.

he starts speaking more.

“mornin’,” he grunts one day, voice thicker now. rougher.

you nod, toss him a quiet “hey.”

“new dress?” he says one night when you pass in the hallway.

you glance down at it, fingers brushing your hip. nod again. “yeah.”

he stares a second too long.

you keep walking.

the next week, he holds the elevator for you. for the first time.

you step inside without looking at him, lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. he stands beside you, silent for a second too long.

“…got plans tonight?” he asks.

you glance at him. his hand’s on the railing. his eyes are on your legs. the heat between you is palpable.

“maybe,” you shrug. “why? you wanna know if i’m free?”

he doesn’t answer. just scoffs. looks away.

but his jaw tightens. you see it.

and you smile to yourself when the elevator dings.

you don’t stop. you don’t wait.

and then— one night. late.

a knock at your door.

you weren’t expecting it. you’re in your tank top and sleep shorts, hair still a little messy, face clean of makeup. for a second you debate not opening it at all.

but then you do.

he’s there.

black t-shirt. low voice. tension rolling off him like heat. his eyes sweep over you once— bare legs, bare face, bare everything— and settle on your mouth.

you open your lips to say something but nothing comes out. for a second, he doesn’t speak. just stares. like he’s trying to remember why this was a bad idea.

“you done with your little game?” he asks finally, voice rough, jaw set.

you blink. tilt your head. heart stuttering.

“why?” you say. “you jealous?”

he exhales slow. like he’s holding something in. then steps forward, just once. close enough that his chest nearly brushes yours. the hallway hums with silence. you can feel it thickening between you—every breath, every second, every inch of space closing.

he looks down at you, jaw clenched. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them. his gaze drops to your mouth. lingers.

“you think i haven’t thought about fucking you since the first day you moved in?”

jackpot.

you smile. slow. wicked.

“well,” you murmur, stepping back just enough to tug him inside, “what are you waiting for?”

❥ STEP 5.1 — fuck the dilf. repeatedly!! (aka: daddy finally breaks, and so does your spine)

the door isn’t even fully closed before he’s got you pinned against it, one hand slamming it shut behind you while the other grips your jaw hard enough to tilt your head back. his mouth crashes into yours— hot, hungry, furious— like he’s trying to erase every other man who’s ever looked at you, every laugh you gave someone else, every second you weren’t his.

his hands are everywhere. gripping your waist, your throat, your jaw. rough. greedy. like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through sheer force, like he doesn’t trust himself to stop once he starts. his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks, dragging you closer, forcing your body flush against his so you can feel him— hard, heavy, pressing insistently between you.

“this what you wanted, sweetheart?” he growls, dragging his mouth down your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver. “walkin’ around like that every damn day- no bra, tiny little shorts, always smilin’ at me like a fuckin’ tease—”

you gasp when he shoves his thigh between yours, grinding hard, forcing your hips to rock against him. your pussy’s already soaked— soaked enough that the friction makes your head spin, a broken little whimper slipping out before you can stop it. he feels it. of course he does.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice dropping lower, eyes darkening as he watches your face fall apart. “already wet. knew it. knew you were walkin’ around like that for me.”

“you shouldn’t be here,” you breathe, even as your hands clutch at his shirt, dragging him closer, nails digging into his back like you’re scared he’ll disappear and you’d rather die than have him pull away now.

“don’t fuckin’ care,” he snarls, cupping your pussy through your panties, pressing just enough to make your knees buckle. his thumb drags over you, feeling how drenched you are through the thin fabric. “been thinkin’ about this cunt for weeks.”

you moan— full body, spine-arching, dignity-leaving moan— as he yanks your panties to the side and sinks two fingers into you without hesitation. nothing stops him. your body takes him easily, molded for him, as though his hands belong there and they’ve always known exactly where to go.

you’re so wet it’s obscene. it squelches. it gives around him immediately, your walls fluttering, clenching like they recognize him, like they’ve been waiting.

“shit,” he hisses, pumping his fingers slow just to feel it, watching the way your face twists. “tight little thing. messy already. all that attitude just ‘cause you needed a cock in you, huh?”

you nod, crying out, grinding against his palm like a bitch in heat, chasing the friction, chasing him, hips moving on instinct, your body no longer yours to command.

he slaps your cunt. hard. you jerk, a broken sob ripping out of you.

“use your words.”

“yes, fuck, yes, i wanted this, wanted you, please- needed you so bad- been thinking about you too—”

“yeah?” he mocks, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, your knees give out. “needed daddy’s cock that bad? all that work just to get it, huh?”

he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, making eye contact while his tongue drags over his knuckles— savoring you, devouring every trace with the hunger of a man who’s finally getting what he’s craved.

you feel your face burn. your thighs tremble. your body aches.

“needy lil thing,” he mutters. “so desperate for daddy’s cock you made friends with my kid to get it.”

your mouth drops open.

“fuck,” you whisper, humiliated, horny, heart beating out of your chest. “i-i didn’t—”

“yeah, you did,” he cuts you off, voice low and certain, already tugging his sweats down. “i saw right through you. every little look. everytime you bent over in front of me like you were askin’ for it.”

his cock springs free— massive, thick, veiny, heavy against your stomach, already leaking. it twitches when he drags it through your folds, smearing your wetness all over himself, groaning under his breath at the feeling.

“watchin’ me, droppin shit in the hallway, showin’ up all cute with cookies—” he continues, voice roughening. “all so i’d fuck you like this.”

he grabs your hips. lifts you like it’s easy.

you wrap your legs around him on instinct, clinging, desperate, your ankles locking behind his back.

he slams you against the wall and shoves in deep.

you scream.

it burns for half a second— then it’s just full. overwhelming. he stretches you open, every inch fitting so perfectly it feels intentional, inevitable— your body made to take him, built around the shape of him alone.

“this what you wanted?” he growls, already moving, already setting a brutal pace, hips snapping hard into yours. “wanted daddy to stuff this sloppy little cunt so full you can’t think?”

you’re crying already. sobbing into his shoulder, nails clawing at him, dragging down his back hard enough to leave lines. “yesyes- oh my god- yes please- don’t stop, don’t stop—”

he doesn’t. he can’t.

he fucks you hard. no mercy. no build-up. just punishing, deep, filthy strokes that slam into you over and over, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your body jostling against the wall, the wet sound of it echoing in the room— proof of how wrecked you are for him.

“listen to that,” he grunts, one hand coming down to grab your ass, spreading you open, forcing himself even deeper. “fuckin’ soaked. takin’ me so easy.”

“toji—”

“nah,” he snaps, grabbing your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, eyes blown wide, mouth open, completely ruined. “say it right.”

“daddy—” you choke.

his hips stutter for half a second. then he loses it.

“yeah,” he groans, fucking into you harder, deeper, pace turning reckless. “that’s it. say it again.”

“daddy, fuck, daddy please- please don’t stop—”

“good girl,” he breathes, voice wrecked now, forehead pressing against yours. “knew you’d sound pretty sayin’ it.”

he keeps going until your legs shake so hard you can’t hold yourself up, until your body goes limp in his arms, until you’re nothing but weight and noise and need. then he drags you away from the wall, carries you like you weigh nothing, and drops you onto the couch.

your shirt’s gone in seconds. your tits spill free, bouncing when he grabs them, squeezing hard, biting one, then the other, tongue dragging over the marks he leaves, teeth sinking in just enough to make you cry out.

you whine, arching into him, completely gone, hips lifting even though you can barely move.

“look at you,” he mutters, almost to himself. “fuckin’ ruined already.”

he spits on your chest. spreads it with his thumb. then shoves you back, spreading your legs open, staring at your dripping cunt like it’s dinner, like he could spend hours there.

“not done with you yet,” he mutters.

then he dives in.

he eats you out starving— insatiable, greedy, nothing held back. hasn’t touched anyone in years, and now he’s buried in you, treating your pussy like a lifeline. his tongue moves everywhere— flicking, sucking, pushing deep, groaning into the mess he’s making, matching your desperation, needing this with the same feverish hunger you do.

“taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles against you, nose brushing your clit, making you jerk violently. “all for me, huh? all this just for me?”

you’re shaking. crying. your hands in his hair, grinding down onto his face, desperate, greedy, nasty.

“yes- fuck- yes—”

he hums, pleased, and the vibration sends you over immediately.

you cum once. then twice. he doesn’t stop. he eats you through it, moaning into your pussy while you scream and sob and claw at the cushions like a feral bitch, your thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the couch.

“too much, too much—”

“nah,” he mutters, holding you down, hands gripping your thighs so hard they’ll bruise. “you can take it.”

and you do. you take it until your body gives out and you’re nothing but a twitching, whimpering mess under him, tears streaking your face, chest heaving.

when he finally pulls back, his face is soaked. his chin’s messy. his pupils are blown so wide he looks dangerous.

he strokes his cock over your twitching cunt, dragging it through your folds, tapping your clit just to make you jolt, smearing your wetness back over you.

“you want daddy to put a baby in you next?” he growls.

your brain breaks. completely.

you whimper, nodding frantically, tears still clinging to your lashes. “yes please”

he grins. dark. cocky. dangerous.

“fuckin’ knew it.”

and then he slams back in and fucks you like he means it— like he’s trying to knock you up, ruin you, break you down and rebuild you around his dick. your body takes it, greedily, desperately, your walls clenching around him like you don’t want to let him go, like you want to keep him there.

“gonna fill you up,” he groans, thrusts getting sloppy now, deeper somehow, grinding into you. “gonna keep you full of me.”

you’re sobbing. babbling. “pleasepleaseplease—”

he finishes deep. thick. hot. doesn’t pull out. just buries himself as far as he can go and groans into your neck, hips stuttering while you feel it— feel him— filling you, spilling inside you, too much, too warm, your body fluttering around him.

he stays there. holds you. keeps you plugged with his cock while your body trembles and leaks around him.

you’re drooling. whimpering. completely, utterly spent.

“good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, softer now but still possessive. “took me so well.”

his hand slides down your stomach. presses there. like he’s already imagining it.

“you’re mine now.”

you barely come back to yourself before he’s moving again.

you’re still shaking. still sensitive. your cunt is pulsing, aching and full and leaking around him, your thighs sticky, your body limp and boneless against the couch. every nerve feels raw, like your skin’s been turned inside out.

and he’s still inside you.

still hard.

you let out a weak, broken sound when he shifts his hips, cock dragging inside you— slow, deliberate— he’s reminding you exactly where he is.

“toji—” you whimper, voice wrecked, barely there.

his hand tightens on your hip immediately.

“what’d i tell you?” he mutters, low and sharp.

you choke on a breath. “d-daddy—”

“yeah,” he exhales, satisfied, rolling his hips again, slower this time, savoring it. “that’s better.”

you feel everything now. every inch. every drag. the way he stretches you again even though you’re already so fucked out it hurts. your walls flutter around him uncontrollably, oversensitive, and he groans at it— deep, filthy.

“fuck,” he hisses. “still squeezin’ me like that? after all that?”

“too much,” you whimper, pushing weakly at his chest, even as your hips betray you, rocking up into him. “i can’t—”

“you can,” he cuts you off, already pulling out halfway just to slam back in. you sob.

“you will.”

your body jerks with it, your tits bouncing weakly with each thrust, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto. everything feels too intense— too deep, too full, too good.

“s-sensitive—” you gasp, nails digging into his arms.

“i know,” he mutters, almost mean about it, dragging his cock against that spot again on purpose. “that’s the point.”

you cry out, back arching hard, your whole body trembling as he starts fucking you again— slower than before, but somehow worse. deeper. more intentional. every thrust aimed to make you feel it, to drag it out of you.

“so fucked out already,” he murmurs, grabbing your chin and forcing your head up so you have to meet his eyes. “can’t even think anymore, huh?”

you shake your head, tears slipping down your temples. “no—”

“all that attitude gone,” he continues, voice low, almost mocking, thumb brushing your lip. “all that mouth, and now you’re just- what?”

you swallow, breath hitching. “yours—”

his grip tightens.

“say it again.”

“yours,” you sob, louder this time. “i’m yours—”

“yeah you are,” he groans, pace picking up just a little, just enough to make your head spin again. “fuckin’ made for me, aren’t you? takin’ me like this, still beggin’ for more—”

“i’m not—” you try, voice breaking, but your hips roll into him again, chasing it, proving him right.

he laughs. low. mean.

“yeah,” he breathes. “that’s what i thought.”

his hand slides down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit— already swollen, oversensitive, aching.

you jolt hard.

“nono, please- s’too much—”

he circles it anyway.

slow.

you squeal.

your body spasms instantly, thighs clamping around him, back arching so hard it almost hurts. it hits you out of nowhere— another orgasm ripping through you before you can even process it, your cunt clenching down on him so tight he curses.

“fuuuckk,” he groans, thrust stuttering. “that’s it, there it is—”

you’re sobbing now. full-on crying. your body shaking uncontrollably as he keeps moving, keeps rubbing, using you through it.

“can’t take it- can’t—” you gasp, voice dissolving into broken sounds.

“you are takin’ it,” he says, not slowing down, not stopping, cock dragging in and out of your fluttering, oversensitive cunt while your body keeps spasming around him. “look at you. still squeezin’ me. still want it.”

you don’t even know if that’s true anymore. you just know you can’t stop reacting, can’t stop feeling.

he shifts suddenly— grabs your hips, flips you over like it’s nothing.

you yelp, barely catching yourself before your face hits the couch.

“stay,” he mutters, pressing you down, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other guiding himself back in.

you whine the second he pushes back inside— somehow deeper like this, your body folding around him differently, more exposed, more helpless.

“shit,” he breathes, gripping your hips tight. “yeah. this is better.”

and then he starts again.

hard.

faster this time.

your body jolts forward with every thrust, your cheek pressed into the cushions, your fingers clawing at the fabric as the sounds get louder, wet and messy.

“daddy—!” you cry, voice muffled, broken.

“that’s it,” he groans behind you, hand sliding up your back, gripping your neck— not choking, just holding. controlling. “say it louder.”

he fucks you deeper with every word.

“who’s pussy is this?”

“yours—!” you sob.

“who you doin’ all that shit for, huh?” he snaps, pace turning relentless again. “all that dressin’ up, all that flirtin’—”

“you—! just you—!”

“damn right.”

his hand slides down your back, grabs your ass, spreading you open again so he can watch himself disappear inside you, over and over, your cunt clinging to him like it doesn’t want to let go.

“fuckin’ made a mess of you,” he mutters, almost impressed. “can’t even keep it in.”

you can’t. it’s leaking. every thrust pushes more of him out, slick and messy, your body too full, too used.

you’re gone. completely.

he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, mouth at your ear.

“one more,” he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. “gimme one more.”

you shake your head weakly. “can’t—”

“yes you can.”

his hand finds your clit again.

you break.

your whole body locks up, a scream tearing out of you as another orgasm crashes through, sharper this time, almost painful in how intense it is, your cunt clenching so tight around him it drags him over the edge with you.

“fuck—” he groans, biting into your shoulder as he finishes again, hips stuttering hard against you, spilling deep, grinding into you as he rides it out.

you collapse under him completely.

he stays there for a second. breathing heavy. still inside you. still holding you down.

then, softer this time— just a little—

“told you,” he mutters against your skin. “you could take it.”

you don’t respond. you physically can’t.

you’re just… gone.

and he sounds way too pleased about it.

you wake up sore. sore in ways you didn’t even know were possible. your thighs ache, your hips feel bruised, your legs do not work. your pussy’s twitching— puffy, overstimulated, and leaking. there’s cum literally dripping out of you, sticky between your thighs, cooling against the sheets.

and toji’s still there.

sprawled across your bed like he owns it, like you’re his bed now, arm heavy over your waist, breathing slow against the back of your neck. his chest rises and falls steady, the heat of his body sinking into yours. it’s warm. safe. a little filthy. you can feel his cock pressed to your ass— soft, but still there, like a threat.

you’re not sure if he’s awake. you’re not sure if you’re awake. your whole body feels broken in. chewed up. worshipped. wrecked. you blink blearily at the sunlight slanting through your blinds, brain swimming in the slow syrup of morning-after haze, and shift slightly beneath the weight of him.

he moves with you. groans low, deep in his chest, like the stretch of his limbs aches. then, voice gravel-thick and sleep-rough:

“fuck. you made me pull a muscle.”

you try to laugh, but it comes out cracked. “good.”

he snorts, lazy and fond, burying his face in your shoulder and muttering, “brat.”

you hum, cheek pressed into the pillow, toes curling under the sheets. you don’t move. don’t want to. his arm tightens around your waist just enough to remind you it’s still there.

you’re quiet for a second. breathing in the moment. then— soft, teasing, and only half joking:

“so… what are we now?”

he goes still. just for a beat. long enough for your stomach to drop a little. you tense, suddenly hyperaware of how real this feels, how easy it would be to ruin it. your heart thumps like you’re asking him to raise a child. (which. maybe you are. unknowingly. oops.)

he exhales.

then, low. rough. certain.

“mine.”

you short-circuit. go quiet.

he doesn’t say it again. doesn’t need to. just grabs your thigh, still sore, and drags you back against his chest like he thinks you might try to leave— even though you physically can’t. you melt into the mattress with a broken little sigh, breath catching when his cock shifts against your ass, not quite hard, but heavy and possessive all the same.

you stay there. warm. stupidly happy. still full of his cum.

his fingers trail over your waist lazily, absent-minded, like he’s petting you. like you’re his. like this is normal now. you close your eyes, let yourself float in it, wondering how the hell you went from faking ankle injuries to getting bred in your own hallway by the hottest dilf alive.

and when megumi knocks on the door half an hour later and yells, “dad, i’m hungry,”

toji groans like a man betrayed. buries his face in your neck, kisses your skin as if it’s your fault he has responsibilities.

“you’re makin’ breakfast,” he mutters.

you turn your head, blinking at him. “me?!”

“you want me to limp in there with my back blown out?”

“…you blew my back out.”

“exactly,” he grins against your throat. “teamwork.”

you roll your eyes. groan. try to wiggle away, but he doesn’t let you. just holds you tighter and mumbles something about five more minutes before letting you go— barely.

you’re smiling as you get up. your legs are still jelly. your thighs stick when you move. you’re sore and used and leaking, and you’ve never felt so fucking good.

i rlly spent the whole night editing/finishing this osmgdkkdks, i’m lowk experimenting and thought i’d try smth different so i hope u guys like thissss >.<

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