Angelina C. Mattix

But there is no species that gets under his skin the way that cats do. He can’t stand their fur that shed and get every fucking where so he winds up sneezing and his eyes swell. He hates how active they get at night, meowing and running around with their nocturnal asses until he’s up for hours. He hates how prissy and high-maintence they are, requiring 24 hours of attention, the right type of cat food, and a human servant to wait on them hand and foot.

So when Toji, his longtime roommate, pitched the idea of getting a cat of the blue while running errands, Sukuna was, of course, very against the idea. The only reason Toji even brought up the idea of adopting a cat was because they passed by a quaint, disgustingly cute pet store where a special on cats for National Cat Day was happening. 

Toji stood in front of a makeshift fence made to keep the kittens inside, staring down in adoration at the furry little things meowing, playing, and leaping around. Specifically the soft-looking black one with the pretty eyes and tiny mews. “We’re not gettin’ one,” Sukuna growled. 

Toji glared at him, irritated by Sukuna’s lack of enthusiasm. “Well, you ain’t, but I am. C’mon, man, she’s a cutie, ain’t she?” He gently scooped the kitten up from the runt, her tiny body fitting right in his big hands. The kitten stared up at him curiously with those big, irresistible eyes. “Just look at her eyes. And those cute little ears.” 

Toji fell in love right on the spot, scritching behind her ears and under her chin with his thick fingers. “Hey, darlin’,” he coos. “Oooo, you like that? I hit juuuust the spot, didn’t I?” The kitten’s eyes fluttered shut and her body rumbled as she began to purr from the petting. “Purrrrrrr~” 

Sukuna looked away from the disgusting scene, right over at the old woman pretending to admire the tabby kittens when really she was eye-fucking Toji. “Stop before this old lady squirts in front of me,” he hissed. “And stop talkin’ to it like that. We ain’t gettin’ it.” 

Toji glared at his room, still scritching the kitten’s ears. “And why the fuck not?” 

“We don’t have the space for a damn pet! Who’s gonna take care of it while you’re at work?” As a tattoo artist, Sukuna definitely didn’t (and wasn’t) going to have the time to care for it. Toji is a mechanic, so he works long hours too, always coming home covered in car oil and groaning from being on his aching knees all day. 

How the fuck are two working, forty-something year old men going to take care of a little kitten? Paying for taxes and groceries every two weeks is bad enough!

“I guess not you,” Toji scoffed, nuzzling the kitten’s head with his chin. But she will be fine! I’ll feed her, potty train her an’ everything so she don’t bother your bitchy ass.” As if listening and hearing him, the kitten mewed at Toji and nuzzled into his cheek, still purring. “C’mon, Kuna,” he pouted. “How can you resist her? She’s adorable!” 

The kitten turned to Sukuna then, her eyes glistening curiously. Sukuna stared at the cat, noticing something…different about her. Something un-feline that didn’t match the other kittens behind the fence. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished when the kitten purred as Toji’s big hand petted her head, pushing her ears back. So he caved. “Fine, but she’d better behave or I’m gettin’ rid of her. One mess and she’s out.” 

Toji grinned like a little kid and excitedly held the kitten up to his face. “You heard that, little one? You’re comin’ home with me.” And he raced inside the pet shop with the kitten in tow to sign the papers that day. 

For the next 24 hours, Toji was doting on his new pet while Sukuna stayed out of the way and stocked up on allergy medicine. But you were a brattier feline than either of the men anticipated…and you weren’t even a real feline. Not entirely. 

That night, after falling asleep on the couch to the last season of “The Boys”, Sukuna passed out somewhere during episode 4 only to be woken up by something tickling his thigh. He grumbled, flicking it away, only to feel it again minutes later. “Damn bugs,” he growled, opening his eyes and looking across the couch to see– 

“Jesus!” he yelps, nearly falling off of the couch. His startled yell scared you out of your sleep. You curled up with a blanket covering you, furry black ears and a tail attached to your head and backside. Your eyes glistened as you stared at him, wide and glowing in the dark. 

Sukuna jumped up from the couch, alarmed at the stranger in his apartment. “Who the fuck are you?! How’d you get in here?!” You didn’t reply, sitting up on your knees where the blanket slid down to reveal your naked tits. “And why the fuck are you naked?!” Sukuna grunted. 

Nevermind the fact that you had the best rack he’s seen in ages! So pretty and soft and plump-looking. Just aching to be sucked and tweaked and pinched and massaged and fucked with his big, fat c– 

Suddenly, a light flickered on, casting the living room in a soft, warm glow. Toji stood in the doorway of his bedroom in his KFC bucket-printed boxers and a T-shirt, yawning. “The hell are you on about, Sukuna? It’s 6 in the fuckin’ morning.” But all sleep immediately faded when he got a look at you sitting on the couch. 

“Master!” you happily say. Your tail stood up happily and your fluffy ears pricked, excited to see your owner. Toji scowled, just as confused as his roommate as you flung yourself off the couch and scurried over to him with the blanket wrapped around you. 

“Master?” Sukuna parroted, confused. “You know her? What, did you fuck her last night and forget?” Toji stared at you, utterly disturbed at why a strange girl was standing in his apartment naked with cat ears.

“I don’t…wait. That collar.” He turned your chin up where you proudly flaunted the pretty pink collar where a gold nametag hung with your name printed on it. The same collar he got the kitten. Toji’s eyes glistened with recognition. “Y/N? That you, sweetheart?” 

At the mention of your name, you smiled at him, all joy and affection. “Master,” you purred. “Snuggle.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, barely grazing his broad chest. Toji grinned, hugging you tight, recognizing his sweet kitty. “I knew there was somethin’ special ‘bout you. You’re one of those cat girls, ain’tcha?” 

You purred and snuggled into your owner’s chest, in your own little world with him. But Sukuna wasn’t having it. “She ain’t stayin’. How the fuck do you expect us to pay for another fuckin’ human in here?!”

“But she’s a cat too,” Toji argued. “And nobody’s askin’ you to pay for her; I will. She’s MINE.” He protectively held you as he glared at Sukuna, stubborn and unrelenting. “C’mooon, just look at the girl!” He turned to you around to face Sukuna and maybe it was the beer he consumed beforehand, but…something in your eyes grabbed at the pink-haired tattooer. 

Not that he liked you or anything. But still, he wasn’t a monster. Just an asshole. He groaned, pinching his sinuses. He felt a headache coming on, both from the cat hair flying about and the current situation. “Fine, but make sure she stays in your room. And remember: one mess and she’s out.” 

Turns out one mess turned into many. Catgirl or regular cat, you were prone to doing cat-like things, like knocking shit over on the table and destroying toilet paper. You showed up in unwanted areas, like when Sukuna was showering, and you constantly meowed for attention. 

As the months went by, the two roommates quickly realized that you shifted into your cat and human forms depending on the time of day and on your mood. In the daytime, you were a little kitten prancing around on all fours, furry and fucking up Sukuna’s sinuses. But at night, you were a curious, adorably sexy human woman, all up under Toji like you were cold. 

And Toji was hooked. He no longer invited any hookup over (probably because he was too busy fucking you), instead spending all his time with you after he got home. He couldn’t wait to get home to you just to stroke your fluffy ears and tail just to hear you purr for him. 

He used all his money to buy you the cutest outfits and the prettiest collars for your neck, bedazzled with gems and bells to hear you coming when he called your name or clucked his tongue to signal for you. He spoiled you rotten, always taking you to the park on warm days or to the pet shop to buy you more treats and toys that you didn’t need. 

Toji was totally determined to be the best pet owner to his little kitty. And Sukuna detested every minute of it, especially since his roommate’s pleasure was at the expense of his discomfort. 

Mostly because he was tired of hearing Toji fuck your brains out through the bedroom walls at night and seeing you slink around in those damn ruffled mini skirts and sundresses Toji insisted on buying you that Sukuna definitely didn’t think make you look so cute and sexy in. He was sick of your shit. 

So one morning before work when he came in to see you sitting on the couch in your cat form, like you shouldn’t have been, he had a fit. “Oi!” he bellowed. “Get the fuck down! Why the fuck are you on my couch?!” 

You stared up at him, unbothered, and made a mean grumble when Sukuna stormed over to you. “Damn fur ball. Don’t growl at me or I’ll skin you.” But he didn’t dare pick you up. Last time he did that, he got a deep scratch on his hand that bled for hours. Because you couldn’t speak in your little cat body, you began to loudly meow, signaling for your Master. 

Toji came running in, dressed in sweats and ready for coffee. “What’s up, baby?” he cooed, coming right over to you. “Aye, you fightin’ with Y/N again? I think you woke her up.” You sweetly meowed and purred for Toji as he petted your backside, unfurling from your loaf to stretch in greeting.  

“She ain’t supposed to be on the couch. I told you this a million times, asshole. Remember my allergies?” Sukuna sniffled, already feeling his nose becoming itchy. Toji gave him an apologetic smile, secretly laughing. “Ohh, riiiiight, you’re allergic. We got plenty of medicine in the bathroom for that.” 

“That’s not the point,” Sukuna groaned. “I don’t want all that fuckin’ cat hair on my—did she scratch up my couch?!” He eyed the tattered fabric on the couch, looking suspiciously like cat claw marks. Toji picked you up, cradling you. 

“Oops. Y/N, honey, I thought I told you no scratchin’ the couch up.” You purred in his arms, blinking up at him with those magnetic eyes. Toji melted, ever so in love with you. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” he cooed, giving you heart eyes as he scritched behind your ears. 

Sukuna rolled his eyes at the disgusting display. “This prissy little pussy is gettin’ on my nerves. I’m about to throw her in the street.” Toji rolled his eyes at his roommate’s dramatics. “No, you’re not. You love her just as much as I do!” 

“No, I don’t. I only tolerate her ‘cause she’s yours. You’re the only one she even likes.” You were all lovey-dovey and sunshine for Toji, but all Sukuna got were hisses, growls, and occasional scratches if he happened to pick you up or get too close. You didn’t like him and he sure as hell didn’t like you either. 

“That’s because I don’t yell at her or swat her with newspaper or call her names,” Toji said accusingly. “Of course, she loves her Master more. Right, kitten?” He snuggled you into his chest, your purrs loud enough to be heard from down the block. 

Sukuna pretended to gag and stormed into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee before popping on the rest of The Boys. It was his day off and he was going to enjoy it. “God, get a fuckin’ room,” he growled. 

“Someone’s jealous,” Toji chuckled to which Sukuna gave him the middle finger. “Listen, I’ll probably be late today with work, so just take care of her while I’m gone?” Sukuna turned, staring at his roomie like he was insane. And he was. “Da fuck I look like? I’m not her owner.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not here to care for her,” Toji stressed, looking absolutely gutted at leaving you alone for so long. He was usually back in the afternoons after a job at the mechanic shop, but today was one of his days he wanted to work overtime. “Just feed her and try not to skin her, alright? Be nice to my girl.” 

He took your paw and held it up for Sukuna, showing off your cute, pink toe beans. Sukuna sighed and grabbed a mug before turning away to brew himself a pot of coffee. “Whatever.” 

As he tried to ignore the cute sounds of your meows and purrs, Toji spoke again. “Wish you would just give her a chance. She really is a sweetheart, Kuna. Trust me: one day, this little darlin’ is gonna rub off on you.” 

But Sukuna ignored him, only hoping that you didn’t piss on his couch or shred his clothes while your Master was gone. How was he going to survive a day alone with such a little brat on his hands? 

•••••••••••••• 

Hours later, the day turned into night and it was raining cats and dogs. “Jesus,” he muttered, watching the downpour from his window. 

The window overlooked the cityscape outside, droplets of water pouring down the glass. It was the perfect night in; rainy, dark, and gloomy. Sukuna was prepared to spend his night diving into some takeout, beer, and Netflix on the couch while Toji was still working a shift. 

But as he turned around to get started on his evening in, he realized how difficult that would be because you–the furry little thorn in his side–were lying curled up on the couch in your human form. Toji had picked up a pretty ruffled black mini dress that you’d been wearing all day, waiting for your Master to come home from work. 

You didn’t bother Sukuna much today, only making a lot of annoying sounds with your loud ass bell tinkling about as you walked around in your cat form, sipping water and playing with your barrage of toys that Sukuna always stepped on. But when he saw you lying on the couch, your knees curled up to your chest and your pretty face looking so serene, he blew a fuse. “Yo!” he growled. “Oi, get down! You can’t be up there!” 

Your furry black ears twitched as your eyes fluttered open. Sukuna tried not to take notice of how long and defined your lashes were, reminding him so much of a doll’s. Your cat-like eyes flickered up to him, your sweet voice thick with sleep. “Toji,” you murmured. “Master?” 

Sukuna felt a strange tug in his stomach when you mentioned his roomie, mistaking him for the tall mechanic. He had no idea how long you had been sitting on the couch while he wasn’t watching, but that nap must’ve knocked your brain loose a couple screws. “Your Master ain’t here. He’s at work; you know that. Now get up.” 

You sat up from your position, stretching, your tail unfurling and curling around your ankles before fanning impatiently. “Want Toji,” you grumbled. “Wanna call.” You pouted those plump, pink lips at him to which he rolled his eyes at, struggling to keep his cool. Especially with the way that tinkling gold bell attached to your collar brushed just above your sweet, juicy-looking cleavage. “Call him if ya want. Just get off the fuckin’ couch.” 

But you didn’t, still sitting there, arms crossed and lips pouted. You were a stubborn little thing, indeed. Sukuna growled like a wolf hunting his prey, becoming irritated. “Little brat. I said GET DOWN.” After sizing him up with an unbothered stare, you laid your head back down against the couch cushion. “Sleepy,” you murmured. “Cozy.” 

You snuggled into the couch as you curled your knees back up to your chest, accidentally showing off a sliver of your lace panties and a bit of your supple asscheeks underneath. Sukuna felt a hot flush enter his body at the sight and he quickly averted his eyes to the newspaper lying on the coffee table. “You little wench. If ya don’t move right now, I’ll—“ 

BOOM! 

Suddenly, you were up from your comfortable sleep position, fear and shock evident on your pretty face. Your tail poofed up from the loud noise, frazzled, and your ears shot back. “Eeeeek!” you shrieked, causing you to fly off the couch and into Toji’s bedroom to hide. Sukuna flinched as the door slammed shut, leaving him alone once more. “Da hell is her problem?” he muttered. 

But then something weird happened: he actually began to walk towards Toji’s room to see you. Comfort you. That has never happened before. He instantly stopped, one foot pausing in front of the other, as reality smacked him hard. “What the fuck are you doin’?” he asked himself. Quickly, he fetched his beer and sat down with some Netflix, ignoring the strawberry-sweet scent you left in your wake on the couch. 

As the storm raged on and the thunder boomed, lightning flashing across the living room in the darkness, Sukuna felt his eyes growing heavy somewhere between Daredevil: Born Again and Love Is Blind (he loved laughing at the mess of reality TV). But quickly, the heaviness of sleep and the rain stopped his approaching nap when he heard Toji’s bedroom door creak open.

He turned and there you stood, wrapped in a blanket, your tail literally between your legs. Your ears were still sitting back, flat against your head. The look in your eyes held nothing but fear. “Back again?” Sukuna asked, one tatted arm tossed over the back of the couch. “Ya come to apologize?” 

You didn’t answer, too busy jumping at the sound of more thunder booming, cutting through the white noise of the TV. Sukuna rolled his crimson eyes at your reactions. What a squeamish little thing. “Jeez, relax. It’s just thunder. And some lightning.” 

As soon as he said it, more lightning struck, flashing across the walls. You gasped and raced for the couch, jumping onto it with Sukuna. But then you tried to take his arm. “What the fuck are you doin’?” he growled. He snatched his arm away from you, much to your hurt expression, and shook his head as he moved over as far as he could from you. “Uh-uh, back up. I don’t do cats.” 

You stared up at him with pupils as big as moons, your eyes welling up with wet tears that made them glassy. You slunk off of the couch, shivering in your blanket, the picture of fear. “Toji,” you whimpered. “S-Scared.”

Watching you, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel like an asshole. He wasn’t pleased that you were here taking up his movie night, but he didn’t want to be a total dick to you. So as you turned to walk back to Toji’s room, alone and afraid, he caved. “Hey,” he called. You turned, confused, your ears perking up. “You can come up and sit, but no funny business. I ain’t your owner.” 

You seemed confused at first, like you couldn’t figure out if he was serious or not. But slowly, you slunk back over to the couch and sat down. You were stiff at first, all of your limbs wound tight together, but overtime as the show continued and the minutes ticked by, you sunk into the couch. Sukuna looked over at you, finding you curled up in your spot again. “Better?” 

You nodded, lazily, not quite awake, and let out a cute little yawn that tugged at his heartstrings. Maybe it was the beer. He couldn’t be actually thinking you were adorable…right? 

He didn’t overthink it, instead distracting himself with the mess and drama of Love Is Blind, humorously smirking whenever an argument happened and rolling his eyes at a kiss. The storm raged on, but you were quiet, never flinching or shrieking in fear. Perhaps this is all you needed: some company. And at some point, you fell asleep. 

When Sukuna looked over at you, he wished he hadn’t…because you were the most adorable sight he had ever seen. Curled up under the fluffy blanket, you looked so serene and peaceful, your ears twitching ever so slightly, your tail serenely flicking by your pink-painted toes. The only thing that snapped him out of it was his phone ringing. Quickly, he snatched it up so he wouldn’t wake you and answered without looking at the caller ID. “What?” he barked. 

“Hey, asshole,” Toji greeted. “How’s my baby doin’? You skin her yet?” Sukuna looked over at you snoozing away, soft purrs leaving your lips. “She’s got one more time to make all that yowlin’ again and I might,” he grumbled. He had to keep up appearances after all. 

“She’s scared,” Toji sighed, sounding worried for his poor kitty. “Poor baby. She hates the thunder. Listen, just watch over her, alright? And if you need to, pet her. It makes her less scared.” 

‘Pet her?’ Sukuna thought. ‘Pet her where?’ He grimaced, confused. “How the fuck am I supposed to–” 

“Gotta go,” Toji interrupted before he could finish asking. “Just watch over my girl. I’ll be home soon.” And then the call was finished. 

As soon as Sukuna put his phone down, he heard a slight mew and turned to find your ears twitching rapidly, your tail flicking in agitation. You were shivering under the blanket, your brows drawn in fear and distress. You then began yowling again in your sleep, that awful, pitiful sound ringing in his ears. The tattooer swallowed, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to scare you anymore than you already were…but he couldn’t see you look so damn pitiful. 

Slowly, he scooted over to you, careful not to make a sudden move or sound. Once he was within arm’s reach of you, he gently stuck out a hand and poked you. Immediately, you were awake and tossing the blanket off of you. Your eyes were sharp splits and your claws were bared, every muscle in your body tight. 

“Hey, hey, chill,” he grumbled, snatching his hand away. “It’s just me. Don’t bite me, alright?” Though you relaxed, you still looked slightly perturbed, staring at his hand adorned in ink. “This is just so you ain’t makin’ that annoyin’ ass noise. It’s not ‘cause I care. Plus, your Master keeps botherin’ me.” 

At the mention of your Master, your eyes softened. “Toji?” you whispered. Sukuna grimaced, his lips tightening. “No, I told you: he’s at work. I’m–” 

“Sukuna,” you replied. The tattooer stopped short, shocked at the sound of his name escaping your lips. You had never said his name before. It sounded strange coming from you, but also…nice. “Yeah,” he said, surprised. Your eyes jet back to his hand, staring dead at his thick fingers. “You ain’t gonna bite me, are you? Or hiss? Or scratch me?” 

To his surprise, you did neither. You were silent, tail curling curiously around your feet. Slowly, inch by inch, he reached toward you and softly petted the top of your head. Your ears shot up at the sudden contact, alarmed by the touch, but then you settled into it. “You want more?” he cooed. “Don’t get used to it. It’s just for tonight.” 

But even as he said it, he didn’t believe himself. Because the moment he began stroking your soft hair and ears, the moment he heard you purr, was the moment he started falling. Hard. He didn’t think it was possible and he couldn’t explain away the pounding of his heart or the way his stomach fluttered as he stared at your peaceful expression. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, your long lashes fanning your cheeks, as you purred nonstop at his ministrations. He never pet an animal in his life before this moment, but he was glad to know that he wasn’t terrible at it. But once you let out a soft moan at his touch, he instantly stopped, feeling his cock twitch in his sweats at the sound. 

What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t be here getting hard over his roommate’s pet! “Alright, that’s enough,” he grunted, much to your dismay and confusion. “Lemme get back to my show.” 

But he couldn’t. Because you were crawling your little self into his lap. Sukuna tensed, confused and alarmed at your change in behavior. “Whoa, whoa,” he coughed. “Da hell are you doin’? Get down. I’m not your Master.” You didn’t listen, snuggling your cheek into the hard planes of his chest. “M’cold,” you whispered. “Warm.” 

You stared up at him then with those big, glittery eyes. Eyes like a siren luring in a sailor. Sukuna blinked, feeling his face flush from the sight of your pretty face and eyes staring through your thick lashes at him, his mind taking him on a journey to his dirtier fantasies of you looking up at him like that while you sucked his fat co–

“No, no, wait,” he grunted, trying to push you off of him. “We can’t. I-I don’t like cats and you’re…you’re…” So cute. So small. So perfect. You felt so soft and warm against him, your hands laid flat against his chest, right below his hammering heart. His arms ached to hold you. His hands itched to feel you. Every part of his body yearned for you as you sat in his lap. He didn’t know what you were doing to him. 

“What are you doin’ to me, huh?” he panted, staring down at you. He made the mistake gently petting your tail, causing you to let out a tiny keen of pleasure. “Sukuna,” you murmured, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. And then your lips were on his. He told himself that you initiated first, but he couldn’t be so sure. 

All he saw were your dialed pupils before your eyes closed and your soft, plump lips touched his. He couldn’t deny it: you were a really good kisser. Your lips were supple and sweet, tasting like cherries; such as soft as your tail that tickled his skin as it curled up around his waist. He didn’t know much about cats, but when you began to purr, he could tell you were enjoying this. 

So he allowed himself to slowly touch you, stroking up your thighs; your spine through your backless dress; your soft tail. Then his lips were on your neck, shoulders, and jawline, his lips touching places that made your nipples harden beneath your dress. He could feel them press against his chest as you arched yourself into his touch, your soft moans and keens driving him up the brink of insanity. 

Now, your body wasn’t tense from fear anymore. It was all pleasure. Even as the storm grew louder and stronger, you didn’t flinch or run. Instead, you stayed in Sukuna’s lap, straddling him now. 

“Please,” you whimpered. “More.” The tattooer eyed you, his cock throbbing beneath your lace panties. “More?” he asked in a deep tone thick with arousal. “Tell me where, little one.” 

His hand brushed your back, making the hairs on your neck stand up. He smirked, loving that he had such power over you now…the same way you did over him. He let you take his hand and guide it, blushing when you guided his fingers between your thighs. “Right here?” he panted, feeling you throb against his fingertips. “You want my fingers right here?” 

Slowly, you nodded, your eyes hooded and lips parted as you softly moaned when he began rubbing you. He kept his movements slow, allowing you to pull away if you chose to…but you didn’t. You stared at him as he kept stroking your pussy through your panties, your lips becoming puffy and soaked from his thick fingers. 

This was so wrong. So bad. You were Toji’s pet! His perfect girl! And yet…. 

Sukuna’s eyes ticked up to meet yours, seeing nothing but lust there. “Feels good?” he asked. He began to rub your clit with his thumb, causing you to moan and close your eyes from the feeling. He grunted in disapproval, stopping his rubbing. “Look at me and tell me,” he firmly ordered. “Tell me how I feel pettin’ that little pussy.” 

You whimpered at his words, opening your eyes, shining like a cat’s in the darkness. “S-So good,” you stammered. He could see how hard your nipples were now, not to mention how soaked you’d grown. His fingers practically dripped with you. “I-Inside? Can you, Kuna? Please?” 

Those soft, hopeful eyes stared into his, begging him for exactly what he thought you wanted. What he secretly always wanted after listening to Toji praise your pussy through the thin walls at night, the headboard banging and your sweet cries filling the apartment. “So polite,” he chuckled. “So fuckin’ sweet. But you’re still a brat.” 

He drew a squeak out of you as he suddenly snatched you up and sat you in his lap, your back to his front, your tail tickling his stomach. “You need to be punished for that,” he whispered before gently kissing your soft, furry ear. He nibbled on it slightly, drawing another gasp out of you. 

His thick fingers swirled around the wet spot of your pussy before he pulled your panties aside, your thighs spread wide to welcome him. He groaned at the sight of you–so soft and pretty, pink on the inside with the most gorgeous puffy pussy lips and a nest of trimmed curls leading down to your honeypot. “You’re so spoiled. You’ve got Toji wrapped around your little claw.” 

Snap! He tugged on the waistband of your panties and snapped them back against your skin, smirking when you keened at the sensation. “But I ain’t Toji. I’m gonna make you work for this.” 

SMACK! 

You let out a mix of a moan and a yelp as his hand roughly smacked against your pussy, his palm becoming sticky with your juices. Slowly, he stuck one finger in, growing harder at the noises you made as he gently finger-fucked you, getting you used to him. You were so used to Toji and his sex, so he wondered if he was able to make you feel just as good with his fingers…and maybe his cock too. 

His thoughts could only get dirtier than the gutter as your moans, gasps, and whimpers filled the air, your soft thighs shaking around his hand as he curled his finger up to rub your G-spot. You leaned your head back into his chest, those eyes closing against the pleasure he was giving you. “S’kuna!” you moaned, squeezing his wrist in your tiny hand. “P-Please more! N-Need…need you!” Sukuna’s cock twitched in his sweats, damn near putting a hole in it. 

“You want more?” he huskily asked in your twitching ear. You only whimpered and nodded, probing him to slowly slide his middle finger in. Your mouth fell slack as your pussy gushed around his digits, soaking them. “How ‘bout this? Is this what you want, kitty?” he growled, pumping his fingers in and out, making sloshing sounds in your tight, wet cunt. 

His mind drifted as his thick fingers fucked you out of your fear. In his head, he replaced his fingers with his cock instead, fucking you till you cried and creamed all around him, dripping down his balls until they emptied inside of you, filling your pussy to the brim. As you squeezed around his fingers, his dick got stiffer until he was rubbing against you, much to your enjoyment. “You close?” he whispered in your ear. “God, you’re so fuckin’ tight! Squeezin’ ‘round me so good…” 

He fucked you a bit more intensely, speeding up, not caring if his knuckles got tired. He wanted you to cum for him. To scream in pleasure. To give him everything he wanted. Finally, your moans grew louder, bouncing off of the walls as lightning flashed against your pretty face.“Kuna….m’close! So close!” you squeaked. 

He grinned, endorphins pouring inside of his veins at the sheer fact that he was making you this submissive for him. “Cum for me, kitty. Just this once. Let me make that pussy cum f’me.” He suckled on your furry ear and continued his thrusting, loving how slick you made his hand. Finally, with a broken mew, you came all over his fingers. 

It was glorious and entertaining watching you cum for him. Even more entertaining than anything on TV! The way your ears flew back and your tail curled into a knot as you moaned so sweetly into the quiet living room sent shivers down his spine. He groaned when he felt your pussy spasm and clench around him, making him yearn to feel your pussy walls clamp around his dick in the same manner. 

You soaked his fingers down to the knuckles, leaving his palm sticky and wet. After your muscles relaxed and you let out a tiny sigh when your orgasm high faded, he slowly slid his fingers out of you and placed them up to your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered. You did so, opening your mouth to suck on his digits, your wet tongue slipping and sliding along his fingers. He grinned, satisfied with your submissiveness. You must’ve been sooo needy without your Master here. “Good girl,” he uttered, making you turn to stare at him. You seemed shocked that he would dare let such praise slip past his lips. 

Realizing his fuck-up, he cleared his throat, his cheeks hot. “Um…that was–whoa!” But before he could finish, you were sliding off of his lap and staring at him with a look of hot lust. He could hardly breathe as he watched you slink down to your knees, your tits nearly dripping out of your mini dress, looking like a picture of sex. 

Sukuna sat back, watching you, his cock throbbing in his sweats. “So you think you just own the place, huh? Slinkin’ ‘round here in them little dresses and all that lingerie…” 

He couldn’t stand it when Toji bought you such sexy outfits, mostly because he couldn’t fuck you in them. It was almost like Toji was teasing him, letting you flaunt your body in your cute little dresses, booty short pajamas, and lacey sets. But he certainly wasn’t complaining watching you kneel before him now in one of your little numbers.

You began to indulge in his muscular body, running your claws up his thighs to his stomach, peeling his shirt up to reveal his abs and tattoos. He groaned at the feeling of your sharp claws dragging against his skin. “Shit,” he panted. “Da hell do you think you’re doin’, huh? You can’t just…oh, fuuuuck.” 

The moan dragged out his throat as you leaned your head down between his thighs and began nuzzling his dick print. Hard, hot, and heavy against your soft cheek. Sukuna nearly came right there from the slutty act. “You like that, huh? Is it big enough for you, kitty?” You nodded, nuzzling his cock. “Go on; take it out if you want it. Show me what that mouth can do.” 

You did so, expertly untying his sweats in a way that impressed him. You purred as you slid his pants and underwear down to his ankles, exposing him to your lust-blown eyes. Your eyes widened at the sight of him–big, hard, throbbing, and veiny. A pink happy trail moved down to smooth shaven skin and his cock head was pierced at the tip with a silver ring that had you drooling. He sat before you, eyes hooded with lust and thighs spread for you. 

“So pretty,” you murmured before your hand was wrapping around it. Sukuna softly groaned as you began to stroke him, up and down, your eyes fixed on him. Then you wrapped your luscious mouth around him, being careful to not nick him with your fangs. He let out a loud, long moan at the feeling of your wet tongue and soft lips sucking him, licking him, wrapping him up like a velvety hug. “Shit,” he exhaled. “Fuck, you ain’t too bad at this…for a feline.” 

Cat-like eyes flicked up at him, sharp and shiny. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked him a bit harder, making him grunt. He had to grab the couch cushions to avoid cumming right there down your throat. “Fuck!” he moaned, tilting his head back in pleasure. Then it was right back to you giving him the deepest, most excellent throat he had in his life. 

You were truly a pro at sucking dick, using your tiny hands to pump, pump at his base while you sucked him off at the tip, alternating between deep thrusts of your throat down his shaft and licks of your tongue against his cockhead ring. You even tugged a bit on that, making him mutter, “Little fuckin’ brat” through a grunt as pleasure zipped through him. 

“My bad. Is that a slur to your species?” he chuckled, kind of enjoying your little bite. Your eyes locked on him as you fucked his cock down your throat, your cute little ears twitching in pleasure as you did. You were enjoying this too. He could tell by your eager sucking and the spit that drooled from your mouth, coating his balls. “Goddamn,” he grunted, tilting his head back against the couch. “Is this what you do for your Master?” 

“Just about,” Toji replied. “But she uses more tongue than that.” 

Like a record scratching, reality smacked Sukuna hard in the face at the sound of his roommate’s deep, gruff voice. His head shot up, seeing Toji standing at the door in his work uniform, arms crossed over his buff chest. “Fuck!” Sukuna yelped. Mostly out of alarm but also because you didn’t stop sucking. Though your tail shot up happily to see Toji, you kept gagging on Sukuna’s cock, sweetly moaning around it. The vibrations traveled down to his balls, making his toes curl in his Nike slides. 

Why the fuck weren’t you stopping?! 

Toji smirked at the sight as if he knew this would happen. “Well, well…looks like you’ve gotten real close to my girl, huh, Kuna?” He paused, grinning. “I knew she’d getcha. She’s impossible to resist.” He stared down at you as you continued to work Sukuna’s cock with your throat like a pro, each velvety stroke down your tight channel making the tattooer groan. 

“I…w-we…she…” Sukuna didn’t know what to say or what to do. Should he push you away? God, he didn’t want to! Your mouth was just too good!

But to his surprise, Toji laughed as he stomped over to the couch in his boots wet from the rain. “Dude, it’s fine! I should’ve told you that my kitty can be a real slut too. Y’know, she’s always wanted to have you join us in bed, right, mamas?” He gently petted your head, making you purr against Sukuna’s cock. 

Toji smirked, a playful glint in his eye. “Go on, show him what you can do with that mouth. Doesn’t he deserve to be thanked for keepin’ you company?” He winked at Sukuna, making the tattooer sneer at him. “You just wanna watch, creep.” 

The mechanic didn’t even act like Sukuna was wrong, plopping down next to him on the couch. “Well, of course, I do. Gotta make sure you treat her throat right. After all, she’s mine.” He then took your collar between his thick fingers and turned it around to show your tag: Property of Toji Fushiguro (with his phone number included). 

Sukuna imagined his own name next to his roommate’s on your tag, representing their ownership over you, and the idea of you being his nearly made him bust. Toji watched with lust as you sucked off his roommate with the expertise of a professional cocksucker, your cheeks hollowed and eyes rolling back like you loved this shit. Loved Sukuna’s taste and how fat his dick was. 

“Doin’ so good f’me him, babydoll,” Toji murmured, stroking your ears. “I’m almost jealous.” Sukuna looked over and sure enough, he saw that Toji was pitching his own tent. You noticed it too and wetly popped off of Sukuna’s dick to grab at Toji’s bulge in his mechanic pants. “Master,” you panted. “Need you.” 

You began to rub him through his pants, making your Master tug at his bottom lip at your neediness. “Ohhh, so you want your Master’s cock too? You want some more milk, greedy girl?” He gave your tail a sharp tug, making you whimper at the pressure. 

Before Sukuna knew it, Toji’s pants were unzipped and his cock was springing free. It was just as hard and thick as Sukuna’s though he had a nest of black curls and a happy trail you seemed to drool over. “Well, cutie?” he crooned, smirking at you. “You gonna show my roomie how much of a big girl you are? How good of a kitty you can be?” 

Eager for more praise, you let Toji spit in your hands and wrapped your fingers around both of their thick shafts, causing both of them to wantonly groan at the lewdness of it. As you stroked the both of them, up and down from slow to quick, you alternate between sucking on them in a way that you made look easy. 

They each gave you luscious, deep moans and grunts as you slobbered all over their cocks, saliva dripping from your lips and down your chin. You licked, sucked and slurped them up, moaning obscenely as you did, eager for more of them. The more you sucked and blew their dicks, the wetter you got, causing you to rub your thighs together to ease the ache of your sobbing wet pussy.

“God!” Sukuna grunted, damn near popping a vein in his hands from how hard he was gripping the couch. “Fuck, how is she this goddamn good at suckin’ dick?” 

Toji cackled, finding humor in seeing his roomie so whipped for his kitty cat’s throat. “Taught her everything she knows.” He groaned as he pried his cock out of your mouth, slapping it against your tongue and cheeks. “Open up f’me, kitty” he demanded. You did so, prying your lips open to allow him to lean in and spit in your mouth. 

Sukuna watched in awe and utter horniness, wishing for the chance to do that to you. “Now put it back on my cock,” Toji orders, grinning when you stooped down to spit his saliva onto his slick, hard dick and balls. Then it was right back to you sucking his cock, making him groan as he took your hair in his hand, keeping a secure yet gentle hold on you. “That’s right, mama,” he praised as you pumped Sukuna’s cock in tandem with your sucking. “Mmm, take us both. Such a good kitty.” 

‘Yeah. She’s so good.’ The thought came out of nowhere for Sukuna, conjured by the way you completely made it your mission to please the both of them. When you wrapped your lips around him again and got to sucking, Sukuna felt his balls tugging at your suction, your throat tight enough for a nice, big, fat, creamy load. “Ngh! S-She’s gonna make me fuckin’ bust if she keeps s-suckin’ me like that.” 

Toji grinned toothily at him, encouraging him to ruin and use you. “Then do it. Pet her tail for her. That’ll make her suck you down even deeper.” Sukuna did so, petting your soft tail with his thick fingers, earning your slutty gagging, your throat flexing around him. As the tattooer fucked your throat, Toji licked his fingers and began playing with your pussy, petting your ass as he did. “You’ve got me s’hard for you, kitty. You don’t mind if I fuck that pretty hole, d’you?” 

Plap-plap-plap went his cock smacking against your asscheeks. You pulled off Sukuna's cock, mouth dripping in spit and pre-cum, to plead with your Master. “P-Please, Master. Fuck me.” Toji tapped his cock against your pussy this time, groaning at the soft, wet plap-plaps. “Baby’s so desperate to be fucked, she’ll do anything for it!” he chuckled and leaned down to kiss your ass. “Of course, sweetness. Anythin’ for my good girl. Just don’t stop suckin’ that cock, okay?” 

He then hummed out an “mmmm” of pleasure as he dived into your pussy, pushing his mouth deep against your sticky, puffy lips and clit. Your mouth clamped tight around Sukuna as you moaned, somehow taking Sukuna deeper. The tattooer watched as his roomie swallowed your pussy straight off the bone, shoving his tongue deeeeep inside of you. 

“Hey.” Sukuna tugged on your furry ear, making you look at him. “Don’t slack. Aren’t ya gonna be a good kitty and keep suckin’ me down?” He groaned as he pulled out of your mouth, strings of spit following in his wake.  

Instinctively, you pried open your lips and stuck your tongue out, allowing him to wetly tap the head against your tongue. “Yes, Daddy,” you obediently replied. Sukuna nearly nutted right there. Something possessed him to lean down to give you a rough, mindblowing kiss, making you moan against his tongue. “Don’t get distracted now. That’ll piss me off.” 

Referring to Toji’s sloppy pussy-eating, Sukuna continued to fuck your mouth, even while Toji’s fat tongue licked across your slit, his nose nudging your clit. They shared moans between one another–Sukuna’s deep, smokey moans drifted into the air while Toji groaned into your pussy, using his hands to pry your asscheeks apart, your back in a perfect arch. 

Soon, you couldn’t take much more of the torture and pulled off of Sukuna’s cock to plead with the men. “Please!” you whined. “Please fuck me now, Daddies!” Sukuna shared a look with Toji, both surprised at your plea. “At the same time?” Toji chuckled, thoughtfully stroking your ass. “Oooh, what a naughty little kitty.” 

SMACK!

You keened as he smacked your asscheek hard and rough, almost leaving a handprint. “You’d better take me nice and deep then, girl,” he growled as he snatched off his shirt, leaving him totally naked. Sukuna did the same, loving how your eyes drank in his handsome face, toned body, and big cock that eclipsed everything else on the couch because of how big he was. “I’ll take her even deeper than that. Might even make her cum harder than she’s ever had in her life.” 

He gave Toji a shit-eating smirk, wanting nothing more than to snatch you away for the love of the game. Plus, you were quite the cutie growing under his skin.

Toji couldn’t have that, so after some more light tapping and teasing, he lined himself up and finally slid home inside of you. Your thighs clenched and your eyes widened as your pussy stretched around his thickness, feeling every inch fill you up to the brim. Sukuna saw it, his cock pulsing in jealousy as Toji stretched you out wide.

Your Master gripped your hips, keeping you steady between himself and Sukuna. “Ahhh, fuck,” he exhaled. “So fuckin’ tight.” He began to thrust his hips against your ass, drawing his cock in and out of your pussy at a slow yet deep pace that made your eyes roll and your tail curl as you gagged on Sukuna’s cock.

Toji chuckled at your reaction to his fat dick, biting his lip as his eyes grazed over your body squeezed between him and Sukuna. Sukuna’s cock had slipped out of your mouth so you could take a breath, but all you did was moan and wail in ecstasy. God, how he wanted to make you sound like that! He wanted to fuck you for so long, wishing for the change to make you moan and scream on his dick the way Toji did. 

He watched the lewd sight before him as Toji fucked you deep and hard. Your walls flexed around him yet kept him inside; the way your pussy lips slightly stuck to his shaft when he pulled out as if to keep him there. His dick came back shining in your gush, the vein trailing from his heavy, cum-filled balls to his pulsing head. 

As he began to fuck you faster, your titties bounced, finally popping out of your dress to freely bounce and sway in Sukuna’s face. You bounced back onto Toji’s cock, fucking him back, unashamed and oh-so slutty. 

“Shit,” Sukuna exhaled, transfixed at the way your pretty pussy clenched around Toji’s cock. The way your body moved. The way you sounded. “Switch with me.” He said it in a rush of air like he couldn’t get it out fast enough, desperate and greedy for your cunt. Toji tossed his head back and laughed, still bumping his hips against yours, his thighs slamming against your ass. “Told ya she’d get you!” 

He finally slid out of you with a groan, his cock slick with your honey, and gripped your chin to turn you to face him. “Someone’s obsessed with ya, darlin’,” he huskily whispered. He gently stroked your chin, forcing your head still. “You still doin’ okay? Try and gimme your words.” 

Sukuna could see in your dazed eyes that your mind had turned to mush. Your holes leaked with pre-cum and you seemed fucked out of your head, but you still managed to reply. “Y-Yes, Daddy,” you stammer, giving him a wobbly smile. 

Sukuna growled with need while Toji cooed at you as if you are a baby. His baby. “So fuckin’ cute,” he groaned, stroking a thumb along your bottom lip. “We’re gonna make you cum your pretty brains out, babe. I promise.” He paused to press a kiss to your lips, sweet and light. 

Finally, the men switched and lifted you up on the couch so you’d be more comfortable getting your brains fucked out. While you faced Toji, sucking him off now, Sukuna held your hips and faced your pretty, puffy, wet pussy, everything he ever wanted right in front of him. He tapped his dick against your clit for a moment before finally, fucking finally, sliding in. He grunted as you squeezed those satiny walls around him, tighter than a vice, sucking him in straight off the rip. 

You felt perfect. And he wanted to make it last…really he did! But he couldn’t. Feeling your wetness dripping down his balls and seeing your soft, plushy ass and fluffy tail pressed flush against his abs took him over. 

Then Sukuna was fucking your pussy off of its hinges while Toji fucked your throat, their groans and grunts filling the sex-scented air. Toji used your sloppy, tight throat to please himself while Sukuna pushed your pussy, his eyes becoming glazed with lust at the way your soft lips stretched around his shaft. 

Toji chucked through his grunts and huffs of pleasure as they pushed and pulled on you, rocking you between their big, muscular bodies. “Go ‘head, man. Smack her ass.” Sukuna didn’t have to be told twice. 

SMACK! 

His hand came down hard on your ass, the sound of his palm hitting your skin echoing throughout the room. The way you moaned in pleasure at the sharp sting broke him and he fucked you harder, faster, your ass smacking against his abs. He was coming close to his end and he wanted you there too. 

So he licked his fingers and proceeded to rub at your clit in semi-circles, loving how wet you were. So responsive to his every move. “You wanna cum for us, kitty?” he grunted. “Say it, slut. Say you wanna cum all around my cock.” 

You were losing your shit, your grip on reality slipping. The two studs fucking you into euphoria weren’t off that great either. They couldn’t stand how cute you were getting split between them, and shared the way you craved. Toji slipped out of your mouth, busying himself by jacking off in your face so you could speak. “Please, Daddies!” you whimpered. “Make me cum! Need to cum!” 

Your soft, gorgeous begging pulled both over the edge. They couldn’t resist you.

The harder Sukuna fucked you, the more he could feel his orgasm coming, the build-up growing more intense with each passing second. He stroked your tail as Toji petted your ears, stimulating you so bad that you began to tremble. “Fuckin’ give it to me,” he whispered in your ear. “Cum for me, kitty! Cum all over that dick!” 

His harsh tone and sexy demand caused your body to tremble and shake like an autumn leaf as finally, you came. You moaned aloud, sweet and loud, as you exploded all over Sukuna’s fat dick. Your walls tugged on him like you wanted to lock him inside you, your pussy quivering around his cock bullying your insides, stuffing you full even as your walls grew sensitive. You drenched him, your slick dripping down his balls and coating your inner thighs. 

You whimpered and moaned into the sex-scented air as you creamed all over Sukuna’s cock, soaring and flying among the stars. Sukuna was right beside you, right there on the edge of bliss as he fucked you faster, harder, your ass smacking louder agaisnt his pelvis. 

Once you came down, Toji went right back to fucking your mouth, pushing when Sukuna pulled and vice versa. You bounced between them as they fucked your holes, knocking all common sense, thoughts, and logic out of your pretty little brain until you were nothing but their mindless, slutty kitty. 

“Fuck, I’mma cum for you, pretty!” Toji groaned, plowing your throat as if it was a fleshlight for his enjoyment. 

“Fuck!” Sukuna growled, gripping your ass so hard that he nearly left bruises. “Goddammit, m’gonna cum! Gonna give you my fuckin’ load, kitty cat!” He tugged on your collar, making you gasp around Toji’s dick. “Take it, baby. Take all that fuckin’ milk!” 

You had no choice but to do so. They each came with luscious, guttural, throaty moans and grunts that made your pussy throb around Sukuna, their cum filling up your cunt and their mouth in a rush of spunk that has your back arching and your tail twitching. Toji moaned out your name like a prayer and strings of pet names as his cum coated your throat. He then pulled out to finish the rest on your face and chest, covering your lips, cheeks, and tits in his sticky spunk. 

Sukuna wore like a sailor as he filled you up to the brim with his cum, coating your insides in him until he was dripping down your asscrack. Tingly sensations crackled in his blood and veins, addictive like a drug. Like your perfect pussy. His mind grew blank as his eyes rolled back, exhaustion kicking in as the sex high faded, leaving him exhausted. 

With a huff, he stared down at his dick plugged inside of your wet hole, cum dripping down your thighs and staining the couch. So much for keeping you off of it. As their highs finally faded, the men gently pulled out of you and, after Toji lovingly wiped his cum off of your face, laid you down between them, their big, muscular forms like two walls squeezing you in. 

But you never looked so happy. So content. You snuggled into Toji’s side as he threw a duvet over your naked body, snuggling up close to wrap his arms around you. He began to stroke your head and scratch your ears, smiling as you softly purred. “Now that’s a good kitty. Ain’t she, Sukuna?” 

Sukuna stared down at you curled up between them, your tail swishing peacefully between your legs. He fell completely in love with you right there, seeing exactly what Toji saw the first day he got you. “Eh,” he grunted, his cheeks growing hot. You’re not so bad…but I still don’t want her scratchin’ up the couch though. Maybe then I can think about us doin’ this again.” 

Toji chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Did you hear that, pretty kitty? How’s about bein’ a good girl for Sukuna too, hm?” 

You peaked over at Sukuna and he expected you to give him a hiss. But instead, you rolled over and snuggled into his broad, tatted chest, scent marking him and purring even louder as his body heat embraced you. Sukuna, shocked, stiffly wrapped his arms around you while Toji chuckled at the sweet moment. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

THE END.

"Hmph," he smiles at your attempt to act mad, easing his fingers in and out of your unused hole, his breath warm against your ear. "Kuna..."

"Mmm, listenin' for once," he eases his fingers out, leaning over and grabbing a bottle of lube out of his drawer - his slutty ass always has several bottles. He squeezes a generous amount, easing his fingers right back in, his other hand cupping your face, kissing your lips and moaning into your mouth. "Feel good, brat?"

"Mhm," you don't bother to play around, his fingers do feel good, the way he's leaned over you with his heavy weight against you, the pressure as he starts stretching them inside your tight hole.

"Can you take my cock in this tiny hole?" He's taunting you now, his cock leaking pre down on his blankets, hand slipping down to wrap your throat.

"I can." he smirks against your skin.

"I don't know, she's just so tiny and pathetic, can she stretch that much? Take this fat cock inside?"

"Yes, yes," he's pumping faster, the lube slipping and mixing with your juices as the drip down your thighs. "I can t-take it, fuck me, fuck me..."

"Beggin' all desperate, such a needy brat," he pulls them out with a filthy squelch, squirting even more lube down onto your hole, spitting in it as he spreads your hole wide, lining the tip of his pierced cock against it. You jerk just a bit when his piercing presses inside your hole. "Don't tense up, or I won't give you it."

"Dick," you mumble, looking over your shoulder, your hair falling. "Kuna, fuck me, please."

He spits again, swirling it over his swollen cock head, easing it inside, he's gentle with it at first, letting you adjust. Sukuna could be sweet, especially when he's fucking your hole for the first time, but once he's half way in, and you start to take it? It feels too good.

"Ah! S-so deep," he's pushing more in, pinning your hips and jerking his own, heavy balls thwacking your messy, needy cunt as she quivers around nothing, making you gasp out.

"That's it, takin' my cock like you're made for it," he moans, starting to really fuck you now, cock stretching you out as all that pressure hits, the pleasure fucking ruining you. "Doin' such a good job, lemme make you feel even better."

"Hmm? ah!" Sukuna's tugging you up, easing you right down on his cock and bottoming out impossibly, you're on your knees, his tattooed fingers running circles on your neglected clit, pretty patterns as he wraps his other arm around your waist, bicep taking you over. You're trembling, tears pricking your eyes as you start to feel that pleasure fucking you up.

"All your holes are made just f'me," he says, losing his mind at how tight you are, how your ass is just gripping his veiny length so good like she's milking him. "Cunt, mouth, ass, mine - say it?"

"Psycho - ngh!" He's slammed you down fully, pinching your clit between two fingers, overstimulating you until you shatter, seeing white as he sucks your damn breath away. "Kuna, ngh!"

"Mhm," he's easing up just a bit as you squirt down between your thighs. "Fuck, you're squirting from anal? Slutty lil' brat."

You're broken off with a moan between your lips as he fucks up into your ass again, about to bust inside, just pulsing. He's mumbling your name as he slides two fingers in your empty cunt, curving them up as his piercing drags along this spot inside that has you cumming again, squirting down his hand.

"Fuck, that's it - hah, gonna take all my cum. Mmm stay right here, don't run from it," he murmurs, busting hot white inside, feeling cum in there is utterly filthy, his fingers rocking and getting every damn drop he can from you, until you're dizzy.

"Kuna..." You're a mess, Sukuna eases out and moans at the sight of the creamy white spilling down from your ass.

"Took it like such a good lil brat," he's fingering the mess, chuckling as you're jerking, dripping all down and making a mess. "Are you gonna say you can out drink me again?"

You bite you lip, giggling now. "Yes."

****

“No, not that you’d do anything!” You sigh, shutting your eyes. “Toji I know you’d never cheat on me, it’s just I’m so worried that I’m not looking good enough. I’m always a hot mess with the baby and-”

“Am I not doing my job good enough?” You blink as he cuts you off.

“Toji you do an amazing job,” you say softly, hands sliding up his strong chest, feeling his heart beat steadily under your palm. “You take care of all of us so well, you do everything – that’s why I get to stay home with the baby.”

“Nah I’m clearly slacking,” you blink a bit in confusion, Toji sighs and trails his hands up your body, he’s so huge that he always makes you feel this mix of safe and just wet by the sheer size of him. “I am not doing my job at all.”

“What? No you’re not slacking!”

“Uh huh,” he turns your body to face the mirror, untying your top and making you gasp, letting it fall to the floor, showing off your tits for his view.

God Toji loves your tits, before the baby of course but even more now.

He grips them both in his huge, calloused palms, the roughness scraping sensitive skin, your nipples immediately bead with milk, earning his groan all raspy in your ear. “Fuck, would ya look at that.”

“T-toji…” you go to cover and he scowls as if you have offended him gravely, he smacks your much smaller hands down, squeezing your tits again, hovering behind you and bending down, lips against your ear.

“Look at me and you together,” your lashes flutter, earning a pinch on your sore nipples. “I said look, doll, be a good girl f’me, huh?”

“Yes,” he loves when you get submissive for him, dazed eyes glittering as you look up at his reflection, gasping as he squeezes them even harder, milk starting to drip again. “It’s making a mess.”

“Good, I want you to be a fuckin’ mess,” Toji’s words make your tummy clench, body aching for what she’s been missing, you just got cleared a few weeks ago to have sex but Toji had to leave for business right around that time. “I’ve been neglecting my pretty lil’ doll, hmm?”

“Not neglecting me, ah!” He sinks his teeth into the skin at the nape of your neck, moaning and sliding his hand down your tummy. You tense and he shakes his head, taking his time as he trails them down.

“I’ve been dying to bury my cock in all your holes,” you’re a blushing fucking mess then, his filthy words mixing with the love he has, as rough as Toji seemed he was achingly sweet deep down.

And filthy.

“You want to be in all my holes?” You ask softly, body responding right to him as he chuckles, his teeth against the crook of your neck.

“What a goddamn question.”

You’re trembling when Toji’s hands trace down your figure, then back up, biceps wrapping you so that you’re damn near hidden with just how thick he is, he kisses all messy right up your neck, dragging you back so your ass is even more against his cock. Your body can’t take how good he feels, how good he smells, how badly you crave even more.

“Beautiful fuckin’ body, god,” you whine out, arching against him, feeling his strong thighs against the curve of your ass, his length pressing right against your spine, one bicep wrapping your waist as his fingertips toy with your clit over the bikini bottoms, making them slick. “Fuck you’re already this wet?”

“M-miss you,” you turn your head for his messy, desperate kiss – it takes all Toji has not to bend you over and slide his cock inside, bruise your cervix and bite your skin, smack this ass.

How can he control himself with these pretty tits when all he wants to do is slide his cock between and fuck them, cover all of you with white and lick every bit off, have you fucked dumb on him.

But it’s been months and you need him to be gentle and sweet – and yes, Toji can do that, even if his cock is throbbing in protest.

The little fucker could wait.

Toji is teasing you instead, teeth nipping your lower lip, exhaling as you pull back, your eyes all dazed and dark from your dilating pupils. “Please…”

“We’ll get there,” he murmurs, rubbing up your slit, your puffy lips gripping his finger greedily. “God, you’re soaked just for me?”

You nod jerky, he captures your lips again, teasing you gently, you’re easily lost in Toji, in everything about him, every touch and breath, every murmur of your name from those lips. He’s quickly turning and lifting you into his arms, spreading your thighs around his hips, and carries you in his arms as you cling to his neck, still sniffling tears all pretty.

Toji lays you on the bed, kissing down your breasts and down to your nipple, squishing your tits so the milk just drips against his lips. You cry out, hands entangled in his hair as he sucks on one peak, moaning around it, that scar brushing just right against your delicate skin.

“Mnh! It’s all… in your…”

“So sweet,” he moans and kisses the other tit, thumb circling around a nipple achingly slow. “I love them all full like this.”

You suck in a breath as he tugs your nipple further into his mouth, his hand slipping to cover your tummy, the fingers spreading over it entirely. You feel their warmth, his lips lower, trailing between your tits and lower, teeth nipping at your ribcage, he literally manhandles your ass up higher on the bed, chuckling when you squeak just a bit, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your bikini bottoms.

“God I can’t wait to put more babies inside you.”

“More?” Toji lets out a low hum of a laugh, tickling your skin, his tongue lapping right up a little line on your tummy, leaving it just glistening. You suddenly don’t care so very much, not when his teeth are nipping at the skin that you’re so bothered by.

“I want more kids, yeah doll… gimme at least one more, huh?” You blush when he licks another stretch mark, your cunt throbbing and aching. “Sexy lil thing, you know how badly I wanna see my cock print here?”

“Toji!” you’re covering your face, blushing insane, but he tugs your arms down, your hands entangle in his inky locks, watching as he moves his thick fingers through the syrupy mess of your cunt, slick little sounds softly echoing as he plays with it. You’re biting down on your lip, arching your hips, ready for more.

“My doll, you know I could still see it – you forget how big I am? Can’t wait to shove my cock inside, ruin your pretty pussy again,” he kisses the hood of your clit, your thighs threaten to close, making him shove them up and high, raising a brow at you – the sweetness gone for just a moment. “Ah-ah, open em, be a good girl f’me.”

You spread them just a bit and he chuckles, shoving your thighs up against your chest, smushing them against your tits, thumbs pressing against your flesh as he spits a trail right down your slit, the glob of saliva mixing with your own slick. He spreads it with his thumb, making you jerk when he finds your twitchy lil clit.

"Look at that pretty pussy," His voice gets muffled as he laps a stripe up your slit, your juices pouring down from your hole, slathering his mouth in you. “Mmm, fuck…”

“Ah!” His tongue flattens, covering your entire clit, slurping noises just obscene in your bedroom. Toji shoves down his swim trunks as he lavishes your pussy with his tongue, staring to rut his cockhead against the bed, huge hands palming your thighs to shove them further. “Toji! Sensitive!”

He just hums, slipping two thick fingers inside you, curling them immediately to find that spongy, sensitive spot in your walls, the pressure having you gasp. He's aching to scissor them in and out, to overstim your cunt and have you in tears.

God Toji missed you.

"You're dripping for me," he murmurs, his mouth damn near full of your juices that are gushing, his fingers curving up mean in your messy walls. "Fucking soaked. Taste so sweet.”

“Ngh!” You gasp out, holding your thighs up high for him but failing, he's got his forearm pressing them up while his rough fingers stretch you right out.

“Miss my mouth, huh doll? Miss being a slutty lil girl just f’me?” His eyes are alight with how badly he wants you, pussy drunk before he even gets his cock inside you. “Could cum like this.”

“T-tasting me?” He chuckles and leans up, the sound deep and throaty, kneeling and letting your thighs slide down, showing you his fat cock just leaking pre – so much it’s dripping down your tummy as it hangs over you. “Toji…”

“You did miss it, hmm?” You nod eagerly, Toji leans up and straddles your waist, careful not to put his heavy weight on you he holds the headboard, gliding his cock slowly against the valley of your breasts. “Show me how much ya missed it.”

You nod quickly, letting him straddle you higher, guiding his cock against your lips and exhaling when they wrap his reddened cockhead, your tongue slipping right underneath the sensitive spot there. He groans, hiking a leg up and feeding more of his cock in your needy mouth.

“That’s it, get it nice and ready to slide in your tiny lil cunt,” he’s stuttering with just a few pumps in your mouth, he’d normally fuck your face fast but even now he guides it easy, slow, as you suck him in. “Missed how you suck me, how greedy you get with it.”

“Mnhph,” you’re leaning up on your elbows so your mouth can take more, his cock rocking in and out of your mouth, tip dragging along your tastebuds, before he pulls out, coated in your spit. His cock is just glimmering like your lips are underneath the soft lights of the room.

Toji drags his tip real slow over your pretty lips, coating them in his milky white gloss, exhaling and damn near shaking – he has great stamina but he almost came just now, he’s so sensitive.

“Never going this long without being inside you,” he murmurs, easing back and kissing his pearly drops off your mouth, you’re whining out, trembling, your nails pressing into his back. “Fuck, scratching me all up?”

“Mhm,” you can’t think, the need taking you over when he kneels back between your thighs, his spit soaked tip lining up with your quivering hole. Toji presses in just his tip, laying over you, his weight and heat making you ache even more.

"You ready for me, pretty lil doll?" he asks softly, gentle as he brushes a strand of hair from your face.

That’s the duality of Toji.

He can fuck your face, say filthy things, then he’ll just kiss you so sweet and look at you this way only he can, the way that makes you feel so beautiful and special. As sinfully good as his cock feels, he steals your breath from your lungs.

You nod in a jerky little motion, wrapping your legs around his slutty waist, he groans as you tug him to you. "Please, Toji. I need you inside me."

"Fuck," he breathes out those words, his voice a rough little groan, your name spilling from his lips as his green eyes get fucking dark – shoving his length inside you in one thrust.

“Ah!” You scream out at the pressure, feeling him in your tummy, fucking everywhere, stretching you out on his cock . "Still so tight around me. Like this pussy was made just for my cock."

Toji pulls out and then shoves right back inside, making you clench around him in response, cunt just already milking him to the point he has to take a breath, kissing you with his cock pulsing inside you.

“Mnh! Toji, Toji…”

“Fuck I missed this,” he huffs, grabbing your thigh to hitch it right over his hip, the position making him hiss with pleasure as his tip drags right on your inner walls.

“Missed it,” you’re mumbling, gasping for breath when Toji starts to really move. He's trying to take it easy on you, as small as your cunt is after so long, but he’s losing all his control. Especially when your eyes roll back in your skull as he thrusts his cock inside deep, bruising your cervix.

“That’s it, taking it like you’re made to,” his praise absolutely destroys you, he fucks you slow but he’s not gentle with his thrusts, not with the way his cock so meanly bullies your hole, black wiry hairs at the base of his cock tickling your clit.

“Close, close…”

“Already? Hah,” he leans down and braces a hand beside you, the other squishing your tit so more milk slips down, smirking down as if he’s about to just go fucking feral over you.

That was how you got pregnant after all, wasn’t it? Feral Toji folding you in a fucking mating press and pumping his loads of cum inside you.

“So easy f’me,” he murmurs, dragging you down his length as his hands take over your waist, like he’s using you, sucking in a breath. His hair falls over his brow as he rocks his hips, fucking you so good you’re almost drooling. “Wanna cum f’me, pretty girl? Be a good girl and listen.”

“Y-yes, will be a g-good girl,” you’re lost as Toji slams deep inside your needy little cunt, pushing you past your limits until you see stars, the orgasm wrecking your body as it washes right through you. You see stars behind your eyes, vision all blurry, gripping those biceps tight. “Ngh! Toji!”

“That’s it, hah – squirt all over me,” he’s guiding you through one orgasm and into another, watching your cunt drip down his length, his heavy balls just smacking right against your ass as he finally bottoms out completely. You’re so stretched, so full it’s hard to focus when he murmurs – “Eyes on me, now.”

You struggle to even open your damn eyes, lashes fluttering, trying to obey your husband who just had you spraying arousal around him and down between your thighs. He pulls out and runs his tip up and down, pinning your hips when you try to back off of the pressure – he knows your body too well.

“Squirt again, make me a fuckin’ mess, hah… there you go,” a couple more strokes and you tense, gushing a stream that splatters all over his tip, some of it landing on that dark happy trail. “So sexy, look at that, you’re my messy lil doll.”

You can only swallow your dry throat, nodding quickly, already feeling the loss of fluids damn near cramping your calves – it’s just been so long since you felt that, and to squirt twice was intense, especially when he guides his cock right back in.

“Tighter after always,” he moans and his own lashes flicker for a brief moment, sinking right into your warmth, tilting your chin up. “Keep focused.”

“Y-yes,” your whispered words are weak, you’re dizzy from a few more strokes, back arching so that your sensitive peaks brush his muscled chest.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I met you,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, slowing down his strokes. You sniffle at that, tears slipping hot and falling down your cheeks to the pillow, hands slipping up his obliques. “More beautiful.”

“Oh, Toji,” you sniffle and he sighs, thrusting in ever so slowly, and eyeing every expression your pretty face makes. “Love you…”

“Yeah you do love me, trust me, huh?” You swallow and nod, emotions and pleasure overwhelming your addled mind. “Then trust me when I fuckin’ say you’re sexy okay? Just say – thank you – not argue.”

You giggle all breathless, and he can’t help the love in his heart any more than he can help how his cock is pulsing, aching for release. He cups your face and rests his forehead on yours, arching his hips and rocking them so his cock hits that sweet little spot inside you.

“Thank you,” he smiles.

“Good girl.”

“Ngh, m’gonna… close, close!”

“Again? Hmm,” he picks up the pace and folds your ass in half, you squeak just a bit, feeling the resistance after the baby. “Relax, you can take me like this.”

You exhale, eyes locking with his, barely nodding as he slams in so deep it hurts in the sweetest way, tip just kissin’ your cute, puffy cervix that’s missed him so much. Toji exhales and moves faster, watching your puffy pussy just make his damn cock disappear, how big he is compared to you fucking ruins him.

He just wants to take you over.

"Gonna put another baby in you, make these tits full of milk again,” he huffs out, you whine in response, the slick sounds of your messy cunt and his heavy balls smacking are echoing in the room. “Want that? Want me to fill your cunt up until she’s bred again, doll?”

“This soon!?” He chuckles, his grin a white flash from that tanned skin, eyes lidded and heavy as he presses you further, until your knees are almost touching the bed, cock ruining you. “Ah!”

“I want at least two more babies,” you blush all cute for his gaze, Toji slams his cock inside you again, cupping your face with both hands as he keeps you in that damn mating press. “Gonna give me ‘em?”

“Yes,” he kisses you, fucking you dumb – but he’s pussy drunk, mumbling as he’s close, that veiny cock shooting pre against your cervix when he buries himself so deep inside. “Want it, want it.”

“Say it,” he whispers, nose brushing yours. “Say you wanna have my baby again, be full of me.”

“I want it, Toji please, put one in me – ah!”

You don’t have to tell Toji twice.

He’s busting so much cum in you that it floods out of your cunt, down his cock just dripping all over, he groans as he feels it milking him for every fucking thing he’s worth, kissing you and finally letting your thighs fall to the side. “Fuck, fuck… perfect fucking… doll, you grip me like that and…”

Toji’s incoherently babbling as he fucks his cum inside you, leaning back to run his thumbs over your milk soaked nipples. He laps some off his thumb, humming, easing his cock out with a messy pop, looking at all those fluids shooting right down your abused hole.

“So pretty,” he muses, touching you everywhere you’re insecure about, as your skin is so sensitive you’re trembling. “How much cum can you take tonight?”

You bite your lip and sit up with his help, kissing him and hugging him around the neck, shaking, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“I love you,” you murmur, he chuckles as he realizes you’re all fucked out, barely coherent anymore. “Toji… my Toji…”

“Mhm I am,” he nips your neck and you gasp out. “Don’t ever think I’d look at anyone.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, burying your face against his chest as he holds you close, cum still trickling out of you. “I just was feeling so…”

“Then talk to me,” he tilts your chin up, kissing your nose until you giggle all cute for him. “You’re more beautiful every day, and I’ll always think that shit – makin’ me all sappy and corny.”

“Toji, aww!”

“Hush you fuckin’ brat,” you just giggle at that, gasping when he pushes you right back down, fingering the mess of you both and shoving it back in. “Don’t waste it.”

Toji works to make sure his pretty wife never feels like that again – and actively makes sure he has his babies as close as he can together.

INTRODUCTION — clown gojo

☆ freakshow sukuna ⋆˙⟡ (laurence)

☆ fire performer toji ⋆˙⟡ @liliklei

☆ trapezist satosugu: ⋆˙⟡ @cherrys-wrld

☆ sword swallower suguru: ⋆˙⟡ @sixxels

☆ animal tamer sukuna ⋆˙⟡ @yoonsucks

☆ juggler naoya ⋆˙⟡ @lollipopryomen

☆ magician choso ⋆˙⟡ me!!!

☆ contortionist satoru ⋆˙⟡ @mieleism

☆ mime nanami ⋆˙⟡ @jasontoddsluvr

☆ aerialist suguru: open

☆ rigged booth operator hakari: open

☆ ventriloquist higuruma ⋆˙⟡ @stellarixe

if you’re interested in any of these roles, you may send me a message, or comment here!!! first come first serve! doesn’t have to be smut!

this is my almost 3k event, and also my first event, so i really don’t wanna be strict!! i have some general rules, but everything else is free game!!

⋆˚࿔ no incest, illegal age gaps, scat/piss/vomit, just that general criteria! anything else is fine with me!

⋆˚࿔ there’s no strict deadline, but i’d prefer things to be done before july!! if you can’t make it, please communicate with me.

⋆˚࿔ you may only participate if you’re 18+, my blog is strictly MDNI!!

Yet, you speak to it anyway: “Who said that? Who’s there?!” you demand, eyes darting around the other side of the woods from where you stand. 

You are surrounded by woods—trees glistening with the sunlight that slips between the leaves; bushes littered with blueberries and strawberries; various, colorful wildflowers popping out of the patches of grass lining the dirt path you stand on; little woodland creatures of squirrels, birds, and rabbits happily roaming and scurrying about. It is a very peaceful scene, but you feel as if there is something…off. 

You didn’t feel it before, humming to yourself and happily skipping along the trail in your pretty bright red hood and ruffled dress with the lace skirts. But now, you feel it: creeping down your back like a spider. Under the bright sun and serene trees swaying in the warm, spring breeze, there is something wrong. An undercurrent of danger, like something is lurking beneath the surface, ready to pounce.

Quickly, you grip the wicker basket on your arm to your chest to ground yourself. “I’m just hearing things. I’m tired from my walk is all.” You try to persuade yourself that all that’s making you feel paranoid is you. 

You’ve walked these woods plenty of times to go picking flowers and berries; to go take a soak in the river; to visit your grandma who lives right across the way. But for some reason, on this particular spring day, you got lost. You stare up at the sky, noticing how low the sun has gotten.

“Oh, dear,” you sigh worriedly. “It’s getting so late. Grandma is probably so worried about me.” 

You picture the old woman with her sweet face, glasses, and wrinkles in her bed, coughing into her handkerchief and drinking her peppermint tea. You were just visiting today to make her feel better due to her cold. You were on the right path, but dumb little you just had to make your walk faster…so you veered off of the path.

You’ve often been called a “dumb little bimbo” many times before in your life. Mostly because of how you dress. Even now, the dress you’re wearing stops at your creamy thighs adorned in lace stockings, the bodice clenching your supple breasts together and pushing them up enticingly for the human eye. Black heeled slippers adorn your feet, giving your outfit a very adorable feel. 

You’ve never paid much attention to what people said, especially since they were wrong and often assumed because of your body type—ample tits with a shapely build—but now, you feel dumber than ever. “I never should’ve taken that shortcut!” you lament, wanting to pinch yourself. 

“No, you shouldn’t have,” the deep, rasped, disembodied voice agrees, “and yet, you persisted. It’s cute.”

Now it’s coming from somewhere else behind you. You turn, facing a gaggle of pine trees. “Okay, this isn’t funny!” you angrily shout, your eyes flitting from one place to the next. “Whoever that is, come out and show yourself! It’s not nice to try to scare a girl like that!” 

Only the chirping birds and buzzing bees answer you for a moment, so you think you’re going insane. But then you hear the voice again, this time coming from right behind you: “You’re right, but it’s damn sure fun. Sorry, little Red.” 

You turn, expecting to see bushes and trees, only to be met with a man. A very tall, very muscular, very handsome man wearing red flannel, trousers, and mud-covered boots. 

"Ah!” you startle. Quickly, you jump back and hide behind a nearby tree, terrified. But the man puts his hands out in defense, mirth in his grey eyes. “Whoa, whoa, cutie, relax before you give yourself a heart attack. It wasn’t my intention to frighten you. I mean you no—“ 

“Stay back!” you shout, doing your best to sound as aggressive as possible. “Who are you? Have you been following me this whole time?” 

Your eyes graze over the stranger, unfortunately with some interest because of how attractive he is. You love tall, muscular builds and he has it, standing like a mountain over you with a broad chest that nearly pushes out from under his flannel, thick, tree-trunk thighs, skin tanned from the sun, and a scare on the side of his plump lips pulled into a smirk. His short, black hair glistens in the bright rays, making you have to squint at him. 

“Nah…well, not the entire time. I was just choppin’ wood and happened to see you cross my path. You looked quite lost, so I figured I’d give ya a hand.” He shrugs, passive as ever despite just scaring the wits out of you. He sighs, shoving his hands in his trousers. “Parents probably told ya not to talk to strangers, I’m sure,” he chuckles. “Name’s Toji, the local lumberjack. I live just down that road.” 

He turns, pointing down the path you just came from the to the left where a hollow tree stands. You blink at him, processing his words. “Lumberjack? Do you happen to know my granny?” 

He blinks at you, raising a curious brow. “Who’s your granny?” You tell him, describing her house and appearance, and he let out a big, bellied laugh. “Oh, her? She pays me to chop her firewood for the winter and always gives me pies. I swear, that lady’s tryin’ to fatten me up for her oven.” 

You sigh, feeling the tension somewhat leave your body. At least that checks out. “If you’re headed to her house, you’re on the wrong road, little darlin’. There are never any shortcuts in the woods.” He gives you a knowing smirk that makes you flush with embarrassment for being so careless. 

“Well, I know that now,” you sigh, fixing your hair beneath the red hood covering your scalp. “Maybe you can point me in the right direction?” 

Toji makes a sour face, crossing his arms over his chest. Two buttons are undone, giving you a peek of a sliver of chest and dark hair there. “It’s hard to explain without seein’ the path, plus there’s a couple of dirt holes around here that you could fall through. It’s probably better if I just take you there.” 

And he’s right—the only path you can see is the one you’re standing on. Everything else is nothing but trees and brush. But still, you’re not that dumb to trust him despite his handsome face and the fact that he knows your grandma. “Why? So you can take advantage of me or chop me up into little bits with your axe?” 

Surprisingly, Toji laughs after giving you a blank expression, clutching his stomach. “You’re funny, little one. That ain’t my style, but since you’re so weary of me…” He digs into his pocket and retrieves a pocket knife. He then tosses it into the grass between you, never taking a single step towards you, treating you like a scared rabbit. “Here. Use it on me if I start actin’ shady.” 

You look at the knife and then at you, weary. The lumberjack shrugs those broad shoulders, looking indifferent. “Or I can just tell you the directions and let you figure it out. It don’t matter to me, but I wouldn’t feel right about just leavin’ you here since I know your old lady.” 

You take a moment to think and weigh your options. Yes, your parents and grandma told you to not speak to strangers, but if you’re lost in a forest, how else are you supposed to get out of here? Besides, the knife will allow you some comfort. Finally, you make a decision and grab the knife. “Fine, but you walk ahead of me.” 

Toji smiles, happy to do so, and begins to lead you through a throng of trees, holding the low branches up to avoid you getting scratched. Such a gentleman! Like you ordered, he walks ahead of you, giving you a chance to secretly eye his firm ass and muscular back like a wanton slut in need of some d— 

“So you got a name? Or should I just keep callin’ you little Red?” You hear the smile in his voice when he asks this despite not looking at you. You think of giving him a fake one, but you’re terrible at lying. “Y/N.” 

Toji nods, accepting this answe. “So, Y/N, whatcha visitin’ your granny for? Just to steal her famous pies?” He softly chuckles, obviously trying to break the ice. You decide to throw him a bone, figuring since you’ll be walking with him, you may as well chat. “She’s been sick, so I have some tea and baked goods for her. She loves my baking.” 

You smile with pride as you show Toji the dozens of homemade cookies sprinkled with crystalized sugar and each coming with their own filling. Toji hums at the aroma, his thick tongue jutting out to wet his bottom lip. You avert your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach flips. “Ohhh, so that’s what smells so sweet! Apple, strawberry, and fig, huh?” 

You shrug, feeling a hot blush coat your cheeks. “I love to bake. It’s my favorite hobby.” As you stare ahead, Toji, unbeknownst to you, is staring at you as he walks beside you in stride. “Well, you make it look easy. I’m sure treats like yours would make a grown man cry.” 

You feel your lips curl into a smile, flattered by his compliment. A man’s way to your heart, unfortunately, is by complimenting your culinary skills. “Well, thank y—“ 

Grrrrgrrrrurle! 

Suddenly, you both stop and there is an awkward pause only filled with the chirping of birds. Toji gives you a knowing grin while you hug your stomach, trying to rub the sound away. “Was that you? You hungry?” he asks, sounding like he’s trying to hide his laughter. 

You glower at him, hugging your red cape closer to your body. 

“No,” you lie. But Toji just quietly snickers, continuing on walking and whistling as he does. As you try not to think about chomping on the cookies in your basket, you nearly walk into a tree because of how distracted you are from your hunger.

You look up and find yourself facing a gaggle of trees with fuchsia-colored berries hanging from the low branches. They are prickly like strawberries but shaped like miniature pears. “Oh, wow!” you gasp. “What kind of berries are those?” 

Toji pauses, eyeing the berries as you ogle at them, wanting to pick one off. “Juni-berries. They’re edible, but too much of ‘em can make you sex-crazy.” You glare at him, disturbed by this joke, but he gives you a serious stare. “I’m not kiddin’, doll. They’re aphrodisiacs. I’ve seen animals chomp on these things and then go at it minutes later.” 

Still, you wave off his warning and pick off a berry. “I don’t believe that,” you scoff. “I’ll just eat two.” You pick off another and pop both into your mouth, your teeth tearing through the ripe flesh to taste a burst of sweetness. “Mmmm!” you moan, unable to see how unintentionally sexual it is. “So yummy and juicy! These are delicious!” 

“So are you.” 

The answer comes out of nowhere, dripped in honey coming from Toji’s lips. You turn to him, wiping juni-berry juice from your chin. “Huh?” you ask. But Toji is watching the tree, not you, and raises a curious brow when you stare at him. “I didn’t say nothin’. C’mon, we should get goin’ before the sun sets.”

You don’t have time to wonder about it because he’s already walking off. But when he isn’t looking, you pick a few more berries and chomp on them as you continue to walk, holding them in your palm. The citrus of orange and sweetness of strawberry bursts onto your tongue, making each bite irresistible and addictive. 

Nothing seems out of the ordinary as you walk in comfortable silence. Not until Toji directs you down another path. “Let’s turn here,” he says, pointing at a sunny clearing of wildflowers. “We can cross through to the other side.” Though confused, you follow him, figuring that maybe he found a silk hole or something. 

So you follow him into the clearing and become surrounded by windflowers, trees, and ankle-length grass swaying in the breeze. The air is scented with blooming flowers and the sky is blue as an ocean, cotton candy white clouds filling it. You look around for the dirt path but find nothing; only lush green and wilderness. “Where’d the road go?” you wonder aloud. “I thought you said there were no shortcuts in the woods.” 

You turn to Toji, but he is still in front of you, his back to you. He stops moving, standing two strides away in the grass. “There aren’t. There’s also no sweet treats like you here either.” 

You blink at him, confused and taken aback by such a strange and brazenly flirtatious comment. “What do you—ah!” Your question is cut off with a gasp as you suddenly drop the basket and place a hand on your beating heart. Toji abruptly turns, looking concerned. “You okay, little Red?” he asks. 

Quickly, you wave him off and swallow, trying to recover. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But you’re not fine at all—your heart is hammering, your stomach is flipping like you just saw your crush, and your body is reacting in the same way it does when you read your smutty romance novels. Hard nipples beneath your dress; a throbbing sensation down below, unwanted and confusing. What is happening to you? 

Toji is still staring, giving you a look that feels to intimate and personal. “Just help me get to my grandma’s house,” you pant, clearing your throat as if that will clear away the flush and heat you feel. But the lumberjack doesn’t move; instead, he smirks at you, all knowing and teasing.

“You ate more of those berries, didn't you?” he chuckles. You stay quiet, averting your gaze from his. “I knew you were a little brat. Lucky for you, I’m a guy that can handle bratty girls.” 

You scoff at him, fed up with his games. “You know what? I’ll find my own way there.” But as you turn to walk off, you suddenly feel Toji’s muscular arm snake around your waist and turn you around to face him. Without warning, his big hands begin to grope you over your dress, yanking you closer, his dark eyes staring into yours. 

Oh, no. This is bad. 

Then you remember: the pocket knife!

You try to reach back to get it, but Toji forcefully takes your wrist in his big hand, stopping you. “Toji, no,” you whimper. “I’m serious, don’t. We can’t.” You place your free small hand on his chest, trying to push yourself away, but he’s too strong. Too big. And the berries have seemed to make you weak in the knees. 

Your muscles feel like jelly and your entire body is throbbing with need. His scent—fresh pine, earth, and something warm and sweet like maple syrup—is like an aphrodisiac to you, making your pussy throb like a heartbeat beneath your dress. 

Toji’s lips ghost across your cheek and neck, making you shudder. “Why can’t we? You can act like you don’t want this, but you’ve been checkin’ me out since we met.”

He gives you a smirk, playful and seductive, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “The feeling’s mutual, little girl. This slutty outfit of yours ain’t exactly helpin’ my situation either.” 

He presses himself against your skirts then and you gasp when you feel it, hard and throbbing against his trousers. “I told you these woods are crawlin’ with predators.” He grins at you, fangs prominent. “I just never said one of ‘em was me.” 

Then, to your very naked eyes, he begins to transform right before you. You didn’t think it was possible, but grows bigger than he already is, increasing in mass and height until he is about ten-feet tall.

His tanned skin is replaced with fine, black fur that grows from beneath it, coating his entire body. As he grows, his clothes rip until they are tatters hanging off of his body. Furry ears and a long tail protrude from his scalp and backside, giving him the appearance of a dog-like hybrid.

And then there are his teeth—they elongate and sharpen, especially the canines, looking like fangs on a vampire. His nails grow too, long and sharp like claws, making your eyes widen in absolute horror and astonishment. 

And his cock? That grows too. You can see it from his ruined trousers, pushing against the fabric, straining to be released. Toji was big before, you could tell, but now? He has a whole third leg swinging from between his thighs! 

What doesn’t alter entirely is Toji’s face—he keeps some of his dashing human features, but he now has whiskers, a semi-snout, and glowing, red eyes that make you freeze in fear. The wolf-hybrid smirks at you, his fangs giving him a menacing look. “How do I look, little Red? You like whatcha see?” His voice is even raspier and deeper, taking on a graveled sound like rocks against cobblestone. 

You’re so frightened that you can barely speak. Your fight, flight or freeze has kicked in, making your adrenaline pump. You are deeply afraid…but you’re also very, very horny. You can’t deny that your eyes are stuck to his veiny muscles, big, clawed hands, and even bigger cock pushing against your tummy. 

You realize too late who this man is and the fact that he tricked you. “You’re the Big, Bad Wolf,” you whimper. “My grandma warned me about you. She said you’d eat me alive.” You remember all those stories by the fireplace where she warned you to tread lightly in the woods; about a man who isn’t a man but a beast. 

Toji gives you a thirsty grin and a throaty chuckle. “Maybe not how she thinks. Don’t worry, cutie; you’ll like the way I eat you. Now be a good girl and gimme a kiss.” 

Suddenly, his lips are on yours and you’re whimpering in protest, trying to push him off. But your strength is wailing you and your body is betraying you as his kiss grows deeper, drawing you in.

His fat, long tongue slivers into your mouth and swirls with yours, filling your mouth with the taste of his minty saliva. Suddenly, you go slack and lean against his big, hairy body, his muscles pressing into your fingertips making you drip. 

Toji senses your change and smirks into the kiss, groaning in appreciation. He pulls away, your disconnecting lips making a soft, wet smack as you do. “Ooo, you like that,” he chuckles, his wolf-like eyes glittering with lust. “You’ll like this too.” 

He runs his clawed hands over your body as if he can’t get enough, drooling at the sight of you. You find yourself wanting to lick it up. He then snatches down your corset, revealing your fully, naked tits to him. He growls at the sight, his eyes flashing and his upper lip curling into a snarl. 

You shudder as he leans in, but your frightened whimpers turn into pleasured moans as he begins to suck and lap at your tits, massaging them in his big, clawed hands and somehow not scratching you. You arch your back, pushing your chest into his mouth and touch, eager for more. The berries have made you ravenous, need and lust coursing through your veins like liquor. 

Each lap of Toji’s long tongue makes your pussy gush, your hard, sensitive nipples tingling as sparks of pleasure shoot through you. His spit coats your tits, marking you as his as he indulges in your soft, juicy tits like they are hanging fruit, the air filled with the sounds of chirping birds and your moans. “T-Toji,” you whine as his tongue caresses your hard nipples. “I-I can’t…I don’t, ow!” 

He chuckles after he nips one of your nipples with his canines, the sharp edge of his teeth nicking you. “Sorry, sweetness. Got carried away.” He gives you a wink before licking up, up, up your cleavage, coating it in saliva. “I’ve been watchin’ you for hours now, just waitin’ for the chance to get your ass alone.” 

Your head is dizzy with lust, making it hard to focus on his admission. He’s been watching you from the shadows for who knows how long, plotting and scheming. For some odd reason, the idea of being watched and stalked by the Big, Bad Wolf turns you on. He then pulls away from your tits now coated in his spit and hickeys, his eyes flashing a hot red. “I’m hungry for you,” he growls. 

“Oh!” you gasp as he suddenly forces you against the trunk of a tree and hikes your skirts up. He doesn’t stop until he gets to your lace panties now drenched in your wetness.

The sound that leaves his mouth is throaty and deep, the sound making you vibrate. He pushes his nose up against your panty line and takes a deeeeep inhale, sighing at the aroma while you cringe with embarrassment. 

He then snatches your skirts up again, making you grab at his hands in protest. “Don’t rip it please! It’s my favorite dress!” Toji glares up at you, appearing as more of a man than a wolf now. “What a girl you are,” he scoffs. “Fine, but the panties can go.” 

Rrrrrrrrip!

You squeak as he rips your lace panties right off of your waist, leaving your soft, puffy cunt free to drip down your thighs and onto his tongue. Toji is damn near salivating at the sight of your glistening pussy lips and cute little clit cushioned by your soft, cushiony inner thighs in your stockings.

“God, you smell so fuckin’ good,” he groans, pocketing your panties to keep for later. “So sweet. Look at this fuckin’ pussy.” 

Before you can even blink, he has your thigh pinned up on his shoulder and your back against the tree before he proceeds to eat you whole. Right from your pussy.

He laps, drinks, and slurps your honey straight from the source, sliding his tongue deep in your hole. You cry out at the feeling of being filled just by his tongue alone as his clawed hands pin you to the tree, one hand gripping your thigh and the other caressing your ass. 

You are a moaning, whimpering, sobbing mess, the sweet sounds coming form you music to Toji’s twitching, furry ears. “Toji!” you moan. “A-Ah, y-you’re—oh, fuck!”

Your eyes roll back into your head as he hits your G-spot, making you grip his hair for dear life as he swallows you up, shoving his tongue inside of you and plunging it in and out like he would his cock. 

He is unfortunately so good at eating pussy. It makes your head foggy with pleasure and your body hot with need, making you take one hand to massage your tits, sparks of pleasure shoot through you.

Toji pulls away to breathe for a moment, his mouth dripping with spit and your wetness. “Wanna tell me again that you don’t want this, little girl?” he pants. “That kitty is drippin’ for me. She’s cryin’ for me.” 

His eyes suddenly flash another color—gold. It startles you, but you can’t focus on it for too long because he is taking your other leg and forcing it over his shoulder, making you straddle his face. “Let me have another taste.” 

With this new position as his personal face mask, Toji is able to grip your cushiony, soft ass in his hands as he laps at your cunt, tongue-fucking you in a way that has you seeing stars and throwing your head back to moan to the sky.

The lewd, sloshing sounds of his tongue fucking your puffy, wet pussy walls fills the warm air scented with flowers and sex. “Oh, fuck yes!” you moan aloud. “T-Toji, your tongue! You’re, oh, shit, you’re gonna make me cum!” 

You can feel it bubbling like a cauldron, ready to boil over. “Mmm-hmm,” he hums against your lips. “Cum for me, sweetness. Fuckin’ give it to me.”

His eyes tick up to stare into yours, locked dead on you as he laps at your pussy, his jaw quickening as he licks faster, faster, and faster. Your moans grow louder, echoing throughout the empty clearing. “Cum for me,” he growls. “Cum for me now!” 

His order is a growl that shoots through you, making your pussy uncontrollably shudder as it cums deep down his throat. You let out a loud, soft, sweet moan as your honey trickles down his tongue and throat, filling his mouth with your sweetness. It is a blinding, intense orgasm that makes you shake and writhe against his mouth, causing you to ride his tongue in an effort to feel more of this ecstasy.

Finally, your high starts to fade and you slump against the tree, trapped between it and Toji’s big body. After having his full of you, he gently lowers you to the grass, his irises no more than slits. “So good,” he sighs, licking you from his lips, “but I’m a greedy motherfucker, baby, so I need more of ya. And you need more of me.” 

He gives you a smirk as his claws go for the zipper to his fly, taking it down, down, down in your face. 

Zzzzzip. 

“So why don’t you get on your knees, open that pretty mouth, and suck my cock for me?” His smirk widens as he takes himself out of his trousers, exposing himself to you and the bright sun hanging above you. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him—all of him thick, veiny, and long. He has a hook, causing him to lean over, pre-cum dripping from the boubous, pink head. His balls are humongous, sinewy with hair, and he smells just as good here as he does up above. He is the biggest man you’ve ever seen in your life and your pussy throbs at the sight of you. “Y-You’re really…big,” you comment. 

Toji lets out a sexy, throaty chuckle as he takes your scalp into his palm, pushing you down onto your knees. “S’okay, baby, you can take it. I know you can. Lemme help you.” 

You whimper with uncertainty as he pushes your head towards him, his cock getting closer and closer to your lips until you have no choice but to pop your soft, glossy lips open and take him in it. “That’s it, my Little Red,” he growls, one clawed hand in your hair. “Take me nice and easy.” Though he allows you to slowly take his cock down your throat, it doesn’t do much to ease the stretch of your jaw. 

Plus, you do it without your hands. You couldn’t wrap your palms around him even if you tried since he’s so damn thick, so you use your spit to help. “Spit on it,” Toji demands, pulling off of him to do so. “Make me nice and wet, darlin’.”

You do so, coating his shaft in copious amounts of saliva, making it glisten. Then it’s right back to sucking and slurping him, his dick filling your mouth up. 

Unfortunately for you, Toji’s impatience gets the best of him, making your time to adjust to his size shorter. When he grabs your hair and begins to fuck your face, you have no choice but to take it.

He shoves his cock so deep down your throat that your eyes burn with tears and embarrassing, wet gagging sounds leave your mouth as you gurgle around his cock that throbs and pulses in your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans. “That’s it, little darlin’! Shit, your mouth is good!” 

You whimper and splutter as your throat stretches and flexes around him while he uses it like a fleshlight. Toji growls as he begins to fuck your mouth, slamming himself against your chin, his balls slapping slightly up against your throat. “Deeper, slutty girl,” he grunts. “Take me all the way. Just like that…” 

He takes his cock out and taps it against your tongue, loving how slutty you look for him with your tongue hanging out, drooling dripping from your soft, pink lips. “You’re even tighter than your pussy. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around this dick, takin’ my knot…”

He then shoves his cock back in deep, causing you to gag around him and his claws to grip your hair, tangled in the strands. “Mmm, I love those sounds, Little Red,” he hums. “Keep ‘em up. Those are some pretty noises you’re makin’.” 

You can tell he is getting close from the guttural, throaty grunts and moans he is making, his thrusts becoming sloppier and rougher as he uses your throat like a toy, ruining your hair and fucking up your jaw. Toji then lets out a whimper that shocks you and makes you wetter than ever, causing you to reach down and rub your soaked pussy.

“H-Ha, shit!” he pants. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum! I-I’m gonna…I’m about to shoot my fuckin’ load!” 

He goes harder, faster, pumping his straining, veiny cock in and out of your pretty, wet mouth and tight throat as his dick engorges, throbbing with the promise of shooting a fat, creamy load down your throat. “Take it,” he growls. “Take my load, pretty slut! It’s all for you!” 

Finally, with a loud groan that echoes around the clearing and makes the poor birdies fly away, Toji’s eyes squeeze shut and he cums deep down your throat, shooting a fat load of spunk for you to swallow. You splutter as he does, doing your very best to swallow it all despite it dripping from between your lips and dripping down your chin. He then slides out and pumps the rest onto your tits, making you shine and glisten with his spunk. 

Though you are a sticky, drenched mess now, you find that you enjoy the taste and feeling of his warm cum sticking to your skin, coating your tastebuds. It makes you feel used and owned. To your surprise, you love it. You crave it. Toji stands over you, his cock still hard and something else attached to it now—it looks like a knot at the base of his balls, making his dick look a lot thicker. 

Is that what he meant by “taking his knot”? You gulp, unsure of if that is even possible. But your pussy is wetter than it has ever been, throbbing impatiently for more orgasms. 

“Feel better now, sugar?” he pants. Admittedly, you shake your head, not in control of yourself anymore. The wolf chuckles, smug. “‘Course, you don’t. You still need more, don’tcha? That pussy’s feelin’ pretty empty, isn't she?” 

He forces you onto your back, causing you to fall onto your butt and your thighs to fly open, exposing your wet pussy to him. Toji shudderingly moans at the sight of the wet strand of your arousal connected from your pussy lips to your panties. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he groans. “You have the prettiest little pussy. Look how wet you are!” 

He growls once more, sounding so much like an animal. “You like what you’re doin’ to me?” You can tell he’s started to stroke himself harder, faster, his pants and heavy breaths becoming more intense.

“Toji,” you softly whimper, your clit throbbing, your walls clenching around air. You’ve never been this horny before. Your pussy is about to slide off the bone with how wet it is. 

“Y-Yes, I want more” you answer through trembling lips. “Toji, please!” 

But Toji just smiles, flashing you his sharp teeth. “Please what? Tell me what you want, brat.” 

He then licks one finger and presses it against your pussy, swirling it over your clit. Your body lurches with pleasure, bucking with want. “Fuck me!” you blurt. “Just mount me and fuck me with that big wolf dick!” 

Toji doesn’t need anymore proof that you are desperate to be fucked. He pulls his finger away and sucks the taste of you off of his digit, his eyes rolling back at the succulent sweetness of you. “So polite. How can I deny such a sweet little request?” He then picks you up and proceeds to wrap your legs around his waist himself. “Hang on tight, little one,” he tells you. 

You whimper as he pins you against the tree again and gives you a toothy grin, easily clutching you to him as you are locked in his veiny, almost-bulging muscled arms. “Ready, baby girl?” he asks. “We’ll take it slow.” 

Before you can even say anything in return or take a breath, his big, fat, thick wolf cock is pressing against your entrance and then sinking into your hole. You’re happy for the lubricant of your wetness and orgasm he gave you before because it is a stretch. His cock stretches your pussy out in a way it didn’t do to your jaw when he was fucking your mouth, making your mouth go slack and eyes widen.

“Oh, f-fuck!” you stammer. “Toji! God, you’re so big!” You grip his shoulders, digging your nails into his flesh. He chuckles, panting slightly from your tight walls squeezing him. “Thanks, darlin’, but you ain’t had big yet. Let me bounce you on it a bit.” 

Slowly, he proceeds to do that, slowly sliding you up and down his inches, making you take one after the other with every passing second. After a few minutes of adjusting and slow strokes of his cock spreading your pussy, Toji feels you relax around him and finally begins to pound you like he needs to. 

He fucks you into the tree that shakes behind you, causing flower petals and leaves to fall around you, making your tits bounce in his face in time with his thrusts. Each pump of his thick cock sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body as your soft, spongy pussy walls stretch and mold into his shape. “Okay?” he asks. 

“Yes, yes, oh, yes!” you whine. “Fuck me just like that! A-ah, ah!” You can’t keep quiet, too deep in your ecstasy to care about anything or anyone but this wolf man and his beautiful dick.

“O-Oh, my God!” you cry, grasping his shoulders as he takes you straight to Pound Town on the Big Ol’ Dick Express. “F-Fuck, Toji, yes, baby! Fuck me just like that!”

The wolf man grips your thighs and pins them wide against the tree, pushing himself to keep them stretched out wide, giving you a stretch that yoga couldn’t even do. “So goddamn tight,” he grunts. “So goddamn wet. So. God. Damn. Cute.” Each thrust is punctuated by his grunts, his pelvis rubbing against your clit. 

Now he is really fucking you, slamming himself home inside of you over and over again till your head spins. “Toji!” you gasp. “W-Wait, wait, slow down!” It’s too much. Too quick. Your orgasm begins to crest again, making your moans and whines uncontrollable. But Toji doesn’t care. 

“Nah, fuck that. I want you to cum over and over again f’me, sweetness…so fuckin’ do it!” 

He uses all of his strength to keep you pinned up against him with nowhere to go, forcing you to reach your second orgasm. With a high-pitched whine, you grip his shoulders and cum all over his cock, drenching it in your cream.

You shudder and shake as it takes over, making your muscles feel mushy and your thighs shudder. You whine in response, earning a tongue shoved in your mouth as Toji gives you a wet French kiss while he pounds into you, drawing out your orgasm. 

Finally, drained of all that you have, you slump against Toji, tired and sweating. You need rest…but Toji don’t give a fuck about that. 

Slowly, he slides you off of him, leaving his cock drenched in your juices, and his knot and balls dripping in it. He then gently places you on the grass and onto all fours, making your heart throb. “All fours. I wanna mount that pussy now.” The growl he says this through doesn’t make it seem like he’s up for a debate. 

Again, you spread yourself for him, reaching back to pry open your asscheeks to expose your tight asshole and pussy to him. He groans at the sight, his cock throbbing against your thighs.

“Look at those pretty holes,” he murmurs, chuckling when you jump when he brushes your asshole with his cock. “Relax, sugar. Daddy’s not gonna fuck your ass…yet.” 

And then he’s sinking inside of you, filling your soddened, wet, sensitive pussy full of his cock. “Fuck!” you both groan in unison when he slides in again. But why does he feel so different? You feel fuller. Stretched. Then you realize that you have his knot inside of you too. You can hardly believe it and your eyes bulge with the feeling of being totally full. 

“Wow, you got my knot in you, little Red! Nice job!” Toji sounds satisfied, his clawed hands gripping the flesh of your ass as he bottoms out inside of you. “Now I can fuck you as hard and as feral as I want to.” 

And he does. And you love every minute of it. He pounds you into the grass and flowers, staining your knees and dress with grass stains as he roughly ruts into you like an animal, his big body mounting yours. You are resorted to a moaning, slutty mess, writhing and fucking yourself back onto his thick cock, much to Toji’s enjoyment.

“You like it, little darlin’? You love gettin’ fucked by the Big, Bad Wolf in the grass like a little slut, huh?” 

SPANK!

His big, clawed hand smacks against your ass, the pain mixing with the pleasure, making your head dizzy. “AH, YES!” You shout to the blue sky. “I FUCKING LOVE IT, TOJI!”

Toji’s pants are rasped and guttural, sounding animalistic as he gets close to his second nut. “Cum for me again then. Cream all over this dick while I breed you.” He goes harder, faster, pounding you into the forest floor, knocking the air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your pretty head as you fall deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of euphoria. 

“C’mon, baby, make that pussy cum for me,” he grunts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air. “Give it all to me! Let me make you fuckin’ mine!”

You then turn back to look at him, your eyes widening at the sight. When he begins to get closer, his gold eyes grow almost black and the black rimming his eyes grows sharper like a wolf’s. You feel scared yet aroused at the same time, your pussy clenching around his cock. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Gonna fill you up with my fuckin’ litter. Want you to fuckin’ cum with me too!”

“Fuck, Toji, yes!” you whine as your second orgasm erupts and sends you on a trip while Toji fucks you like he’s trying to hit a home run. Your eyes roll back and your body seizes as you squirt all over him, cries of ecstasy leaving your mouth. 

When Toji cums, he does so with an animalistic grunt and grips your hips so hard that they bruise. He tosses his black hair back, every bulging, veiny muscle in his body tense from the pleasure. You gasp as he fills you up with his spunk, feeling warmth flooding inside of you. It feels good to be full, you realize. It feels good to be used. 

Then, with a rasped sigh, Toji slowly pulls his knot and cock out of you, slick with your squirt. Your cum and his spunk drizzle out of your hole and down your thighs, unable to be contained. 

“Mmm, now that’s a sight,” he hums, watching as his cum oozes out of your poor pussy. “You’re gonna look so pretty full of my litter, baby.” 

There it is again: that word. Litter. “Wha…?” You can’t finish the rest of your question because exhaustion kicks in, making your head feel discombobulated like you’re walking through a thick fog. Your body aches. You are wet with sweat and cum. Your pussy twitches and is sloppy with his and your cum mixed together, all of it dripping down your thighs and through the crack of your ass. 

Toji gently scoops you up and holds you in his arm, right in his lap in the warm sun. “Shhh, just rest,” he whispers. “The adrenaline is wearin’ off; just let it happen, darlin’.”

He strokes your hair, holding you against his furry, warm chest. Your eyes drift closed against your better judgment, your muscles growing heavy. “I’ve got you,” he coos. “S’okay, my Little Red. I’ll keep you safe, Y/N.” 

“Y/N?” 

“Y/N, dear!” 

You gasp, startling awake, coated in a cold weather despite the warm spring air you feel on your skin. You look up into the aged, kind eyes of your grandma who gazes down at you so worriedly behind her spectacles. “Are you alright, dear? You were making quite the stir in your sleep.” 

She pauses to cough into her handkerchief and sniffles, still under the weather. You look around, finding yourself lying in a bed in her guest room with its quilts and floral sheets, the window wide open. No forest. No big wolf man. “Where am I? Where’s Toji?” 

Your granny pulls a confused face as she picks up a tea cup from the nightstand. “Toji? The lumberjack? He left as soon as he dropped you off here.”

You blink, your mind still foggy from sleep. Quickly, you look down at yourself lying on top of the floral sheets. No grass stains on your pretty red dress. No claw marks or hickeys. No cum staining your thighs. “He came here?” you ask, staring at your grandma.

She nods, pausing to fluff up your pillow. “He said he found you passed out in the woods and walked you here. You poor dear; you were dehydrated.” You want to ask her more, but she's already moving towards the bedroom door. “You sit tight and let me get more tea to share with you. I saved some of those cookies you baked for us to share.” 

She gives you a wink before she hobbles out of the room, humming despite her voice rasped from coughing. You lay back against the pillow, your head spinning. Was everything that happened just a bad dream? Could it be that you imagined it?

But as you smooth down the skirts to your dress, you feel something in your pocket. You slip it out, finding a folded piece of paper in it. With your hands shaking, you take it out and read it:

Thanks for the treat, Little Red. Come back for a visit real soon. 

P.S. Thanks for the panties too! 

Xoxo Big Bad Wolf

That's when you realize that your panties are gone.

THE END.

“look, i’m not even the one who smokes the most!” you hiss, gripping the wheel like it personally insulted you. “you all could’ve just fucking gone yourselves—”

“but you’re soooo innocent,” shoko croons, voice smug and sleepy like she’s lounging on her balcony with a joint already lit, probably sipping wine at 3pm like her life’s not on the brink of academic collapse too. “he might give us a discount if you show a little titty.”

“she’s gonna get robbed,” gojo says, laughing like a full-volume jackass, and you hear the clink of a lighter flick, followed by his telltale wheeze as he coughs on the inhale.

“she’s not gonna get robbed,” geto says, way too calm about it. “toji likes her type.”

you nearly swerve into the wrong lane.

“EXCUSE me?”

“you know. the dumb ones.”

“i have a 3.8 GPA!”

“yeah, in marketing.”

your scream echoes through the cabin. the phone slides off the seat again, thunking against a crusty water bottle and your half-empty iced coffee, which sloshes violently but mercifully doesn’t spill. you snatch it up and jam it back in the cup holder, ignoring the way shoko’s cackling now like it’s her fucking birthday.

this was supposed to be a simple errand. pick up the stash. come back. get high and eat pizza. but nooo, shoko had to go and run out the day before the final group presentation, and now all of you are teetering on the edge of burnout, one red bull away from dying in a google doc. except unlike everyone else, you got elected tribute, because “he’s nicer to new girls” and “you’ve got tits he hasn’t seen yet” and apparently that’s enough to send you into the slums of shinjuku looking for some underground weed plug who sells out of the back of a gym.

“this is exploitation,” you mutter, rolling down the window just enough to spit your gum onto the pavement. the air is thick with piss and heat and fried oil from some sketch-ass stall down the block that smells like heaven and hepatitis.

“it’s a social exchange,” shoko corrects smugly. “you get weed, he gets a little eye candy. maybe a blowjob if you’re feeling generous.”

“if you don’t come back with an eighth at least,” gojo adds, “i’m not letting you hit this indica. and it’s the one that makes you see god.”

“i hope you fucking choke on it.”

“love you too, sweetheart.”

you hang up.

the gym is squat and grimy, wedged between an abandoned massage parlor and a curry shop that always smells like someone’s wet sock. its signage is cracked and sun-bleached, the windows blacked out with film so thick you can’t even see silhouettes inside. a cardboard sign hangs crookedly in the door: “ring bell or fuck off.” very classy. your stomach does a little drop. not fear exactly. just... nerves. or maybe guilt. or maybe you’re thinking too hard about what shoko said.

you’ve never met the guy in person before. always heard stories, though. apparently he’s some ex-something—mercenary? killer? the guy who lifted a vending machine once with his bare hands? shoko said he used to fight people for fun. and now he just sells weed and works out all day. like a retired apex predator gone slightly domestic. dangerous but chill, if you didn’t get on his bad side. which, hopefully, you won’t.

you shift your skirt down a bit—black pleated, technically a size too small but who’s counting—and reapply your lip gloss in the cracked rearview. a deep breath. okay. hot girl dealer time. slut it up just a little for capitalism. shoko did say he liked praise. maybe he just wants someone to call him strong and pretty.

you ring the bell.

no answer.

you ring it again, longer this time. the door clicks. opens with a low, mechanical creak, revealing nothing but the dark smell of rubber mats and sweat.

then—

“you’re not shoko.”

the voice is gravel and heat, low and slow like it’s dragging itself out of a pit. toji fushiguro appears from behind a weight rack like a fucking boss fight, shirtless, skin sheened with sweat like he’s just finished tearing someone in half. his hair’s a little damp, falling over his brow, eyes half-lidded but sharp as hell, like you just interrupted something sacred. like you’re prey and he’s thinking about licking the plate clean.

he stares at you, towel draped around his neck, sweatpants slung loose on those fucking thighs like they’re allergic to modesty. and you—god, you freeze. like a dumbass. because he’s hot. dangerously, stupidly hot. like he looks like he’d laugh if you fell on your knees and call you cute for trying. like you suddenly get why shoko always comes back smelling like smoke and latex and regret.

“uh,” you say, brilliantly. “hi.”

“you shoko’s friend?”

“yeah, i’m—she sent me to pick up. for the project.”

he cocks his head. a slow grin spreads across his face like molasses on heat. “she send you alone?”

you nod.

he steps forward. the floor creaks under him. you’re hit with the smell of him—salt, musk, a little weed, a lot of testosterone. the kind of scent that makes you dizzy even though your legs are still working.

“first time buyin’?”

“face to face, yeah. usually we just... i mean she... she handles it.”

he tilts his head again, wiping his neck with the towel. “you nervous, princess?”

your stomach lurches at the nickname. somewhere deep in your brain, something very stupid turns on.

“n-no.”

he laughs. low. deep. thick like molasses and twice as sticky. his eyes skim you slowly, like he’s taking stock, like he’s reading the little tag on the back of your neck and deciding how much you’re worth.

“you look nervous.”

you don’t answer.

“don’t worry. i don’t bite. unless you want me to.”

and holy shit. you haven’t even asked about the price yet.

he holds the door open for you with one veiny forearm braced against the top of the frame like he’s doing it on purpose, showing off the full stretch of thick muscle and that little dent in his bicep that makes you feel like your brain’s gone soft from heatstroke or maybe sheer sexual humiliation, because now you’re wondering how much that arm could wrap around your neck before you’d stop pretending to care about prices and just let him split your legs open like a sandwich bag. but you walk in anyway, pride first, head high, face blank even though your thighs are doing that little clenchy thing traitorously underneath your stupid micro-skirt. inside it smells like sweat and blunt wraps and a hint of citrus cleaner like someone tried to pretend this was a real establishment but gave up halfway through the mop bucket.

the gym is dim and muggy and cluttered with benches and racks and a single punching bag that looks like it’s been hit so hard it developed trauma, and toji doesn’t bother turning on more lights, just lets the dusky heat settle in your collarbones while he strolls ahead, sweatpants slung low and towel tossed now over one shoulder like he’s modeling for a very horny prisoner’s dream journal. you follow because what else are you gonna do, go back out there with no weed and your friends waiting to laugh at you? he leads you past a protein shake bar that’s got more liquor bottles than supplements, down a short hallway, then into a back room with a metal table and a low couch that looks like it’s been fucked on a dozen times without ever being cleaned properly.

he drops onto it like a lazy king, legs spread wide, one arm slung across the backrest while the other reaches under the couch and pulls out a small black box with worn corners and a heavy metal latch. he flips it open, reveals a collection of baggies like he’s about to hand you something sacred, and you almost gasp because holy shit, it’s the good shit, purples and crystals and sticky glisten that says you’re about to forget what deadlines and dignity are.

“alright, baby,” he says, slow, dragging the word out like it’s honey dripping from his mouth. “what you lookin’ for? party stuff? sleepy stuff? somethin’ that makes you forget your name and say thank you every time you breathe?”

you blink at him, then shake your head like that’s going to reset your IQ to normal.

“uh, whatever’s strongest. like, the one that makes gojo shut up.”

toji snorts. “ain’t nothin’ that strong.” he rifles through the box, pulls out a dense little nug in a vacuum seal, holds it up between thick fingers. “this one’s called coma slut. knock your ass flat and leave your pussy hummin’ for two hours minimum. shoko loves this shit.”

you reach for it. “cool. how much?”

he grins. doesn’t hand it over.

“five thou.”

you pause. blink again. “what?”

“five thousand. yen.” he says it slowly, like you’re dumb. like he knows you’re dumb. like he likes that you’re dumb. “you want the premium, princess, you pay premium.”

“shoko pays like thirty-five hundred!”

he grins wider, white teeth flashing like a predator. “yeah, but she sucks dick.”

your jaw drops. he shrugs, easy, casual, resting his big hand between his thighs like it belongs there, like your gaze naturally belongs there too.

“returning customers get a loyalty discount. you’re new. no loyalty. just big eyes and a cute voice.”

you fume. literally fume. arms crossed, foot tapping, chest puffed out like it’s gonna make a difference but it just makes his gaze slide over your tits with a slow burn.

“fuck this. i’m calling her.”

you yank out your phone and jab her contact, slap it on speaker while it rings because if you have to suffer, she’s gonna hear it in real time.

she picks up after two, voice already smug. “well? did he give you the discount?”

“he’s trying to charge me five fucking thousand for the coma slut.”

a snort. then a long, wheezy exhale.

gojo’s voice joins, cracked and high: “did you show him your tits yet?”

“gojo i will murder you in your sleep.”

“you have to negotiate,” shoko says, sounding like she’s laying down in a hammock sipping gin. “flirt a little. he gets off on praise. tell him he’s strong. tell him his arms look like sex toys. whatever. it’s not that hard.”

you glare at the phone. “i’m not sucking his dick.”

“you say that now,” gojo mutters, just loud enough.

“listen,” geto adds, voice warm and too fucking reasonable, “it’s really good weed. just—try the flirty dumb girl thing. you’re good at that.”

you hang up before you punch the speaker into the wall.

toji’s still lounging, baggie dangling from two fingers, eyes half-lidded, watching your temper rise like it’s cute. like you’re just some little kitten clawing at the edge of his bed.

“you done throwin’ your tantrum?” he asks, that grin stretching lazily. “’cause you’re not gettin’ shoko prices, princess. you ain’t earned ‘em. but…”

he leans forward now, elbows to knees, his voice dropping low like the room just dipped in temperature. his eyes drag across you again, slower this time, hungrier. he licks his bottom lip, tongue flashing, and your breath stutters like a car running on fumes.

“…i am feelin’ generous today. you say somethin’ nice, i might shave off a thousand.”

you cross your arms harder. glare.

“…like what?”

he leans back, smirking.

“tell me i’m the hottest guy you’ve ever seen.”

“fuck no.”

“tell me i look like i could ruin a bitch without even tryin’.”

“you probably could but i’m not saying that out loud.”

“you’re so cute when you pout.”

“you’re a menace.”

“you’re wet.”

“i’m—i am not—!”

“your legs say otherwise, baby.”

you screech and grab your phone again, but he just tosses the baggie into your lap and chuckles low like he’s been waiting all day to watch someone squirm like this.

“four thousand, then. just ‘cause you’re funny. next time you better come with somethin’ sweet for me.”

you don’t know if he means words or your mouth.

and you’re not sure which one you’d give first.

you dig through your purse like it owes you something, fingers scrabbling past lip gloss tubes and stray hair ties and old receipts and shoko’s dumb-ass pink lighter that always smells like coconut vape juice, all the while trying not to look like you're panicking even though you definitely are, because you know you don’t have four thousand in there and you know he knows it too—he’s watching you with that smug fucking smirk like he’s already counted every bill you’re about to hand over, lounging like a lion who just saw the antelope trip on her own shoelaces.

“okay, wait,” you mutter, slapping your wallet open on the edge of the couch, pulling out three crisp thousands, one crumpled five hundred, and a pathetic collection of coins that rattle into your palm like your pride hitting the pavement. “three-five-fifty... uh... fuck. that’s all i got. can you... i mean, can you do like, a discount? like a one-time thing? like a hot girl coupon?”

you look up at him, eyes big, lip slightly bitten, trying to make your face do that dumb coquette pout you saw on tiktok, the one where girls blink slow and look like they don’t know what two plus two is. you know, the kind of stupid that makes men with muscle brains go soft in the middle.

but toji just stares at you like he’s sizing up a sale on meat.

“you really come here short?” he says, slow, drawling it out like he’s chewing your embarrassment between his teeth. “you come to my spot, take my time, drool all over the place—don’t think i didn’t see you clench your thighs when i opened that box—and then have the fuckin’ nerve to not even bring enough?”

you stammer. “i didn’t know the price was—shoko said—”

“shoko sucks dick,” he cuts in flatly, pointing at you with a lazy flick of his fingers, like that’s the end of the discussion. “and she tips. what the fuck you bring me? attitude and half a wallet?”

you flush. “i didn’t mean to—”

he leans forward, forearms on his knees, big hands dangling between spread thighs, voice low and quiet now, like he’s letting you in on a secret even though it’s obvious he’s just having fun watching you squirm. “i could be an asshole, y’know. i could tell you to come back with the rest and shut the door in your face. but i’m nice. i’m generous. i like girls who ask real sweet. maybe... if you really want that discount... you could say thank you properly.”

you blink at him.

“like...?”

his grin spreads slow and wide and absolutely fucking evil.

“like on your knees.”

your stomach drops, heat flashing through you like someone cracked a match at your thighs. your fingers curl around the cash instinctively, knuckles white, heart thudding loud in your ears because you definitely just felt your pussy twitch at the suggestion and you hate yourself for it, hate that you’re even considering it, hate that shoko warned you and you laughed and now here you are with a little skirt and a hot dealer and the kind of decision that makes you either a slut or a broke bitch with no weed.

“you’re joking,” you breathe, weakly.

he tilts his head. “does it look like i’m fuckin’ joking?”

you look at him—at the casual way he’s spread out, the line of his abs, the sweat still clinging to his throat, the twitch of his jaw like he’s holding back a laugh—and no. no he is not joking. not even a little.

you fumble your words, your dignity, your self-worth, and mutter, “what if i just—like—venmo you the rest later?”

he snorts. “nah, sweetheart. this ain’t fucking paypal. you wanna take my premium stash? you gotta earn that shit. ‘less you wanna walk outta here empty-handed and tell your little friends you couldn’t seal the deal.”

your mouth opens, then closes. your legs feel hot and twitchy, your palms sweaty, your breath stuttering in your chest like your brain already left the building and left your pussy in charge of negotiations.

he leans back, stretches like he’s already been serviced, one hand brushing absently across his own thigh. “c’mon. you do that pretty pout again and say some nice things, i might even toss in a joint for free. call it a customer appreciation special.”

you want to scream. you want to leave. you want to burn this place down and tell shoko to go to hell and—

you want the weed.

bad. like, enough to consider what you’ve already half-decided.

and his smirk deepens when you stay standing there, shifting, eyes flicking to the couch, to his lap, to the way he spreads his knees just a little wider like he’s inviting you in.

like he knows.

and toji fushiguro fucking knows. especially now he has you on your knees, hands braced pathetically on his thick thighs while his cock fills your throat like it was always meant to be there, like your mouth is just a wet little sleeve designed for his pleasure and not for arguing about prices or complaining about group projects. the smirk on his face is goddamn carved, eyes half-lidded and dark with amusement, chin tilted down just enough to watch you gag around him, drool dripping from the corner of your lips to splatter messily on his abs and his sweatpants, which are bunched uselessly around his hips like he’d barely taken the time to shove them down before fisting your hair and feeding you his cock like it was a peace offering—or punishment, depending on how you wanted to spin it.

“fuck,” he growls, voice thick and mean and low, one big palm tangled in the back of your head like he’s holding a leash, tugging you down just a little further, just to hear the wet choke that tears from your throat when the head hits the back again. “knew you had a good fuckin’ mouth on you the second you started bitchin’ about the price. this what that attitude’s for, huh? suckin’ cock like a good little dropout?”

your nails dig into the muscle of his thighs without thinking, and he laughs, the sound wicked and lazy, dragging you off his cock just far enough for a sticky gasp of air to escape your lips before he’s thrusting right back in with zero patience, all thick base and heavy weight that makes your jaw ache and your brain buzz, your eyes already glassy from how deep he’s hitting and how casual he is about it, like this is what girls do in his gym, just get on their knees and prove they’re worth a discount by being useful holes.

“you droolin’, baby?” he coos, mock-sweet and hot breath fanning over your forehead as he leans in, free hand cradling your jaw so he can tilt your head and see the spit bubbles collecting on your chin, the streaks of mascara starting to blur under your eyes. “fuckin’ dumb little mouth can’t even keep it in, huh? look at this mess. you ever sucked dick this big before or is this your first real meal?”

you try to glare up at him but the second you move he pushes deeper, deeper, until your nose is smashed against his pelvis and you can smell the sweat slicking his skin and the musk of sex that clings to his body like it never leaves, and your throat spasms around him because holy shit, he’s so thick it’s like he’s plugging you at both ends, stuffing you full from the top like your whole face is nothing but a cock-sleeve now, your gag reflex long gone under the pressure of his filthy praise and the slow grind of his hips.

“yeah, that’s it,” he grunts, knuckles brushing your cheekbone as he strokes the spit-slick mess of your hair, "fuckin' knew you had it in you. you ain't mad about the price anymore, are you? bet you’re thinkin’ four thousand was too cheap now. nah, you're just happy to be useful. bet your college professors never taught you how to breathe through your nose while suckin' cock this good, huh? maybe you'd pass your finals if you practiced like this."

you try to pull back for air, just a second, but his grip tightens in your hair, holding you flush against him, nose buried in the coarse hair at his base while he rolls his hips slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch lodged deep, cutting off your breath until black spots dance at the edges of your vision.

“uh-uh,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough, thumb smearing the tears across your cheek like he’s painting you with your own ruin. “you wanted that discount, princess. you take what i give you. nreathe through your nose like a good girl, c’mon. there you go… fuck, feel that? that little flutter when you stop fightin’ it? that’s you lovin’ this shit.”

he finally lets you slide back an inch, just enough for a ragged gasp that tastes like salt and him, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to the fat, flushed head of his cock. it glistens under the dim back-room light—angry red, slick with your throat, veins pulsing like they’re pissed you dared pull off even a little. you cough, chest heaving, mascara running in thick black rivers down your cheeks, and he just watches, lazy and pleased, stroking himself once, twice, slow and filthy right in front of your face.

“look at you,” he says, almost fond, almost cruel. “pretty little thing all fucked up over some dick. shoko’s gonna smell me on you the second you walk through the door. gonna know exactly how you paid for that eighth.

you whimper—actually whimper—and hate how needy it sounds, how your tongue darts out on instinct to lick at the precum beading at his slit. he groans low, head tipping back for a second before those sharp green eyes snap right back to you, pinning you in place.

“greedy already? thought you were the innocent one.” he taps the heavy weight of his cock against your cheek, once, twice, leaving wet streaks across your skin. “open up again, baby. we ain’t done till i paint that smart mouth white and you swallow every fuckin’ drop. then maybe—maybe—i’ll throw in an extra gram for bein’ such a perfect little slut.”

“that’s it,” he praises, guiding himself back between your lips with a slow, possessive thrust. “knew you’d figure out what that mouth’s really for. now take it deep and say thank you with that throat, princess. make me believe you earned every yen off.”

your knees ache against the grimy floor, skirt bunched uselessly around your hips, panties soaked through and clinging like a second skin, and you know you’re ruined. you know the second you walk out of here you’re gonna replay this on loop—his taste, his voice, the way he looked at you like you were something to break and keep.

but right now you don’t care. right now you’re leaning forward on your own, mouth opening wide, tongue flat and eager, eyes locked on his like you’re begging.

and toji’s grin is all teeth.

your throat burns, eyes watering, but the humiliation is a live wire straight to your clit, sparking every time he talks to you like you’re nothing but a warm, wet convenience. you moan around him—actually moan, like your mouth knows better than you do—and his fingers flex in your hair, his hips roll just enough to make your tongue flatten helplessly along the underside of his cock, veins pulsing against your taste buds while your brain flares with static and your thighs twitch, slick starting to pool between your legs from how hard he's holding you, how good he sounds, how thoroughly you've stopped thinking about literally anything except the weight of him on your tongue.

"that's it, baby, fuckin' look at me," he rasps, pulling you back just an inch, enough for your eyes to lift, mascara-stained and hazy, mouth stretched wide and glistening as you suck in a shaky breath, your lips still wrapped around his shaft like you're terrified to let go. "shit, you're cute like this. dumb little weed-thief all choked up on cock, tryin' so hard to be good. you want that discount, don't you? want me to say you earned it?"

you nod—barely, because he's still holding you there—and the motion makes your nose brush his skin again, makes your throat tighten around him until he groans deep in his chest and mutters, "fuck, you're tight everywhere, huh? bet that pussy's just as greedy as your mouth."

you whimper, thighs squeezing together, tears slipping down your cheeks now but you're still sucking, still letting him use your mouth like it's a fleshlight with feelings, tongue flattening obediently when he fucks forward again and again, his pace slow and relentless, every movement pushing your limits, every growl of praise making your stomach twist with need and your pride evaporate like it was never there to begin with.

he leans back just enough to watch his cock disappear between your lips again, his smirk downright mean now. "keep goin', baby. i'll tell you when you're done."

"that's right, baby, just like that—fuckin' christ, look at you," toji groans, voice dragging through clenched teeth like it's carved from iron, one heavy palm flattening against the back of your head again just to feel the resistance melt out of you as you let your throat open wider, drool slipping in thick, shiny ropes down your chin and catching at the collar of your shirt, which is damp now, stained with spit and humiliation and the heat of his cock gliding again and again down your throat like it's been there before and knew the way, like you're already trained and just pretending to be new, and he fucking loves it. "shit, you were made for this, huh? whole face built for takin' cock. they teach you that in class, sweetheart? or you just born to be a little brainless throat toy?"

your hands are gripping his thighs now, useless little fingers clutching for purchase as he rocks his hips forward and uses your mouth with easy, slow-grinding thrusts, not fast—no, deliberate—like he's savoring the stretch of your lips, the way your spit strings when he pulls back just far enough for the head to pop free with a sticky schhluck, watching the way your mouth hangs open like you forgot what to do with it once it wasn't full. he lets the head slap against your tongue, lazy and wet, then taps it against your cheek with a chuckle.

"open wider," he mutters, low and rough, brushing his thumb across your lower lip, smearing the sheen of spit so it shines under the dim lights. “c’mon, princess, don't be shy now. you already got my dick halfway down your throat, what's a little more mess?”

you blink up at him, dazed, lips raw and puffy, eyes glassy and red-rimmed with tears you don't even remember crying, and you whisper some weak little "mmph" sound that's supposed to be a yes, and that's all the fucking permission he needs—he shoves back into your mouth with a grunt, slow at first, then harder, deeper, until your throat spasms again and your eyes roll up just a little from how full you are.

"goddamn," he mutters, hips grinding forward so you can feel every inch of him sink back into place, his cock pulsing hot and heavy inside you, "shoko never said your mouth was this good. probably jealous, huh? that's why she sent you instead—wanted you to find out just how much better you are when you're down on your fuckin' knees."

you make a broken little noise around his cock, a breathy sob or a moan or something in between, and it sends a shudder up his spine, his thigh twitching beneath your palm as he curses again and cups the back of your skull like he wants to mold your head to the shape of his cock permanently.

"fuckin' look at you," he murmurs, almost fond now, and it makes your stomach twist in the dumbest, sluttiest way, like praise is a drug you didn't know you were addicted to, "doin' such a good job for me. didn't even have to beg that much. just needed a little push, yeah? bet all that attitude melts away the second you got a cock between those lips."

you whimper again, thighs squeezing together instinctively, and he feels it—grins wider, meaner, because he knows now, knows exactly what kind of girl you are, what kind of desperate little whore shows up short and ends up with her face stuffed, all because she wanted a discount.

"that why you wore that little skirt, baby?" he croons, voice going syrup-slick and filthy, "came here hopin' i'd put you on your knees? thinkin' if you gave me those pretty eyes and a little pout, i'd let you off easy? nawww, you wanted this. don't lie. you need this. need to know you're good at something, even if it's just gettin' face-fucked 'til your brains leak out your ears."

your whole body flushes at that, heat crawling from your chest to your scalp, and your lips tighten around him on instinct, desperate to prove him right, because he is right, because you don't even care about the weed anymore, not really—you just want him to keep talking like that, keep telling you what a dumb little cocksleeve you are, keep dragging that rough praise out like it's gospel and you're the disciple swallowing every word.

"yeah, there youuu go," he murmurs, voice rough with hunger now, fingers threading deeper into your hair as he starts to fuck your mouth harder, shallower now, shorter strokes that make your whole head bob in time with the motion, each thrust punctuated by filthy, wet sounds that echo off the walls. "that's a good girl. shiiit, listen to you. all messy and noisy for me. can't even pretend you don't love it, huh? pussy probably fuckin' drippin', ain't it?"

you nod—barely—but he sees it, and he laughs, breathless and mean, like he's proud of you in the nastiest possible way.

"knew it," he growls, hips snapping just a little harder now, faster, not quite fucking your throat but enough to make your jaw strain and your breath stutter in broken gasps around him. "knew you were a nasty little bitch soon as you walked in here. whole time you were talkin' about prices, all i could think was how good your mouth would look wrapped around me. now look. takin' it so deep. makin' me proud, princess."

your brain short-circuits at that—proud—and your eyes flutter as your thighs twitch again, mouth going slack just enough for him to bottom out, your chin damp, your tongue numb, but your body humming like he's fucking something deeper than your throat.

he pulls back slow, lets you breathe, lets you gasp a little against his length while he strokes your cheek with his thumb, voice dropping low, dark, full of that same evil satisfaction he's had since the moment you knelt.

"don't tap out now, baby. we're just gettin' started."

your hands are shaky when you finally wrap one around the thick base of his cock, spit-slick and swollen, veins bulging under your fingers like he's just aching to blow but holding it back with the kind of practiced control that makes your pussy pulse with something stupid and submissive, something soft and hot that makes you feel like your IQ's dropping with every slow stroke you give him.

your chin's glistening, cheeks streaked with saliva and snot and whatever pathetic mess your body's producing just from sucking him so deep for so long, and you wipe your face with the back of your hand without letting go of him, still jerking him slow and lazy while you look up at him with eyes all glassy and fucked-out, lips bruised and shiny, voice wrecked.

"you're so full of yourself," you mutter, barely a whisper, still catching your breath, "you think every girl wants to suck your dick for a discount?"

he grins, eyes gleaming like you just proved him right all over again. "nah. just the smart ones. aren’t you the smart one, yeah?"

you roll your eyes, but your hand doesn't stop moving, thumb dragging over the leaking tip where precum's already dribbling out, your tongue flicking out to catch it without thinking, like you need the taste now, like you're past the point of pretending you don't want it.

"so what?" you say, voice low and shaky but trying to sound in control. "that all you got for me? a little weed and some praise? don't tell me that's your whole game."

he leans forward, forearms resting on his thighs, voice rough and rumbling like a fucking earthquake rolling through the floor. "i give you more than that, you might start followin' me home."

"try me."

that grin deepens, eyes narrowing as he watches you stroke him, sees the way your thighs are squeezed tight, like you're trying to keep your brain from leaking out through your panties. he grabs your wrist, firm but not cruel, and you look up as he leans down and says it in that voice that makes your stomach flip: "i got a special stash. not even shoko gets that shit. real heavy. makes you feel like your whole body's floatin'. makes your pussy clench just from breathin'. only break it out for girls who earn it."

you blink at him, hand frozen on his cock, mouth opening and closing like your brain's buffering.

"...and?"

he smirks. "you want it?"

"obviously."

his hand slides down your arm, slow, warm, fingers dragging across your shoulder, your collarbone, until his palm is cupping your jaw, tilting your head back until you're looking all the way up at him, throat stretched, lips parted, heart thudding stupid in your chest.

"then let me fuck you, y/n."

you freeze.

your name sounds dangerous coming out of his mouth, heavy and hot like he's branding you with it, like he knew it the whole time and was just waiting to drop it until you were soaked and dizzy and still kneeling on his gym floor with your hand around his cock and your pride in the garbage.

"what the fuck," you whisper, half to yourself.

"whaaat?" he shrugs, still smirking like he's got the cheat codes to your whole body. "ain't like you weren't already thinkin' about it. got that fuckin' look on your face the second i opened the door. tryin' to act all mad but your thighs rubbin' together every time i said your name. you were wet before you hit your knees."

you glare. "you're such a perv."

"yeah, but i'm right."

"fuck you."

"you want to."

you don't say anything. your fingers twitch around his cock and he sees it, watches the way your eyes flick to the stash box on the table behind him like you're weighing the pros and cons of being a whore for premium bud. he leans in closer, so close his breath hits your lips and you can smell the sweat on his neck, the musk of your own spit all over him.

"c'mon, princess. you already sucked me off. might as well let me bend you over and really earn that discount."

you scoff, but it's weak, almost a laugh. "you think i'm that easy?"

"nah," he says, low and hot, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down a little, "i think you're smart. you know a good deal when you see one. and you like how i talk to you. you like bein' called pretty when your mouth's full. like hearin' what a good little slut you are."

you shiver.

he grins. "see?"

you try to pull away, to roll your eyes again, to say something biting—but your voice fails and your body betrays you and all you do is sit back on your heels with his cock still wet in your hand, blinking up at him like you're trying to convince yourself this isn't the hottest thing that's ever happened to you.

he leans back, spreads his thighs, one hand stroking lazily at the base of his cock like he's waiting for you to decide.

"last chance," he says, voice a little breathless now, cock twitching under his fingers. "you say yes, you walk outta here with the best fuckin' weed in tokyo and a whole new attitude. say no... and you still owe me four thousand yen, baby."

you hesitate.

you look at the stash. you look at his cock. you look at his fucking face—all smug and sweaty and wicked, like he's already picturing you bent over that beat-up couch.

and you say—

"...you better not be lying about that stash."

he laughs, full and low and fucking delighted.

"oh, i'm not lyin', sweetheart. i just hope you can handle it."

he doesn't grab you like you expect, doesn't yank you up by the arm or push your face into the couch like some impatient street-level animal, no—he reaches, slow and easy, fingers sliding under your chin and tilting your face up like he's about to inspect it for bruises, or maybe kiss you like you're some shy thing trembling in the dark. and then he does, which is the last thing your dumb-ass brain expects, his mouth hot and deliberate and full against yours, tongue pushing past your lips like he's claiming the same territory you just worshipped him with, and the kiss is filthy, wet, intense, full of teeth and heat and the taste of weed and salt and spit but it's slow, achingly slow, his hand cradling the back of your head like you're something precious instead of the girl who just sucked him in a dingy gym backroom.

you make a stupid sound against his mouth, a breathy little squeak that betrays how unprepared you are, how suddenly soft this feels—except it's not soft, not really, it's still him, still toji, still all muscle and sweat and testosterone and perversion, but he's got you straddling his lap now like you belong there, your knees planted against the faux leather of the couch on either side of his thighs, his hands dragging slow over your hips and up your back like he's mapping you out with his fingertips, and his cock is still hard, hot, pressed between you, twitching against the soaked heat of your panties where your skirt's already bunched up.

he breaks the kiss to look at you, thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip, that smirk gone lazy now, like he's already got dessert and he's just savoring every bite.

"fuckin' knew you'd be soft," he murmurs, eyes raking down your chest, "mouth all nasty but heart beatin' like you're gettin' kissed by your first crush."

"shut up," you breathe, flushed and dizzy and already grinding against him without realizing it, your hips rocking just a little with every breath.

"nah, baby," he says, grinning now, voice dipped in something that's half-mocking and half-worshipful, "you like this. you like gettin' all worked up over a kiss. fuckin' cute. all that attitude and now you're meltin' on my lap like a bitch in heat."

he lifts your shirt like he's unwrapping candy, slow and greedy, his eyes locked on every inch of skin as it's revealed, and you let him, arms raised as he peels it off and tosses it somewhere behind the couch without looking, and the moment he sees your bare tits he groans, full-bodied and filthy, one hand coming up to cup one, squeeze it, feel it like he needs to confirm it's real.

"god damn," he mutters, voice rough with something hungry, thumb brushing over your nipple until it stiffens, and then again, and again, until you arch into it like a reflex, like he's got strings tied to your spine and your thighs. "you came here with no bra, huh? fuckin' slut. wanted me to see 'em."

"no, i just—didn't feel like wearing one—"

"bullshit," he cuts you off, pinching your nipple sharp between his fingers, making your breath hitch, your body jerk in his lap, "you knew i'd get you shirtless. probably thought about it while you were walkin' in. 'oh no, mister fushiguro, don't look at my titties,' meanwhile your dumb little cunt's already makin' a puddle in your panties."

you whimper, actually whimper, and he grins wider, pinching the other nipple now, rougher this time, tugging it just to see how much bounce he can pull out of your hips, and you grind down without even meaning to, the hot thick press of his cock nudging right against the seam of your panties now, your clit throbbing from nothing but pressure and words and those calloused fingers tweaking your tits like they're stress toys.

"yeah, you like that," he says, like it's obvious— it is. . . like it's written all over your face in red marker— it fucking is . . . "you like bein' played with, huh? like when i go slow. thought i was gonna bend you over and ruin you, but nah, i'mma take my time. make you feel every fuckin' second."

his hand slides down, fingers dragging over your ribs, your stomach, the edge of your waistband, then slipping under to find the wet mess of your panties clinging to your cunt like a second skin, and he groans again when he feels it, when his fingers slide over that soaked cotton and come away shiny.

"fuck. told you. knew you were drippin'. you're so wet it's like your pussy's beggin' for me through the fabric. can't even pretend, baby. you're soaked. ruined your own underwear just grindin' on my lap like a bitch in heat."

"shut up," you hiss again, weak and pathetic, trying to glare but your eyes are fluttering, lips parted, mouth still swollen from sucking him and now your tits are getting pinched and your pussy's being touched like it's a treat he hasn't decided to eat yet.

"you gonna make me shut up?" he murmurs, dragging his tongue up the side of your throat, licking a stripe that makes your whole body seize up, his fingers still playing with your nipples like they're buttons he's programmed to keep your brain on standby. "nah, you like when i talk like this. gets you fuckin' dumb. gets that pussy all twitchy. can feel it right now, baby, through your panties, your little hole clenching for me like it's sayin' hi."

you don't say anything, can't, because he rolls one nipple between thumb and finger while the other hand's sliding between your thighs, pressing against your clothed slit and staying there, just pressure, just heat, not even rubbing, and it's enough to make you moan into his neck, breath hot and trembling.

"yeah," he whispers, mouth on your ear now, teeth grazing the lobe, voice dripping with filth and amusement, "go ahead and moan for me, baby. show me how bad you want that special stash."

his fingers hook the crotch of your panties and tug them aside like they're nothing, like soaked cotton's never been an obstacle in his life, and the sudden rush of cool air against your bare pussy makes you gasp sharp into his shoulder, your hips jerking forward on instinct, chasing the heat of his palm before he even touches you properly.

“shit,” he breathes, low and reverent, two thick fingers sliding slow through your folds, parting them just enough to feel how slick you are, how you're dripping down his knuckles already. “listen to that. fuckin' soaked. you hear how wet you are, princess? that's all you. all from suckin' my dick and lettin' me play with these pretty tits.”

you whimper, burying your face in his neck because looking at him right now feels too dangerous, too much like admitting everything he's saying is true. his skin's hot, salty with sweat, and you can't help licking a stripe up to his jaw just to taste him again, just to do something with the static buzzing under your tongue.

he chuckles, dark and filthy, and finally—finally—sinks one finger inside you, slow and thick and deliberate, curling it just right so your whole body clenches around the intrusion like it's been waiting years for this exact stretch.

“fuck, tight,” he mutters, pumping once, twice, thumb finding your clit with embarrassing ease, circling it lazy like he already knows exactly how you like it. “knew your pussy would be greedy. suckin' me in like you never wanna let go. you always this easy, or am i special?”

you bite his shoulder to keep from moaning too loud, teeth digging into muscle, and he hisses, hips bucking up so his cock nudges hard against your thigh, smearing precum on your skin.

“answer me, baby,” he growls, adding a second finger and scissoring them slow, stretching you open while his thumb keeps that maddening pressure on your clit. “or you too dumb already? just needed a couple fingers in your cunt to shut that smart mouth up?”

“fuck you,” you manage, voice muffled against his skin, but your hips are rolling now, riding his hand shamelessly, chasing the way he curls his fingers every time he bottoms out.

“yeah?” he laughs, breath hot against your ear. “that's what you're doin', sweetheart. fuckin' yourself on my fingers like a needy little slut. go ahead. use me. . .”

your hands scrabble at his shoulders, nails digging in as you grind down harder, thighs trembling, breath coming in short little pants against his neck. he's not even rushing you—just letting you fuck yourself stupid on his hand while he watches your face in the dim light, that smug bastard grin never leaving his mouth.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough with want now, fingers thrusting deeper, thumb rubbing tighter circles until your legs start shaking for real. “pretty tits bouncin', pussy makin' a mess all over my lap. you gonna come just from this? just from my fingers and some dirty talk? c'mon, baby. do it. come all over my hand so i know you're ready for my cock.”

“toji—please—” you gasp, the word slipping out broken and desperate, your clit throbbing under his thumb, every slow drag of his fingers inside you sending sparks up your spine.

“that's it,” he coos, voice dropping lower, hotter, like velvet dragged over gravel. “say my name again, princess. beg me nice and pretty.”

“please, toji,” you whine, hips stuttering as he curls both fingers hard against that spot that makes your vision blur. “need it—need to come—”

“good girl,” he praises, thumb pressing firmer, circling faster now, the wet sounds of your pussy loud and obscene in the quiet room. “such a good fuckin' girl for me. lettin' me finger this tight little cunt while you ride my lap like you were made for it. feel how wet you are? drippin' down my wrist, baby. all 'cause you love bein' told what a slut you are.”

your breath hitches, thighs clamping around his hand as the heat coils tighter, hotter, your whole body trembling on the edge.

“come on,” he murmurs against your temple, lips brushing sweat-damp skin. “come for me, sweetheart. soak my fingers. show me you're my good girl—my pretty little mess. i got you. just let go.”

“toji—fuck—i'm—”

“yeah, you are,” he growls, fingers pumping faster, thumb relentless. “come right now, baby. be a good girl and come all over my hand.”

the orgasm crashes through you like a wave, sharp and blinding, your pussy clenching hard around his fingers in pulsing waves as you cry out into his neck, nails scraping down his back, hips jerking helplessly while slick floods his palm. he keeps moving, slow and steady, drawing it out until you're shaking and gasping, oversensitive and boneless against his chest.

“fuck, that's beautiful,” he breathes, voice thick with satisfaction, fingers still buried deep as your walls flutter around them. “good girl. so fuckin' good for me. look at you—comin' so hard you can't even breathe right.”

you whimper weakly, forehead pressed to his shoulder, body trembling with aftershocks as he eases his fingers out slow, bringing them up glistening and dripping.

“open,” he says softly, tapping your lips.

you do, dazed, tongue sliding out to taste yourself on his skin—salty, tangy, filthy—and he groans low, pushing them deeper so you suck them clean. “perfect,” he murmurs, eyes dark and hungry as he watches your mouth work. “now you're really ready for that cock, princess.”

he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, eyes locked on the way your tongue chases them for a second before you realize what you're doing. a low, dark chuckle rumbles out of him as he wipes his slick hand across your thigh, leaving a shiny trail that cools fast in the muggy air.

“greedy little thing,” he mutters, voice rough like gravel dragged slow over skin. “already suckin’ on my fingers like you’re scared i’ll take ‘em away. don’t worry, baby. you’re about to get somethin’ a lot thicker.”

you’re still trembling from the orgasm, thighs twitching every time the aftershocks ripple through you, but he doesn’t give you time to settle. both big hands slide under your ass, lifting you like you weigh nothing, shifting you forward until the blunt head of his cock nudges right against your soaked entrance—hot, heavy, leaking, pressing just enough to part your folds but not sinking in.

you gasp at the contact, hips trying to roll down on instinct, needy little circles that chase the stretch you’re suddenly desperate for.

he stops you immediately—one iron grip on your hip, holding you suspended an inch above him, the tip barely kissing your hole.

“uh-uh,” he says, low and mean, eyes glinting in the dim light. “you don’t get to take it yet. you move when i say. understand?”

you whine, high and pathetic, fingers digging into his shoulders. “toji—”

“say it,” he cuts in, voice sharp now, thumb brushing over your bottom lip like he’s thinking about shoving it back in your mouth just to shut you up. “tell me who decides when this pussy gets fucked.”

your face burns, but the words tumble out anyway, soft and shaky. “you do.”

“louder.”

“you do,” you repeat, clearer this time, voice cracking as the head of his cock drags slow up your slit, collecting slick, spreading it, teasing your clit for a second before sliding back down to rest at your entrance again—never pushing in, just threatening.

“good girl,” he murmurs, smirking like the devil himself. “now sit still and let me play.”

he lowers you fractionally—just the tip breaching you, stretching the rim of your hole with that fat, flushed head until you’re clenching around nothing but the promise of more. your breath stutters, thighs trembling on either side of his hips, and he just watches your face like he’s memorizing every twitch, every desperate little flutter of your lashes.

“fuck, look at that,” he breathes, almost to himself, hips tilting up in a tiny roll that seats him maybe half an inch deeper—barely anything, but enough to make you moan. “pussy’s tryin’ so hard to suck me in already. hear how wet you are? just the tip and you’re makin’ those greedy little sounds.”

you try to sink down further, just a little, just to feel more of that burn, but his hands clamp down hard, bruising grip keeping you exactly where he wants you—impaled on barely the head, throbbing and helpless.

“told you,” he says, voice dropping into something dark and mocking. “you don’t move ‘til i say. you think one little orgasm means you earned this cock? nah, baby. you’re gonna feel every fuckin’ inch nice and slow, and you’re gonna thank me for it.”

he pulls back out—slow, deliberate—until just the slit of his tip is kissing your hole again, and you whimper at the loss, pussy clenching around empty air like it’s begging.

“listen to that,” he taunts, dragging the head up through your folds again, slow and filthy, coating himself in your slick. “hear your cunt cryin’ for it? poor thing. so empty. bet it’s throbbin’, huh? bet you’d do anything for me to fill it up right now.”

“please,” you whisper, nails scraping down his chest, leaving faint red lines. “please, toji—”

“please what?” he mocks, circling your entrance again, pressing just enough to stretch but never enough to satisfy. “use your big girl words, princess. tell me exactly what you want.”

“want you inside me,” you choke out, hips shaking with the effort of staying still. “want your cock—please—”

“want it bad, don’t you?” he murmurs, finally—finally—sinking in slow, one thick inch at a time, eyes locked on where you’re stretching around him, on the way your pussy flutters and grips every ridge and vein. “fuck, that’s pretty. look how tight you are. takin’ me so slow like a good little slut.”

he stops again halfway, throbbing inside you, letting you feel the pulse of him, the weight, the stretch that’s somehow not enough and too much all at once.

you sob, head dropping forward, forehead pressed to his collarbone. “more—please, need more—”

“shh,” he soothes, cruel and soft all at once, one hand sliding up your spine to fist your hair and tug your head back so you’re forced to look at him. “you’ll take what i give you. and right now i wanna feel this greedy pussy flutter around half my cock for a while. wanna watch you try not to come just from bein’ stuffed a little.”

he rolls his hips in a shallow, lazy thrust—barely moving, just enough to drag the head along your walls and make your thighs spasm.

“feel that?” he whispers, lips brushing yours but not kissing, just teasing. “that’s all you get for now. just this. just enough to keep you desperate.”

your whole body is shaking, slick dripping down his shaft, coating his balls, making every tiny movement obscenely wet and loud in the quiet room.

“toji,” you whimper, voice breaking. “please—i’ll be good—”

“yeah?” he grins, mean and slow, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in to the same maddening depth. “you’ll be good? then stay still. let me fuck you at my pace. let me tease this pretty pussy ‘til you’re cryin’ for real.”

he does exactly that—long, slow, shallow thrusts that never give you more than half of him, dragging over every sensitive spot just enough to wind you tighter and tighter but never enough to push you over.

every time your hips twitch, trying to chase more, he stops completely, buried shallow, throbbing, waiting until you still again.

“bad girls who can’t listen don’t get to come,” he murmurs against your throat, teeth grazing the skin. “and you’re tryin’ so hard to be good for me, aren’t you? tryin’ not to fuck yourself on my cock like a desperate little whore.”

you’re nodding before you even realize it, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the ache, the need, the way he’s stretching you open so slowly it feels like forever.

“that’s it,” he praises, voice rough with restraint now, hips rolling in another torturously slow thrust. “just take it. feel every inch i give you. feel how full you are even when i’m barely fuckin’ you.”

you’re burning, shaking, dripping, every nerve screaming for more, but he just keeps that cruel, lazy pace—halfway in, halfway out, teasing, teasing, teasing. “gonna keep you like this for a long time, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “gonna make you earn the rest.”

he keeps you there forever—or it feels like forever—suspended on those shallow, teasing thrusts, every slow drag pulling a whimper from your throat that you can’t swallow back. the room is thick with the smell of sweat and sex and the faint weed lingering on his skin, the couch creaking softly under the lazy rock of his hips. your skirt is bunched uselessly around your waist, panties shoved to the side, thighs slick and trembling from how long he’s been edging you with just half his cock.

“still so fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, voice low and rough, one hand splayed across your lower back to keep you arched just right. “pussy keeps flutterin’ every time i pull out—like it’s scared i won’t come back. don’t worry, baby. i’m not goin’ anywhere till you learn some patience.”

you try to rock down again, desperate for more, for all of him, but his grip turns iron.

“what’d i tell you?” he growls, stilling completely, buried only halfway, throbbing hot inside you. “you move when i say. or did suckin’ my dick make you forget the rules already?”

“toji—” your voice cracks, raw and pleading. “pleaseee, i need—”

“need what?” he interrupts, leaning in until his lips brush yours, not a kiss, just a cruel tease of one. “need me to fuck you proper? need me to split this little pussy open and make you forget about everything?” he pulls out slow, agonizingly slow, until just the tip is stretching your entrance again, then sinks back in to the exact same depth—halfway, always halfway. “nah. you don’t need it yet. you want it. big difference.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks on his skin. “i’ll pay you back,” you whisper, desperate, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “i swear—next week—i’ll bring the four thousand, just please—”

he laughs, dark and mean, hips rolling in another lazy thrust that makes your breath hitch.

“oh, now you’re offerin’ to pay?” he taunts, thumb brushing over your clit once—just once—light enough to make you jerk but not enough to give you anything real. “cute. but we’re way past yen, princess. you’re payin’ with this pussy now. and right now it’s buyin’ you slow. reallll slow.”

he drags it out—ten more minutes, maybe twenty—every thrust deliberate, shallow, controlled. he watches your face the whole time, drinking in every whimper, every tear that slips free when he bottoms out at halfway and stops again, letting you feel how thick he is, how much more there still is that he’s not giving you.

“feel that?” he murmurs, grinding slow circles once he’s halfway in, just enough to nudge your walls but never deep enough to hit that spot you’re aching for. “that’s all you get for bein’ short on cash and short on patience. half a cock for half payment. fair, right?”

“not fair,” you sob, head dropping forward, forehead pressed to his chest. your whole body is shaking now, pussy clenching around what little he’s giving you, slick dripping steadily down his shaft, pooling on his thighs. “please, toji—i’ll do anything—”

“anything?” he echoes, voice dripping with mock interest, one hand sliding up to fist your hair and tug your head back so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “then beg prettier. tell me exactly why a broke little whore deserves this cock balls-deep.”

you swallow hard, tears clinging to your lashes. “because—because i came here short and let you use my mouth,” you whisper, voice trembling. “because i got on my knees for weed i can’t afford. because i’m letting you fuck me for a stash i don’t even have money for—please, i need it—”

he groans low, hips twitching like your words hit him harder than he wants to admit, but he still doesn’t give in. instead he pulls out slow again, drags the head through your folds, coating himself fresh in your slick before sliding back in—just halfway.

“good start,” he says, smirking, sweat beading on his brow now from how tightly he’s holding himself back. “but you’re still too coherent. still thinkin’ about money and pride and all that shit. i want you dumb, baby. want you so empty-headed the only thing in that pretty skull is how bad you need me to fuck you deeper.”

another slow thrust. another stop at halfway. your thighs are trembling so hard the couch is shaking with you. “keep beggin’,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, teeth nipping the lobe. “we got all night. and this pussy’s not gettin’ the rest of me till it earns it.”

he keeps that brutal, lazy rhythm for what feels like hours—slow, shallow thrusts that never give you more than half, every drag pulling slick sounds from where you're stretched around him, your pussy fluttering helplessly each time he stops just short of where you need him. sweat beads on your skin, mixing with his, the air heavy and humid, thick enough to taste the salt on your tongue every time you gasp.

“still beggin’?” he murmurs, voice rough from holding back, one hand sliding down to grip your ass hard enough to leave fingerprints. “thought college girls were supposed to be smart. figured you’d learn by now that whinin’ doesn’t get you what you want.”

you shake your head against his chest, tears slipping free now, hot and frustrated. “toji—i can’t—please, it’s too much—”

“too much?” he echoes, mocking, pulling out slow until just the tip is spreading you open again, letting the cool air hit your throbbing clit for a second before sliding back in—halfway, always halfway. “this is too much? baby, i’m barely fuckin’ you. got half my cock in this greedy little hole and you’re cryin’ already. what happens when i actually give you the whole thing? you gonna break?”

your thighs are trembling nonstop now, slick dripping steadily down his shaft, coating his balls, making every tiny movement wetter, louder. you can feel how swollen you are, how empty past that halfway point, how your walls keep clenching around nothing but the promise of more.

“i won’t break,” you whisper, voice wrecked, trying to sound defiant even as your hips twitch for more. “just—please—give me more, i’ll be good—”

he chuckles, dark and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. “you’ll be good? you’re already good, princess. good at takin’ half like a desperate little slut. good at cryin’ for cock you can’t afford.” he rolls his hips again, slow and deep—still only halfway—grinding there until you sob. “but good girls wait. good girls earn it.”

“how?” you choke out, nails scraping down his back, leaving red lines. “tell me how—i’ll do anything—”

“anything?” he repeats, smirking against your temple, sweat dripping from his hair onto your skin. “then stop movin’. stop beggin’. just sit here on my cock like a pretty little toy and feel what it’s like to want somethin’ you gotta work for.”

he stills completely—buried halfway, throbbing hot inside you, letting you feel every pulse, every vein, the sheer weight of what you’re not getting yet. your pussy clenches around him involuntarily, trying to pull him deeper, and he groans soft, grip tightening on your hips.

“fuck—there it is again,” he mutters, voice strained now. “that greedy squeeze. you keep doin’ that and i might just give you another inch. maybe. if you stay real still and let me feel how bad this broke little pussy needs to be filled.”

you freeze, breath hitching, body shaking with the effort of not moving, not grinding down, not chasing the rest of him. tears slip down your cheeks, dripping onto his chest, and he watches them fall like they’re trophies.

“good,” he praises, low and mean, one thumb brushing a tear away only to smear it across your lips. “that’s it. just take it. feel how empty you are past this point? that ache? that’s what happens when you show up short on cash and big on attitude. you get teased. you get half. you get to sit here drippin’ and desperate till i decide you’ve learned your lesson.”

minutes drag by—slow, torturous, every second stretching longer than the last. he doesn’t move, just holds you there, cock pulsing inside you, letting the need build until your whole body is trembling, until soft little sobs are slipping out with every breath.

“toji,” you finally whisper, broken, barely audible. “please… i get it. i’m short. i’m broke. i’m—i’m yours. just please fuck me.”

he exhales slow, eyes dark and hungry, like your words finally cracked something in him.

“mine, huh?” he murmurs, hips shifting just enough to sink in one more inch—still not all, but deeper, stretching you wider, making you cry out sharp. “that’s cute. say it again.”

“i’m yours,” you repeat, voice shaking, clinging to him. “please—”

he groans, low and rough, fingers digging into your ass.

“alright, baby,” he says, voice gravel and heat. “you want the special stash? want me to fill this pussy proper? then hold on tight. you’re gonna earn every gram.”

he exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, like he’s deciding whether to reward you or punish you more. his cock twitches once, deep inside where he’s still only giving you about two-thirds now—deeper than before, but nowhere near enough. the stretch burns sweet, your walls fluttering uselessly around the thick length he’s allowing, every tiny clench pulling another low groan from his throat.

“mine, huh?” he repeats, voice darker, rougher, the word tasting like ownership on his tongue. one hand slides up your spine, fingers threading into your hair again, tugging your head back so your throat is exposed, so he can watch the way your pulse jumps under the skin. “say it right. tell me whose pussy this is while you’re sittin’ on less than i could give you.”

your lips tremble. tears are drying sticky on your cheeks, mascara smudged into dark streaks, but the humiliation only makes the ache between your legs sharper.

“yours,” you whisper, voice wrecked and small. “this pussy’s yours, toji.”

he hums, pleased but not satisfied, hips rolling in one long, torturously slow circle—grinding the fat head against your front wall, dragging over that spot that makes your breath hitch, but never deep enough to really hit it. your thighs shake harder, nails biting into the meat of his shoulders.

“louder,” he orders, free hand sliding between you to thumb your clit—just one lazy swipe, enough to make your whole body jerk, enough to make slick gush around where he’s buried. “tell me again. make me believe a broke little slut would let some gym-rat dealer own her cunt just for a couple grams of top-shelf.”

“it’s yours,” you say again, louder this time, voice cracking on the edges. “my pussy’s yours—please, toji, i’m yours, just—fuck me properly, i can’t—”

“can’t what?” he cuts in, mean smile curling slow. “can’t think? can’t breathe? can’t stand how empty you feel even with most of my cock stretchin’ you?” he pulls out another inch—deliberate, cruel—until only half is left inside again, letting you feel the sudden loss like a punch. “look at that. pussy’s cryin’ for it already. see how it clenches? tryin’ to keep me. pathetic.”

you sob once, soft and broken, hips twitching despite his grip. “i know it’s pathetic,” you admit, the words spilling out like confession. “i know i showed up short, i know i sucked you off for a discount, i know i’m lettin’ you edge me stupid in a back room just so i don’t have to tell shoko i came back empty-handed—please, i’ll do whatever, just don’t stop—”

he stills again, fully seated at that maddening halfway-plus-a-little, throbbing so hard you can count his heartbeat inside you. his thumb returns to your clit—slow, feather-light circles now, barely pressure, just enough to keep you hovering on that razor edge without letting you fall.

“whatever?” he echoes, voice gone velvet-dangerous. “careful with promises like that, princess. i could make you come back every week. could make you text me when your rent’s due and your wallet’s empty. could have you crawlin’ in here on your knees every time you need to study high and stress-free.”

your breath shudders out. the thought shouldn’t make your cunt clench harder around him—it does anyway.

“would you?” you whisper, barely audible, like you’re afraid of the answer.

he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, breath hot and damp. “if you keep squeezin’ me like that? yeah. i’d make you my regular little payment plan. no cash. just this wet pussy whenever i want it.”

another slow roll of his hips—deeper this time, three-quarters in, stretching you wider, making your eyes roll back for a second before he pulls back to that same torturous depth.

“but not tonight,” he murmurs. “tonight you’re still learnin’. tonight you take what i give you and you thank me for it.”

he starts moving again—long, excruciatingly controlled strokes, never bottoming out, always stopping just short of where you need him most. every withdrawal drags a wet, obscene sound from your cunt; every re-entry makes your thighs tremble and your voice break on little ah-ah-ah sounds you can’t swallow.

“thank you,” you gasp after the next thrust, the words automatic now, desperate. “thank you—for—for teasin’ me, for—for not lettin’ me come yet, for—”

he cuts you off with a rough thrust—still not all the way, but hard enough to punch the air from your lungs.

“good girl,” he growls, voice fraying at the edges like he’s finally starting to feel the strain too. “keep thankin’ me. keep tellin’ me whose you are. maybe—maybe—if you’re sweet enough, i’ll let you have the rest.”

your head drops to his shoulder, body shaking, cunt dripping, mind blank except for the slow, relentless stretch and the promise of more.

“thank you, toji,” you whisper again, over and over, like a prayer. “thank you—thank you—i’m yours—”

he groans deep, hips stuttering for the first time.

“fuck,” he breathes, almost reverent. “keep sayin’ that and i might actually believe you deserve the whole thing.”

he finally moves—sudden, decisive, like he’s done playing patient.

“enough teasin’,” he growls low against your ear, voice frayed with the strain he’s been hiding. “you’ve been good enough. time to really earn that stash.”

before you can process the words his hands clamp under your thighs—big palms gripping hard, fingers digging into soft flesh—and he lifts you off his lap in one smooth motion. your body leaves the couch, legs dangling for a split second before he’s on his feet, carrying you like you weigh nothing. the sudden shift makes his cock slip out completely, leaving you clenching around nothing, a pitiful whine tearing from your throat at the emptiness.

“shh,” he mutters, already turning, striding the few steps to the nearest clear wall—the rough brick one near the weight racks, still warm from the gym’s lingering heat. “you wanted more. now you’re gettin’ it.”

he pins you against the wall with his body first, chest to chest, letting you feel every hard line of muscle and the slick heat of his cock pressing up between your thighs. then he hooks his arms under your knees, spreading your legs wide—wide enough that your thighs burn from the stretch, knees hooked over the crooks of his elbows, calves dangling helplessly. your skirt rides up uselessly, panties still shoved to the side, cunt exposed and dripping in the dim light.

“look at you,” he says, voice dark and satisfied, eyes raking down where you’re spread open for him. “legs apart. no hidin’ now, princess. gonna fuck you standin’ so you feel every inch.”

he adjusts his grip—hands locked under your thighs, holding you splayed and suspended—and lines himself up with one slow drag of the head through your folds. you’re so wet it’s obscene, slick coating him instantly, dripping down to his balls. he doesn’t tease this time. he sinks in slow but steady—all the way this time, one long, unrelenting thrust that stretches you open completely, bottoming out until his hips are flush against yours and you’re stuffed full.

your head thumps back against the brick, a choked moan ripping out of you at the sudden fullness, the burn of him splitting you wide while your legs are forced apart like this. gravity pulls you down harder onto his cock, every inch buried deeper than before, the head nudging places that make your vision spark.

“fuck—tight,” he grunts, voice rough, holding you steady with that iron grip on your thighs. “feel that? whole cock now. no more half-measures. this what you were beggin’ for?”

you can’t answer—only nod frantically, hands scrabbling at his shoulders, nails digging in as he starts to move.

he doesn’t thrust up into you like you expect. instead he lifts you—slow, controlled—until just the head is stretching your entrance again, then drops you back down onto his length in one smooth, devastating motion. your body slides up and down his cock like you’re nothing but a sleeve for him to fuck, legs splayed wide, thighs trembling in his hold, cunt clenching hard every time he bottoms out.

the wet slap of skin on skin echoes off the brick, loud and filthy, your slick making obscene sounds with every drop. gravity does half the work—each downward motion seats him deeper, harder, the head kissing your cervix on every full drop while your clit grinds against his pelvis.

“that’s it,” he rasps, breath hot against your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone. “up—down—up—down. ridin’ me like the little slut you are. look how wide your legs are—pussy takin’ every fuckin’ inch while i hold you open.”

your arms loop around his neck for leverage, face buried in his shoulder as he keeps that punishing rhythm—lifting you high, then letting gravity slam you back down, over and over. each drop punches a gasp or a sob out of you, thighs shaking violently in his grip, cunt fluttering and spasming around the thick drag of him.

“toji, fuck—too deep,” you whimper, voice breaking on every bounce.

“too deep?” he mocks, lifting you higher this time, holding you there for a second so you feel the stretch at your entrance before dropping you again—hard. “you were cryin’ for more five minutes ago. now take it. take the whole cock while your legs are spread like a whore earnin’ her weed.”

he picks up the pace just enough—still controlled, still using your body weight to fuck you onto him, but faster now, each drop making your tits bounce, your breath hitch, your walls clamp down harder. slick drips down his thighs, down yours, pooling on the floor beneath you in little wet spots.

“gonna keep you like this,” he mutters, voice strained, sweat rolling down his temple. “gonna fuck you standin’ till you can’t walk straight. till every step tomorrow reminds you who owns this pussy.”

your legs are jelly in his hold, spread so wide the muscles burn, but the angle has him hitting that spot inside you on every drop now—relentless, perfect, building pressure you can’t escape.

“toji, please—” you gasp, nails raking down his back. “gonna—gonna—”

“not yet,” he growls, slowing the drops just enough to keep you teetering, holding you suspended for a heartbeat longer each time before letting you fall. “you come when i say. you earned the cock—now earn the orgasm.”

he keeps fucking you like that—up and down his length, legs forced wide, body pinned between brick and muscle—slow enough to torture, deep enough to ruin, until you’re nothing but shaking, dripping, begging mess in his arms.

he keeps that brutal rhythm—lifting you high with those iron grips under your thighs, legs forced wide apart, then dropping you down his full length every few seconds, letting gravity do the dirty work. each plunge bottoms him out hard, the thick head kissing your cervix, grinding against that swollen spot inside that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. your clit drags against his pelvis on every drop, slick and swollen, the friction building faster than you can handle.

your whole body is shaking now, thighs burning from being held so wide, cunt clenching harder and harder around him with every descent. the pressure coils tighter, hotter, a white-hot knot low in your belly that keeps winding and winding until you’re gasping broken little pleas into his neck.

“toji, fuck, i’m close, pleaseeee.”

“yeah?” he rasps, voice strained, sweat dripping down his temples as he lifts you again, holds you suspended for a heartbeat longer this time so the head of his cock stretches your entrance wide, teasing, before slamming you back down. the impact punches a sob out of you, walls fluttering wildly, so close—so fucking close—you can feel the orgasm cresting, thighs locking, breath stuttering.

“gonna come. . . gonna come on your cock—please—”

he groans deep, hips snapping up to meet the next drop, grinding there for a second while you’re fully seated, clit mashed against him, cock throbbing so thick inside you it feels like he’s splitting you in half. your nails rake down his back, body arching, the edge right there, right fucking there—

and then he stops.

completely.

still buried to the hilt, but frozen, holding you impaled and trembling, not moving an inch.

your eyes snap open, a desperate whine tearing from your throat. “no, no. . . don’t stop, i was—”

“shh,” he cuts you off, low and mean, lips brushing your ear while your pussy spasms uselessly around him, chasing the orgasm he just stole. “not yet, princess. you don’t get to come that easy.”

you sob once, frustrated and wrecked, hips twitching in his hold but he doesn’t let you grind, doesn’t let you chase it. your legs are still spread wide, thighs quivering in his grip, cunt dripping down his balls in frustrated little pulses.

“pleaseee, toji, i need—”

“i know what you need,” he murmurs, voice dark with amusement, starting to walk—still holding you like this, cock buried deep, every step making him nudge against your walls in tiny torturous shifts. “but i might not fuck you again after tonight. broke little student shows up once, pays with her mouth and her pussy, gets her stash and disappears. so if this is the only time…”

he turns, carrying you effortlessly toward the low metal table in the corner—the one with the black box of weed still sitting on it like a taunt.

“…might as well try as many positions as i can while i’ve got you spread and drippin’ like this.”

he sets you down on the edge of the table—cold metal biting into your ass—legs still hooked over his arms, held wide apart. he doesn’t pull out, just adjusts his stance so he’s standing between your thighs, cock still throbbing inside you, the new angle letting him sink even deeper somehow, pressing right up against that spot that makes your toes curl.

“look at you,” he says, eyes raking over where you’re impaled, legs splayed obscenely on the table, skirt rucked up, tits heaving with every ragged breath. “spread wide on my table like a fuckin’ buffet. gonna fuck you here next. gonna make sure you feel me in every position before i decide if you’re worth round two.”

he rolls his hips once—slow, deep, deliberate—grinding the head against your g-spot while his pelvis drags over your clit. the denied orgasm flares back to life instantly, hotter, meaner, building twice as fast now that you’re teetering so close already.

“toji, please—” you beg, voice cracking, hands scrabbling at the edge of the table for leverage. “let me come—i’ll do anything—”

“you’ll do anything anyway,” he mutters, starting a slow, punishing rhythm again—pulling out halfway, then slamming back in, making the table creak under you. “but you come when i say. not before. not when you’re this close to beggin’ me to keep you as my personal little weed slut.”

each thrust jolts you, legs shaking in his hold, cunt clenching desperately, the buildup roaring back twice as intense—pressure so thick it hurts, so close again you can taste it, thighs locking, breath hitching—

and he stops again.

buried deep, still, watching your face crumple with frustration and need.

he holds you there again—impaled to the hilt on the cold metal table, legs still hooked wide over his thick forearms, thighs burning from the stretch, cunt stuffed so full you can feel every vein pulsing against your fluttering walls. the denied orgasm throbs like a second heartbeat low in your belly, sharp and angry, every tiny clench around him sending fresh sparks of frustrated pleasure-pain up your spine. your clit is swollen and untouched now, aching where it presses uselessly against his pelvis, every shallow breath you take making it throb harder.

toji’s chest rises and falls slow against yours, sweat-slick skin sticking where your tits are crushed to him. he doesn’t move. just lets you feel him—thick, hot, unmoving—while your pussy spasms helplessly, trying to drag friction from nothing. slick drips steadily from where you’re stretched around him, pooling on the table beneath your ass in warm little puddles that cool fast against the metal.

“feel that?” he murmurs, voice low and mean, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “how full you are? how deep? you’re grippin’ me like a vice, baby—pussy’s cryin’ for it, clenchin’ over and over like it thinks it can force me to move.”

you whimper, head falling back, the back of your skull thunking softly against the table. tears of pure frustration prick at your lashes again. your hips twitch—tiny, involuntary jerks—but his grip tightens instantly, iron bands under your thighs keeping you exactly where he wants you: spread, suspended, stuffed, and denied.

“don’t,” he warns, voice dropping darker. “you move again and i pull out completely. leave you empty and drippin’ on my table like the desperate little thing you are.”

a broken sob tears out of you. “toji—please—i can’t—i need—”

“need to come?” he finishes for you, mocking, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw, forcing your face toward his so you have to look at him. his eyes are dark, pupils blown, sweat beading on his brow from how hard he’s holding himself back. “yeah, i know. been feelin’ it build twice now. felt you flutterin’ right on the edge, walls squeezin’ me so tight i almost lost it. but not yet.”

he rolls his hips once—just once—slow, deliberate, grinding the fat head against your g-spot in a lazy circle that makes your whole body seize. stars burst behind your eyelids again, breath punching out in a high, shattered whine as the pressure surges back vicious and immediate.

“see?” he rasps, holding you there, grinding shallow but deep enough to torment. “that’s all you get right now. just enough to keep you stupid and wet and beggin’. you wanna come so bad you’re shakin’—thighs burnin’, pussy leakin’ down my balls—but you don’t get to. not till i say.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving red crescents. tears slip free now, tracking hot down your cheeks. “i’ll do anything—please—toji—i’m sorry—i’ll come back—i’ll pay next time—just let me—”

he chuckles, low and cruel, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. “you’ll come back anyway. broke little college girl with a taste for premium shit and a pussy that can’t say no. but tonight?” he pulls back just enough to let the head stretch your entrance wide—cold air hitting your soaked folds for a heartbeat—before sinking back in slow, torturously slow, until he’s buried again. “tonight you learn patience.”

he starts moving again—not thrusting, not really—just tiny, shallow rolls of his hips that drag the thick ridge of his cockhead over that swollen spot inside you over and over. it’s not enough to push you over. it’s exactly enough to keep you teetering—pressure building, coiling tighter, hotter, meaner with every denied peak.

your legs shake violently in his hold, thighs quivering from being forced so wide for so long. your cunt flutters uselessly around him, slick gushing in frustrated little pulses that drip down his shaft, coating his balls, making every tiny movement wetter, louder.

“toji—” your voice cracks, raw and pleading. “it hurts—need to come—please—”

“i know it hurts, princess,” he soothes, almost gentle, but the words are filthy. “that’s the point. hurts so good you’re cryin’. pussy’s so sensitive now every little grind feels like too much. but you’re gonna take it. gonna sit here stuffed and shakin’ till i decide you’ve earned the right to fall apart.”

he leans in, lips brushing yours—not kissing, just teasing. “tell me you’ll come back next week. tell me you’ll show up short again. tell me you’ll let me edge this greedy cunt till you’re sobbin’ for it.”

you’re nodding before the words even register—frantic, desperate, tears streaming.

“yes—yes—i’ll come back—i’ll be short—i’ll beg—just please—”

he groans low, hips stuttering for a second like your words hit him hard. but he doesn’t give in.

instead he stills again—buried deep, throbbing, unmoving—watching your face crumple with fresh frustration, listening to the broken little sounds you can’t hold back.

“good girl,” he murmurs, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “next position,” he says casually, like he’s discussing the weather, already lifting you off the table. “bend over the couch this time. wanna see that ass bounce while i decide if you’ve earned the right to come at all.”

he doesn’t pull out. he just holds you there—still pinned against the table, legs hooked wide over his elbows, thighs trembling from the stretch, cunt stuffed full and throbbing around every thick inch of him. the denied orgasm still simmers under your skin, a low, angry buzz that makes every tiny shift of his hips feel like torture. your walls keep fluttering, clenching down hard in frustrated little pulses, trying to drag him deeper, to force the friction you’re starving for, but he stays perfectly still, letting you feel the full, heavy stretch without giving you a single thrust.

“feel that?” he murmurs, voice low and rough against your ear, breath hot enough to make you shiver. “how full you are? how deep i’m sittin’? every fuckin’ vein, every ridge—you’re grippin’ me like you’re scared i’ll disappear if you let go.”

you whimper, head thumping weakly back against the brick, tears of frustration clinging to your lashes again. your clit is swollen and untouched now, pulsing in time with your heartbeat, so sensitive that even the faint brush of his pelvis when he breathes makes your hips twitch involuntarily.

“toji—please—” the word cracks, barely more than a breath. “just—move. anything. i can’t—”

“can’t take it?” he finishes for you, smirking slow and mean. one hand slides up the back of your thigh, fingers digging in harder to keep your leg spread wide while the other braces against the wall beside your head, caging you in completely. “poor baby. got the whole cock now and still cryin’ for more. thought you were gonna come so pretty for me a minute ago. now look at you—shakin’, drippin’, beggin’ like a broke little whore who knows she’s gotta earn it.”

he rolls his hips once—barely an inch, just enough to drag the head along your front wall in a slow, deliberate grind that makes your breath hitch and your cunt spasm hard around him. the pressure flares bright and vicious, pushing you right back to that razor edge you were hovering on before he stopped, but he freezes again the second your thighs start to lock.

“no—no—no—” you sob, voice breaking, nails scraping uselessly down his shoulders. “don’t—don’t stop again—”

“then stay still,” he growls, low and dangerous, forehead pressed to yours now so you can’t hide your face. “you twitch, you grind, you try to fuck yourself on me? i stop. simple. i wanna feel this pussy cry for it. wanna feel how bad it wants to come without me givin’ it permission.”

your whole body is trembling—legs aching from being held so wide, cunt throbbing with every heartbeat, slick dripping steadily down where you’re joined, pooling on the floor beneath you in tiny, obscene drops. the denial is excruciating; every denied peak makes the next one build faster, meaner, until you’re not even sure you could come even if he let you. it’s too much pressure, too much need, coiled so tight it hurts.

“toji—” you whisper, voice wrecked and small. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry i came short. i’m sorry i’m broke. just—please—”

he exhales slow through his nose, eyes dark and unreadable as he watches another tear slip down your cheek.

“sorry ain’t enough anymore,” he says quietly, almost gentle, but the edge is still there. “you wanna come? you gotta convince me this tight little cunt is worth keepin’ around. tell me why i should let you fall apart on my cock when you couldn’t even bring enough cash to buy a gram.”

you swallow hard, throat clicking, words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

“because—because i’ll come back,” you choke. “i’ll come back every time. every time shoko needs more, every time i need to study, every time rent’s due and i’m short again. i’ll let you fuck me however you want. on my knees, bent over the table, against the wall—whatever. just—please let me come. please let me keep this.”

he’s quiet for a long second, cock twitching once inside you like your words hit something deep.

then he leans in, lips brushing the corner of your mouth—not a kiss, just a tease.

“good start,” he murmurs. “keep talkin’. keep tellin’ me how bad you need this cock to be your new payment plan. maybe—if you’re convincin’ enough—i’ll give you one slow thrust. just one. see if you can handle even that without fallin’ apart.”

your breath shudders out, body shaking harder, cunt clenching desperately around him as you start whispering again—broken, filthy promises, every word dripping with need—while he holds you there, spread wide and stuffed full, letting the denial burn hotter and hotter without mercy.

he finally shifts—slow, deliberate, like every decision is still his to make.

“alright,” he mutters, voice thick with restraint that’s starting to crack. “you’ve begged pretty enough. let’s see how that pussy takes it when your face is buried and your ass is up.”

he pulls out in one long, torturous drag that makes your walls flutter and clench around nothing, a broken whine spilling from your lips at the sudden emptiness. slick strings between you, thick and glistening, dripping down your inner thighs as he lowers your legs. they shake so hard you almost collapse, but his hands are already on your hips—firm, bruising—spinning you around so your front is to the couch.

“hands on the backrest,” he orders, low and rough. “ass up. spread those knees.”

you obey on trembling limbs, palms slapping against the worn faux leather, knees sinking into the cushion as you arch your back, presenting yourself. skirt still bunched around your waist, panties shoved aside and soaked through, cunt swollen and dripping, pulsing visibly in the dim light. the cool air hits your exposed skin and makes you shiver, clit throbbing painfully from all the denied peaks.

toji steps up behind you, one big hand sliding up your spine to press between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest down until your cheek smushes against the couch—fabric rough and smelling faintly of old sweat and smoke. your ass lifts higher, legs spread wide, thighs quivering from the stretch and the anticipation.

“fuckin’ look at this,” he breathes, voice reverent and filthy all at once. rough palms spread your cheeks wider, thumbs pulling your folds apart so he can see everything—how puffy and wet you are, how your hole clenches around nothing like it’s begging. “drippin’ down your thighs. pussy’s cryin’ for it. been cryin’ since you walked in short on cash.”

you whimper into the cushion, hips rocking back instinctively.

“stay,” he growls, one hand clamping on your hip to still you. the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance—hot, slick, impossibly thick—then sinks in slow, one devastating inch at a time, until his hips meet your ass and he’s buried to the hilt again.

the new angle is brutal. deeper. the head presses right against your cervix, stretching you so full your breath catches, walls spasming hard around every ridge and vein. gravity and the arch of your back let him bottom out completely, pelvis flush against your ass, balls pressed tight to your clit.

“oh—fuck—” you choke, voice muffled against the couch, fingers clawing at the leather.

he doesn’t move right away. just holds there, letting you feel him throb inside you, letting the stretch settle into your bones.

“feel that?” he rasps, voice gravel-rough. “whole cock. no more teasin’. this is what you earned, princess. now take it.”

he pulls out slow—agonizingly slow—until just the head stretches your rim, then slams back in hard enough to make the couch creak and your whole body jolt forward. the slap of skin on skin is loud, wet, obscene. every thrust punches a broken sound out of you—high, needy, wordless at first, then spilling into actual words.

“toji—oh god—toji—yes—fuck—deeper—”

he sets a punishing rhythm now—no more shallow games. long, hard strokes that drag every inch along your walls, bottoming out with a wet smack each time, his balls slapping against your clit on every plunge. the pressure builds fast—too fast—after all the edging, after every stolen orgasm. it coils low and vicious in your belly, tighter with every thrust, every grind of his hips when he bottoms out and circles there, stirring his cock inside you like he’s trying to rearrange your guts.

“gonna—gonna come—” you gasp, voice cracking, back arching harder, ass pushing back to meet him. “please—please let me—need to—”

“yeah,” he growls, one hand sliding around to find your clit—thumb pressing hard, rubbing fast, rough circles that match his thrusts. “come. fuckin’ come on my cock. soak it. show me you’re mine.”

the permission snaps something inside you.

your whole body locks up—thighs shaking, toes curling, cunt clamping down so hard around him it feels like you’re trying to trap him there forever. the orgasm rips through you like lightning—white-hot, blinding, shattering. you scream into the couch, voice raw and wrecked.

“toji—fuck—coming—coming so hard—oh god—yes—yes—”

he doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow. fucks you straight through it—harder, deeper—each thrust prolonging the waves, dragging them out until you’re shaking uncontrollably, slick gushing around his cock in messy pulses, dripping down your thighs, soaking the couch beneath you. your walls flutter and spasm wildly, milking him, and he groans low, hips stuttering for the first time as he feels you fall apart completely.

“that’s it—fuck—good girl—keep comin’—milk me—fuck—”

he keeps pounding through the aftershocks, through the way your body jerks and twitches, oversensitive and trembling, until your moans turn into soft, broken whimpers, until you’re boneless against the couch, ass still up, legs shaking, cunt still clenching weakly around him with every slow grind he gives you now.

he leans over you, chest to your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “came so pretty for me. now breathe. we’re not done yet.”

your body is still convulsing, walls clenching and releasing in erratic waves around his cock, every nerve ending firing off like exposed wires in a storm. the orgasm hasn't fully ebbed yet—it's still crashing through you, hot and relentless, making your thighs quiver uncontrollably against the couch cushion, your toes curling so hard they ache. slick gushes with every spasm, soaking the faux leather beneath you, the wet sounds obscene and echoing in the dim room as toji doesn't stop—doesn't even slow. he keeps thrusting through it all, long and deep and deliberate, each roll of his hips dragging his thick length along your oversensitive walls, grinding against that swollen spot inside that sends fresh sparks up your spine even as you whimper and twitch from the intensity.

“toji—too much—fuck—it's too sensitive—” you whine, voice muffled against the couch, raw and breaking on every syllable, your cheek scraping the rough fabric with every jolt of his hips. tears prickle at the corners of your eyes again, not from pain but from the overwhelming flood of sensation, your clit throbbing painfully where his balls slap against it on every plunge, your cunt fluttering wildly like it doesn't know whether to push him out or pull him deeper.

he chuckles low and rough behind you, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back where he's leaning over you now, one big hand planted beside your head for leverage. “shh, baby, i know—i know it's too much,” he murmurs, voice gone soft and praising even as his cock keeps splitting you open, slow and unyielding. “but you're doin' so good for me. takin' it like a champ. just breathe through it—yeah, just like that. good girl. you can handle a little more, can't you? for that special stash? for me?”

his free hand slides up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your sweat-damp hair—thick, calloused digits gathering a fistful of strands, wrapping them tight around his palm like a leash. he tugs—sharp but not cruel—yanking your head back off the couch so your back arches deeper, throat exposed, face tilting up toward the ceiling where the dim fluorescent lights blur through your tears. the pull stings at your scalp, a delicious burn that mixes with the overstimulation between your legs, making your whole body arch and tremble harder, your ass pressing back against his hips on instinct even as you sob out another plea.

“please—toji—can't—too sensitive—ah—”

“you can,” he praises, voice hot and gravelly against the shell of your ear, his breath damp and ragged from how hard he's holding himself back. “you're my good little slut, remember? comin' so pretty for me already, but we're not done. you're gonna get through this—gonna let me fuck you full 'til you're drippin' with me. then you'll get high soon, baby—real high. i'm gonna give you that new shit, the stuff that'll make your whole body float, make your pussy clench just from breathin' it in. i know you can't wait for that—can feel how you're still squeezin' me even when you're whinin' it's too much.”

he punctuates the words with a sharp slap to your ass—his big palm cracking down on the flesh where it jiggles from his thrusts, the sound echoing loud and wet in the room, the sting blooming hot and immediate across your skin. it makes you yelp, a high-pitched “fuck—toji—” slipping out as your cunt clamps down harder around him in response, fresh slick flooding out around his cock, dripping down your thighs and onto the couch below. the slap leaves a red handprint you can already feel heating up, throbbing in time with your heartbeat, and he rubs it immediately after—rough palm soothing the burn even as he tugs your hair tighter, keeping your head pulled back so he can watch your face twist in the dim light.

“see? that's it—good girl,” he groans, hips rolling slower now but deeper, gentler through the aftershocks, fucking you through the tail end of your orgasm with long, languid strokes that drag every inch along your fluttering walls. “whinin' so sweet but your pussy's lovin' it—still suckin' me in like you don't want me to stop. you're gonna get somethin' shoko never does, baby. somethin' special just for you. 'cause shoko never sucked my dick like you did—never got on her knees and choked on it for a discount. and she sure as hell never let me fuck her raw like this, never spread her legs and begged me to fill her up.”

his words sink in hot and filthy, mixing with the sensory overload—the way his cock feels impossibly thicker now, veins pulsing against your walls with every slow grind, the wet schlick of your arousal every time he bottoms out, the sting in your scalp from his fist in your hair, the lingering burn on your ass from that slap. your body is a live wire, oversensitive everywhere—clit pulsing with every brush of his balls, nipples hard and scraping against the couch fabric, thighs slick and trembling from the constant spread. the room smells thick with sex—sweat and musk and the sharp tang of your release—and the air is humid, sticking to your skin like a second layer.

“toji—oh god—gonna—again—” you gasp, voice shattering as the overstimulation flips into something sharper, hotter, the gentle thrusts building a new pressure fast, your cunt starting to flutter again in warning spasms.

“that's right—good girl—let it build,” he praises, tugging your hair just a little harder to arch you more, his other hand sliding around to grip your hip, fingers digging in to hold you steady as he keeps that slow, relentless pace. “you're doin' so fuckin' good—whinin' 'bout how sensitive you are but still pushin' back for more. i know it's too much, baby—i know—but you're gonna get through it. gonna come again for me, aren't you? gonna soak my cock and squirt all over this couch like the desperate little thing you are.”

his words push you closer, the praise wrapping around the sensitivity like fuel, making every thrust feel like it's scraping raw nerves in the best way. he picks up the pace just a fraction—still gentle, still fucking you through it—but enough to make your ass jiggle with every slap of his hips, enough to make fresh tears spill down your cheeks as the coil tightens impossibly fast. your cunt clenches hard, walls milking him in rhythmic pulses, slick building and building until—

“toji, fuck—coming—i'm squirting. . . oh god—”

it hits like a flood—sharp and sudden, your whole body seizing up as you squirt hard around his cock, clear fluid gushing out in messy spurts with every thrust, soaking his thighs, his balls, dripping down onto the couch in hot, wet puddles that spread dark stains across the faux leather. you scream into the air now—head pulled back by his fist in your hair, throat raw and exposed—the sound high and broken, “yes, yes—toji—fuuuck. too much—too good—” as he keeps moving, keeps grinding deep through the squirt, prolonging it until you're shaking violently, legs trying to close but held open by the position, ass up and trembling.

“fuck yes, good girl. . . squirtin' all over my couch like that,” he groans, voice thick with pride and hunger, his thrusts never faltering, cock throbbing harder inside you as your release coats everything. “that's what i wanted—look at this mess, my good little student payin' with her pussy and makin' it rain. you're doin' perfect, baby, keep goin', let it all out.”

he fucks you through the entire thing—gentle but insistent, dragging out every last spasm until your body's limp and spent, still twitching weakly around him, slick pooling beneath you on the couch, dripping down your legs in sticky trails. your whines turn soft and breathless, sensitivity peaking into something almost unbearable, but his praise keeps you grounded.

finally, he slows—still buried deep, cock pulsing hot inside you—but his thrusts ease into shallow rolls, letting you catch your breath as he releases your hair, hand sliding down to rub soothing circles on your back, the other still gripping your hip like he owns it. the room spins slow around you, body boneless and buzzing, the afterglow mixing with the promise of more as he leans down, lips brushing your shoulder.

“that's my girl,” he murmurs, voice soft now, almost tender. “you did so good. now breathe—'cause i'm not done fillin' you up yet.”

he’s still buried deep, hips flush against your ass, cock throbbing hot and heavy inside your oversensitive cunt as the last tremors of your squirt ripple through you. your body is limp and shaking, cheek smushed sideways against the couch cushion, drool pooling under your open mouth, hair tangled and sweat-soaked from where he’d fisted it earlier. every shallow breath you take makes your walls flutter weakly around him, milking him in soft, involuntary pulses even though you’re too wrecked to clench on purpose anymore.

toji’s breathing is ragged now—short, harsh exhales through his nose that fan hot against the nape of your neck. his big hands are braced on either side of your hips, knuckles white against the faux leather, veins bulging along his forearms as he holds himself perfectly still for a long moment, letting you feel every thick inch of him pulse inside you. the room is quiet except for the wet, sticky sounds of your combined breathing and the faint drip-drip of your release still leaking from where you’re joined, pooling in dark, glistening spots on the couch below.

“fuck,” he rasps, voice cracked and low, almost reverent. “look at you—still twitchin’ around me even after all that. pussy’s greedy as hell, baby. still tryin’ to keep me in even when you’re cryin’ it’s too much.”

you make a soft, broken sound—half whimper, half moan—too exhausted to form real words. your thighs tremble violently where they’re spread, muscles jumping every time his cock gives another lazy throb deep inside you. the overstimulation has turned everything raw: your clit is swollen and hypersensitive, brushing his balls with every tiny shift; your walls feel bruised and tender but still fluttering like they can’t decide whether to push him out or pull him deeper.

he leans down slowly, chest pressing to your back, the weight of him pinning you harder against the couch. one hand slides up your side—rough palm dragging over sweat-slick skin—until thick fingers wrap around the front of your throat, not squeezing, just holding, thumb stroking the frantic pulse there.

“gonna come,” he mutters against your ear, voice gravel and heat, hips starting to roll again—slow, deep grinds that make you gasp sharp every time he bottoms out. “been holdin’ back so long—fuuuck—your pussy’s too good. too wet. too tight. gonna fill you up, princess.”

your breath hitches. “toji—wait—”

but he doesn’t wait.

he doesn’t even ask properly.

“can i come inside?” he growls low, the words more demand than question, hips already picking up speed—short, hard thrusts now that punch the air from your lungs and make the couch creak under you both. “gonna come inside this pretty cunt—gonna pump you so full—”

you open your mouth to answer—yes, no, please, anything—but the word never makes it out.

he slams in one last time—deep, brutal, hips locking flush against your ass—and groans long and rough into your hair as he starts to come.

it’s thick.

it’s too much.

hot, heavy spurts flood you immediately, so copious you can actually feel the pressure build inside, feel every pulse of his cock as he empties himself deep in your core. rope after thick rope paints your walls, filling you until there’s nowhere left for it to go. the excess forces its way out around his shaft—creamy white leaking from where you’re stretched tight around him, dripping in slow, sticky trails down your inner thighs, splattering onto the couch cushion below in messy little puddles that mix with your own release.

“fuuuuck—take it, take every drop. . ” he grunts through clenched teeth, hips stuttering as he grinds through his orgasm, milking himself dry inside you. each shallow roll makes more leak out, the wet squelch loud and filthy in the quiet room, the sensation of being so full—so overflowing—making fresh tears slip down your cheeks even as your cunt clenches weakly around him, trying to keep it all in.

you whimper brokenly, body trembling under the weight of him, the stretch, the heat, the sheer volume of his release spilling out of you and ruining the couch even more. it’s dripping steadily now—thick strands connecting his balls to your swollen folds every time he shifts, pooling beneath you in a warm, sticky mess that soaks into the already-stained leather.

he stays buried deep for long seconds after the last pulse, breathing hard against your shoulder, cock still twitching inside you like it’s not ready to stop. one hand slides down between your thighs—fingers spreading your folds so he can watch his cum leak out in slow, obscene rivulets, thumb brushing over your oversensitive clit just once, making you jerk and sob.

“look at that,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and satisfied, almost awed. “filled you so full it’s pourin’ out. my good girl. . .takin’ all of it like you were made for it.”

he finally eases back—slow, careful—until his softening cock slips free with a wet pop. a thick gush of cum follows immediately, spilling from your gaping hole in a hot, creamy rush that drips down your thighs and onto the ruined couch, the sight so filthy it makes your face burn even through the haze.

he steps back just enough to admire it—hands spreading your cheeks again so he can see the mess he made: your pussy puffy and red, fluttering weakly, cum leaking in slow, viscous strands that stretch and break as gravity pulls them down.

“perfect,” he breathes, thumb swiping through the mess and pushing some of it back inside you like he’s marking his territory one last time. “now you’re really paid up, princess.”

he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice dropping to a rough whisper.

“stay just like that a minute. let it drip. then i’m takin’ you to the back. gonna roll you the fattest joint you’ve ever seen. somethin’ special. somethin’ that’ll have you floatin’ so high you forget your own name.”

you can only nod weakly against the couch, body boneless, thighs shaking, pussy still twitching and leaking his cum in slow, lazy drops as the aftershocks hum through you.

he chuckles soft—almost fond—and gives your ass one last gentle pat.

“good girl. you earned it.”

toji exhales slow and ragged, still catching his breath as he finally pulls back enough to look down at the mess he’s made of you. your ass is still up, face half-buried in the couch cushion, thighs trembling and slick with sweat, your pussy swollen and gaping slightly from how thoroughly he’s fucked you open. thick ropes of his cum are leaking out in lazy, creamy dribbles—sliding down your inner thighs in slow, viscous trails, pooling on the already-ruined leather below in warm, sticky puddles that glisten under the dim back-room lights.

he lets out a low, appreciative hum, one big hand smoothing down the curve of your spine like he’s petting something precious.

“fuckin’ beautiful,” he mutters, voice hoarse and wrecked. “look at this—pussy’s still twitchin’, pushin’ more of me out like it doesn’t wanna let go.”

before you can even try to move—or whimper another plea—he drops to his knees behind you.

the couch creaks as his weight shifts. rough palms slide up the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider again, thumbs hooking into the soft flesh just under your ass to hold you open. you feel the heat of his breath first—hot and damp against your oversensitive folds—then the flat of his tongue.

he licks a long, slow stripe from your clit all the way up to your leaking entrance, collecting the thick mixture of his cum and your slick in one deliberate pass. the texture is obscene: warm, salty, bitter-sweet, coating his tongue as he groans deep in his throat at the taste. he doesn’t swallow. he just keeps going—lapping at you like he’s cleaning every drop, tongue dipping inside your fluttering hole to scoop out more, swirling around your swollen clit in lazy circles that make your hips jerk despite how spent you are.

“toji. . . fuck, sensitive—” you gasp, voice cracking, trying to squirm away but his hands clamp down harder, pinning your thighs in place.

“stay,” he growls against your cunt, the vibration making you whine. “let me clean you up, baby. you made such a pretty mess—gonna taste every bit of it.”

he works methodically—broad strokes of his tongue dragging through your folds, sucking gently at your entrance to pull more cum into his mouth, lips sealing around your clit for a second just to hear you sob. the sounds are filthy: wet slurps, soft groans from deep in his chest, the occasional drip of excess that he catches before it falls. your thighs shake harder, oversensitive nerves firing off sparks every time his tongue flicks over your clit or pushes inside to chase another thick glob of his release.

when he’s satisfied—when your pussy is glistening clean but still puffy and flushed—he finally pulls back. his lips and chin are shiny with the mess, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. he doesn’t swallow. instead he rises slow, knees cracking faintly, and reaches down to help you shift.

“c’mere,” he murmurs, voice rough but softer now.

strong hands slide under your arms, lifting you gently off the couch like you weigh nothing. your legs are jelly—barely able to hold you—but he doesn’t let you fall. he turns you around, sits on the edge of the couch himself, then pulls you down onto his lap so you’re straddling him properly this time, facing him, knees planted on either side of his hips. your skirt is still rucked up around your waist, cum-smeared thighs sticking to his sweatpants, but he doesn’t care. one arm bands around your lower back to keep you close, the other hand cups the back of your neck, thumb stroking along your jaw.

your faces are inches apart now. you can see every detail: the sweat beading at his temples, the faint scar at the corner of his mouth, the way his pupils are blown wide and dark with something that looks almost like reverence.

he leans in slow—giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—and kisses you.

it’s not gentle. it’s deep and possessive from the first second. his tongue pushes past your lips immediately, carrying the thick, salty-bitter taste of his own cum mixed with your slick. he feeds it to you deliberately—slow sweeps of his tongue against yours, letting you taste every drop he’d gathered from between your legs. the flavor coats your mouth: warm, musky, faintly metallic, the unmistakable evidence of how thoroughly he’d filled you. you make a small, helpless sound into the kiss—half moan, half whimper—as he tilts your head to deepen it, tongue curling around yours to make sure you swallow every bit he’s offering.

his hand tightens on the back of your neck, keeping you right there while the other slides down to grip your ass, pulling you flush against him so you can feel the softening weight of his cock pressed between you, still slick with the remnants of both of you.

he breaks the kiss just enough to speak against your lips, voice low and gravel-rough.

“taste that?” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip, smearing a last trace of cum across it. “that’s what you do to me, princess. that’s what you earned.”

you’re too wrecked to answer—only nod weakly, lips tingling, mouth full of the taste of him, body still humming with aftershocks and the slow drip of what’s left inside you. he kisses you again—slower this time, almost lazy, like he’s savoring the mess he’s made of you both.

when he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard, one hand still cradling your face.

“stay right here,” he says quietly, almost soft. “gonna get that joint rolled. gonna make sure you float so high you forget how sensitive this little pussy is right now.”

he presses one last kiss to the corner of your mouth—gentle, almost sweet—then eases you off his lap onto the couch beside him, tucking your skirt down absently like it matters.

“don’t move,” he adds with a crooked grin, standing on legs that are still a little unsteady. “you’ve earned every fuckin’ puff.”

you’re slumped on the edge of the couch now, legs pressed together like that’ll somehow stop the dull, delicious ache between them. your skirt is smoothed back down—mostly—panties readjusted but still damp and clinging uncomfortably, cotton soaked through with the mix of both of you. every tiny shift makes your sore pussy throb, a reminder of how thoroughly toji stretched and filled you, how much cum he pumped inside until it leaked out in thick, creamy rivers despite your body trying to keep it all. your thighs are sticky, skin still flushed and sensitive, and when you cross your legs it sends a fresh, traitorous pulse straight to your clit. your legs tremble faintly when you try to stand, so you stay seated, phone pressed to your ear, trying to sound normal.

shoko’s voice crackles through the speaker on full blast because your hands are too shaky to hold it steady.

“what the fuck is taking you so long?” she drawls, lazy and annoyed, the unmistakable clink of ice in a glass in the background. “you’ve been gone for like two hours. did he rob you? did you get lost in the weight room? blink twice if you need rescue.”

in the background gojo’s voice cuts in, loud and obnoxious as always. “she’s probably negotiating with her tits out. classic y/n move. did you flash him yet? show the goods for the discount?”

geto’s quieter laugh follows, warm and amused. “she’s fine. probably just haggling. or getting high without us. rude.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to keep your voice even even though your cunt is still pulsing with aftershocks and you can feel another slow trickle of toji’s cum leaking out, soaking into the already-ruined fabric of your panties.

“i’m not flashing anyone,” you snap, voice a little too high, a little too breathless. “and i’m not getting high without you assholes. he’s just… slow. packaging shit. you know how dealers are.”

shoko snorts. “uh-huh. sure. you sound weird. out of breath. did he make you run laps or something?”

gojo cackles. “laps on his dick maybe—”

“shut the fuck up, satoru,” you hiss, cheeks burning so hot you’re grateful no one can see you right now. “i’m fine. i’ve got the stash. i’m coming back in a few minutes. and don’t be a bitch about it—this is your fault. you’re the one who ran out the day before our presentation and sent me into shinjuku like some sacrificial lamb because ‘he likes new girls’ and ‘you’ve got tits he hasn’t seen yet.’ so sit your ass down, sip your wine, and wait.”

shoko laughs—low, smug, unbothered. “okay, okay, princess. just hurry up. gojo’s already eaten half the pizza and geto’s about to start the second season without you.”

“we’re not starting without her,” geto says mildly in the background. “she’s the only one who remembers the plot anyway.”

“then tell gojo to stop being a gremlin and save me a slice,” you mutter. “i’ll be there in—”

the couch dips beside you.

toji drops down heavy and casual, like he didn’t just ruin you against a wall and on this very couch ten minutes ago. he’s shirtless again, sweatpants slung low, that same lazy, predatory grin curling his mouth as he sets the small black box on the cushion between you. he flips it open one-handed, pulls out several dense, glittering nugs—deep purples and greens flecked with crystals—and starts dropping them into a couple of small ziplocks with practiced flicks of his thick fingers.

your breath catches. he’s close enough that you can smell him again—sweat, musk, sex, the faint citrus of whatever cleaner he uses in this grimy gym—and feel the heat radiating off his bare skin. your sore pussy gives a weak, traitorous flutter at the proximity, a reminder of how full he’d been, how much he’d left inside you.

shoko’s still talking. “—and if you don’t bring at least an eighth i’m not letting you hit the indica. you know the rules.”

toji glances at you sideways, eyes glinting with amusement as he seals one bag, then another. he leans in just enough that his shoulder brushes yours, voice dropping to a murmur only you can hear while shoko rambles on.

“tell her you got more than an eighth,” he says quietly, lips barely moving. “tell her you earned the premium shit. the stuff that makes you see colors.”

you swallow hard, thighs pressing together again as another slow drip escapes you, warm and thick against your folds.

“i’ve got it,” you say into the phone, trying to sound annoyed instead of wrecked. “more than an eighth. premium. the good shit. i’ll be there in a few minutes with the fucking stash. stop bitching.”

shoko starts to say something else—probably another smartass comment—but you don’t wait.

you hang up.

the second the call ends you let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping. your legs are still trembling faintly, pussy sore and swollen, every shift reminding you of the stretch, the fullness, the way he’d fucked you through your orgasm until you squirted all over his couch. and now you’re sitting here leaking his cum while he casually packs weed like nothing happened.

toji chuckles low, sealing the last bag and sliding the small pile toward you—three fat eighths, easily, plus a couple extra grams in a separate little packet that looks different, darker, stickier.

“special stash,” he says simply, tapping the extra one. “like i promised. the one that makes your whole body float. makes your pussy clench just from breathin’ it. shoko’s never touched this shit.”

he leans back, one arm slung across the couch behind you, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“you gonna be able to walk outta here, princess?” he asks, voice teasing but not cruel. “or you need me to carry you to your shitty civic?”

you glare at him—weakly—cheeks still flushed, legs still shaky, but you manage to snatch the bags and shove them into your purse with trembling fingers.

“i can walk,” you mutter, even though you’re not entirely sure. “just… give me a second.”

he grins wider, eyes dragging down your body like he’s remembering every position he had you in.

“take your time,” he says, voice dropping low again. “you earned it.”

you stand—slow, careful—thighs sticking together, a fresh trickle of his cum sliding down your inner thigh as you do. you ignore it. ignore the way your cunt throbs in protest. ignore the way toji watches every shaky step like he’s already planning round two.

you’re halfway to the door when he calls after you, casual as anything.

“next time you need more,” he says, “don’t send shoko. come yourself. cash or no cash.”

you don’t answer.

you just push through the door into the humid night air, legs trembling, pussy still leaking him, purse heavy with the best weed you’ve ever held—and the knowledge that you’re absolutely, irrevocably fucked.

in every sense of the word.

you stumble out of the gym into the thick july night, the door clanging shut behind you like the final punctuation on whatever the fuck just happened. the air is still sweltering, sticky against your skin, but it feels cooler than the humid back room you just left. your legs are jelly—every step sends a dull, throbbing reminder through your sore pussy, the sticky warmth of toji’s cum still leaking slow and thick into your panties, soaking the cotton until it clings uncomfortably between your folds. you have to pause once, leaning against the brick wall outside, breathing shallow through your nose as another trickle escapes and slides down your inner thigh. you press your legs together harder, trying to trap it, but it only makes your clit twitch in protest.

your purse feels heavier than it should—three fat eighths plus that extra special packet of the dark, sticky shit toji called “the one that makes your whole body float.” you can already smell it faintly through the ziplocks: sweet, earthy, with that sharp citrus edge that promises oblivion.

the civic is parked crookedly half a block away. you make it there on shaky legs, slide into the driver’s seat, and immediately regret it—the cracked faux leather is cold against the backs of your thighs, and sitting down presses everything sore and swollen right where it hurts most. you hiss through your teeth, shift your hips, try to find a position that doesn’t make you whimper. it doesn’t exist.

you start the car. the ac blasts lukewarm air that does nothing for the heat still radiating off your skin. your phone buzzes in the cup holder—shoko again. you ignore it, put the car in drive, and crawl through traffic like you’re ninety years old.

by the time you pull up to the apartment complex, your thighs are sticking together worse than before, and every bump in the road makes you bite your lip to keep from moaning. you kill the engine, sit there for a second with your forehead on the steering wheel, breathing slow. you can still taste him—salty, bitter, musky—coating the back of your tongue from that filthy kiss. your lips feel swollen. your whole body feels branded.

you grab your purse, step out carefully, and hobble toward the building like you’ve just run a marathon in heels you don’t own.

the door to shoko’s place is cracked open—music leaking out, low bass and laughter. you push inside.

the living room smells like pizza grease, weed residue from last week, and shoko’s signature cheap rosé. gojo’s sprawled on the floor in front of the tv, controller in hand, yelling at the screen. geto’s cross-legged on the couch, scrolling his phone, looking amused. shoko’s in the kitchen doorway, wine glass dangling from her fingers, one eyebrow already arched like she’s been waiting to dissect you.

they all look up at once.

gojo’s the first to speak, grin splitting wide and evil.

“holy shit. you look like you got hit by a truck. or fucked by one.”

shoko snorts into her glass. “told you. two hours? that’s rookie numbers for toji. what’d he do, make you lift weights first?”

geto doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head, dark eyes scanning you slowly—your flushed cheeks, the way you’re standing a little too carefully, legs pressed together, the faint tremor in your hands as you clutch your purse like a lifeline.

you force a scowl, hobble over to the couch, and drop down beside geto as gracefully as you can manage. the impact makes you wince—your pussy clenches involuntarily around nothing, a fresh gush of cum-soaked slick seeping out. you cross your legs tight, pray it doesn’t show through your skirt.

“here,” you mutter, yanking the ziplocks out of your purse and tossing them onto the coffee table. three fat eighths land with soft thuds, plus the smaller special packet that glints darker under the lamp. “premium. coma slut and whatever the fuck that extra shit is. happy now?”

shoko’s eyes widen. she sets her wine down, leans forward, picks up the special bag like it’s holy.

“wait. this is—the heavy one? the one he only gives out if you—”

she cuts herself off, looks at you again. really looks. at the way your mascara is smudged (you’d tried to wipe it in the car mirror but gave up), the faint red mark on your neck you hadn’t noticed until now, the way you’re sitting like every movement hurts in the best-worst way.

gojo crawls over on his knees, snatches one of the regular bags, cracks it open, inhales deep.

“smells like money and bad decisions,” he says cheerfully. then his eyes flick to you. “you smell like sex and gym mats, though. spill.”

“i don’t smell like anything,” you snap, too fast. your voice cracks on the end.

geto finally speaks, quiet and amused, not looking up from his phone.

“you’re walking funny.”

shoko’s grin turns downright demonic.

“oh my god. you didn’t just get the discount. you got the full toji experience.”

“shut up,” you hiss, cheeks burning. “he was just… slow. packaging took forever. that’s all.”

gojo cackles so hard he falls backward onto the carpet. “packaging. sure. with what? his dick?”

shoko picks up the special packet again, holds it up to the light.

“this shit? he doesn’t give this to anyone. not even me. and i’ve been buying from him for two years.” she looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “what the hell did you do to him?”

you snatch the bag from her fingers, shove it back into your purse like it’s evidence you need to hide.

“nothing. i just—talked to him. negotiated. like a normal person.”

geto finally sets his phone down, leans back, arms crossed, smiling that calm, knowing smile that makes you want to die.

“you’re glowing,” he says simply. “and you smell like latex and regret. congratulations.”

gojo sits up, eyes sparkling with chaos.

“did he call you princess? did he make you say thank you? did he—”

“i’m going to the bathroom,” you announce, standing too fast. your legs wobble, pussy throbbing in protest, another slow drip escaping down your thigh. you clamp your legs together, ignore the way shoko’s eyes flick down and her grin widens.

“sure,” she calls after you. “wash his cum off your thighs and come back so we can smoke your hard-earned pussy discount.”

you flip her off without turning around, hobble down the hall, lock yourself in the bathroom, and sink onto the closed toilet lid with your head in your hands.

your phone buzzes.

unknown number.

you open it.

one message.

toji: next time bring cash. or don’t. either way, door’s open.

you stare at the screen for a long second, heart thudding, sore cunt giving one last weak flutter at the memory.

you delete the message.

then you screenshot it anyway.

because you’re already thinking about next time.

and you hate that you’re already thinking about next time.

you splash water on your face, fix your mascara as best you can, and head back out to the living room where your friends are waiting to roast you alive.

you’re fucked.

in every sense of the word.

and the worst part?

his grin grows sharp. “good.”

he pulls your panties down slow, like he’s savoring it. you try to squeeze your thighs together, but he pushes them apart with both hands and settles between them like he belongs there.

and god—when he looks down at you, he looks hungry.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he mutters, running a thumb through your folds. “bet you’re gonna taste even sweeter than you smell.”

he says it like it’s a fact. like your pussy was made for him to devour. and then, without even waiting, he lowers his head and does exactly that.

your whole body jolts.

his tongue is hot and flat and everywhere. he licks into you like he means it, moaning low in his throat when your hips jerk up toward his face. his fingers spread your lips and he sucks your clit into his mouth like he’s trying to memorize how you sound when you cry out his name.

“sukuna—please—i—”

“shh,” he mumbles against your cunt. “just let me eat.”

and he does. he doesn’t stop. not when you cum the first time. not when your thighs clamp around his ears. not even when you’re whining from overstimulation and begging him to slow down. he pulls another orgasm from you like it’s easy. like it’s what he’s best at.

when he finally sits back, his lips and chin are soaked. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at you like he’s ready to ruin you entirely.

“you ever seen a dick before, sweetheart?”

you blink, dazed. “um… no.”

he laughs. “fuck. you’re killin’ me.”

you watch as he strips off his shirt, then undoes his belt with one hand and pushes his pants down just enough to free himself. your eyes widen—he’s thick. long and veiny and already hard as a rock.

“yeah,” he says, grinning when he catches your expression. “you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

“that’s not very reassuring,” you breathe.

he leans down to kiss you again. slower this time. almost… sweet.

his mouth is soft against yours, but there’s heat behind it—like he’s trying to press something into you without saying it out loud. it’s not hungry like earlier. not cocky. just warm. his palm cradles your cheek, thumb brushing over your jaw as his lips part yours, slow and lingering. like he wants you to feel it. like he wants you to remember.

you kiss him back because you can’t not. because your body is still buzzing, and your thighs are still trembling, and the ache between your legs is starting to settle into something that feels like a craving. your hand slides into his hair without thinking, fingers twisting in the soft pink strands as he pulls away just enough to look at you.

he’s staring again. that intense, unreadable kind of stare that makes you squirm even when he’s not touching you. his eyes flicker down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes, like he’s trying to decide what to do with you next. like he’s still hungry but doesn’t want to scare you.

and then he smiles.

not the smug one. not the frat-boy grin he wears like armor in front of his friends. this one’s different. smaller. tilted. like he’s looking at a secret and he’s the only one who knows it.

“still okay?” he murmurs.

you nod, but the way your chest rises and falls gives you away. he notices. of course he does. his hand slides down your body again—fingertips grazing your collarbone, the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip. he stops when he reaches your thigh, palm resting there like it belongs.

his hand slips down, past your hip, between your legs, fingers brushing through the slick heat of your cunt like he already knows what he’ll find. he groans, almost to himself.

you want to hide, but there’s nowhere to go. he’s all around you. all you can do is bite your lip as his fingers glide through your folds again, spreading the wetness up toward your clit and circling it slowly. the motion makes your thighs twitch, your back arch, breath catch in your throat.

you nod again, smaller this time, and your eyes flutter open to see him staring down at you. completely focused. no trace of a smirk. just him. just sukuna.

he shifts his weight to one forearm and reaches between you with the other hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your entrance. you tense without meaning to.

“breathe,” he says, low and even. “don’t rush it.”

you try.

the blunt pressure of him pressing against your cunt is overwhelming. he’s warm, and so much bigger than you thought—your body resists at first, muscles clenching up from instinct, nerves fraying at the edges. but he doesn’t push. not all at once. he lets you open up around him, inch by slow inch, shallow thrusts that ease him inside while his hand rubs soothing circles against your hip.

it burns. not sharp, but enough to make your eyes water. your fingers dig into his biceps, and he pauses. stills. watches your face.

“talk to me,” he says, voice quiet. “you want to stop?”

you shake your head immediately. “no. just—don’t move yet.”

he doesn’t.

he leans in and kisses your temple. then your cheek. then the corner of your mouth. his hand strokes your thigh gently, grounding you. and the longer he stays still, the more the sting starts to fade, melting into something thicker, heavier. the ache of being full. stretched. claimed.

your body adjusts. slowly. trembling at first, but growing used to the weight of him.

“you’re doing so good,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours. “fuck, you feel good. tight little pussy grippin’ me like she doesn’t wanna let go.”

you whimper at the sound of it—the filth in his voice made worse by how soft he says it. not taunting. not cruel. just honest. reverent, even. like he can’t believe you’re letting him have this. letting him in.

you shift your hips, just slightly, and the movement pulls a hiss from his teeth.

“you okay?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “keep going.”

he does. slowly. rolling his hips in shallow, careful thrusts that make your breath catch all over again. he watches your face like a man obsessed. like every twitch of your brows or gasp of your mouth tells him something he needs to know.

you didn’t think sex could feel like this.

you didn’t think sukuna could feel like this.

his rhythm is steady, hips drawing back and sliding in deeper each time. your cunt flutters around him, wet, hot, and messy, and the sound it makes, so sticky and obscene, has him groaning low in your ear.

“fuck,” he grits. “gonna ruin you.”

he already has. your legs wrap around his waist without thinking, ankles crossing at the small of his back to pull him closer. deeper. he groans again and dips his head to your throat, mouthing at the sensitive skin there, biting just enough to make your back arch.

his cock hits something deeper now, and your breath stutters.

“that’s it,” he mutters. “there she is. right there, huh?”

your fingernails dig into his back as he keeps fucking into that spot, slow and mean. your nerves are raw again, pleasure crawling up your spine in hot little sparks as his pace picks up.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” he pants, rubbing your clit in tight circles while he fucks you through the growing pressure in your belly. “wanna feel this pretty pussy squeeze me. give it to me.”

you nod, desperate, dizzy, tears threatening to slip past your lashes as the pleasure tips you over the edge—and you break.

your orgasm floods through you fast and hard, thighs shaking, breath hitched, pussy fluttering around him like you were made for it. sukuna doesn’t slow down. doesn’t stop. he fucks you through it, watches you fall apart like it’s his religion, his reason.

you hear yourself sob his name. a weak, shattered little sound.

and sukuna—he kisses you. he kisses you like he’s never tasted anything sweeter.

you’re still shaking when he groans into your mouth.

your cunt is pulsing around him, like your body doesn’t know how to let go of him. like it doesn’t want to. every time your walls flutter, his breath catches. every moan you spill into his mouth has him swearing low under his breath, hips stuttering against yours like he’s fighting the urge to lose it.

he’s still holding back. still trying to fuck you slow. you’re not sure how long he can keep it up.

“fuck,” he rasps, forehead pressed to yours. “you feel so fuckin’ good, baby. so warm… so tight around me—shit.”

his voice cracks on the last word, guttural and half-choked. he’s sweating now. his back slick under your fingertips, arms braced beside your head, and his thighs trembling just barely with every thrust. he’s close. so close. but he’s still watching you—eyes flicking between your face and the way your body grips his cock with every roll of his hips.

you don’t even think before whispering, “wanna feel you cum.”

and that breaks him.

his next thrust is deeper. harder. he buries himself all the way inside, cock hitting your cervix as he groans deep in his chest, raw and unfiltered. you feel him throb, cock twitching as he cums hard inside of you—hips jerking once, twice, like his body’s still catching up to the wave crashing over him.

he doesn’t pull out right away. he just stays there, shaking a little, mouth slack and forehead resting on yours while he rides out every last pulse of it. his weight feels good. the room is quiet except for your breathing—yours fast and shallow, his deep and heavy like he’s been sprinting.

and then—he laughs. a breathless kind of laugh, hoarse around the edges, like he can’t believe what just happened. “holy fuck,” he mutters.

you can’t help it—you giggle. dazed, still out of it, but lightheaded enough that the sound bubbles out of you naturally. your body feels like melted wax. warm, soft, spread open beneath him like you belong there.

sukuna lifts his head, looks down at you. he’s still catching his breath, but there’s a glow to him now—flushed cheeks, damp hair sticking to his temples, that smirk of his curling back into place, but slower. softer. like the fight’s gone out of it.

“you good?” he asks.

you nod. “you?”

he chuckles again, pulling out with a soft groan. you wince at the sudden emptiness—already missing the way he filled you. reaching for a towel off the floor. it’s… surprisingly clean. you blink at that.

he gently wipes between your legs, not looking at you too closely while he does. like if he makes it a thing, you’ll start feeling awkward about it. but the way his touch lingers a little too long at your thigh says otherwise.

when he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and flops back onto the mattress next to you, arm tucked behind his head, bare chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths.

you stay quiet. he doesn’t push.

the silence settles. not uncomfortable, but not familiar either. like standing on a bridge you’re not sure you’re supposed to cross. and then, just when you start to turn your head toward him, he breaks it.

“you were really fuckin’ cute,” he says.

you blink. “what?”

“before,” he continues, smirking without looking at you. “all shy and squirmy. you were tryna act like you weren’t already soaked for me.”

you roll your eyes and nudge his shoulder. “you’re so annoying.”

“uh-huh,” he says, stretching an arm toward you lazily. “get over here, though.”

you hesitate. not because you don’t want to. but because what does this mean?

still, your body makes the decision for you, rolling into his side and letting him wrap an arm around your waist like it’s the easiest thing in the world. his skin is hot. the room smells like sweat and sex and faint traces of his cologne. and when you settle your cheek against his chest, his fingers move without thinking—tracing lazy shapes down your spine.

“you’re gonna be sore tomorrow,” he mumbles. almost apologetic. almost smug.

“i know.”

he pauses. then: “…you ever think about doin’ this again?”

you look up at him, but he’s not looking at you. his gaze is on the ceiling now. casual. but his jaw’s a little tense, and his throat bobs when he swallows, like he’s not as relaxed as he wants to seem.

you wait.

he finally glances down at you.

“not with anyone else,” he says. “just me.”

you blink.

“i mean—” he stretches again, like he’s shaking it off. “not sayin’ it’s a thing or whatever. just… if you ever wanna do it again. or stay over. or sleep in. or like… let me cook you pancakes or some shit. y’know. no pressure.”

you try not to smile too hard. you fail.

“…what if i want pancakes and sex?”

then his phone lights up. he doesn’t stop, reaches over with one hand, thumb swiping answer while the other keeps your hips pinned.

“yeah,” he grunts into the speaker. “target’s still breathing. give me twenty.”

he rolls his hips hard on the last word, his cockhead grinding right where it makes you stupid. you whimper loud enough the guy on the line probably hears. toji’s eyes flick to you. “open,” he mouths, silent.

you do. he slides two thick fingers past your lips, pressing down on your tongue so you can’t make another sound. the guy keeps talking money, timelines, whatever. toji nods along, fucking you deeper, slow drags that have your eyes rolling back.

“mm-hmm,” he hums, curling his fingers in your mouth when you start to drool. “i’ll handle it tonight.”

you come clenching around him, whole body shaking, muffled around his fingers. he grunts once, low, then spills inside you with a lazy thrust, filling you up while still on the call like it’s nothing.

but you’re not done. you lift your hips slow, greedy, and sink back down, dragging his half-hard cock along your soaked walls just to feel the stretch again. you roll your hips in circles, grinding the thick head against that spot inside that makes your breath hitch, thighs trembling from how sensitive you still are.

his fingers slip from your mouth, wet with spit, and land heavy on your waist like he’s gonna stop you. instead his grip tightens. you do it again (lift, drop, grind) and catch the tiniest twitch of his hips up into you, a rough exhale through his nose.

he likes it. likes you using him while he’s still leaking inside you, likes the messy drag of his own cum making it slicker, likes watching you fuck yourself stupid on a cock that’s already hard again, impossibly fast, stretching you open while the guy on the line keeps droning about drop points and payment.

toji mutes the call for half a second, growls “keep fucking yourself on me, doll” against your throat, then unmutes like nothing happened and answers with a bored “uh-huh” while you ride him harder with his cum dripping down your thighs.

and you are. but you don’t tell him that.

because this is your ritual. your thing. it doesn’t matter whose party it is, which frat’s throwing it, or how many people are packed into the house, you and sukuna always end up here. same couch. same banter. same rhythm that’s been beating between the two of you since freshman year.

you lean back, pulling your legs up to sit cross-legged beside him. his thigh is warm where it brushes yours, and you try not to notice it.

“how many girls have you hit on tonight?” you ask, reaching for his drink and taking a sip without asking.

he hums thoughtfully. “define hit on.”

you raise a brow. “sukuna.”

“what?” he says, mock innocence dripping from his tone. “i’m just being friendly.”

you scoff. “you’re incapable of being just friendly.”

“you wound me, princess.”

you shove his shoulder and he laughs, head tipping back, throat exposed. and for a second, just a second, your brain short-circuits.

because sukuna’s hot. like, really hot. the kind of hot that should come with a warning label. tattoos and sharp smiles and sleepy bedroom eyes. he looks like every bad decision you’ve ever avoided on purpose.

and he’s your best friend.

your completely infuriating, manwhore of a best friend.

he’s the guy who once had a threesome during finals week and then showed up to study group with glitter in his hair. the one who keeps condoms in every coat pocket and probably knows the names of every bouncer on campus. the same guy who used to text you from girls’ beds, complaining about how their playlist sucked.

and somehow, despite all of that, you adore him.

maybe because he listens when you talk too much, because he knows all your dumb fixations and lets you rant about them for hours. because no matter how many people he flirts with, he always ends up back here, next to you.

“you thinking about me?” he says suddenly, smirking when you blink at him.

“i was thinking about how many diseases you’ve probably caught from this couch,” you deadpan.

he throws his head back again and laughs, loud and unbothered.

“god, you’re mean.”

“you like it.”

“unfortunately.”

you nudge his leg with yours again, more gentle this time. the party rages around you, but this little bubble, this spot on the couch where it’s just the two of you, feels untouchable.

you’ve known sukuna for almost three years now. met him during your first week at university, at some wild frat party you barely remember. you were tipsy and rambling to someone about your favorite childhood tv show and he cut in just to mock your taste. and never left you alone after that.

he’s been a part of your life ever since. group hangouts, movie nights, drunk phone calls at 2am. he’s there. always.

and somewhere along the way, you started telling him everything. even the stupid shit. especially the stupid shit. like how you spent two hours last night researching the mating habits of deep-sea anglerfish. or how you’re pretty sure your TA is in love with the guy who sits next to you.

you talk, and sukuna listens.

sometimes he teases. sometimes he gets this look, soft around the eyes, like he doesn’t even realize he’s staring. and then it’s gone. back to smirks and sarcasm.

you’ve tried not to think too hard about it.

you’re practically tangled up on the couch, like limbs and laughter and shared space all wrapped into one. sukuna’s arm is draped over your shoulders, loose but protective, and your head is tucked just beneath his chin, warm against his chest. his heartbeat is steady, slow, something grounding beneath your ear that feels like a secret only the two of you know.

it’s not flashy or dramatic. it’s the quiet kind of intimacy that’s grown over late nights and early mornings, over inside jokes and too many half-remembered conversations. it’s the softness behind his usual sharp edges, the way his hand casually rests on your arm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you reach up and thread your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. he tenses for a moment, then relaxes, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. “you’re such an annoying pest,” he mutters, voice low and rough, but you catch the warmth underneath like a whispered promise.

“you love it,” you say softly, the words a little breathless, like you don’t want to break the moment.

the party buzzes around you, loud, messy, chaotic, but it all fades into white noise. out here, pressed close to him, none of that matters. no flashing lights, no drunken shouts, no prying eyes.

just you and sukuna.

and somehow, even after all the teasing and the bickering and the ridiculous banter, this is where the real stuff lives. in the easy silence. in the way your fingers find his hand without thinking. in the quiet understanding that you’re both exactly where you want to be, even if you don’t say it out loud.

it’s the kind of closeness that’s almost too much and not enough all at once, like your hearts are so tangled up they might burst, but you don’t have to do anything about it. not yet.

because this is your truth. your safe place. the quiet love that’s been hiding behind all the noise from the very start.

“you see who maki came with?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“nah,” you say, glancing around. “who?”

“some guy named dan. total finance bro. talks like a podcast.”

you snort. “god. maki deserves better.”

“everyone deserves better than a dan.”

you hum in agreement, stealing another sip of his drink. he doesn’t complain. he never does.

“what about you?” you ask. “eyeing anyone tonight?”

it’s a casual question. one you’ve asked a hundred times. but this time, he pauses.

“nah,” he says finally. “not really feelin’ it.”

you frown. “you? not in the mood to flirt? is the world ending?”

he shrugs, gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“maybe i’m growing up.”

you snort. “you literally mooned someone from a moving car last weekend.”

he grins. “growing up gradually.”

you laugh, and he looks at you again. and this time… he doesn’t look away.

“you know,” he says slowly, “you’re kind of the only reason i come to these things anymore.”

your heart skips.

you try to play it off. “because i’m the only one who tolerates you?”

“because you’re the only one who gets me,” he says, voice low. quieter than before. “like… actually gets me.”

you blink. your stomach flips.

but before you can respond, someone calls his name across the room.

he sighs and leans back, rubbing a hand over his face.

“hold that thought,” he says, standing. “gotta go break up whatever stupid shit gojo’s doing.”

you watch him disappear into the crowd, smiling as you watch his back muscles flex with each swing of his arms, you understood the appeal, he was a sexy man. in his own little fashion, he thought of you the exact same way, a drop dead gorgeous girl with a heart of gold, but you’d never even guessed he thought of you as such, after all, what would give you any sort of sign that he was into you when the latest rumour was that he was sleeping around with hot sorority chicks every weekend?

~

the party’s died down hours ago. the house is trashed, half-lit, and still pulsing faintly with leftover bass through the walls. the beer pong table’s been abandoned, someone’s hoodie is hanging from the ceiling fan, and there’s a questionable stain on the rug no one’s talking about.

geto’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with a half-empty bottle of tequila, choso’s sprawled on the loveseat looking like he’s already halfway to sleep, and gojo’s perched on the arm of the couch with a wine glass he definitely didn’t bring himself.

sukuna’s nursing a beer. slouched in a worn-out recliner with his head tilted back, eyes closed, shoulders loose in that i’m relaxed but still kind of pissed way he always gets when he’s overthinking.

he hasn’t said much since reader left.

“sukuna, man,” gojo starts, words slurring a little, “are you going fucking celibate? you haven’t fucked a chick in damn near two months.”

geto snorts, tilting his bottle toward sukuna. “what, you give it up for lent or something?”

“maybe he got neutered,” choso mumbles into a throw pillow.

gojo gasps. “don’t say that, that’s so sad. think of all the women out there missing out.”

sukuna doesn’t open his eyes. just raises his middle finger in their general direction and takes a slow pull from his drink.

“i’m serious,” gojo continues. “you used to be the first one out the door with some girl pressed up against the wall. now you’re… what, sitting on a couch all night with your weird little bestie and dodging blowjobs like they’re the plague.”

geto leans back, watching sukuna over the lip of his drink. “she’s not just some bestie though, huh?”

that gets sukuna’s attention. his eyes crack open, dark and unreadable. “don’t start.”

“not starting anything,” geto says, smirking. “just saying. you used to be all about the sorority chicks with fake lashes and daddy issues. now you’re glued to sunshine incarnate.”

gojo lets out a bark of laughter. “please. she’s too sweet for him. sukuna’d ruin her. he needs someone who can keep up with the slut energy.”

sukuna’s jaw ticks.

choso blinks at the ceiling. “she did bring cupcakes to the last pregame.”

“exactly,” gojo says, dramatic as ever. “she’s, like, wife-coded. sukuna doesn’t do wife-coded.”

“maybe he’s bored,” geto says. “maybe he’s finally fucked so many girls that his dick gave up and retired.”

that gets a laugh from the others, loud and easy.

sukuna doesn’t laugh.

he doesn’t say a word.

he just sits there, beer forgotten in his hand, staring into the dim space between the couch and the coffee table, jaw clenched, heart beating a little too loud in his chest.

because they don’t get it. they don’t know.

they don’t know how it feels to sit beside someone who trusts you with everything and have to pretend you don’t want to kiss them every time they smile.

they don’t know what it’s like to want something real for once. something soft. something that doesn’t taste like regret the morning after.

they don’t know how long it’s been since he’s touched anyone else. how the thought of it makes his stomach turn. how no one else even registers anymore. how she ruined him for all of it without even trying.

and he’s not gonna tell them.

because they wouldn’t believe him anyway.

so he just shifts in his chair, downs the rest of his drink, and says, flat and final, “maybe i’m just waiting for the right girl.”

it shuts them up for a second.

then gojo laughs again and geto raises his brows like he’s not sure whether he’s joking, and choso mutters something about being too high for this conversation.

but sukuna’s not joking.

not even a little.

the teasing eventually fades, replaced by the quiet clink of bottles and the hum of low music someone forgot to turn off. choso’s officially half-asleep, sprawled sideways across the loveseat with a blanket someone definitely didn’t offer him. geto’s back to nursing the tequila bottle like it personally wronged him, and gojo’s now laying upside down on the couch, legs dangling off the back like he’s trying to cause a scene with gravity.

“so,” choso mumbles, voice thick and lazy. “that mixer next weekend still on?”

“yeah,” gojo says without moving. “gamma’s throwing it with phi sig. should be decent. free drinks and better music than last time. they’re renting actual speakers this time, not just hijacking someone’s spotify on a jbl.”

“can i bring shiu?” choso asks, blinking slow like it takes effort.

“yeah,” gojo says, waving his hand. “he’s in delta nu, right?”

choso hums something that might be a yes or might be the sound of sleep taking him.

sukuna sits up slightly, beer bottle still hanging from his fingers. “can i bring y/n?”

gojo doesn’t even hesitate.

“nah.”

sukuna’s jaw clenches. “why not?”

“you know why not,” gojo says, finally flipping over to sit upright. “it’s a greek-only mixer. she’s not in a frat or a sorority.”

“she’s basically in this frat,” sukuna says, a little sharper than he means to. “she’s at every party. she knows everyone. she’s closer to you assholes than half the pledges.”

geto sighs, not looking up. “that’s not the point. the chapters are paying for the event. they want it to stay within the system. it’s political.”

“it’s bullshit,” sukuna mutters.

“you think i don’t agree?” gojo says, more gently now. “i love her. she’s our friend. but if one non-greek shows up, it opens the door for more, and then it’s a whole thing. alumni get pissy. mixers stop happening. and for what? a night where she already has better places to be?”

sukuna’s quiet for a second.

the air goes still.

because yeah, maybe you do have better places to be. you’re always buzzing around campus, always getting invited to every little thing. somehow you’ve charmed everyone without even trying. the girl who bakes cookies for your friends and brings tupperware to parties. the girl who’ll sit and talk with a drunk freshman for forty-five minutes just to make sure she gets home safe. the one everyone trusts, everyone likes.

but you’re not one of them.

not on paper.

not enough to be invited.

and it stings in a way sukuna can’t explain without sounding like he cares too much.

“she wouldn’t even care,” geto says after a beat. “she probably wouldn’t wanna go anyway.”

sukuna shakes his head slowly. “she would. not for the party. just to be around us.”

“then invite her to the after,” gojo says, too casually. “she can come once the official stuff’s over. like always.”

and that’s what gets under his skin.

like always.

like you’re some shadow they keep waiting in the wings. welcome, but not official. close, but not close enough. always there, always giving, and never asking for anything back.

but sukuna knows you.

knows you’d never say it hurts. never ask for an invite. never press your nose against the glass and say you want in. because you’re sweet. because you don’t want to make a scene. because you think you’re lucky just to be included at all.

and maybe that’s what kills him most.

sukuna doesn’t respond right away. just rolls the bottle between his hands and nods once, like it doesn’t bother him. like it’s fine.

but it does bother him.

because you've been at every party, every hangout, every busted-up couch gathering like this one. you're as much a part of this group as any of them, maybe more. you're the glue, the heart. the one person who always shows up and always makes it better just by being there.

and suddenly you're not allowed?

he gets it. he does. house rules. dumb frat politics. whatever. but still.

he’s never wanted to bring someone to one of these before. never even thought about it. but the second it came up, your name was already halfway out of his mouth.

and now it’s stuck there, burning.

gojo reaches over, clinks his glass against sukuna’s bottle. “next time, yeah?”

sukuna forces a tight smile and tips his drink back.

“yeah,” he lies. “next time.”

~

the next night.

it’s late when you hear the knock.

past eleven. campus is quiet outside your window, the kind of stillness that only happens after a long day of classes and too much caffeine. your desk light’s still on, laptop humming, a playlist playing low as you scribble in the margins of your notes with a pink pen you definitely didn’t borrow from sukuna and never give back.

you blink up at the sound, confused, and push back from your chair just as the front door swings open without waiting for you.

sukuna steps in, keys jingling between his fingers, sweat clinging to the collar of his black t-shirt.

“jesus,” you say, raising your brows. “you ever heard of knocking?”

he shrugs, already kicking off his sneakers. “you gave me a key.”

“for emergencies. or bringing me food. this is trespassing.”

“it’s not trespassing if i live here part-time.”

“you don’t.”

“i do, emotionally.”

you narrow your eyes, watching as he kicks the door shut behind him and rakes a hand through his sweat-damp hair. he looks irritated. flushed. like he’s been fighting someone or about to.

“you coming from a girl’s place or something?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but the words slip out a little more bitter than you mean.

he pauses, one foot halfway out of his sock.

“something like that,” he mutters.

it wasn't something like that. he'd been running, something he'd been doing a lot lately instead of his nightly rendezvous with his copious amounts of side chicks. after he went non intentionally celibate, he'd started putting the excess energy he wasn't using in basketball to do laps around campus. 

but he couldn't tell you that. couldn't just say, 'yeah, i've been running marathons lately because my dick goes limp at the thought of even touching another women.' so he just chalked it up to whatever your mind was thinking.

you blink, surprised he didn’t throw a joke at you or roll his eyes. didn’t make a crack about what kind of position she had him in or if he should shower before sitting on your bed.

instead he just pulls off his shirt and flops down face-first into your comforter like he’s lived here forever.

you stare for a second at the smooth line of his back, the tribal tattoos, the way he exhales like your room is the first place he’s been able to breathe all day.

“…you okay?” you ask, stepping toward the bed.

he grunts.

“great conversation,” you mutter, crawling up onto the mattress and poking him between the shoulder blades. “what’s with the dramatics, need to talk?”

he rolls onto his side, arm flung over his eyes, voice muffled. “i’m not allowed to bring you to the mixer.”

you blink. “hm?”

you knew of the mixer and you knew you weren't going, you weren't in a sorority.

“they said no,” he says, finally lowering his arm just enough to squint at you. “strictly greek. no exceptions. even though choso’s dragging that freak shiu and he’s barely greek. and even though you’ve been at more of our events than half the guys actually in the frat.”

you go try not to giggle at his display.

“i see,” you say. “it’s fine ryo. i didn’t expect to go anyway.”

“yeah, well, i wanted you to,” he snaps, sharper than he means to. he cleared his throat abit embarrassed before continuing. “was kind of the only reason i was looking forward to it.”

you stare at him, taken aback.

he groans and throws an arm over his face again. “god. it’s so fucking stupid. i don’t even wanna go if you’re not gonna be there.”

you sit beside him, folding your legs under yourself. "hey don't say that, i'm sure you'll get your entertainments worth with what're dumb thing gojos bound to do there." 

he rolls his eyes but a smirk pulls at his lips.

“you have to though, right?” you ask quietly. “frat rules?”

he grunts again, bitter. “mandatory attendance. gotta show face, shake hands, do shots with people i fucking hate. can’t just hang out with you like a normal person. it’s bullshit.”

you watch him for a second, hes clearly very upset on your behalf and it tugs at your heart to see him so sad for you.

the frustration in his shoulders. the tension still in his jaw. how tired he looks even though he won’t admit it. and how different he’s been lately, even if he tries to hide it.

it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him leave a party with someone. months since you’ve gotten a dumb flirty text from him at two in the morning about some girl with lip gloss and a sorority pin. instead it’s been this, late nights of cooking and movies at your place, quiet mornings where he'd crash on the couch, showing up sweaty and worn out without explaining why.

you don’t know what’s going on with him.

and you don’t ask.

because he’s still your best friend, he’s still sukuna, you never know what's going on with men like him. not really.

even if you wish sometimes he’d let you see past all the noise and into whatever he’s keeping buried under his skin.

“you could skip,” you offer after a long pause. “say you’re sick.”

he lifts his arm just enough to peek at you. “and miss out on disappointing every alumni watching the insta stories? unthinkable.”

you laugh.

and he smiles, barely.

then closes his eyes again, and says, quieter this time, “just wish it wasn’t like this.”

you don’t ask what he means.

you don’t have to.

you watch him stew for another minute, sprawled on your bed like a kicked dog, jaw tense and brows furrowed. you can tell he’s stuck in his head again, spiraling over something he can’t fix, so you do what you always do when sukuna gets like this.

you get up and go to the fridge.

“what are you doing?” he calls after you, but there’s already the tiniest lilt of curiosity in his voice.

you peek back over your shoulder, smiling shyly. “making you un-grumpy.”

you return with a container of the cookies you baked the night before, still soft from the fridge, the chocolate chips slightly hardened but perfect for biting into. you plop back down beside him and wiggle the container in front of his face.

“i come bearing peace offerings.”

he raises a brow. “what are they laced with?”

“love and all things happy and awesome,” you say sweetly. “now shut up and open.”

you settle onto his knee, the position so familiar it doesn’t even register as odd anymore. you’re perched sideways, comfortably pressed against him as you hold up a cookie to his mouth like you’ve done a thousand times before with different snacks, different moods, different nights.

he sighs like he’s being tortured, but opens his mouth and lets you push a bite past his lips.

and then he goes still.

you try to hide your smirk. “good, right?”

he chews slowly, then nods once, eyes flicking down to the cookie still in your hand. “fuck,” he mutters. “why are these better than the last ones?”

“because i added cinnamon this time,” you say proudly. “i’m a genius. a visionary. a baker ahead of my time. no need to lay it all on me at once.”

“you’re a menace,” he says, reaching for the container and grabbing one for himself. he takes another bite, then leans his head back with a groan. “jesus christ.”

you beam, satisfied. “mood improved?”

he glances down at you, his arm sliding a little more securely around your waist, holding you in place like it’s just instinct. “a little.”

you twist to face him more fully, still sitting across one of his legs, knees bent and shoulder pressing into his chest. “well, i accept your gratitude. payment accepted in the form of continued affection and possibly letting me pick the movie tonight.”

“you say that like you weren’t going to pick it anyway,” he says, but his voice has gone soft.

you don’t move, just rest your cheek lightly against his shoulder. it’s quiet again, in that comfortable, lived-in way. his fingers drift absentmindedly along the hem of your shirt, not even thinking about it, and you feel the shift before it happens.

he sets the cookie down and wraps both arms around you, pulling you fully into his chest.

you blink in surprise as your face smushes into his neck, but your arms slip around his waist anyway, your cheek settling against his skin with a tiny, surprised smile.

this… isn’t unheard of.

but it’s not common either.

not like this.

not this long, not this full-bodied, not this quiet. not this careful.

he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. just breathe in sync, slow and even, held together in the kind of closeness that feels like it means something more than either of you are ready to admit. it doesn’t feel playful. it doesn’t feel casual.

it feels like everything unsaid is pressing in between the space of your bodies.

and still, you don’t pull away.

you stay wrapped around each other, soft and steady in the glow of your little kitchen light. the rest of the world fades out. no frat politics, no mixers, no rules. just your warmth against his chest, the scent of cookies on the air, and his heartbeat pressed right against your cheek.

you smile against him, a little giddy, a little shy, and squeeze your arms around him just a little tighter.

he squeezes back.

"such a softie."

"shut up."

~

friday night, gamma. 

the music’s already shaking the walls by the time sukuna and gojo pull up to the house.

the lights are low, the windows are glowing purple, and there’s a line of girls on the front lawn taking pictures against the greek letters like they’re on the fucking red carpet. half of them are laughing too loud, the other half are posing like they’re about to sell flat tummy tea. it’s a mess.

gojo whistles low under his breath. “god damn. they went all out tonight.”

sukuna says nothing, just shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and follows gojo toward the front door, already wishing he’d stayed in.

inside, it’s worse.

the house smells like weed, body spray, and some kind of mango-flavored vodka someone definitely spilled on the carpet. the bass is pounding. the lights are cycling through seizure-inducing colors. and the living room is filled wall to wall with girls in the tiniest outfits he’s ever seen.

crop tops so small they’re practically bras, skirts that could pass for belts, dresses that ride up with every step. legs, boobs, glitter, perfume. like a scene out of a movie, only louder and stickier.

gojo grins, elbowing him in the side. “this is what i’m talking about, man these chicks are drooling.”

“mhm,” sukuna mutters, eyes skimming the crowd without interest.

gojo keeps going, clearly amped. “look at her, jesus. i could write a poem about that ass. might get it tattooed.”

sukuna hums, tuning him out. lets the words wash over him without meaning. he’s good at that now. nodding, smirking, pretending to be the guy they all think he is.

“oh my god,” gojo says again, eyes glued to another girl passing by in a see-through mesh top. “this one’s not even wearing a bra. she’s doing the lord’s work.”

“praise be,” sukuna deadpans.

gojo laughs, already drifting toward the drinks table like a moth to flame, eyes darting everywhere.

sukuna doesn’t follow.

he stands near the door, shoulder against the wall, letting the party swirl around him. girls brush past him on the way to the kitchen, one of them flashing a smile he doesn’t return. he watches two of them grind against each other like they’re auditioning for attention, and someone tugs on his hoodie in passing, trying to get his attention.

he doesn’t even blink.

because all he can think about is how quiet your apartment was last night.

how your laugh sounded when he tried to talk with his mouth full of cookie. how you looked sitting on his knee, eyes crinkling, fingers brushing crumbs from his shirt.

how easy it was.

how real.

and this? this feels like a joke.

he used to love this shit. the noise, the chaos, the attention. he used to thrive in it. let it fill him up, drown out all the parts of himself that didn’t make sense.

but now it just feels loud.

pointless.

empty.

he pulls his phone from his pocket and checks it without thinking.

no texts.

you’re probably curled up on your couch right now with a mug of tea and some documentary about weird animals. maybe wearing one of your oversized sweaters. maybe thinking about him. maybe not.

he sighs, leans his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes for a second.

wishing, more than anything, that he was with you instead.

meanwhile...

your dorm was quiet tonight.

just the low hum of your mini fridge, the soft whir of the fan you’ve wedged into the corner by the window, and the occasional clatter of your own movements as you putter around your tiny kitchen.

you’re barefoot on the tile, hoodie sleeves rolled up to your elbows, your hair pulled back haphazardly. the playlist you always turn on while baking is playing softly, the comfort stuff, the songs you don’t have to think about. your body moves automatically, reaching for ingredients, measuring out flour and sugar like muscle memory.

but your mind’s somewhere else entirely.

you keep thinking about last night. about the way sukuna looked when he walked through your door, sweaty and annoyed and tired, like the world was grating against him. and how he softened when you sat on his lap and fed him cookies. how he looked at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.

that long hug.

you can still feel it.

his arms wrapped around you, your cheek against his chest, the quiet warmth of his body pressed fully into yours like he didn’t want to let go. it wasn’t playful. it wasn’t some joke. it felt like something else. something deeper. something you’re too scared to name.

you missed him the second he left.

you always do.

but tonight, it aches a little more. hell, it aches a hell of a lot.

because you know where he is right now. or, at least, where he’s supposed to be — at that mixer with gojo and the rest of the guys. shoulder to shoulder with every sorority girl on campus. probably surrounded by glitter and perfume and girls in backless dresses.

you try not to picture it.

you try not to imagine him pressed up against someone in a dark corner, hands on her hips, whispering something smooth into her ear. it’s what he used to do, after all. it’s what everyone still thinks he does.

you’ve never asked.

but it’s easier to believe he’s still out there being sukuna, your charming, cocky, slightly feral best friend who fucks around and never gets attached. it’s easier than hoping for something more.

you sigh and lean your hands on the edge of the sink, staring out the window for a moment before pushing off again and turning back to the counter.

if he is out there right now, tangled up with some girl, then so be it. it’s not your business. he’s your friend. he’s always been your friend. and that’s enough.

you shake away the little ache curling up in your chest and reach for the eggs.

he likes custard tarts.

you remember him mentioning it months ago, offhanded, when you were watching some cooking show together and he snorted at a pastry challenge. 'that shit’s easy,' he’d said, and then casually added, 'my grandma used to make those all the time. i could eat like five in one sitting.'

so you’re going to make him some.

you don’t know if he’ll even come by tomorrow, but if he does, it’ll be waiting for him. warm, golden, sweet. something quiet to show him you were thinking about him, even if you won’t say it out loud.

you dust your hands with flour and start rolling out the pastry crust, humming under your breath, praying this suffocating guilt in your chest will soon subside.

back with the man of the hour.

the kitchen is hotter than hell.

bodies packed in tight, music thudding through the walls, the floor sticky with spilled drinks and god-knows-what. it smells like tequila, sweat, and cologne, like every mixer always does. sukuna’s perched at the corner of the counter with a half-empty shot glass in his hand, the burn of whatever cheap liquor they’re using tonight still clinging to his throat.

he’s a few drinks in, not drunk, but warm. loose. not enough to forget, just enough to blur the edges.

“yo,” someone says, slapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. “you still out here slaying or what?

it’s ino, one of the phi sig guys. bleach-blond, grinning like a golden retriever, drunk enough that his words are dragging a little.

sukuna doesn’t answer right away.

he can feel the pause stretching. can feel the weight of it. because he knows exactly where this is going.

“what?” ino says, laughing. “don’t tell me the infamous sukuna went soft on us.”

he’s joking. mostly.

but nearby, sukuna catches gojo’s eyes.

he’s leaning against the wall with a drink in one hand, watching the conversation like a hawk. and when their gazes meet, gojo raises one brow, just slightly. the look is clear.

'just lie to them.'

gojo doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t need to.

because sukuna’s got a reputation. one the frat’s leaned on for years, their golden weapon. their sexed-up, reckless, untouchable president’s right-hand menace. the one who sets the tone at parties, the one who doesn’t hesitate to bang anyone, doesn’t slow down, doesn’t change.

and if word gets out that ryomen sukuna hasn’t laid a hand on anyone in months, that he’s been skipping hookups to hang out with you in your tiny dorm room, baking cookies and trading sleepy smiles? well.

it wouldn’t look good.

not for him. not for the frat. not for the image.

so he swallows the sick twist in his gut and flashes a grin that feels so disgustingly wrong on his face.

“you know how it is,” he says smoothly, rolling his neck like he’s already bored of the conversation. “been busy. but yeah. still getting mine.”

ino laughs and passes him another shot, already leaning in. “anyone good?”

“couple girls from chi o,” sukuna says, shrugging one shoulder. “blonde one — i forget her name. maybe claire? she was loud. pretty sure half the floor heard us.”

ino hollers and claps him on the back, and someone nearby chimes in with a “my fucking guy.”

sukuna downs the shot.

he keeps going.

“hooked up with that junior from zeta last week too. the one with the snake tattoo.”

“mia?” ino gasps.

“yeah,” sukuna half lies, licking his teeth. “she’s got this thing where she likes being choked. like, full hand, no hesitation. freaky as fuck, but she took it like a champ.”

there’s laughter. back slaps. someone throws him another beer.

and sukuna plays along.

he leans into the scumbag act. tells them about how he made her beg. how he didn’t even bother texting her after. throws in some bullshit about how she kept whining for round three and he just left.

and it’s easy, this was how he used to be after all.

his voice is smooth, confident, practiced. he says the words like he’s proud of them. like they don’t taste like ash and piss in his mouth. like they aren’t killing him from the inside out.

because the truth is, he hasn’t touched anyone since he realized he was in love with you.

sure he's fucked those girl before, just not as of late. 

no blonde named claire. no snake tattoo. no begging, no choking, no careless sex with strangers who mean nothing. 

just you.

just the way you looked at him the other night, eyes wide and sweet while you perched on his knee. just the way you made him feel full with nothing but a bite of cookie and a laugh. just the way your arms wrapped around him without hesitation. like he was someone worth holding onto.

but he can’t say that here.

he can’t be that guy.

so he keeps lying. keeps playing the role. keeps smiling through the noise and the heat and the taste of someone else’s expectations on his tongue.

and all the while, in the back of his mind, he’s wondering what you’re doing right now. if your oven’s still on. if your hands are covered in flour. if you’re thinking about him too.

god, he hopes you are. safe away from this performative monster he's so carefully curated.

later.

things have gone off the rails.

the house is sweltering now, bodies packed in so tight you can barely breathe. music’s still blasting, bass heavy enough to make your ribs shake, lights flickering red and blue and green over swaying heads. sweat slicks the walls, the floors are sticky with god-knows-what, and the air smells like beer, weed, and perfume way too sweet to be expensive.

sukuna’s sunk low into the couch in the middle of the living room, a drink sweating in his hand, head tilted back. his shirt sticks to his skin, his legs are spread, and his eyes are half-lidded, glazed over. he’s a few drinks deep, but not enough to be drunk, just enough to dull the headache that’s been building since he walked in.

choso’s next to him, nursing a blunt, and shiu’s perched on the armrest, scrolling through his phone with dead eyes.

“this party fucking blows,” shiu mutters, not looking up.

“wasn’t it your idea to come?” choso says.

“yeah, and i was wrong. fuck me.”

“everyone’s just trying to fuck each other,” choso says flatly. “like aggressively. it’s like a brothel in here.”

“with worse lighting,” shiu adds.

sukuna doesn’t say anything. just watches the way two girls are sloppily grinding against each other on the floor, their drinks spilling down their arms, mascara already halfway down their cheeks. somewhere across the room, someone’s moaning against the wall like they’re getting railed in public, which, honestly, they probably are.

he’s halfway through zoning out again when it happens.

a blonde drops into his lap like a stone.

he barely registers her until she’s already straddling him, arms looped around his neck, tits pushed up and glittering under the party lights.

“found you,” she purrs, loud in his ear. her voice is syrupy sweet, her lips glossed thick and shiny. she presses a wet kiss to his cheek without waiting for permission, then trails her mouth down to his neck.

his body locks up. 'ew.'

she smells like candy and sweat. her lashes are so fake they look heavy. her nails scrape his shoulder through his shirt like she’s trying to get a grip.

“you’re sukuna, right?” she asks, already moving her hips in his lap. “heard you’re fun.”

he wants to shove her off.

wants to grab her wrists and tell her to get the fuck off him, now. because nothing about this feels good. nothing about this feels right. she’s too close, too loud, too much. and all he can think is 'this isn’t you.'

but then he glances up.

and he sees them.

those same frat guys he took shots with earlier, ino and the rest. watching him from across the room with wide eyes and cocky grins. waiting. expecting. this was what they wanted, wasn’t it? the infamous sukuna he had bragged about not even an hour earlier. the legend. the sex god. they’re watching like they’re about to take notes.

and across the room, posted near the kitchen with a drink in hand, gojo is watching too.

his eyes lock with sukuna’s. one raised brow. jaw tight. a warning in his expression.

'don’t fuck this up. just pretend.' he mouths.

this is his job, after all. the frat’s bad boy, their wild card, the one who never slows down. his reputation isn’t just his anymore — it’s tied to the frat’s image, to the hierarchy, to the ego of every guy in this house who needs him to be that guy.

so sukuna doesn’t shove her off.

he lets her kiss his jaw. lets her whisper something slutty in his ear, lets her press her tits into his chest and grind against him like they’re already alone.

he lets her act like she owns him.

his hands rest loose on her waist. one slides down to her thigh, just for show. not tight. not real. just enough to make it look like he’s into it.

his skin crawls.

he doesn’t smile. doesn’t speak. he just sits there, dead behind the eyes, playing the part.

choso side-eyes him, a brow lifting. shiu’s halfway through another drink, watching the scene with a quiet kind of judgment.

sukuna doesn’t flinch.

but inside, he’s somewhere else entirely.

he’s thinking about you.

your dorm. your stupid cozy couch. your face lighting up when he told you your cookies were perfect. your hands brushing against his. your warmth.

the way you held him like you knew.

and now he’s here.

pretending.

surrounded by noise and bodies and fake gold glitter. kissing strangers in front of an audience, playing the role of someone he hasn’t been in a long time.

and all he wants is to be home.

with you.

the girl’s hands are everywhere.

on his chest, sliding under his shirt. in his hair, tugging hard like it’s supposed to be sexy. her mouth is hot and wet on his neck, and she keeps saying shit in his ear he can’t even hear over the bass rumbling through the floor.

he doesn’t want this.

hasn’t wanted this from the second she crawled into his lap.

but now she’s pulling him up off the couch, dragging him by the hand through the throng of sweaty bodies. she’s laughing, shrieking something about going upstairs, or maybe back to her place, either way, her grip is iron and her intentions are clear. and people are watching.

he can feel the eyes on him.

guys slapping him on the back as he passes, grinning, nodding, giving him looks that say that’s our guy.the same ones who were cheering earlier when she straddled him like a chair in the middle of the party. girls whispering, side-eyes thrown like confetti.

and gojo.

gojo’s standing near the bottom of the stairs now, cup in hand, watching sukuna get dragged toward the front door like some kind of prize.

they lock eyes.

sukuna hesitates for a beat.

gojo steps forward and claps a hand on his arm, grip tight for a second. he leans in, expression unusually serious beneath the usual shine of his grin.

“sorry, man,” he murmurs under the music. “i shouldn’t have made you do all that shit.”

sukuna doesn’t say anything. just nods once, jaw clenched.

“you’re a good soldier,” gojo adds, half-joking, half-sincere. “but you don’t gotta burn yourself out for the frat.”

sukuna’s too tired to respond. the girl’s tugging on his arm again, fingers clawed around his wrist like she thinks he’ll vanish if she lets go.

they step out the front door into the night.

the air outside is colder than it should be, sharp against his sweaty skin. it hits his lungs too fast. makes him dizzy.

she turns to him immediately, mouth already open. “so i live, like, five minutes away. unless you wanna go to yours? my roommate’s out, so—”

her hands are on his chest again. fumbling with the hem of his shirt, nails dragging over his stomach like she’s mapping him out with zero permission. she presses herself into him, mouth seeking his again, clumsy and insistent.

and that’s when it hits.

the disgust.

the wrongness.

the way it makes his skin crawl, makes his stomach twist. not because she’s unattractive, not because she’s done anything “wrong” by frat party standards — but because she’s not you.

and this? this isn’t him.

he jerks away from her touch as she snakes her hand over the bulge in his jeans.

“stop.”

she blinks, confused. tries to laugh it off, like maybe he’s teasing. “what?”

“i said stop,” he snaps, stepping back. “jesus fucking christ.”

her face falls.

“you can’t just—” she starts, but he’s already shaking his head.

“go." he almost yells. "go home,” he says sharply. “alone.”

her jaw drops like she’s about to protest again, but he’s not listening. he turns, already walking, the cold air slicing through his clothes, his breath fogging up in the dark.

he doesn’t look back.

the sounds of the party are muffled now, swallowed up by the night. but they still echo in his head. the music, the laughter, the voices cheering him on like he’s some kind of fucking mascot. the fake moans and the fake smiles and the way it felt to be watched like he owed everyone a show.

he lights a cigarette with shaking hands.

his stomach still feels sick.

and all he can think about, as the taste of cherry lip gloss lingers like poison, is how right it felt to be on your couch. how warm your kitchen was. how soft your hands were when you brushed his hair back from his forehead like he was something worth caring for.

he walks faster.

because if he doesn’t get away from all this now, he’s not sure he ever will.

his footsteps echo off the pavement, sharp in the emptiness, and his lungs burn with every breath. the cigarette is still between his fingers, barely smoked, the ember flickering weakly in the dark.

he can’t stop shaking.

his skin feels wrong. like something’s still crawling on it. like her hands are still there. he rubs his neck with the heel of his palm, hard, like he can wipe it off. the gloss, the heat, the fakeness of it all.

his stomach lurches.

he stops walking and bends forward instinctively, one hand on his knee, the other bracing against the cold brick wall of the nearest building. he spits once onto the sidewalk, tastes bile and tequila and something rotten.

he breathes through his nose.

in, out, in, out.

think of something else.

think of anything else.

but all he can think about is you.

the way you'd light up when you'd spot him on campus, how you'd always gravitate towards him at parties and hang outs. your stupid soft hoodie sleeves pushed up to your elbows, hands covered in flour, smiling like he was your favorite part of your day.

and god, all he wanted to was erase his entire past to start a clean, virgin slate with you.

he almost let some stranger girl touch him in a way he wishes only you would. he let her sit on him, kiss him, grab at him, and he didn’t stop it. didn’t stop it until it was nearly too late.

and for what?

some frat reputation?

gojo’s approval?

a bunch of guys who only know his name because of the stories he used to make up?

he could fucking vomit.

he dry heaves once, hard, and his whole body folds in. he grips the edge of a trash bin like it’ll keep him upright, knuckles going white. but nothing comes up. just air and guilt and the way your name sits on his tongue like a bruise.

'you’re not even mine.'

he reminds himself of that again and again. you’re not his. you’ve never kissed. never fucked. never even admitted how you feel.

you’re just friends. best friends, maybe. roommates in a different life. partners in crime when things are light.

but he knows what this is. knows what’s happening to him.

you’ve ruined him.

your gentleness. your kindness. the way you hold his face when you’re teasing him and don’t even realize it. the way you hug him like he’s worth something. like you see him, all of him, and still choose to stay.

and now he’s here. shaking and fucked-up in the street, gagging over the ghost of a girl who doesn’t matter, while you're sitting at home in your dorm when you could of been here with him, that way, he'd never of let another girl get close, he's speaks the night sitting on the porch, with you.

he sinks down onto the curb, elbows braced on his knees, cigarette hanging limp from his fingers. his vision swims, hot and sharp, his head tipping back to stare at the stars he can’t even see through the city haze.

he should’ve stayed with you.

he should’ve just stayed home, with you.

his hands are trembling when he reaches into his pocket. he fishes blindly past his lighter, crumpled receipts, a folded-up flyer someone handed him earlier, until his fingers close around metal.

your dorm keys.

he pulls them out slowly.

they sit in his palm, warm from his body heat. a pink little charm you’d added dangles from the ring, a squishy cartoon animal he never bothered to learn the name of, even though you told him three times. it jiggles as he stares down at it, breath catching in his throat.

he clenches his fist around them.

tight.

like it’ll keep him grounded. like it’ll make you real again.

the night presses in around him. too quiet, too still. but that ache in his chest, the sour twist in his gut, it all starts to blur the second he stands up and starts walking.

~

your apartment smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

you pull the tray from the oven with slow, tired movements, fingers twitching slightly through the worn edges of your oven mitts. you place it carefully on the cooling rack, your shoulders drooping.

they turned out perfect.

golden brown, smooth custard centers with just the right shimmer. they look like something out of a recipe book. the kind of thing you’d proudly serve someone you care about.

someone who promised he’d come over this weekend.

someone who’s probably in a stranger’s bed right now.

you press your lips together and exhale through your nose, eyes fluttering shut.

that ache in your chest still hasn’t gone away. it’s not sharp anymore, not like earlier, when you imagined his hands on someone else, but it’s still there. dull. tight. like a bruise that refuses to fade.

you try to distract yourself. start wiping down the counter. humming softly. pretending.

and then—

bang.

a clatter at the door. a commotion, keys fumbling against the lock. your head snaps up, heart slamming into your ribs.

before you can move, the door bursts open.

a heaving sukuna stumbles inside.

he’s wild-eyed, flushed, sweaty, like he’s run the whole way here. his shirt’s wrinkled, his jacket half-zipped, one sleeve rolled up and the other down. his hair’s a mess. his knuckles are scraped.

he looks terrible.

and he looks right at you.

for one beat, just one, everything stops.

your eyes meet, and it’s like all the oxygen rushes back into the room. the ache in your chest disappears, the weight behind his eyes fades, the tension that was tearing both of you apart evaporates the second you’re locked into each other’s gaze.

you smile first. a smile he so dearly loved to see.

small. instinctive. like it slips out before you can stop it.

and that’s all it takes.

sukuna moves fast, like something in him finally gives out, and suddenly he’s in front of you, arms wrapping around your body like he needs you to breathe. his chest crashes into yours, hard, and his arms hook tight around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

your hands flutter up, half-startled, and you steady yourself against his shoulders.

he’s holding you like he’s drowning.

“jesus,” you laugh softly, trying to ease the weight, “what, some girl give you blue balls or something—”

you don’t finish the sentence.

because his grip tightens.

his arms squeeze harder, fingers fisting into the back of your hoodie like he’s trying to climb inside of you. 

his face buries into your neck. and then you hear it.

a sniffle.

not a dramatic one, not obvious, not loud, but small and choked off, like he’s trying not to let it out at all.

your breath catches.

his body trembles once, a subtle shiver that passes through him like a quake, and suddenly your joke feels cruel, your smile falters, and your heart lodges somewhere in your throat.

your voice drops, softer than you’ve ever used with him.

“ryo…”

you pull back just enough to see his face.

his eyes are glassy. rimmed red. lashes damp like he’s been holding it in for a while. and when he blinks, slow and heavy, a single tear finally falls, trailing down the sharp angle of his cheek.

your heart cracks clean in two.

like your body just knows, like it feels his pain before you can even register it, your own eyes burn immediately. you try to hold it in, but it stings anyway. wells up fast, like your chest doesn’t know how to hold all the ache that’s suddenly there.

he sees it.

his lips twitch, and he forces out a quiet, watery chuckle. “of course you're that kinda person” he murmurs, voice thick. “the type to cry when someone else cries. like it’s a reflex or something.”

you swallow around the lump in your throat. “i've only done it for you.”

that makes him go still.

your hand lifts to his cheek, thumb brushing just under his eye, and your voice trembles with the weight of it all. “because i care about you, ryo. so much. more than i can even explain.”

his breath stutters.

and for a second, he doesn’t say anything.

he just looks at you, like you’re something he’s been waiting for his whole life. and then he smiles, soft and small and cracked open, and leans forward until his forehead is pressed to yours again.

you close your eyes.

you fall into each other like instinct.

your arms wrap around his neck again, and his circle your waist. tighter this time. not desperate. just sure.

you still don’t know why he’s crying.

he hasn’t told you anything. hasn’t explained the bloodshot eyes or the tremble in his hands or the way he stumbled through your door like you were home.

but none of that matters.

because he’s sad.

and that makes you sad.

so you hold him. and he holds you back.

"y/n. i love you."

you freeze.

like your whole body forgets how to move.

his voice is quiet, broken at the edges, low and raw like it got scraped out of his chest just for you. you feel it before you even fully process it. like the words ripple through your bloodstream faster than they hit your ears.

you pull back just slightly, eyes wide, breath caught somewhere in your throat.

“h-huh…?”

his gaze is already on you. steady. not flinching. his brows are pinched like he’s terrified, like he’s bracing for the worst, but his hands never leave you. they stay right where they’ve been, one at the small of your back, the other cradling your side like he’s holding something fragile.

“i love you,” he says again, firmer this time. “i think i’ve loved you since the first time you told me about some weird show you liked and forgot to breathe because you were talking too fast. i didn’t know it then, but—fuck, y/n. it’s you. it’s always been you.”

your eyes sting.

you’re not sure if you’re breathing.

his thumb rubs absent circles at your hip. his voice is shaking.

“i haven’t touched anyone since i figured it out. haven’t even looked at anyone like that. i tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. i told myself i could just be around you like normal and it’d pass. but it didn’t. it just got worse. everything felt worse without you.”

you press your lips together, hard.

your chest is aching so sweetly it almost feels like pain.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he adds quickly, eyes flicking over your face. “i know this is a lot. i just—i couldn’t keep lying. not after tonight.”

you open your mouth, then close it again.

you’re not even sure what expression’s on your face, shock? relief? some impossible mixture of everything you’ve ever felt for him suddenly rising to the surface all at once.

but eventually, finally, your voice comes out.

quiet.

“say it again.”

his brows lift.

you lean in closer, eyes shining. “please. just say it one more time.”

he swallows.

and then he breathes it like a vow.

“i love you.”

you surge forward, arms around his neck, and kiss him like it’s the only thing you’ve been trying not to do for months.

and this time, he doesn’t tremble.

he melts.

like he’s been waiting his whole life just for this.

your lips part from his just enough to breathe.

his eyes are still closed, like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way your fingers feel curled into the back of his neck. and you watch him for a second — the way his lashes tremble, the way his chest rises and falls like he’s never been kissed before.

and then you say it.

soft.

barely more than a whisper.

“i love you too.”

his eyes open slow.

like he needs to see your face to make sure it’s real.

and when he does, when he sees the truth of it in your eyes, your smile, the way your hand lingers over his heart like it belongs there, he laughs.

it’s small at first. breathless. disbelieving.

then you start laughing too.

and it bubbles out of both of you, giddy and bright, like it’s been waiting there under the surface all this time, the kind of laughter that spills into kisses, that makes your foreheads knock together, that leaves you smiling so wide your cheeks ache.

you’re both a little teary still. a little overwhelmed.

but it doesn’t matter.

because when he kisses you again, deeper this time, fuller, with both hands cupping your face like he’s never going to let you go, it’s not heavy. it’s not hard. it’s not desperate.

it’s just good.

it’s just right.

like the floodgates have finally opened, and everything you’ve both been holding back comes pouring out in warmth and wonder and wonder and wonder.

you’re still holding the edges of each other when he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips.

“you’re it for me.”

and you smile.

because he’s it for you too.

you’re both still smiling, flushed and warm and tangled up in each other, when he suddenly sniffs the air.

his nose scrunches. he blinks. then his head slowly turns toward the counter behind you.

“…wait.”

you already know what’s coming.

he sniffs again, exaggerated and dramatic, eyebrows lifting higher with every inhale. “is that—?” he gasps, stepping around you to look.

“your favourite?” you finish, barely holding back your grin.

his eyes go wide. cartoonishly wide.

“you made them?”

you nod, biting your bottom lip, and gesture toward the cooling tray like you’re unveiling the secret ingredient in a baking show. “fresh from the oven. made them for you, actually. figured you might come by after—”

you don’t even finish the sentence before he lets out the softest noise, like a choked gasp of joy, (very uncharacteristically cute for him.) and practically tackles you in a hug. 

“you’re so cute,” he says, spinning you around like it’s instinct, like you’re weightless. you squeal, laughing into his shoulder, clinging to him as he twirls you once in a giddy circle. “you made me custard tarts? i could eat you up right here, i swear to god.”

“ahh i see, so you're gonna eat me and the tarts? someone's getting greedy.”

“absolutely.”

you laugh breathlessly, hands braced against his chest as he sets you back down. “god you perv, did you have to ruin it?”

“sorry, sorry,” he mutters, grinning like an idiot.

he leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet, then cups your cheeks like you’re something precious and kisses you again, deeper, like he can’t help it, like you’re his favorite dessert.

“always wanted to thank you like this,” he murmurs against your lips. “for all the stuff you do for me. the baking, the hugs, the late-night pep talks. all of it. i just never had the guts.”

you giggle, your hands sliding up his arms as you melt into him again.

and as he dips you backward like he’s about to marry you right there in your tiny kitchen, you decide the tarts can wait just a little longer.

my 2k special i hope you liked it 😎

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