⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙙𝙮𝙢𝙞𝙧 ᝰ.ᐟ

different frat. different kind of reputation. less golden boy, more don’t get caught alone with him unless you mean it. he didn’t smile as much as gojo. didn’t need to. he had a lazy stare that did all the flirting for him, and a scar at the corner of his mouth that made every smirk look like a bad decision waiting to happen.

they were rivals.

the campus loved that

gojo’s frat threw a party? toji’s threw one louder the next weekend.

toji won an intramural game? gojo spent the next week loudly claiming the refs were paid off.

gojo got praised by a professor? toji would walk past and mutter, “teacher’s pet,” just loud enough for him to hear.

toji existed? gojo got irritating on principle.

and somehow, last semester, you got stuck with both of them in your study group.

you still considered it one of the universe’s personal attacks.

“no.”

that’s the first thing you say when gojo slides into the chair across from you in the library.

he hasn’t even spoken yet.

he blinks, offended. “wow. hello to you too.”

“no.”

“you don’t even know what i was going to say.”

“you were going to ask for my notes.”

gojo pauses.

you look up from your laptop.

he smiles. “okay, but in my defense-”

“no.”

“you’re so mean to me.”

“you survive.”

he leans forward, his chin in his palm, eyes bright and blue in that way that makes half the campus lose their minds. unfortunately for him, you have homework and self respect.

mostly…

“i don’t need your notes,” he says. “i just wanted to see you.”

you stare at him.

he stares back.

“that was worse,” you decide.

gojo laughs, loud enough that the girl two tables over looks up. you kick his shin under the table.

“ow.”

“library voice dumbass.”

“yes, ma’am.”

“don’t call me that.”

“noted.”

“you’re not writing anything down.”

he taps his temple. “mental notes.”

“empty document.”

his grin gets worse.

before you can insult him properly, the chair beside you scrapes back.

you don’t even have to look.

“absolutely not,” you say.

toji sits anyway, his big long legs spreading just enough that his knee almost bumps yours under the table. “missed you too.”

gojo’s smile drops half an inch. “fushiguro.”

“satoru.”

you slowly shut your laptop.

both of them look at it like you just cocked a gun.

“i have,” you say carefully, “a midterm in three days.”

gojo points at toji. “he started it.”

toji snorts. “i sat down.”

“aggressively.”

“you breathe aggressively.”

“you two are grown men,” you say. “allegedly.”

toji leans back, gaze sliding to your notebook. “still color coding everything?”

“still not passing classes?”

gojo makes a sound like he’s been stabbed. “oh, that was mean. do him again.”

toji’s mouth twitches.

you hate that gojo notices you noticing.

his eyes flick between you and toji, and then his grin comes back “interesting.”

you point your pen at him. “don’t.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“your face did.”

toji looks amused now. “what’d his face say?” he leans in, looking with you

“nothing important,” you say, too quickly.

gojo’s grin turns evil.

you reopen your laptop and put your headphones back on with exaggerated calm.

neither of them leaves.

of course they don’t.

then your roommate invites you to a party.

and like an idiot, you go.

you almost turn around at the porch.

the house is already sweating from the inside out. bass rattles the windows. someone is yelling from the upstairs balcony. the front lawn has cups in the grass and two guys arguing over a ping-pong ball like it’s a custody battle.

“i hate this,” you say.

your roommate hooks her arm through yours. “you haven’t even gone in yet.”

“i’m very intuitive.”

“you look hot. stop being dramatic.”

you look down at yourself.

short black dress. boots. little jacket.

you do look hot.

which is annoying because now you can’t pretend you didn’t try.

inside, the air is humid and warm, smelling like alcohol, strong perfume, sweat, weed from somewhere you can’t see, and whatever sugary mixer someone used. the music is so loud it makes thinking feel optional.

you have one drink.

then half of another.

you’re not drunk. you know where you are, know what you’re doing, know your name and your major and the fact that monday-you is going to be furious. but you’re warm. loose. your shoulders aren’t up by your ears for once.

it’s nice.

scary, but nice.

you’re laughing at something your roommate says when her eyes flick over your shoulder.

“oh.”

you stop laughing. “what?”

“don’t turn around weird.”

so obviously you turn around weird.

gojo is across the room.

he’s leaning against the kitchen doorway with a red cup in one hand, a black shirt clinging to his shoulders, his white hair messy like he’s been touched by too many people tonight and still somehow looks untouched. his eyes are on you already.

when you catch him staring, he smiles.

not his usual big, irritating one.

slower.

like he’s been waiting.

your stomach drops.

then your roommate whispers, “other side.”

you look.

toji stands near the stairs.

also a dark shirt with his arms crossed and expression unreadable except for his eyes, which are very much readable and very much on your legs.

you look away first.

coward.

your roommate whispered, “they’re both staring like they made a plan or some shit”

they had.

you didn’t know that yet.

you didn’t know that ten minutes earlier, in the kitchen, gojo had seen you walk in and gone quiet mid sentence.

toji had followed his stare and laughed once. “there it is.”

gojo’s jaw had tightened. “what?”

“you look stupid.”

“you look jealous.”

“of you?”

gojo had taken a drink, eyes still on you. “bet she kisses me first.”

toji’s smile had been all teeth. “you need better fantasies.”

“scared?”

“bored.”

“then bet.”

toji had looked at you again…at the dress, the guarded set of your shoulders, the way you were pretending not to search the room for either of them.

then he’d said, “fine. whoever gets her first wins.”

gojo had grinned.

stupid, really.

both of them thinking either one would come out of this with anything close to control.

gojo reached you first.

“you came,” he said, leaning close enough that his voice slid under the music instead of fighting it.

“sadly.”

his eyes dropped to your mouth. “you look pretty unfortunate.”

“that was bad.”

“you smiled.”

“i had a muscle spasm.”

“on your mouth?”

“rare condition.”

he laughed, and you hated how much you liked the sound when it wasn’t being weaponized in the library.

then toji stepped in behind you.

you didn’t even hear him approach. you only felt the shift…the sudden awareness of another body at your back, warm and close but not touching.

“satoru,” toji said.

gojo’s smile sharpened. “fushiguro.”

“still bothering her?”

“she likes it.”

“she looks trapped.”

you turned your head. “i can speak for myself.”

toji looked down at you. “then speak.”

that should not have done anything to you.

it did.

gojo saw it.

toji saw gojo see it.

you hated everyone.

“i’m getting water,” you said.

“kitchen’s that way,” gojo said.

you went the opposite direction.

not your finest moment.

the hallway was cooler.

darker too, the party reduced to bass through walls and flashes of light from the living room. you leaned against the wall and took one breath. then another.

“you’re bad at running away.”

you opened your eyes.

gojo stood at the mouth of the hall, cup gone, hands in his pockets.

“you’re bad at taking hints,” you said.

“i took the hint.”

“and?”

“didn’t like it.”

you laughed despite yourself. “at least you’re honest.”

“with you? usually.”

that landed somewhere it shouldn’t have. he came closer, slow enough to give you space to move.

you didn’t.

“you okay?” he asked, voice turning softer.

you blinked. “yeah.”

“tipsy?”

“a little.”

“too tipsy for this?”

your pulse jumped. “for what?”

gojo’s eyes flicked to your mouth.

there was the answer.

quiet. obvious. sitting between you.

“no,” you said.

his breath changed.

“no, you’re not too tipsy?” he asked.

“no, i’m not too tipsy.”

“and if i kiss you?”

you looked at him for a long second, at the stupid beautiful face, the mouth you’d pretended not to notice for months, the sudden seriousness in his eyes.

“then i’ll probably kiss you back.”

gojo went still.

then he kissed you.

soft at first. almost careful. one hand coming up to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were letting him. it made something in your chest ache, which was unfair, because this was gojo and he was not supposed to make you ache anywhere emotional.

then you parted your lips.

and he stopped being careful.

his hand slid to your waist, pulling you against him. his tongue brushed yours, and the sound he made into your mouth was low and pretty and so hungry your knees nearly gave. you grabbed his shirt. he pressed closer. the wall was cool against your back; he was hot everywhere else.

“fuck,” he breathed, his mouth still touching yours. “you have no idea how long i wanted to do that.”

“probably since you realized i was smarter than you.”

he laughed into the next kiss. “so day one.”

you smiled against him.

then he kissed you deeper, and the smile disappeared.

his thigh slid between yours. not grinding, not forcing, just pressure. enough to make your breath catch. enough for him to feel it.

his hand tightened at your waist.

“oh,” he whispered. “there’s your true colors.”

“don’t be cocky.”

“too late.”

you pulled him down again because his mouth was less annoying when it was busy.

then someone said, “figures.”

gojo froze.

you turned your head.

toji stood a few feet away with one hand in his pocket, expression unreadable except for the fact that his eyes were not calm at all.

gojo’s hand stayed on your waist. “we’re busy.”

toji ignored him.

his eyes stayed on you. “are you?”

your breath caught.

gojo’s jaw tightened. “don’t.”

toji came closer anyway.

the hallway shrank around the three of you.

toji stopped in front of you, close enough that if you inhaled too deeply, you’d brush him. gojo was still behind you, one hand at your hip now, warm through the fabric of your dress.

“tell me no if you don’t want it,” toji said.

no teasing. no smirk.

just that low, deep voice and those dark green eyes.

your lips parted.

you didn’t say no.

you said, “i’m not saying that.”

toji’s mouth curved.

gojo cursed under his breath.

then toji pulled you to him and kissed you like he’d been waiting all semester to prove a point.

it was filthy from the start.

his hand spread across your lower back, slowly moving down to your ass, dragging you flush against him. his mouth opened yours with slow pressure, tongue sliding deep, scar brushing your lip every time he shifted. where gojo had sparked, toji burned low and heavy. he kissed like he had nowhere else to be and every intention of making you forget where you were.

you clutched his shirt.

behind you, gojo made a sharp sound.

toji broke the kiss only enough to look over your shoulder. “still think you won?”

gojo’s laugh was strained. “she kissed me first.”

“she’s holding onto me.”

“because you grabbed her.”

“because she let me.”

your face went hot.

gojo’s hand slid along your hip, his voice dropping near your ear. “did you?”

toji’s thumb brushed your jaw. “answer.”

the party pounded through the walls. someone shouted downstairs. your mouth was swollen from both of them, your head clear enough to know exactly how bad of an idea this was and warm enough to want it anyway.

“yes,” you said.

gojo inhaled sharply.

toji’s eyes darkened.

“guest room?” toji said.

gojo looked at you immediately. “yes or no?”

you looked between them.

you thought about your notes, your midterm, your perfect little calendar, your reputation as the girl who always made the smart choice.

then you said, “yes.”

the room upstairs was ugly.

ugly comforter. ugly lamp. ugly motivational poster on the wall that said grind now, shine later like a threat from a gym bro with poor taste.

you stared at it.

“if either of you says anything about that poster,” you said, “i’m leaving.”

gojo followed your gaze and immediately started laughing.

toji locked the door. “don’t give him ideas.”

“too late,” gojo wheezed.

you pointed at him. “satoru.”

he tried to stop laughing and failed for another three seconds. strangely, it helped. the tension cracked just enough for you to breathe.

then the room settled again.

door locked.

music muffled.

three bodies, too close.

gojo’s laughter faded first.

toji’s hands came to your waist from behind. not pulling. just there. heavy and warm.

gojo stood in front of you, eyes searching your face.

“still good?” he asked.

“yes.”

toji’s thumb pressed lightly into your hip. “say it clear.”

your stomach twisted.

“i want this,” you said. “i want both of you.”

gojo closed his eyes for half a second. “holy shit.”

toji’s mouth touched the side of your neck. “good.”

that one word did more damage than it should have.

gojo kissed you first, impatient now, big hands cupping your face. toji stayed behind you, mouth moving along your neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin while his fingers worked your jacket down your arms. the contrast made your brain short out -gojo’s mouth needy and wet, toji’s hands steady and sure, both of them crowding you until the room seemed to tilt.

gojo’s fingers found the zipper of your dress.

he stopped. “can i?”

you nodded.

he gave you a look.

right.

“yes,” you breathed. “take it off.”

toji’s hand tightened on your waist.

gojo pulled the zipper down slowly. too slowly. the sound seemed obscene in the quiet pocket between bass beats. the dress loosened around your chest, slipping down your shoulders, and for a second your nerves came back sharp and bright.

gojo noticed.

of course he did.

“hey,” he said, thumb brushing your cheek. “too much?”

you shook your head. “no. just… don’t stare like that.”

toji’s voice was low against your ear. “like what?”

like you’re hungry.

like you forgot this was a bet.

like this means something.

you didn’t say any of that.

gojo did stare, though, when the dress hit the floor.

not blankly. not like he was checking off body parts.

like he was trying to memorize you and getting mad at himself for wanting to.

toji was worse because he went quiet.

you looked back at him.

his eyes were on your face, not your body.

somehow that was more intimate.

“lets go to the bed,” he said.

your body listened before your pride could object.

they undressed you like they were arguing with their hands.

gojo knelt on the mattress beside you, kissing you until your thoughts went syrupy. toji spread your thighs with both palms and kissed the inside of one knee, then higher, then higher, dragging his mouth slowly enough to make you want to kick him.

“impatient,” toji murmured.

“observant-” you shot back, breathless.

gojo smiled against your mouth. “she still has jokes. we’re not doing enough.”

“give me a second.”

“i gave you several.”

“you want to do it?”

“yes.”

toji looked up at him.

gojo looked back.

the air changed.

“later,” toji said.

your thighs pressed together on instinct.

toji noticed and forced them open again, slow and easy.

“oh?” gojo said. “that’s what got you?”

“shut up.”

your voice was too weak for the words to land.

gojo’s hand slid behind your back and unclasped your bra after one clumsy attempt that made toji snort.

“don’t,” gojo snapped.

“didn’t say anything.”

“your face did.”

“sounds familiar…” you muttered.

gojo laughed, then stopped when the bra fell away.

his hand came up, not grabbing immediately. just hovering for half a second, like he needed permission all over again.

your chest tightened.

you took his wrist and put his hand on your breast.

the sound he made was soft and wrecked.

toji watched that. watched your fingers around gojo’s wrist, watched gojo’s thumb brush over your nipple, watched your back arch before you could pretend it didn’t.

then toji’s mouth touched you through your panties.

your hips jumped.

“toji-”

“yeah,” he said. “felt that.”

gojo leaned down and took your nipple into his mouth at the same time toji dragged your panties aside.

for a second, there was too much sensation to name.

wet glossy heat at your chest. rough fingers digging into your thighs. toji’s breath against the slickest part of you. gojo’s teeth grazing gently before his tongue soothed over it. your own breathing getting thin, almost panicked, because your body didn’t know which touch to chase.

then toji licked you.

slow.

flat.

and most of all…filthy.

your head tipped back so hard it hit the pillow.

gojo groaned around your nipple.

toji did it again, deeper this time, tongue dragging through you like he wanted to make a mess of his mouth. the sound was obscene, wet and quiet under the music, and your entire body flushed hot.

“fuck,” gojo whispered, pulling off your chest to look. “toji.”

“what.”

“you’re-”

“busy.”

“yeah, i can see that.”

toji’s eyes flicked up to yours as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

your hand flew into gojo’s hair.

“oh my god-”

“not him,” toji muttered.

gojo laughed, but it came out strained. “that was so stupid.”

“she clenched.”

“of course she did, it was hot.”

you covered your face with one hand. “i hate both of you.”

toji slid one finger inside you.

your hand dropped immediately.

“liar,” he said.

he worked you open slowly, finger dragging in and out, curling just enough to make your stomach tighten. gojo kissed your neck, then your jaw, then your mouth, swallowing the little sounds you couldn’t hold back. he was still touching your chest, thumb and fingers learning every reaction, every twitch, every place that made you grab at him harder.

toji added a second finger.

the stretch made you gasp into gojo’s mouth.

“there?” toji asked.

you nodded.

he stopped moving.

you whined.

“words.”

“yes,” you said, too fast. “yes, there, don’t stop-”

“polite,” gojo murmured.

“she’s desperate.” toji corrected.

both were true.

toji put his mouth back on you and stopped being merciful.

he ate you out like he wanted you embarrassed. like he wanted you loud enough for the hallway, for the party, for every person downstairs who thought they knew you as the quiet girl with perfect notes and no bad habits. his fingers kept curling into that spot that made your thighs shake, his tongue circling your clit in steady, cruel passes, never rushing, never letting you escape the rhythm.

gojo held you through it, one hand tangled with yours above your head, the other still on your breast. his mouth stayed at your ear.

“listen to yourself,” he whispered. “you hear that? all semester acting like you didn’t want us, and now look at you.”

you made a nasty needy sound.

toji groaned against you. “she likes when you talk,” he said.

gojo’s breath hitched. “yeah?”

toji curled his fingers harder.

your answer came out as a cry.

gojo’s voice went softer. meaner. “you like it when i point it out? like knowing we knew?”

your legs started to shake.

“knew what?” you gasped, even though you were already gone.

gojo kissed the corner of your mouth. “that you wanted this.”

toji sucked your clit harder.

you came with your back off the bed and both their names tangled uselessly in your mouth. “f-ngh fuck!”

it wasn’t pretty. it was too loud, too much. your thighs locked around toji’s head, your fingers yanked at gojo’s hair, and for a few seconds you couldn’t hear the party at all. just your pulse, your breath, gojo’s low praise, and the wet sound of toji working you through it until you pushed weakly at his forehead.

he pulled back slow.

his mouth was shiny.

gojo stared.

toji stared back.

you already knew what was coming.

“wait,” you whispered.

gojo said, “fuck it.”

he grabbed toji by the jaw and kissed him hard and sloppy.

your stomach flipped so violently it was almost embarrassing.

it was nasty in a way that made your skin too tight. gojo licking into toji’s mouth like he wanted to taste what toji had done to you. toji gripping gojo’s hair and making him take it slower, meaner. their mouths wet, their breathing rough, the rivalry turning into something physical and ugly and hot right over your shaking body.

gojo broke first, panting.

toji smirked. “research?”

gojo swallowed. “shut the fuck up.” he grinned

toji’s eyes flicked to your thighs, still trembling. “she liked it.”

gojo looked down at you and smiled like he’d found religion somewhere terrible.

“yeah,” he said. “she really did.”

gojo fucked you first because he couldn’t stand waiting.

he tried to pretend otherwise.

failed.

badly.

“you’re impatient,” you told him as he fumbled the condom wrapper.

“i’m passionate.”

toji leaned against the wall, shirt off now, belt undone, looking like sin with a pulse. “you dropped it.”

gojo looked down.

the condom wrapper was, in fact, on the bed.

“fuck off.”

you laughed, and gojo’s face softened so suddenly it made your chest ache again.

then he crawled over you.

no joke this time.

his hand cupped your cheek, thumb tracing the corner of your swollen mouth. “tell me if you need me to stop.”

“i will.”

“promise?”

“promise.”

toji moved closer, sitting beside you, one hand resting on your thigh. grounding. possessive. a mix of both.

gojo lined up and dragged the tip through your wetness once.

your hips twitched.

“don’t tease,” you whispered.

his eyes darkened. “wasn’t planning to.”

he pushed in slow.

the stretch stole every thought you had.

gojo’s cock was long, and he made you feel all of it. the first inch had your fingers gripping his shoulders. the second had your mouth falling open. by the time he was halfway in, his forehead dropped to yours and his breath shook.

“fuck,” he whispered. “fuck, you feel-”

he didn’t finish.

couldn’t, maybe.

toji’s hand stroked your thigh once. “breathe.”

you dragged in air.

gojo pushed deeper.

your body opened around him slowly, slick and tight and sensitive from toji’s mouth. every inch felt like being split open in the most intimate way, like your body couldn’t decide whether to run from it or pull him closer.

when he finally bottomed out, you both went still.

gojo’s eyes were squeezed shut.

toji laughed quietly. “you alive?”

gojo didn’t lift his head. “don’t talk.”

“that bad?”

“that good.” he let out a rough moan

your walls clenched around him at the admission.

gojo made a sound that was almost a whimper.

toji’s eyes sharpened. “oh, pretty boy.”

“i swear to god-”

“move,” you said.

gojo did.

careful at first. slow pulls and deep returns, like he was trying to memorize the way you took him. his mouth stayed near yours, hot breath catching every time your nails dug into his back. he kissed you between thrusts, messy and open mouthed, moaning into you like he couldn’t help it.

toji watched.

not passively.

he watched like he was learning what ruined you.

his hand slid up your thigh, then over your stomach, then to your chest. he pinched your nipple lightly, and you clenched around gojo hard enough to break his rhythm.

“shit,” gojo gasped.

toji’s mouth curved. “there.”

“don’t help.”

“i’m helping her.”

“you’re making me look bad.”

toji leaned down, mouth at your ear. “is he?”

gojo’s hips snapped harder.

you cried out.

toji’s hand came over your mouth.

“careful,” he murmured. “or everyone downstairs hears how smart girls sound when they get fucked stupid.”

your eyes rolled back.

gojo groaned. “you cannot say shit like that while i’m inside her.”

toji’s palm stayed over your mouth. “she liked it.”

“i know she liked it.”

gojo started moving harder after that.

not rough enough to hurt. rough enough to make the bed shift, to make your body slide up the sheets until toji’s hand on your hip held you in place. he fucked you with his jaw tight and his eyes bright, all that campus confidence stripped down to something needier, something almost desperate.

“I wanted this so bad,” he admitted, voice breaking near your ear. “you don’t even know. every time you corrected me, every time you looked at me like i was- ngh annoying-”

“you are,” you gasped when toji moved his hand.

gojo laughed, wrecked. “yeah? then why are you squeezing my dick like that?”

you did it again on purpose.

his hips stuttered.

toji made a low approving sound. “mean.”

gojo’s fingers found your clit.

you stopped being mean immediately.

the pressure was perfect, tight circles over nerves already swollen and sensitive. you grabbed his wrist but didn’t push him away. couldn’t. your body had started chasing everything- his thrusts, his fingers, toji’s hand on your throat now, loose and careful, not cutting air, just holding your attention.

“look at him,” toji said.

you forced your eyes open.

gojo looked ruined.

white hair stuck to his forehead. cheeks flushed. mouth parted around every breath.

toji’s voice stayed low. “he’s trying so hard not to cum.”

gojo swore.

you clenched.

“don’t,” gojo pleaded. actually pleaded. “don’t do that unless you’re close.”

you were.

embarrassingly close.

toji knew. “she is.”

gojo’s forehead pressed to yours. “yeah? you gonna cum for me?”

you nodded.

“say it.”

“satoru-”

“say it.”

“i’m gonna cum.”

his fingers sped up.

toji’s hand tightened slightly at your throat, just enough to make your pulse jump under his palm.

“then do it,” gojo whispered. “please.”

it hit deep.

your orgasm rolled through you with a slow violence that made your body lock around him. not sharp like the first one- this one dragged, thick and molten, spreading from your stomach to your thighs until you were shaking under him. gojo cursed into your mouth, thrusting through it, losing rhythm as you pulsed around him.

“fuck, fuck-”

toji’s voice cut in. “hold it.”

gojo choked out a laugh. “are you insane?”

“make it last.”

gojo looked like he might die.

you kissed him, soft and mean. “can’t?”

that did it.

his eyes flashed.

he fucked into your cunt harder, chasing the last waves of your orgasm until you were whimpering from sensitivity, and then he buried himself deep and came with your name broken against your neck.

for a second, he trembled over you.

you held him there.

toji didn’t make a joke.

not immediately.

which somehow made it more intimate.

then gojo, still panting, murmured, “ten.”

you started laughing.

toji grabbed the back of his neck. “move before i lower it for her.”

toji didn’t rush.

that was the problem.

if he’d been cocky right away, you could’ve rolled your eyes. if he’d grabbed you immediately, you could’ve blamed the heat on being overwhelmed.

but he gave you water.

he waited until you drank.

he checked your face like he was reading something he didn’t want anyone else to see.

“done?” he asked.

you were sweaty, shaky, sore already, gojo still sprawled beside you trying to remember how lungs worked.

you should’ve said yes.

you said, “no.”

toji’s expression changed slowly.

gojo lifted his head. “oh, she’s insane.”

“you’re one to talk,” you muttered.

toji took the bottle from your hand and set it aside. “hands and knees then.”

your stomach dropped.

then climbed.

gojo sat up immediately. “we’re doing that?”

“you can watch or help.”

“i can multitask.”

“barely.”

gojo opened his mouth.

you put a hand on his chest. “please do not argue while i’m trying to be sexy.”

he looked at your hand, then at your face.

“you’re always sexy,” he said.

quiet.

too sincere.

toji’s hand paused at your waist for half a second.

you pretended not to notice.

moving onto your hands and knees was not graceful. your legs were shaky, your hair was a mess, and the bed dipped awkwardly under three people. gojo helped you settle, brushing your hair out of your face. toji rolled on a condom behind you, then placed both hands on your hips.

the first press of him against you made your breath catch.

his cock was thicker.

your body knew before your brain finished the thought.

“wait,” you gasped.

toji stopped instantly.

gojo’s hand came to your cheek. “breathe.”

you did.

toji’s palm rubbed your lower back, slow and grounding. “not going anywhere.”

“unfortunately,” gojo muttered, trying to lighten it.

you laughed shakily.

toji pushed in a little.

the laugh snapped into a whimper.

“fuck,” you breathed.

“too much?” toji asked.

you shook your head, then remembered. “no. just… slow.”

“i know.”

and he did.

he worked himself into you inch by inch, patient in a way that almost made you angrier because it felt good. not easy. not soft. good. a deep stretch that made your arms tremble and your mouth fall open, made heat crawl up your spine with every bit of space he took.

gojo kept you anchored, thumb brushing your cheek, eyes fixed on yours.

“there you go,” he murmured. “you’re okay.”

toji bottomed out with a low curse.

you couldn’t move.

could barely breathe.

he was heavy inside you. full in a way that made you feel pinned from the inside out.

“still with me?” toji asked.

you nodded. “yes.”

“good.”

then he moved.

the first thrust punched the air out of your lungs.

toji wasn’t frantic. he didn’t need to be. he fucked like he had control over every inch of himself and every reaction you gave him. deep, heavy strokes that made the mattress creak and your fingers curl in the sheets. every thrust forced your body forward toward gojo, and gojo caught you every time, hand at your jaw, mouth hovering close to yours.

“oh,” gojo whispered, watching your face. “that’s different.”

you made a sound that wasn’t a word.

toji huffed. “yeah.”

gojo’s eyes flicked over your shoulder. “smug.”

“accurate.”

toji shifted his angle.

your arms almost gave out.

“there,” he said.

gojo’s mouth parted. “fuck, she just-”

“i felt it.”

you hated that they were talking about you like this.

you loved it so much your body betrayed you immediately.

gojo kissed you, swallowing the next sound, but toji’s pace got heavier and there was no hiding from it. his hands spread over your hips, pulling you back onto him with every thrust. the sound was filthy- skin meeting skin, your wetness, the bed, gojo’s breath catching every time you moaned into his mouth.

“open,” gojo whispered.

you looked up at him.

he didn’t push. didn’t grab.

he waited.

you nodded.

he guided his hard glossy cock into your mouth carefully, groaning as your lips closed around him. one hand threaded into your hair, not forcing, just holding. toji kept fucking you from behind, and the rhythm went messy at first. real. knees slipping. your balance breaking. gojo pulling back once when your breath hitched too hard. toji muttering, “move your hand,” like the three of you were trying to solve a physics problem naked.

then it clicked.

and once it did, it was unbearable.

toji behind you, deep and relentless.

gojo in front of you, trembling under your mouth, praise turning ragged.

you between them, full at both ends, drooling around gojo’s cock because toji kept hitting that spot and making your throat catch around every muffled moan.

“fuck,” gojo gasped. “good girl- so good d-don’t push, baby, just like that-”

toji’s hand came down on your ass.

so sharp it stung.

your body jolted, clenching hard.

gojo nearly lost it.

“warn me,” he choked.

toji did it again.

your moan vibrated around gojo.

his head dropped back. “oh my god.”

toji laughed, breath rough now. “she likes it.”

gojo looked down at you, eyes half lidded. “yeah, i noticed.”

you pulled off him with a wet gasp. “toji-”

“i know.”

“please-”

“what?”

you couldn’t answer.

gojo’s thumb brushed your swollen lower lip. “use your words, genius.”

that nickname, here, like this, made your brain melt.

“touch me, harder” you begged.

toji’s hand slid under you, fingers finding your clit.

you nearly collapsed.

gojo caught your face in both hands and kissed you through it, messy and open, letting you whimper into his mouth while toji fucked you harder and rubbed tight, nasty circles over nerves that were already too sensitive.

“too much?” gojo asked against your lips.

you shook your head.

toji leaned over your back, chest hot against your spine. “then take it.”

your orgasm came apart in pieces.

first your thighs. then your stomach. then your voice, cracking on a cry gojo had to swallow. it was sharper than the last one, almost mean, tearing through you until your vision blurred and your body clamped around toji so hard he cursed against your shoulder.

he didn’t stop.

he slowed, but he didn’t stop.

the aftershocks made you twitch under him.

gojo brushed wet hair away from your face. “you need a second?”

you were shaking.

toji stayed buried, breathing hard.

you nodded.

immediately, he stopped moving.

that should not have made your chest feel warm.

but it did.

gojo kissed your forehead. “there.”

toji’s hand rubbed your hip once. “good?”

you swallowed. “yeah.”

“done?”

you closed your eyes.

you should have been.

instead, you whispered, “one more.”

gojo went still.

toji’s hand tightened.

“yeah?” toji asked.

you nodded. “yeah.”

the last one felt different before it even started.

less like a bet.

more like something none of you were going to know how to talk about tomorrow.

gojo sat against the headboard and pulled you back against his chest. he was warm behind you, arms around your waist, mouth at your shoulder. toji settled between your thighs again, slower now, eyes on your face.

you were sensitive everywhere.

your lips. your chest. your thighs. the place between them that felt swollen and used and still somehow aching for more.

toji noticed the way you flinched when he touched you.

“last one,” he said.

you nodded. “last one.”

gojo kissed your temple. “tell us if you need to stop.”

“i know.”

“say it anyway.”

you turned your head enough to look at him. “i’ll tell you.”

his expression softened.

then toji pushed in.

slow, because he had to be.

because your body was already trembling.

the stretch now was almost too intimate, too much awareness of where he had been, where gojo had been, how thoroughly they had taken you apart and how carefully they kept checking the pieces.

you whimpered.

gojo’s arms tightened around you. “breathe.”

toji paused halfway. “more?”

you nodded. “more.”

his jaw flexed.

he sank in the rest of the way and groaned.

gojo’s hand slid down your stomach, stopping just above where toji was inside you. “feel him?” he pressed down

your head fell back against his shoulder. “yes.”

toji started moving.

slow at first.

deep.

too deep.

the kind of strokes that made your mouth fall open without sound, that made your body rock back into gojo’s chest while gojo’s hands moved over you like he was trying to keep you grounded and ruin you at the same time.

one hand on your breast.

one between your legs.

his mouth at your ear.

toji’s hands under your thighs, holding you open.

you had nowhere to hide.

“look at him,” gojo whispered.

toji was watching you.

not your body. your face.

every reaction. every break. every time your brows pulled together, every time your mouth shaped a sound before it escaped.

“he’s so cocky because you’re letting him see you like this,” gojo said.

toji’s mouth curved. “she likes being seen.”

“no,” you breathed.

gojo’s fingers circled your clit.

you jerked.

toji thrust harder.

“liar,” they said at the same time.

you hated how that made you clench.

toji felt it. “there it is.”

gojo laughed softly, but it broke when your hand reached back into his hair and pulled.

“fuck,” he whispered. “do that again.”

you did.

he groaned against your neck.

toji’s eyes sharpened. “you like making him sound like that?”

your face burned.

gojo’s fingers slowed, punishing.

you whined.

“answer,” he murmured.

“yes,” you gasped. “yes, i like it.”

gojo kissed your neck, open mouthed and messy. “good.”

toji’s pace got rougher.

the room disappeared by degrees.

first the poster.

then the crooked lamp.

then the music downstairs.

until there was only heat and breath and pressure. toji inside you, gojo around you, both of them talking you through it and ruining you with it.

“wanted us so bad,” gojo murmured.

“pretended not to,” toji said.

“walked around campus acting untouchable.”

“not untouchable now.”

you made a sound so desperate it embarrassed you.

gojo kissed your cheek. “don’t hide. it’s pretty.”

“it’s filthy,” toji corrected.

gojo smiled against your skin. “that too.”

your orgasm built slow enough to scare you.

not a snap this time. a tide… heavy and hot, pulling through your stomach, making your thighs tremble in toji’s hands. every circle of gojo’s fingers made it worse. every thrust from toji pushed it deeper. you started shaking before you were even there.

“i can’t,” you whispered.

gojo’s voice softened. “you can.”

toji’s grip tightened. “one more.”

“too much.”

toji slowed immediately.

gojo’s fingers stopped.

your body panicked at the loss.

“no,” you gasped. “no, don’t stop.”

gojo kissed your temple. “then tell us.”

your pride was gone.

burned up somewhere between the hallway and the bed.

“m-make me cum,” you whispered.

toji’s control snapped.

not fully. never fully. but enough.

his thrusts turned harder, dirtier, the bed knocking against the wall in a rhythm the music barely covered. gojo’s fingers moved faster, slick and precise, his other hand holding your jaw so you couldn’t look away from toji.

“there,” gojo whispered. “watch him.”

toji looked wrecked now.

still smug. still toji.

but his breathing was rough, his jaw cleanched, eyes burning.

“cum,” toji said.

and you did.

hard.

your whole body seized, pleasure ripping through you so intensely your voice broke on both their names. you grabbed at gojo’s arms, nails digging in, while toji fucked you through every pulse of it. it was messy and wet and overwhelming, your body clenching around him until he cursed and finally lost his rhythm.

“inside,” you gasped before he could ask. “condom- inside-”

toji buried himself deep and came with a rough groan, hips jerking, hands gripping your thighs like he needed something to hold onto too.

gojo followed after, almost embarrassingly fast once you turned and kissed him. he came with a broken sound against your mouth, one hand tangled in your hair, the other shaking at your waist.

then nobody moved.

not for a while.

the room was hot and wrecked and smelled like sweat and sex and someone’s cheap laundry detergent. your body felt boneless. heavy. sore. so sensitive that even toji pulling out carefully made you wince.

gojo’s arms tightened around you immediately. “okay?”

“yeah,” you whispered. “just… wow.”

toji huffed a quiet laugh and disappeared to deal with the condom.

gojo kissed your shoulder. “wow is good.”

“wow is academically neutral.”

“wow is at least a nine.”

you laughed weakly.

toji came back with tissues and water. “he asking for grades already?”

“emotionally,” you said.

gojo looked offended. “i’m being vulnerable.”

toji tossed him the tissue box.

it hit his chest.

“abuse,” gojo muttered.

you laughed again, and it came out sleepy and breathless.

toji cleaned you up with more care than you expected. gojo held the water bottle for you because your hands were still shaky. nobody made it weird. somehow that made it weirder.

softer.

later, you ended up between them again.

gojo on your left, tracing lazy shapes along your arm.

toji on your right, pretending he wasn’t watching the way your breathing slowly evened out.

your dress was somewhere on the floor. your hair was ruined. your thighs ached. your mouth felt swollen from kissing them both, and you were already dreading the mirror.

for a few minutes, nobody spoke.

then gojo said, “so.”

you closed your eyes. “no.”

“you don’t know what i’m going to ask.”

“yes i do.”

toji huffed. “rating.”

gojo grinned. “academic evaluation.”

“i’m dropping out.”

“too late. final exam already happened.”

you opened one eye. “you are so annoying.”

“and yet?”

toji’s hand settled on your thigh under the sheet. “grade him before he starts begging.”

gojo gasped. “i don’t beg.”

you and toji both looked at him.

gojo paused.

“okay, tonight doesn’t count.”

you laughed and sat up as much as your body allowed, pulling the sheet to your chest.

“fine. gojo satoru.”

he perked up immediately. “yes, professor.”

“strong performance. very attentive. surprisingly good at checking in. excellent mouth, excessive talking, pretty moans.”

toji laughed.

gojo’s ears went pink. “don’t write that part down.”

“i’m writing it twice.”

“score?”

you pretended to think.

gojo looked genuinely stressed.

“nine point three.”

“point three?” he said. “i improved?”

“barely.”

“i’ll take it.”

toji made a sound.

you turned to him. “toji fushiguro.”

“yeah?”

“controlled. patient when it mattered. filthy mouth. good hands. very good hands. lost points for smugness.”

“how many?”

“not enough to humble you.”

gojo muttered, “make it an eight.”

“nine point five,” you said.

gojo shot upright. “NINE POINT FIVE?”

toji’s smile was slow and horrible. “say it again.”

“no.”

“say it louder.”

“absolutely not.”

gojo pointed at him. “he is unbearable now. look what you’ve done.”

“he was unbearable before.”

toji’s thumb brushed your thigh. “office hours for extra credit?”

your breath caught before you could stop it.

gojo saw.

toji felt it.

both of them smiled.

you pulled the sheet over your face. “i hate this class.”

gojo leaned in and kissed the sheet where your forehead was. “liar.”

toji’s hand stayed warm on your thigh.

and yeah.

monday was going to ruin you.

You arrived with two suitcases, a phone full of condolences you stopped answering, and the ugly, disgusting feeling that your life had ended somewhere else and your body had shown up here by mistake. Your grandmother didn’t hug you for long when she met you at the port. She just took one suitcase, told you the ferry food was terrible, and asked if you wanted rice when you got home.

It was the kindest thing anyone had done for you in weeks.

The island sat off Okinawa, small enough that everybody waved at everybody and every road eventually bent back toward the sea. Your grandmother’s house stood on a quiet lane with potted herbs out front, laundry lines in the yard, and a view of the water if you leaned far enough from the upstairs window. The air smelled like salt, hot concrete, and citrus from the crate stacks near the kitchen.

The fruit came from next door.

You noticed him before you met him.

Every few mornings, a man would come through the side gate carrying a crate against one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Sometimes it was shikuwasa, sometimes mangoes, sometimes dragon fruit split pink as open mouths. He would set the crate by the back steps and your grandmother would hand over three bottles of juice in return, cold enough to sweat through the glass.

He never lingered.

He was tall, wide through the shoulders, tattooed from wrist to elbow, with a face that looked built for saying no. His hair was pink, grown out enough to show dark roots. Rings on three fingers. Old black shirts. An expression that made him seem permanently unimpressed by whatever was in front of him.

The first time your grandmother caught you looking, she slapped your arm lightly with a dish towel.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m literally just standing here.”

“You’re nineteen. That counts as stupid all by itself.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. It felt rusty. Like a hinge that hadn’t been used.

A week later she sent you over with the empty crate.

“Take this back to Sukuna,” she said. “And put your face right.”

“My face is fine.”

“It looks like you’re going to court.”

His house was close enough that your grandmother could’ve shouted if she wanted to. One story. Concrete walls bleached pale by the sun. A motorcycle near the side of the house. Wind chimes that barely moved in the heat.

You knocked once.

Nothing.

Twice.

The door swung open and there he was, damp pink hair and low slung gray shorts, a towel around his neck.

He looked at the crate in your arms first. Then at you.

“What?”

Your throat went dry for no reason that didn’t annoy you. “My grandma said to bring this back.”

He stared a second longer, taking you in without being sleazy about it. That somehow made it worse.

“You’re the granddaughter.”

“You say that like I’m a package..”

He took the crate from you with one hand. “You talk a lot.”

“You asked one question.”

“No, I didn’t.”

That should’ve irritated you. Instead it nearly made you smile.

He stepped aside, set the crate just inside the doorway, then looked back at you. “You settlin in?”

It was the first normal thing anyone had asked since you got there. Not Are you okay. Not It must be so hard. Just that.

You leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Not really.”

He gave a short nod, like that was the only answer he respected. “Good.”

You frowned. “Good?”

“If you liked it right away, I’d assume there was something wrong with you.”

You let out a laugh before you could stop it.

His eyes flicked to your mouth for half a second. “There. Better.”

Then he shut the door in your face…

After that, you started seeing him everywhere.

At the dock before noon, helping unload sacks of feed off the ferry. Outside the convenience store, smoking with one hand in his pocket while three old women talked at him like he belonged to them. In your grandmother’s yard, dropping off fruit and pretending he wasn’t listening when she asked too many questions about his brother.

Ryomen Sukuna, your grandmother told you over dinner, was thirty six, born on the island, mean since childhood, dependable in every emergency, and impossible to impress.

“Why do you know so much about him?” you asked.

“Because I’ve been old longer than you’ve been alive.”

It turned out everybody liked him, though nobody described him as nice. He fixed what broke. Carried heavy things. Drove elderly neighbors to appointments on the main island when the ferry schedule got messed up. He never smiled when he did any of it. That almost made it worse. Like kindness had slipped into him against his will and he resented being caught at it.

He stayed distant with you.

Not cold. Not really...

Careful.

He never touched you unless there was a reason. If you were both reaching for the same thing, he pulled his hand back. If you stood too close in your grandmother’s kitchen, he shifted away like he could feel the line in the floor neither of you were supposed to cross.

That restraint did something ugly and irresistible to you.

Maybe it was grief…or maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was just being nineteen and newly aware of your own body again after months of feeling like a ghost wearing your skin. Whatever it was, it got worse every time he looked at you for too long and then acted like he hadn’t.

Once, during a thunderstorm, your grandmother’s back screen door came off its hinge and Sukuna came over with a toolbox.

You stood in the kitchen doorway while rain slammed the yard flat and watched him work. Wet shirt stuck to his back. Hair dripping at the nape of his neck. Forearms flexing each time he drove in a screw.

Without looking up, he said, “If you keep staring holes into me, the door’s not getting fixed any faster.”

Heat climbed your face fast at the fact you got caught. “Maybe you’re just dramatic.”

Now he looked up.

Rain thudded against the roof between you.

“You should stop doing that” he said.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like you’ve already made your mind up.”

You tried to laugh it off. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“I think exactly highly enough.”

He went back to the hinge like the conversation was over.

It wasn’t over for you.

That night, under the ceiling fan in your childhood bedroom turned temporary again, you lay awake listening to rainwater drip from the eaves and thought about the way he had said it. Not flattered. Nor teasing..

Warning you.

Your grandmother noticed before you admitted anything to yourself.

One late afternoon she was slicing citrus at the counter while you washed bottles in the sink.

“Don’t fall in love next door” she said.

You nearly dropped the glass bottle in your hand. “Who said anything about love?”

She didn’t look up. “Young girls never know the difference between wanting and love until it’s too late.”

You stared out the window toward his house. “Maybe older people don’t either.”

That finally made her smile.

The first time you were alone with him for more than five minutes, he drove you to the main store on the other side of the island because your grandmother’s knee was acting up and the delivery truck had been late again.

His truck smelled like cigarettes, clean soap, and heat baked vinyl. He drove one handed, his elbow hanging out the window, saying almost nothing while the ocean flashed silver through breaks in the roadside brush.

At a red light, he glanced over.

“You eating?”

The question caught you off guard. “What kind of question is that?”

“The kind I asked.”

You looked out the windshield. “Sometimes.”

“Not good enough.”

You almost said something back, but something in his face stopped you. He wasn’t being gentle. He was being direct. There was a difference.

“My grandma makes sure I eat,” you said.

“Good.”

a little quieter he spoke again, “You look tired.”

For one horrible second, your eyes burned.

You turned your head fast, embarrassed. “I don’t sleep great.”

“No shit.”

And that was all. No pity. No soft voice. No reaching over with a hand you might have broken over if he’d offered it wrong.

You wanted him a little from then on. You wanted him badly after that.

Summer moved the way it always does in places like that. Slow enough to notice every hour. Fast enough to realize, too late, that it was nearly gone.

You learned the road to the seawall, the best time to buy fish, which neighbors would keep you talking for forty minutes if you didn’t escape fast. You helped your grandmother bottle juice and label jars and sweep the porch. You smiled more. Ate more. Started answering texts again, though not many. Started standing in the sun without feeling guilty for it.

And through all of it, Sukuna stayed just close enough to ruin you.

A hand at the small of your back once when a scooter came too fast around a blind corner.

His mouth against your ear when he leaned past you for a bottle in your grandmother’s fridge. “Move.”

The look he gave you when he caught you in shorts and one of your grandmother’s old oversized shirts, legs bare, hair damp from the shower.

Not hunger.

Recognition.

That was what made it worse.

He knew exactly what he was doing every time he walked away.

One night near the end of August, your grandmother went to bed early with a headache. The house fell quiet around ten. You were rinsing glasses at the sink when you saw movement through the window.

Sukuna was crossing his yard toward the road.

Black shirt. Dark jeans instead of work shorts. Rings. Watch. Hair pushed back from his face like he’d actually bothered with it.

You wiped your hands on a towel and stepped out onto the porch before you could think better of it.

“Sukuna.”

He stopped at the gate and looked over.

The porch light caught on the edge of his jaw. “What.”

“Where are you going?”

He checked the time on his watch. “Out.”

“That helps.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Main island. Friend’s bar. Go back inside.”

You came down the steps barefoot.

Warm pavement. Night insects buzzing in the dark. Somewhere near the shore music from the local bar carried in and out with the wind.

He watched you cross the space between the houses and something in his face tightened.

“Do not” he said quietly.

You stopped in front of him. “Do not what?”

“Whatever you came out here to do.”

You looked up at him. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m not stupid.”

The words sat between you. So did the months that had led to them.

You crossed your arms, more to hold yourself together than anything else. “Maybe I just didn’t want you going to some bar.”

His mouth pulled at one corner, humorless. “You don’t get a say in that.”

“Maybe I want one…”

“That’s the problem.”

You hated how calm he sounded. How controlled he was... Like he could stand there and act like your pulse wasn’t beating in his throat too.

“You feel it..” you said…or more like mumbled

He said nothing.

You stepped closer. “You do-”

His jaw flexed. “You’re nineteen.”

“You keep saying that like I don’t know.”

“And I’m thirty six.”

“I know that too bu-”

“That should be enough.”

“It isn’t.”

His eyes dropped shut for a second, brief and heavy. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Your voice came out like a small desperate plead. “Then tell me.”

He laughed once, but there was no humor in it. “You want the true?. You’re grieving. You’re lonely. You moved to a tiny island where I’m one of the only new things your body’s had room to want in months. And I’m old enough to know that wanting something in the middle of a wreck doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”

It should have made you angry.

Instead it made your chest ache, because it was cruel and careful at the same time and only he could manage that.

You lifted your chin. “What if I still want it?”

His stare turned hard. “That doesn’t make it smart.”

“Since when do you care about smart?”

“Since you.”

That landed so hard you forgot to breathe.

Neither of you moved for a second.

Then you reached up and caught his shirt lightly in your fist, right over his chest.

“If you want me to go back inside,” you said, “say it like you mean it.”

He looked down at your hand.

Then at your face.

When he spoke, his voice was rougher than before. “Go inside.”

You held his stare.

He swore under his breath.

The sound that left you wasn’t quite a laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

His hand came up so fast it made your pulse jump, closing around your wrist, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to stop you from saying anything else stupid.

“You think this is a game?”

“No.”

“Then stop acting like it.”

“I’m not.”

You could feel the heat of him even through the night air. The restraint in his grip. The fact that he still hadn’t pulled you any closer.

That more than anything made you brave.

“You’ve wanted me back,” you said.

He stayed quiet

Then, with a voice so honest and doomed, “Yes.”

The word went straight through you.

You rose onto your toes and kissed him.

He didn’t kiss you back at first.

That half second felt endless. You felt every line he was drawing in his head. Every reason. Every warning. Every decent impulse fighting its last fight.

Then his free hand came to the side of your neck and he kissed you hard enough to make your whole body wake up.

Not sweet. Not rushed either. Deep and careful, sukuna was furious with himself for knowing exactly how long he’d wanted to do it.

You made a sound against his mouth and he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“Last chance..” he said.

Your answer was a whisper. “Take me inside.”

Something in his face gave.

He walked you backward through his front door with one hand on your waist and the other locked around your wrist like if he let go too soon he might come to his senses. The house was dark except for the kitchen light over the sink, yellow and low. Your back hit the wall beside the doorway. He stared down at you for one dragging second, his big chest rising, eyes blown darker than you’d ever seen them.

Then he kissed you again.

This time there was nothing careful about the first impact of it. His hand slid into your hair, tipped your head back, and his mouth opened yours until your knees softened. He kissed like a man who had been denying himself something for too long and hated that you could tell.

Your hands found his shoulders, then his chest, then the line of his stomach under the shirt. Hard and warm

He broke away long enough to grab the hem of your shirt. “This come off?”

“Yes.”

He pulled it over your head and looked at you in your thin lacy bra and sleep shorts like the sight genuinely bothered him.

“Christ..” he muttered.

You should have felt shy but you didn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you, like you’d already gotten under his skin and now he had to live with it.

His thumb pressed against your lower lip. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Use words I can’t misunderstand.”

You swallowed. “I’m sure.”

That was all it took.

His mouth moved to your throat, his teeth grazing lightly once before he kissed the spot softer, like he knew exactly how much you could take and wasn’t going to give you more until you asked for it. His hands ran down your sides, slow enough to make you shiver, then around to your ass, pulling you tight against him so you could feel how hard he already was.

The breath that left you was embarrassing. He noticed.

“Yeah?” he said against your neck.

You nodded.

His hand slid under the waistband of your shorts, fingers skimming bare skin, then the soaked center of you. You jerked against the wall.

“Look at that,” he murmured, not unkindly. “Been this worked up over me all summer?”

Heat waved down your face. “Sukuna.”

“What.” His fingers dragged through you once, slow and thorough, and your thighs almost gave. “You want me quiet now?”

“No.”

“No what?”

You stared at him, breath catching. “No. Don’t be quiet.”

His mouth curved, turning mean and satisfied.

“Good girl.”

The words hit low and hot. You made a sound that seemed to please him even more. He pressed his forehead briefly to yours, exhaled once like he was getting himself under control, then slid two fingers inside you in one smooth push.

You gasped and grabbed at his shirt.

“There,” he said softly, watching your face. “That’s it.”

It was too much and not enough. The stretch, the drag of his fingers, the way his thumb circled your clit just right like he’d known your body for longer than five minutes. Your head fell back against the wall. He kept his eyes on you the whole time, working you open slowly, making you take it, making sure you could.

“You can tell me to stop,” he said.

You shook your head fast.

“Words.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Good.”

He kissed you again while he fingered you, swallowing every helpless sound he pulled out of you. The room felt too small. Too hot. When your legs started shaking, he took his hand away and you nearly whimpered at the loss.

He looked at his wet fingers once, his jaw tightening, then grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you.

You clutched at him automatically. He carried you down the short hallway like you weighed nothing and set you on the edge of his bed.

The room smelled like laundry detergent, skin, and the open window letting in sea air. Moonlight cut across the floorboards. He stood between your knees, looking down at you like he was trying not to ruin anything.

Then he dropped to his knees.

You stared. “Sukuna...”

“Relax.”

Easy for him to say.

He hooked his fingers into your shorts and dragged them down your legs, taking your underwear with them, and the look he gave your bare body made your pulse stutter. Not polite. Nor romantic. Hungry in a way that was somehow more intimate because he was still holding back.

When he spread your thighs wider, your breath caught.

“Tell me if it’s too much…” he said.

Then his mouth was on you and every coherent thought left your body.

He was filthy about it. Thorough. Patient for exactly thirty seconds, then not patient at all. He licked into you slow at first, learning what made your hips jump, what made your fingers twist in the sheets, what sound your voice made when his tongue flattened and his thumb found your clit. When he got the rhythm right, he kept it, relentless in a way that made tears sting unexpectedly at the corners of your eyes.

Not sadness.

Just the sheer force of being paid that much attention.

Your hand went to his hair. “Please...”

He looked up at you without stopping, eyes dark, and the sight nearly undid you by itself.

“Please what.”

You were shaking too hard to be embarrassed. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He made a low sound against you that felt like approval and pushed two fingers back inside at the same time, curling them until your whole body arched.

You came hard enough to lose your breath.

He didn’t let up until he’d dragged it all the way through you, until your thighs were trembling around his shoulders and you were saying his name non stop.

When he finally rose, mouth glossy and wet with your juices, expression wrecked in a way that made him look more dangerous instead of less, you could only stare.

He wiped his thumb over your lower lip. “Still sure?”

You pulled him down by the shirt and kissed him. Tasted yourself on his mouth. Felt the way that made him groan, low and rough.

He stripped fast after that. Shirt first. Jeans next. You caught a glimpse of tattoos disappearing under his waistband, the hard line of his stomach, the heavy length of him in his hand when he shoved his boxers down, and whatever shy instinct you had left just burned out.

He opened the bedside drawer, grabbed a condom, and ripped it with his teeth.

The practicality of it made something in your chest loosen. Real. This was real…

When he looked back at you, his voice was steady again, even if the rest of him wasn’t. “Lie back.”

You did.

He settled over you, one knee between yours, one hand braced beside your head while the other guided himself through your slick and tapped once against your clit, making you jolt.

“Sensitive already?”

You could barely answer. “Yes.”

“Too bad.”

Then he pushed in.

It was slow, slower than you expected from him, and that somehow felt more intimate than if he’d just taken what he wanted. The stretch made your mouth fall open. He watched every inch of your face as he sank deeper, his jaw tight, breathing through his nose like patience was costing him something.

“Look at me” he said.

You did.

“That’s it.”

When he finally bottomed out, the sound he made was almost angry.

You were the one who moved first, lifting your hips weakly. He caught the motion, kissed you once, hard, then set a pace that made the bed knock softly against the wall.

Nothing about it felt dreamy. It felt physical. Wet. Hot. The drag of his body against yours. The weight of him on one forearm so he didn’t crush you. The way one of your legs ended up hooked high around his waist while his hand spread over your thigh to keep you open for him. He gave it to you rougher once he knew you could take it, but never carelessly. Every time your breath hitched too sharply, he slowed for a second, watched your face, then kept going when you pulled him closer.

“You still with me?” he asked against your mouth.

“Yes.”

“Say it right.”

“Yes, I’m with you.”

“Good.”

He drove into you deeper and your nails dug into his shoulders.

You lost track of time after that. There was only his mouth on yours, then your throat, then your breasts. His hand between your bodies, thumb pressing circles that made your back arch off the mattress. The filthy, helpless sounds he pulled out of you. The way his control kept fraying the closer he got, until his forehead dropped to yours and every thrust started landing harder, more honest.

“That’s it,” he said, voice wrecked now. “Take it.”

Your whole body tightened.

He felt it instantly. “Again?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

“Come for me, then.”

The bluntness of it sent you over. You came with his name in your mouth and your legs shaking around him, and the way you clenched around him made him swear low and vicious before he followed, buried deep, hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave the memory of it there.

For a long moment neither of you moved.

The fan turned lazily overhead.

Sukuna kissed the corner of your mouth, then the side of your head, small absent things that felt almost more dangerous than the sex itself.

He got up first, dealt with the condom, came back with a glass of water, and handed it to you without comment.

You sat up against his headboard with your hair a mess, pink lips swollen, body humming all over. He leaned against the dresser in nothing but his boxers and looked at you like he was trying to decide whether this had been a terrible idea or the worst one of his life.

You took a drink. “You make everything look dramatic.”

That got the faintest almost smile out of him. “You make everything worse.”

“You didn’t seem upset five minutes ago.”

He dragged a hand over his face. “You really do talk too much.”

But he took the glass from you and set it down gently.

When he got back into bed, he didn’t pull you on top of him or say anything stupid about forever. He just lay beside you, one arm under his head, the other heavy across your waist when you curled into his side like it was the most natural place in the world.

Before sleep took you, he said into the dark, “You’re leaving this island eventually.”

You lifted your head. “Is that your pillow talk?”

“It’s me being serious.”

You went quiet.

His hand moved once over your back. “Don’t build your life around one summer,” he said. “Not even a good one.”

The words should have hurt..

Instead they settled somewhere painful and true.

By morning, the room looked ordinary again. Your clothes were in a line on the floor. The condom wrapper was in the trash. Sunlight came in through the curtains like nothing life changing had happened in the night.

That was the strangest part.

Nothing dramatic followed.

You did not become his girlfriend. He did not turn soft. He did not suddenly stop being difficult or proud or thirty six.

But something between you had been named, and after that it lived in everything.

In the way his hand lingered at your waist when he passed you in the kitchen.

In the way he looked at your mouth when you laughed.

In the way he still kept his distance in daylight, because he was stubborn and because, underneath all that arrogance, he had a conscience that annoyed both of you.

Summer tipped into fall. The island cooled. You got a part time job at a café near the port. You started sleeping through most nights. You stopped feeling guilty every time something made you happy.

And little by little, without asking permission from your grief, your life began again.

When you told your grandmother in winter that you wanted to apply to a university in Naha, she nodded like she’d been waiting.

“Good,” she said, slicing citrus at the counter. “You were never meant to stay because you were sad.”

A month later, on one of the last warm evenings before spring, you found Sukuna at the seawall watching the ferry lights come in.

You sat beside him. Close, not touching.

He glanced over. “Your interview’s next week.”

“Are you stalking me through my grandma now?”

“She talks too much.”

“She says the same about me.”

“She’s right.”

You smiled and looked out at the water.

After a minute, he said, “You’ll get in.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I usually am.”

There was a time that answer would have irritated you. Now it just sounded like him.

You drew one knee up and rested your arm over it. “You know what the worst part is?”

He side eyed you. “I’m about to.”

“That when I first came here, I thought wanting you was the whole story.”

His expression didn’t change, but his attention sharpened.

You kept your eyes on the water. “It wasn’t. It was just the first thing that made me feel awake again.”

For once, he had no quick answer.

The ferry horn sounded over the dark water.

Then he said, quiet enough that you almost missed it, “Good.”

You turned to look at him.

His face was lit gold at the edges by the harbor lamps. Older than yours. Harder. Familiar in a way that still had the power to ache.

And suddenly you understood what your grandmother had meant without saying it straight. Wanting could be real and still not be meant to last. Some people came into your life like a season. They changed the temperature. They taught your body something. They left before you could make a home out of them.

That didn’t make it less true.

It just made it honest.

You leaned your head briefly against his shoulder.

He let you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He clicked his tongue. “For what.”

You smiled to yourself. “For not being gentle with me in the ways that would’ve made me weak.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then, very softly “You were never weak.”

It hit you harder than I love you would have.

Maybe because he meant it.

Maybe because he never said anything he didn’t.

When you sat back up, the space between you felt the same and different all at once.

Below the seawall, the tide kept coming in.

Beside you, Sukuna said nothing else.

He didn’t have to.

For the first time since your parents died, the future did not feel like an empty room.

Toji's been different lately. Better, somehow, in ways that make your chest ache with something you don't want to name.

Coming home at reasonable hours, unless it's genuinely work related. Not because he's out fucking some random woman in a hotel room somewhere.

Actually engaging with you at society dinners and charity galas, instead of just showing up as obligatory arm candy. Standing silently by your side, looking intimidating and bored.

Remembering Megumi's bedtime routine without needing to be reminded three times. Actually playing with him in the garden until they're both covered in dirt and grass stains, laughing in that carefree, unguarded way that makes your heart clench painfully in your chest.

And it's made you realize with uncomfortable clarity that while he's been stepping up, being responsible, and actually trying to make this unconventional arrangement work, despite all the odds stacked against you…

You've been the one spiraling completely out of control.

An endless string of meaningless hookups that never satisfy the ache deep inside you. Because none of them are him. None of them know how to touch you the way he does, or make your body sing the way his hands can.

None of them make you feel truly seen and known the way his dark green eyes do when they lock onto yours with that intensity that makes you feel like he can read every thought in your head.

And worse…so much worse than all the meaningless encounters with forgettable strangers whose names you can barely remember the morning after…is the fact that you broke the cardinal rule.

The one boundary that was supposed to keep this delicate arrangement from imploding into a complete disaster.

No affairs close to home.

Nobody from your shared social circle.

Absolutely no one who could complicate the carefully maintained facade of your perfect power couple marriage and make things messy in ways you can't control.

And yet.

You let Gojo Satoru back you against a wall at that gallery opening last week. Let him mark up your neck like you were some desperate teenager sneaking around behind the bleachers.

You let him whisper filthy promises in your ear about all the ways he'd fuck you better than your husband ever could, while Toji was literally across the room discussing business deals with your father.

Completely unaware of the betrayal happening in plain sight just yards away.

And the guilt of it sits heavy and nauseating in your chest like a stone you can't dislodge.

No matter how hard you try to justify it. Or rationalize it away. Or push it into the dark corners of your mind where you don't have to look at it.

The shower cuts off with a loud squeak of clean pipes.

You hear him moving around in the bathroom through the thin wall.

The towel being pulled from the heated rack with a soft rustle. Water droplets hitting the tile floor. The cabinet opening with its familiar creak as he goes through his minimal nighttime routine. Brushing his teeth. Maybe running a comb through his dark hair if he's feeling motivated tonight.

Your thighs press together involuntarily, seeking friction.

Your traitorous mind conjures up unwanted but incredibly vivid images of water sliding in rivulets down his scarred chest and muscled abdomen. Steam clinging to his tanned skin, making it glisten under the harsh bathroom lights. Those big, capable hands running the towel over all that hard muscle.

Fuck.

You need to get yourself under control. Because this is absolutely pathetic.

You're literally lying here getting wet just thinking about your own husband, like some desperate housewife character in a bad booktok movie.

But then he emerges from the bathroom in nothing but black sweatpants slung dangerously low on his narrow hips. Showing off that deep v line that disappears beneath the waistband.

His dark hair is still damp and messy from being roughly towel dried. Water droplets cling to his broad shoulders and trail down the defined muscles of his abdomen in paths your tongue wants to follow.

The sight of him, backlit by the bright bathroom light, makes your mouth go completely dry. Makes your pussy clench desperately around nothing because god… he's beautiful.

Beautiful in that rough way that none of those pretty, gentle boys you've been wasting time with could ever hope to match.

All hard muscle and brutal strength, barely contained under scarred skin that tells stories of a violent past he never talks about. A past you can read in every raised line and puckered mark.

You watch him cross the darkened bedroom through your lashes. You pretend to be on the verge of sleep.

Because you're not ready to face the reality of what you want.

Not ready to be the first to break and admit that you've been the problem all along in this cold war you've created between the two of you.

He collapses onto his side of the bed with a grunt that sounds bone deep.

Tired. Exhausted.

Whatever crisis he was dealing with at the casino all night -some high roller causing problems, a security issue that needed his personal attention, whatever else it is he does in that underground world he operates in…you don't ask too many questions. Plausible deniability is sometimes a gift.

The mattress dips dramatically under his considerable weight as he settles on his back, one muscular arm thrown over his eyes.

His breathing starts to even out toward sleep. That way that means he'll be unconscious in minutes.

Chest rising. Falling. Steady.

It used to lull you to sleep, back when you still shared the bed like an actual married couple.

Not like two strangers who happen to live in the same house.

And something inside you rebels violently at the thought of another night of careful distance and cold politeness.

Of lying inches apart like strangers instead of husband and wife who have seen each other at their absolute worst and best and everything in between.

Slowly, carefully, you reach out across the small distance between your bodies.

You tug gently at the hem of his black t shirt with tentative fingers.

The fabric is soft and worn, warm from his body heat.

You can feel it more than hear it when his breathing changes immediately.

It shifts from the deep, even rhythm of near sleep to something lighter.

More alert.

Aware.

Like he's suddenly hyperconscious of your presence beside him in a way he wasn't a moment ago, when he thought you were already asleep.

"Hm?"

The sound rumbles up from deep in his chest. A low, questioning hum that's almost a groan.

Rough. Sleep graveled.

It sends liquid heat straight to your core and makes your inner walls clench desperately. You tug harder at his shirt and shift closer.

Close enough that you can feel the warmth trespassing off his large body like a furnace.

Close enough that your bare thigh brushes against his through the sheets and sends tingles up your spine, pooling as molten heat between your legs.

"I'm cold."

He stiffens slightly beside you.

You can practically feel his awareness sharpening like a blade being drawn. Like he's trying to read between the lines of what you're really asking for.

Because you're never cold in this house. Not with its state of the art climate control system, heated floors, and enough expensive technology to keep every room at the perfect temperature year round.

His voice is careful when he responds. Cautious. Like he doesn't want to assume anything. Like he doesn't want to push…

"Cold?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, and press even closer until there's barely any space left between your bodies.

Your hand slides from his shirt to rest flat against his bare chest.

You can feel his heart beating steady and strong under your palm. The warmth of his skin. The slight roughness of old scars beneath your fingertips.

And the way his muscles tense and flex at your touch.

Without any warning at all, he turns toward you in one smooth, powerful motion and pulls you flush against his chest.

Those strong arms wrap around you, caging you in, as he settles back into the mattress with you pressed along the entire length of his body.

And oh-

Maybe it really is that easy.

what if he's been waiting all this time for you to make the first move. To bridge the distance you created.

Maybe the cold war between you has been entirely your own creation all along.

And he was just respecting the boundaries you put up like walls, keeping him at arm's length.

But this isn't enough.

Not even close to what you need right now, burning through your veins like wildfire.

You can feel the heat of his body seeping into yours through the thin barrier of your silk sleep clothes. The hard planes of his muscular chest beneath your palms. The way his muscles shift as he adjusts his hold and pulls you even closer.

Your pussy throbs and clenches around nothing. Swollen. Aching.

Desperate.

Desperate for more than this chaste embrace that feels too much like comfort.

And not nearly enough like the filthy claiming you need to quiet the hunger inside you. You place both hands flat on his chest, fingers splaying across his defined pecs.

You feel them flex responsively under your touch.

Lightly at first. Just testing the waters. Seeing how he'll react to you initiating.

Then one hand slides gently lower, tracing a slow path down the ridges of his abs to the waistband of his sweatpants.

You can feel the heat of him even through the fabric.

He shifts beneath you, but he doesn't stop you.

He just watches through hooded eyes, waiting to see what you'll do next.

How far you'll take this.

Your hand hovers at his waistband for a long moment. Your fingers toy with the elastic. Brush against the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the fabric.

You're so close to where you want to be that you can feel the heat of his cock even though you're not quite touching it yet.

You bite your lip as you press your body flush against his side and murmur his name like a prayer. Like a plea.

"Toji..."

His large hand catches your wrist before you can slip beneath the waistband.

Strong fingers wrap around you in an iron grip that stops you dead in your tracks.

You look up, frustration sparking -only to find his eyes fully open now, fixed on your face with an intensity that steals your breath.

Dark green irises that look almost black in the dim moonlight slipping through the curtains.

Heated.

Knowing.

Hungry.

"Still cold, huh?" His voice is lower now…Rougher. Edged with something knowing that makes your stomach tingle with anticipation of what's coming.

You nod slowly, holding his gaze and let him see the want written plainly across your face.

The flush on your cheeks. The way your lips are parted. The way your pupils are blown wide with desire.

You're no longer trying to hide what you need from him, no longer trying to pretend this is about anything other than wanting him to fuck you until you can't remember your own name.

His lips curve into that smirk that's equal parts dangerous and devastating. When he speaks again, his voice has dropped even lower into that commanding tone that never fails to make you wet. "Alright then, baby. You did this to yourself."

He leans in just enough that you feel his breath on your mouth.

"So don't complain you can't take it when I'm done with you."

He shifts so fast and with such controlled power that you barely have time to gasp before he's flipping you onto your back in one smooth, fluid motion.

It’s a reminder of how easily he can maneuver your body however he wants.

Then his body is caging you in from above. All hard muscle. Raw, barely contained strength. He settles his considerable weight on top of you in a way that makes you feel small.

Delicate.

Completely at his mercy.

Pinned beneath two hundred pounds of solid muscle and scarred skin.

You whine without meaning to. The sound is soft. Breathy. Needy.

It makes you flush with embarrassment because you sound so desperate already…and he hasn't even really touched you yet beyond that initial embrace.

But the noise seems to drive him absolutely crazy.

His eyes go darker. More feral and his grip on your hips tightens almost to the point of pain.

A promise of bruises tomorrow.

His mouth crashes onto yours with bruising force- rough and hungry and demanding in a way that steals the breath from your lungs as he kisses you like he's trying to devour you whole and claim every breath you take as his own.

All teeth and tongue and raw need as he bites your bottom lip hard enough to sting and draw a whimper from your throat before his tongue slides against yours in a filthy slide of wet heat, the kiss possessive and consuming and you can taste the mint of his toothpaste mixed with something that's uniquely him and it makes your head spin and your pussy flood with arousal

His hands roam your body with clear possessive intent…gripping your hips hard enough to bruise and leave marks in the shape of his fingers that will last for days, squeezing your ass and pulling you impossibly closer, sliding up your sides with callused palms that rasp deliciously against your sensitive skin and make you shiver and arch into his touch seeking more.

And then he's yanking your thin silk sleep shirt up and over your head in one smooth, eager motion before tossing it somewhere across the room where it lands forgotten in the shadows, leaving you bare chested and exposed and vulnerable beneath his wanting gaze

"Fuck," he breathes out harsh and reverent against your kiss swollen lips as he pulls back just enough to look at you properly…taking in the sight of you flushed and needy and panting beneath him with your chest heaving and your nipples already hard from arousal and the cool air, hair spread out across the pillow like a halo and lips parted and eyes glazed with want, "Missed this so fucking much, missed touching you and tasting you and making you fall apart under my hands, missed you"

His mouth moves lower in a trail of hot open mouthed kisses that he presses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin hard enough to leave dark purple marks that will be visible tomorrow and make it clear to anyone who sees them exactly what you were doing tonight and who you belong to.

His teeth scraping and his tongue soothing each bite before moving to mark the next spot as he works his way down toward your chest. "Toji-" you start to gasp out but he's not listening to your weak protest, too focused on marking every inch of skin he can reach and reclaiming you as his property after years of cold distance and watching you come home smelling like other men.

His large hands come up to cup your breasts, palms rough and warm as they squeeze and knead the soft flesh possessively before his thumbs brush over your nipples in teasing circles that make the buds harden instantly into tight sensitive peaks that ache and throb with need for more attention, and you arch desperately into his hands with a whine because it feels so good but it's nowhere near enough

"So fucking perfect," he mutters almost to himself as he stares down at your chest like he's seeing the eighth wonder of the world, "These pretty tits were made for my hands, made for me to play with and suck on and mark up until everyone knows you're taken" and then before you can respond his mouth latches onto your right nipple with wet heat and suction that makes you cry out and arch dramatically off the mattress.

"Ahh!-" The sensation shoots straight from your nipple to your clit like a livewire of pure pleasure, making your pussy clench and leak more slick as your back bows off the bed involuntarily.

He sucks hard and relentless, creating a vacuum of pressure and wet heat around the sensitive bud as his teeth graze it just hard enough to border on painful before his tongue flicks over it again and again in rapid teasing strokes that have you writhing and gasping beneath him and pulling at his hair, and his other hand isn't idle either

pinching and rolling and tugging your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger with just enough pressure to send jolts of sharp pleasure pain straight to your clit and make your thighs clench together desperately seeking some sort of friction

"Toji- fuck-" Your back arches even more dramatically off the bed as you push your chest further into his mouth desperately seeking more of that delicious suction and pressure, your hands coming up to tangle in his dark hair and hold him against you like you're afraid he'll stop giving you what you need

He switches sides with a wet pop that makes you whimper at the sudden loss before his mouth descends on your left nipple to lavish the same devoted attention on it…sucking it deep into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks around it, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp and see stars.

Licking and flicking his tongue over the abused bud until you're squirming and writhing beneath him with your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing and so desperate for his cock or his fingers or his mouth or anything that you think you might actually die if he doesn't touch you there soon

"So fucking needy for me," he murmurs against your spit-slick skin with his lips brushing over your hip bones and sending shivers racing up your spine as he kisses his way down your stomach in a slow soft path. stopping to bite and suck at the sensitive skin just below your navel and leave another possessive mark there before continuing lower toward where you need him most.

"I haven't even touched this pretty pussy yet and you're already soaking through your panties aren't you, can already smell how wet you are for me and it's driving me fucking crazy knowing that I do this to you, that your body responds to me like this even after all the distance you've been keeping between us"

"Please-" your word comes out sloppy and desperate.

"Please what?" He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and starts dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness, taking his sweet time pulling them over your hips and down your thighs and past your knees until he finally pulls them off completely and tosses them aside, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches every micro expression of frustration and need that crosses your features, "Use your words baby, tell me exactly what you want me to do to you"

"Touch me…" you breathe out desperately as your hips lift off the bed of their own accord seeking any kind of friction or pressure or contact with his hands, "Please Toji just touch me, need your hands on me so bad I can't stand it"

"Yeah? Where do you want me to touch you?" He spreads your thighs wide apart with his large hands pushing them open and exposing you completely before settling his broad shoulders between them so you couldn't close your legs even if you wanted to, and his eyes lock onto your pussy with an intensity that makes you flush even hotter.

Taking in the sight of your folds slick and swollen and glistening with arousal in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, "Fuuuck... look at you, look at this gorgeous pussy all wet and ready for me, dripping all over the sheets and I haven't even really touched you yet, is this all for me baby? Did thinking about me make you this wet?"

He drags one thick finger through your folds in a slow path from your entrance up to your clit, collecting your slick and spreading it around as he explores with maddening leisurely strokes that feel good but are nowhere near enough pressure or speed or anything to actually satisfy the desperate ache between your legs

"Toji-" His name comes out as a whine that would be embarrassing if you weren't so far gone with need that you've lost the ability to care about pride or dignity

"Patience," he says with that infuriating smirk before bringing his finger -now coated in your arousal- up to his mouth and sucking it clean with an obscene pop, his eyes closing and a deep groan rumbling up from his chest at the taste, "Fuck... forgot how good you taste, so sweet and perfect and all mine, i could eat this pussy for hours and never get enough"

Then without any further warning he leans down and *licks…*one long slow dragging lick with the flat of his tongue that starts at your entrance where you're clenching and dripping and travels all the way up through your folds to your clit where he swirls his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves a few times before pulling back and leaving you gasping

"Oh my god-" Your hips buck up involuntarily chasing his mouth and your hands fly to tangle in his hair to try to pull him back down where you need him

"That's it baby," he growls, quiet and rough against your pussy, the vibrations from his deep voice traveling straight through your clit and making you shudder and clench around nothing, "Let me hear you, i wanna hear every moan and gasp and scream while I eat this perfect pussy…wanna hear you fall apart for me"

He doesn't hold back after that. his tongue works you over with single minded focus and devastating skill that comes from years of knowing your body intimately, licking through your folds and sucking at your inner lips and devouring you like a man who's been starving for years and you're his first meal.

Like he can't get enough of your taste and smell and the way you're writhing beneath him and pulling at his hair, and he flattens his tongue against your clit to drag slow firm circles around it before flicking just the tip over the swollen bud in rapid teasing strokes that have you gasping and pulling harder at his hair and grinding your hips against his face seeking more

"Fuck- Toji- oh fuck-" You can barely form coherent words anymore, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on you and the building pressure in your core that's coiling tighter and tighter with every stroke of his tongue

His hands grip your thighs hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he holds you open and keeps you exactly where he wants you while he eats you out with enthusiasm that borders on feral…and wet obscene sounds fill the quiet room that should be embarrassing but only make you wetter, the slick slide of his tongue through your folds and the sucking noises when he seals his lips around your clit mixed with your breathless moans and his low groans of satisfaction that vibrate deliciously against your sensitive flesh

He pushes two thick fingers inside you without any warning, the penetration slow and stretching as your walls struggle to accommodate the intrusion after- what…years? without this kind of attention from him specifically, and the combination of his mouth on your clit and his fingers filling you and curling to find that perfect spot inside makes your eyes roll back in your head.

"mngh-" Your back arches dramatically off the bed and your thighs try instinctively to close around his head but his broad shoulders keep them spread wide and open.

"So fucking tight," he mutters against your clit between licks, the words muffled but audible as he pumps his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm that starts slow but gradually increases in speed with every thrust, "Squeezing my fingers so good baby, sucking them right in like this greedy little pussy doesn't want to let go, can't wait to feel you squeeze my cock like this"

He curls his fingers inside you with knowing precision born from intimate knowledge of your body, the tips dragging against your front wall until they find that spot…that perfect spot inside you that makes your vision blur and stars burst behind your eyelids and pleasure spike so sharp and intense you nearly sob from the overwhelming sensation.

"Right there- fuck, don't stop don't stop don't stop-" You're begging now, completely shameless in your desperation as your hips grind down against his face and fingers seeking more pressure, more everything.

"Yeah? Right here?" He grins against your pussy and you can feel his lips curve into that cocky smirk as he works that spot inside you with relentless focus.

Fingers pumping and curling and rubbing with devastating precision while his tongue continues its assault on your clit, circling and flicking and applying just the right amount of pressure to push you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm until you're teetering right on the precipice and just need that one final push to fall over.

"Yes- fuck- Toji- I'm-" You can't even finish warning him before the orgasm is already cresting like a wave about to break.

He sucks your clit into his mouth hard, creating a tight seal and applying strong suction while his tongue continues to flick rapidly over the trapped bud and his fingers hammer relentlessly against your g spot, and that's all it takes to shove you violently over the edge.

You scream his name out.

Your orgasm crashes over you with violent intensity that feels like being swept away by a tidal wave, overwhelming and devastating and so powerful it whites out your vision completely for several long seconds…your thighs shake uncontrollably and your back arches so high off the bed you're practically bent in half and your pussy clenches rhythmically around his fingers in waves of contractions as pleasure rips through your entire nervous system like electricity igniting every nerve ending at once.

And he doesn't stop, just keeps licking and sucking and pumping his fingers with that same relentless pace to draw out your orgasm and wring every last bit of pleasure from your oversensitive body until you're sobbing and writhing and completely wrecked beneath him.

"T-Toji…too much…can't-" You try desperately to push his head away or close your legs or escape the overwhelming sensation but he's completely immovable, holding you exactly where he wants you and continuing to work you through the aftershocks until you're trembling and gasping

"Nah," he finally pulls his fingers out of your still-fluttering pussy with a wet squelching sound that makes you flush even hotter with embarrassment and arousal, and brings them to his mouth to lick them clean of your release while maintaining intense eye contact in a display that's absolutely filthy and makes your spent pussy clench weakly around nothing, before kissing his way back up your body with gentle slowness.

Stopping to bite and suck at your hip bones and the soft skin of your stomach and the underside of your breast, "You wanted this remember? Said you were cold and needed warming up, so we're just getting started baby and I'm nowhere near done with you yet"

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss is absolutely filthy. you can taste yourself on his tongue mixed with his own flavor and feel the wetness coating his lips and chin from eating you out so thoroughly, and the knowledge that he's kissing you with your own arousal smeared all over his face makes you moan into his mouth and kiss him back harder and more desperately.

"Gonna fuck you now," he mutters against your lips between kisses that grow progressively more heated and desperate, his voice dropped so low it's practically a growl that vibrates through your chest and straight to your core, "I’m gonna fuck this tight pussy until you can't remember anyone else's name but mine, gonna fuck you so good and so deep you forget every other man who's ever touched you and realize that none of them could ever compare to how I make you feel, that this body belongs to me and only me."

He shoves his sweatpants down his hips with one hand while the other keeps your legs spread wide, finally freeing his cock and letting it spring up toward his stomach hard and flushed dark with want and fuck you forgot how intimidatingly big he is… how thick and veiny and angry looking.

The shaft hard as steel and the head swollen and dark red and already dripping precum in a steady stream that makes your mouth water and your pussy clench with anticipation mixed with just a hint of nervousness about taking something that size after going so long without it specifically

Your mouth literally waters at the sight and you lick your lips unconsciously while staring at his cock, watching as a bead of precum forms at the slit and starts to drip down the shaft before he swipes his thumb through it and brings it to your mouth, and you suck his thumb clean without needing to be asked while maintaining eye contact in a way that makes him groan deep in his chest.

He grips your thighs with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushes them up toward your chest, folding you nearly in half with your knees by your shoulders in a position that leaves you completely open and exposed with no way to close your legs or escape what's coming.

Then he shifts forward and lines himself up with your entrance, the thick blunt head of his cock nudging against your folds and sliding through your wetness as he coats himself in your juices.

"look at me," he commands in that tone that brooks no disobedience, and waits until you obey before continuing

You meet his eyes obediently…dark green irises almost completely swallowed by blown pupils that are dilated so wide with lust there's barely any color visible, hungry and possessive and burning with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat and your heart pound so hard you can feel it in your temples.

"who do you belong to?" His voice is steady and controlled despite the way his cock is twitching against your entrance and leaking more precum, despite the way you can see the muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth and holds himself back from just slamming in and taking what he wants.

"You-" you gasp out immediately without hesitation because it's the truth, has always been the truth even when you were trying desperately to deny it by sleeping with other men who could never measure up to him no matter how hard they tried

"Say my name," he demands while pressing forward just enough that the thick head of his cock starts to breach your entrance and stretch you open around it inch by agonizing inch, "Say my name so you remember exactly who's about to fuck you, who this pussy belongs to, and who owns every inch of your body"

"Toji-" His name comes out as a broken desperate moan

He slams in with one brutal thrust that buries his entire thick length inside you to the absolute hilt in a single stroke -no warning, no gradual buildup, just the sudden devastating sensation of being stretched and filled and split completely open around his massive cock as he bottoms out with his hips pressed flush against yours and his balls slapping against your ass

"mmph- fuck!- Toji!…oh god-" You're screaming before you can stop yourself, the sound tearing from your throat raw and desperate as your hands fly up to claw desperately at his broad shoulders seeking something to anchor yourself to and your back arches so dramatically off the mattress you nearly fold in half the opposite direction

The stretch is so intense it borders on painful and tips over into overwhelming…you're suddenly so impossibly full you can barely breathe around the pressure of him lodged deep inside you, his thick cock pressing against every single nerve ending and reaching places so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat, stretching your inner walls in a way that no one else has ever managed or ever could because he knows your body too intimately and fits inside you too perfectly like you were made specifically to take his cock.

"Fuck—" he grits out through clenched teeth, his jaw so tight you can see the muscle jumping and twitching beneath the skin and his whole body trembling and shaking with the effort of holding still even for just a moment to let you adjust, "So fucking tight, squeezing my cock like you're trying to strangle it, feels so fucking good I can barely think straight sh-shit- forgot how perfect this pussy is, forgot how good it feels to be buried balls deep inside you where I belong"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust to the intrusion or catch your breath or process the overwhelming fullness stretching you open -just pulls out almost all the way until only the thick swollen head of his cock remains inside stretching your entrance, letting you feel every ridge and vein and inch of him dragging against your sensitive walls in excruciating detail…and then slams back in with the same brutal force that punches all the air from your lungs in a single rush and makes you see actual stars burst behind your tightly closed eyelids.

"Ahh!-" The sound is punched out of you involuntarily, high pitched and broken and desperate.

He sets a punishing pace immediately with no mercy or gentleness or consideration for your comfort, hard and fast and relentless, just raw animalistic fucking as each powerful thrust punches the air from your lungs in harsh gasps and sends shockwaves of intense pleasure mixed pain radiating through your core and out to every extremity.

his thick cock dragging against your g spot with devastating accuracy on every single stroke and hitting your cervix so deep it makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head and stars burst continuously behind your eyelids- and the bed frame creaks ominously under the force of his relentless thrusts while the headboard slams against the wall in a rhythmic bang bang bang that echoes through the room and will definitely alert the entire household staff to exactly what's happening in the master bedroom but you're both too far gone to care about discretion or propriety anymore

"That's it baby, take it, take every fucking inch of my cock," he growls out between gritted teeth as his large hands grip your thighs hard enough to leave bruises shaped like his fingers all dark purple marks that will last for days and remind you every time you move exactly who fucked you this thoroughly and who you belong to body and soul

The wet obscene sounds of your pussy squelching around his thick cock fill the air and echo off the walls…slick and loud and absolutely filthy as your arousal and his precum mix together and leak out around where he's stretching you open with every brutal thrust, dripping down to soak the expensive sheets beneath you in a growing puddle of combined fluids

"Missed this pussy so fucking much," he grits out through clenched teeth as he pounds into you even harder and faster, his cock driving so deep you can feel it in your stomach and see the bulge of him pressing against your lower abdomen, "Missed how you squeeze me like you never want to let go, missed how you drip all over my cock and make such a mess, missed the way you fall apart for me and scream my name and only mine- fuck- no one else can make you feel like this can they baby? No one else can fuck you like I do"

Your nails dig desperately into the broad muscles of his shoulders seeking any kind of purchase as pleasure threatens to overwhelm and drown you completely, then rake down his back leaving angry red marks and deep scratches that break the skin in some places and will definitely leave scars, and the sharp sting of pain only seems to drive him wilder as he groans deep and animalistic and fucks into you with renewed vigor and even more brutal force, "Toji- oh god- so deep- can feel you in my guts- can feel every thick inch splitting me open-"

"Yeah? You feel me in your guts baby?" His large hand wraps around your throat firmly -not squeezing hard enough to cut off your air supply but just holding you there with the weight of his palm heavy and threatening against your windpipe in a display of dominance and possession that makes your pussy clench and flutter desperately around him, "Feel how deep I am? Feel how I'm stretching this tight little pussy open around my cock? This is where I belong, buried deep inside you, claiming what's mine"

"Yes- fuck- yes-" you gasp out desperately, the words coming in broken fragments between harsh pants as each brutal thrust punches the air from your lungs and makes coherent speech nearly impossible

"Good girl" he praises before leaning down and biting hard into the sensitive junction where your neck meets your shoulder, biting down hard enough to make you cry out sharply and your pussy clench so impossibly tight around him he groans, "This pussy's mine, every single inch of you belongs to me and no one else, your body knows it even if you've been trying to deny it and run from it, so say it, tell me who you belong to"

"Yours-" you gasp out desperately between harsh pants, "All yours…only yours- always been yours even when I was trying to pretend otherwise-"

"Damn right you're mine and don't you ever fucking forget it," he growls possessively before his thumb finds your swollen oversensitive clit and starts rubbing tight brutal circles with firm unrelenting pressure that borders on too much and tips over into overwhelming, the calloused pad of his thumb working the bundle of nerves with practiced precision born from years of intimate knowledge of exactly what makes you fall apart

"Ahh!- Toji!- I can't- it's too much- I'm gonna-" You're babbling now, words tumbling out in a desperate incoherent stream as the pressure builds impossibly higher in your core and coils tighter and tighter like a spring being compressed past its breaking point

"Cum," he commands in that rough dominant tone that never fails to make you instantly obey.

"Cum on my cock right fucking now, let me feel this pussy squeeze me and milk me, show me who you belong to, now"

Your second orgasm slams into you even harder than the first, so intense and overwhelming that your vision completely whites out for several long seconds and your body seizes up completely rigid as your pussy clamps down on his cock like an absolute vice grip that's so tight he can barely move, contracting in rhythmic waves that seem to go on forever and ripple through your entire core.

you're distantly aware that you're screaming his name loud enough for the entire estate and probably half the neighborhood to hear, your nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood in long scratches that will take weeks to fully heal, your thighs shaking so violently with the force of your orgasm that he has to grip them firmly and hold them in place just to keep fucking into you and prolonging your pleasure

"Fuck- fuuuck- that's it baby, squeeze my cock just like that, so fucking tight I can barely move inside you-" His hips stutter and his rhythm breaks and becomes erratic as your pussy milks his cock relentlessly, and he manages only two more deep brutal thrusts that hit your cervix hard enough to make you see stars before burying himself to the absolute hilt.

so impossibly deep you swear you can feel him in your throat cutting off your air -and groans long and low and guttural as he starts spilling inside you with hot thick pulsing jets of cum that seem to go on forever, filling you up so full and so completely that it immediately starts leaking out around his cock even though he's still buried deep inside you and plugging you up

He collapses on top of you with his full weight, both of you panting harshly and drenched in sweat and trembling with aftershocks

For a long moment neither of you moves or speaks, just lying there trying to remember how to breathe

Then he lifts his head slowly to look down at you with that infuriating smirk

"Still cold?"

You laugh breathlessly despite yourself. "Shut the fuck up"

He kisses you softly this time, almost tender

But he doesn't pull out

You feel him twitch inside you, already starting to harden again

Your eyes widen. "Toji-"

"What?" His grin turns wicked. "Thought we were done?"

"Toji- I just-"

He rolls his hips slowly, grinding deep and making you gasp

"Ahh!-" You're so sensitive it borders on painful, every nerve ending raw and oversensitive

"You started this," he reminds you while pulling out slowly before sliding back in, "Said you were cold"

"I- nngh!—I didn't mean- fuck-"

"Didn't mean what?" He picks up the pace gradually, still slow but deep with each thrust deliberate and angled to hit that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, "Didn't mean you wanted me to fuck you all night long until you can't walk tomorrow?"

"Toji-"

"Because that's exactly what's gonna happen" He pulls almost all the way out, "Gonna fuck you until the sun comes up and you're so full of my cum it's leaking out of you for days"

He slams back in and the second round begins and this time there's no careful buildup or gentle coaxing, just raw relentless fucking as he sets a brutal punishing rhythm right from the start that has you gasping and clawing at the sheets and crying out with every deep stroke, your body still trembling and oversensitive from the first two orgasms but somehow already responding to him again.

your pussy clenching and fluttering around his thick cock despite the overwhelming sensation that borders on too much, and he fucks you like a man possessed as if he's trying to prove something or claim something or own something so completely and thoroughly that there's no room left for doubt or distance or any other man's touch in your memory

He flips you over without warning -pulls out just long enough to manhandle you onto your hands and knees with your face pressed into the pillows and your ass in the air presenting yourself to him in the most vulnerable position imaginable, and you barely have time to brace yourself before he's slamming back inside in one brutal stroke that punches a scream from your throat and makes your arms nearly give out from the force of it.

the new angle somehow allowing him to reach even deeper than before and hit spots inside you that make your vision blur and your whole body shake with the intensity of sensation flooding your nervous system

"Fuck- Toji- too deep-" you gasp out between harsh pants as your fingers twist desperately in the expensive sheets seeking any kind of anchor to ground yourself, but he's not listening to your weak protests or maybe he just doesn't care because his hands grip your hips with bruising force and use that leverage to pull you back onto his cock with every forward thrust, essentially fucking you on him like you're nothing more than a toy for his pleasure

"You can take it," he growls out rough and commanding as one large hand slides up your spine in a possessive path before fisting in your hair at the base of your skull and pulling—not hard enough to truly hurt but with enough pressure to arch your back at an almost painful angle and force your head up out of the pillows, "You will take it, gonna take every fucking inch of my cock like the good girl I know you can be, gonna let me use this pussy however I want until I'm satisfied"

The combination of the brutal pace and the new angle and the way he's controlling your body with his grip on your hair sends you spiraling toward another orgasm faster than should be physically possible- your pussy already clenching and fluttering around him in warning as that familiar pressure builds impossibly fast in your core despite how raw and oversensitive you feel, and you're babbling incoherent pleas and curses and his name in a desperate stream of consciousness that probably doesn't make any sense but you're too far gone to care about coherency anymore

"Gonna cum again already?" His voice is rough with exertion but tinged with dark amusement and satisfaction at how easily he can make you fall apart, "Such a greedy little pussy, squeezing my cock like you're trying to milk another load out of me, you want me to fill you up again baby? Want me to pump you so full of cum it's dripping out of you for days?"

"Yes- fuck- please-" you're begging now without shame or pride, too desperate for release to care how pathetic you sound

His other hand comes down hard on your ass with a sharp crack that echoes through the room and sends a bolt of pain-pleasure straight to your clit—the sting of the slap mixing with the overwhelming sensation of his cock pounding into you and creating a feedback loop of intensity that has you teetering right on the edge of orgasm, and then he does it again, and again, each spank perfectly timed with a particularly brutal thrust that drives his cock so deep you can feel it in your stomach

"Cum" he commands in that rough dominant tone that brooks no disobedience, punctuating the word with another sharp slap to your reddened ass cheek, "Cum on my cock now"

You shatter with a broken scream that's muffled partly by the pillow—your third orgasm ripping through you with devastating force that makes your entire body convulse and your arms finally give out completely so you collapse face first into the mattress while your ass stays up in the air held in place by his bruising grip on your hips, and your pussy spasms around his cock in rhythmic contractions so intense it's almost painful, and he fucks you through it without mercy.

doesn't slow down or gentle his pace at all, just keeps pounding into your oversensitive clenching pussy with that same relentless rhythm while you sob and shake and completely fall apart beneath him

"That's three," he grits out through clenched teeth as his hips continue their punishing pace, "We're not stopping until I get at least two more out of you, gonna make you cum so many times you forget your own fucking name and the only word you remember is mine"

"Can't-" you sob out desperately even as your traitorous body continues to respond to every thrust, "Can't cum anymore- too much- "

"Yes you can," his voice is absolutely certain and commanding in a way that makes you believe him despite your exhaustion, "And you will, because this pussy belongs to me and I decide when we're done, not you"

He pulls out suddenly and you whimper at the loss despite the overwhelming relief of the reprieve, but before you can collapse fully onto the bed he's flipping you over again onto your back and spreading your thighs wide and hooking your legs over his shoulders in a position that folds you nearly in half and leaves you completely exposed and open.

then he's sliding back inside in one smooth deep stroke that somehow feels even more intense in this new position, and you can see his face now hovering above yours with his dark eyes locked onto your face with predatory focus as he watches every expression of pleasure and pain and overwhelming sensation that crosses your features

"i want to watch you fall apart," he mutters as he starts moving again in deep grinding thrusts that hit your g-spot with devastating accuracy on every single stroke, "want to see your face when you cum for me again, want to watch your eyes roll back and your mouth fall open and know that I did that to you, that I'm the only one who can make you feel like this"

Your hands come up to grip his forearms where they're braced on either side of your head, nails digging into the corded muscle as you hold on for dear life while he fucks into you with renewed vigor.

you can feel another orgasm building already despite your exhaustion and overstimulation, can feel your pussy starting to clench and flutter in warning even though you genuinely don't think your body can handle another one, and tears leak from the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming intensity of sensation flooding every nerve ending

"Toji- please-" you're not even sure what you're begging for anymore -for him to stop, for him to continue, for mercy, for more- everything blurs together into a desperate plea for something

"Please what baby?" He leans down to lick the tears from your cheeks in a gesture that's somehow both tender and possessive, "Please fuck you harder? Please make you cum again? Please fill this pussy up with another load?"

His thumb finds your clit again and starts rubbing tight relentless circles with firm pressure that makes you cry out and arch off the bed -your body pulled taut as a bowstring as pleasure coils impossibly tight in your core, and you're shaking your head desperately because you genuinely don't think you can survive another orgasm but your body isn't listening to your mind anymore, responding instead to his touch and his voice and the feel of his cock stretching you open and claiming you so thoroughly there's no room left for anything else

"Give me number four," he demands roughly as his hips snap forward in particularly brutal thrusts that make the entire bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall with renewed force, "Now"

Your fourth orgasm hits you like a freight train- sudden and violent and so intense you actually scream, loud and long and completely unrestrained as pleasure so overwhelming it borders on painful rips through your entire body and leaves you shaking and sobbing and completely wrecked.

somewhere in the back of your mind you register the sensation of liquid gushing from your pussy and soaking the sheets beneath you and coating his cock and thighs, and you realize with distant mortification that you're squirting- something that's only happened a handful of times before and never this intensely…but you're too far gone to be truly embarrassed about it

"Holy fuck-" Toji's voice is rough with awe and lust as he watches you completely fall apart beneath him, "Fuck baby, look at you, look at this perfect pussy squirting all over my cock, making such a fucking mess, so goddamn perfect I can't- fuck-"

His rhythm falters and becomes erratic as your pussy clenches around him like a vice grip, and he manages only three more deep grinding thrusts before he's groaning long and guttural and spilling inside you again-

his second load mixing with the first to fill you impossibly full, so much cum that it immediately starts leaking out around his cock in thick streams that drip down to join the puddle of your release already soaking the sheets beneath you

He collapses on top of you again, both of you are completely spent and gasping for air and trembling with aftershocks, your bodies slick with sweat and other fluids and pressed together so tightly you can't tell where you end and he begins.

for several long moments the only sounds in the room are your harsh breathing and the occasional whimper that escapes your throat when one of you shifts slightly and sends sparks of oversensitive pleasure-pain racing through your nervous system

"That's four" he eventually murmurs against your neck where his face is buried, his voice rough and satisfied, "Just one more baby, you can give me one more can't you?"

"No," you sob out desperately even as your body continues to tremble and clench weakly around him, "No more, I can't, please Toji I can't take anymore-"

"Shh," he soothes while pressing gentle kisses along your jaw and neck in stark contrast to the brutal way he was just fucking you moments ago, "Yes you can, I know you can, just one more and then we can rest, you're doing so good for me baby, taking my cock so perfectly, just give me one more"

He's still hard inside you…somehow impossibly still hard despite having cum twice already, and after giving you only a minute or two to catch your breath he starts moving again in slow shallow grinding thrusts that make you whimper and shake, your pussy so oversensitive now that every movement borders on painful but somehow your traitorous body still responds, still clenches and flutters around him like it can't help but seek more pleasure even in the midst of overwhelming overstimulation

"Can't-" you're crying openly now, tears streaming down your face as pleasure and pain and exhaustion blur together into something overwhelming and all consuming

"You can," he insists firmly while maintaining that slow steady rhythm, one hand coming up to wipe the tears from your cheeks with surprising tenderness, "One more baby, just give me one more and I'll let you rest, I promise"

This time is different from the others…way slower and deeper and somehow even more intense despite the gentler pace, like he's savoring every thrust and every whimper and every flutter of your pussy around his cock.

his eyes never leave your face as he watches you with an expression that's equal parts possessive and reverent and hungry for more of you than just your body, and something about the intimacy of the eye contact and the gentler pace breaks something inside you that you didn't even know was still holding together

"Toji-" His name comes out as a broken sob as fresh tears spill down your cheeks, and you're not even sure if you're crying from the physical intensity anymore or from something else entirely

"I know," he murmurs while leaning down to press his forehead against yours, "I know baby, I've got you, just let go for me one more time"

Your fifth orgasm builds slowly this time instead of crashing over you suddenly…a gradual crescendo of pleasure that starts as a low simmer in your core and slowly spreads outward through your entire body in waves of warmth and tingling sensation.

when it finally breaks it's not violent or overwhelming but rather deep and full body and somehow more satisfying than all the others combined, your pussy clenching around him in long slow pulses as pleasure radiates through you in gentle waves that seem to go on forever

You cling to him desperately…arms wrapped around his neck and legs locked around his waist holding him as close as physically possible while you shake and sob through the longest orgasm of your life, and he holds you just as tightly while murmuring praise and encouragement against your ear, and you feel him pulse inside you one more time as he spills what little he has left deep inside your already overflowing pussy

And then finally he stills, both of you completely spent and wrung out and trembling in each other's arms

He carefully extracts himself from your death grip and rolls onto his back beside you, immediately pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around you like he can't bear even the small distance between your bodies, and you curl into him boneless and exhausted and still trembling with aftershocks, your face buried against his neck and your legs tangled with his

Sleep pulls at you immediately, exhaustion so profound you can barely keep your eyes open but you manage to mumble against his skin, "You're an asshole"

He laughs, letting out a low rumbling sound that you feel more than hear, "Yeah, you like it."

Gojo's hands find your waist, and together they guide you backward until your knees hit the mattress. You sit, then lie back, and both of them just... stare.

"Fuck," Gojo breathes.

Sukuna strips his shirt off first, revealing the full extent of his tattoos..all black ink covering his chest, shoulders, arms. Then he reaches for your shirt, and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head.

"Don't just stand there, Gojo" Sukuna says, tossing your shirt aside. "Get over here."

Gojo moves like he's in a trance, kneeling on the bed beside you. His hands are shaking when he reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your stomach.

"You're allowed to touch her," Sukuna says, amused. "She wants you to."

Gojo's eyes meet yours. "Can I?"

"Please," you whisper.

That's all it takes. His hands flatten against your skin, sliding up your sides and you arch into the touch. When his thumbs brush the underside of your breasts through your bra, you both shiver.

"You're so soft…" he murmurs, almost to himself.

Sukuna reaches around and unclasps your bra with knowing movement, sliding it off your shoulders. Cool air hits your bare skin, and your nipples tighten immediately.

"Fuck," Gojo says again, louder this time. He's staring at your chest like he's never seen tits before.

Sukuna laughs. "The nerd's got a mouth on him."

Then both of them descend.

The contrast is immediate and overwhelming. Sukuna's rough teeth scraping, sucking hard into your skin, hand palming your breast roughly. Gojo's worshipful, tongue circling your nipple in slow, gentle strokes, so gentle it's almost torture.

"Angh- fuck-" Your back arches off the bed, both of your hands flying up to grip their hair. Sukuna's is short, barely anything to hold onto, but Gojo's is soft and longer, giving you something to pull.

When you tug, Gojo moans against your skin, and the vibration goes straight between your legs.

"She likes that," Sukuna observes, pulling back to admire the mark he left. "Look at her face."

Gojo does, and whatever he sees makes his pupils dilate even more. "You're so pretty like this," he says, his voice absolutely wrecked. "I can't believe this is real."

"It's real," you manage. "Please- I need-"

Sukuna's hands move to your jeans, popping the button. "Need what? Use your words."

"Touch me," you beg, past the point of embarrassment. "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely." He drags your jeans and panties down in one smooth motion, and suddenly you're completely bare while they're both still mostly dressed.

Gojo's breath hitches audibly. His eyes are glued between your legs, and he's not even trying to hide it.

"Holy shit" he whispers.

Sukuna spreads your legs wider, shameless in his appraisal. "Fucking soaked already." He swipes a finger through your folds, and you jerk at the contact. "Haven't even really touched you yet and you're dripping."

He brings his finger to his mouth, sucking it clean, and the sight makes you whimper.

"Tastes good too," Sukuna says, glancing at Gojo. "Wanna try?"

Gojo nods mutely.

"Go ahead then."

Gojo looks at you, silently asking permission even though Sukuna already gave it.

You nod. "Please, Toru."

He settles between your legs, and for a long moment, he just looks. His hands grip your thighs but of course not as rough as Sukuna, just hard enough to spread you open.

Then his tongue drags up your slit, slow and exploratory, and you cry out.

"Oh my god-"

He moans, the sound muffled against you, and does it again. His technique is careful, he's clearly paying attention to every reaction, figuring out what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs shake.

When he finds your clit and circles it with the tip of his tongue, your hips buck involuntarily.

"Hold her down," Gojo says, voice muffled, and you realize he's talking to Sukuna.

Sukuna's eyebrows rise. "Oh, he's bossy. I like it."

He moves up the bed, sitting beside your head, and his hands come down to pin your hips to the mattress. The position puts you at Gojo's mercy completely.

"That's better," Gojo murmurs, and then he really goes to work.

He alternates between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your clit, and when he pushes one finger inside you, you nearly scream. He's slow about it, working you open, and when he adds a second finger and curls them just right-

"Toru- fuck- right there-"

He hums against you, pleased by your filthy reaction to his touch, and keeps hitting that spot over and over while his tongue flicks rapid against your clit.

Sukuna's watching with dark eyes, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. "Look at you," he murmurs. "Getting eaten out by the class nerd. Bet you thought about this, didn't you? When you saw him in that lecture hall?"

You can't answer…you're too far gone, thighs shaking, fingers twisted in Gojo's hair.

"I think that's a yes," Sukuna continues. He leans down, lips brushing your ear. "You gonna cum for him? Let him see how pretty you look when you fall apart?"

"Yes- yes- I'm-"

Gojo sucks your clit hard, his long fingers curling, and you shatter.

Your orgasm hits like a fast wave, back arching despite Sukuna's hold, and Gojo works you through it, not letting up until you're pushing at his head, oversensitive.

When he finally pulls back, his face is flushed, his glasses completely fogged so you can't see his eyes, and his lips are shiny with your wetness. He pulls his glasses off, setting them aside carefully, and you get your first clear look at his eyes…they’re bright blue and his pupils are blown wider, absolutely wrecked.

"Come here," Sukuna commands, and Gojo obeys.

Sukuna grips him by the jaw, thumb dragging across his wet lips. "Look at you. Fucking mess."

Then he kisses him.

You watch, still catching your breath, as Sukuna licks into Gojo's mouth, tasting you on his tongue. Gojo makes this broken, desperate sound, and his hands come up to clutch at Sukuna's shoulders.

When they break apart, Gojo's eyes are glazed.

"She tastes good, doesn't she?" Sukuna asks.

Gojo just nods, dazed.

Sukuna looks at you. "Think you can take both of us, princess?"

Your brain is still fuzzy, but you manage to nod.

"Words." he demands.

"Yes," you rasp. "I want- I want both of you."

Gojo makes a strangled sound.

Sukuna grins. "Condoms. Where?"

You gesture weakly toward your nightstand. "Top drawer."

He reaches over, pulling the drawer open and grabbing the box. He tosses it onto the bed between you and Gojo. "You first, Gojo. Show her what your weird ass been fantasizing about."

Gojo's hands shake as he strips off his shirt, revealing a lean, pale torso. Then his jeans. Then his boxers. His cock springs free, flushed and leaking, and he's bigger than you expected.

"Fuck," you breathe.

His cheeks go red. "Is that- is that okay?"

"More than okay…." you assure him.

He fumbles with the condom, and Sukuna watches with barely concealed amusement as Gojo struggles to roll it on with shaking hands. Finally, he manages it.

"Come here," you say softly, reaching for him.

He crawls over you, settling between your legs, and the head of his cock nudges against your entrance. He pauses, eyes finding yours.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, Toru. Please."

He pushes in slowly- so fucking slowly and you both moan at the stretch. He's careful, giving you time to adjust, and when he's finally buried completely, he drops his forehead to yours.

"Fuck," he gasps. "You're so tight. So wet. I- fuck."

"You can move" you tell him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pulls back and thrusts back in, experimental, and the angle hits something perfect inside you that makes you cry out.

"There?" he asks, doing it again.

"Yes- there- fuck-"

He finds a rhythm, and it's nothing like you expected from the shy, nervous guy from your lectures. Each thrust is careful and powerful, hitting deep, and he's watching your face the entire time, cataloging every expression.

"You feel so good," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you. "So fucking good. I thought about this so many times. Imagined what you'd feel like. But this is- you're- perfect."

Sukuna's still watching, stroking himself slowly through his jeans. "Look at the nerd go. Who knew you had it in you, Gojo?"

Gojo ignores him, too focused on you. His hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your oversensitive clit, and you nearly sob.

"Toru- I can't- already came-"

"You can," he says, voice turning rough. "I wanna feel you cum around my cock. Please."

The way he says it all desperate and commanding at once sends you over the edge again. You clench around him, nails raking down his back, and he groans, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck- I'm gonna…where do I-"

"It's okay," you gasp. "Condom- just-"

He buries himself deep and cums with a choked gasp of your name, whole body shaking.

For a moment, neither of you move. Just panting, foreheads pressed together, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

Gojo carefully pulls out, disposing of the condom and collapsing beside you, chest heaving. You're still trying to catch your breath when Sukuna's hands grip your hips.

"My turn," he says, voice rough with want.

He flips you onto your stomach with ease, and you're too fucked out to do anything but let him maneuver you. Your limbs feel like jelly, oversensitive and trembling.

"Up," he commands, hands guiding your hips. "Ass up, princess."

You struggle to get your knees under you, arms shaking as you try to prop yourself up. Gojo's hand comes to your shoulder, steadying you.

"You okay?" he asks softly, brushing sweaty hair from your face.

You nod, unable to form words.

Sukuna's hands run down your spine, appreciating the view. "Fuck, look at you. Already wrecked and we're just getting started."

You hear the rip of a condom wrapper, then feel him pressing against your entrance. He's thicker than Gojo…you can tell even before he pushes in and when he does, slow but relentless, the stretch has you crying out into the sheets.

"Fuck- Sukuna- ngh wait-"

"Breathe," he says, stilling. One hand comes up to rub your lower back. "You can take it. I know you can."

You try to relax, breathing through the stretch, and after a moment, you nod.

He pushes in further, inch by inch, and the fullness is almost overwhelming. Different from Gojo- a bit shorter but thicker, hitting different spots, and when he finally bottoms out, you're gasping.

"There we go," Sukuna groans. "Fuck, you're tight. Gojo didn't loosen you up enough."

"Shut up," Gojo mutters. He's watching with heavy lidded eyes, his hand wrapped around his cock again.

Sukuna pulls back and thrusts in hard, and you nearly scream. He sets a brutal pace immediately…none of Gojo's careful buildup, just raw, demanding intensity. Each thrust punches the air from your lungs, has you clawing at the sheets.

"Angh- fuck- Sukuna- "

"That's it," he grunts, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Take it. You wanted both of us, remember? Wanted to see what it'd be like."

Gojo moves closer, lying on his side so he can see your face. "You're doing so good," he murmurs, wiping a tear from your cheek that you didn't even realize had fallen. "So fucking pretty like this."

The contrast between them is dizzying…Sukuna's rough, demanding pace and Gojo's soft praise. You're caught between them, overwhelmed in the best way.

Sukuna changes the angle slightly, and suddenly he's hitting your g spot with every thrust. Your arms give out, face pressing into the mattress, and you can't do anything but moan.

"There- oh god- right there-"

"Yeah?" Sukuna's hand comes down on your ass with a loud smack, and you jerk forward with a yelp. "That the spot?"

"Yes- fuck- please-"

He does it again, and again, alternating cheeks, and the sting combined with the pleasure has you sobbing into the sheets.

Gojo's watching with wide eyes. "Is that- does that feel good?"

You can only nod frantically.

Sukuna laughs breathlessly. "She likes it rough, Gojo. Remember that for next time."

Next time. The words send a thrill through you.

Sukuna's pace gets even more brutal, one hand moving from your hip to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back. The arch in your spine deepens, and somehow he gets even deeper.

"Fuck- Sukuna- I can't- too much-"

"You can," he growls. "You're gonna take everything I give you."

He pulls you up so your back is flush against his chest, arm banding across your stomach to hold you in place. The position has you completely at his mercy, unable to do anything but take it.

His other hand comes up to wrap loosely around your throat, not choking you just holding, just a reminder of his control.

"Who's fucking you right now?" he asks, breath hot against your ear.

You can barely think. "You- you are—"

"Say my name."

"Sukuna-"

"Louder."

"Sukuna!" you cry out as he hits that spot again.

"Good girl." He tilts your head to the side, kissing and biting at your neck, definitely leaving marks. "Now tell Gojo how good my cock feels."

Your eyes find Gojo's, and he's stroking himself faster now, completely transfixed.

"It's- angh—so good-" you gasp. "He's so deep- can't- fuck-"

"You hear that, Gojo?" Sukuna's grin is wicked against your skin. "She can barely talk."

Gojo crawls closer, kneeling in front of you. "Can I- can I kiss you?"

You nod desperately, and his lips find yours. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated, both of you breathing too hard to do it properly, but it's perfect anyway. You moan into his mouth as Sukuna's pace gets even more punishing.

"Touch her," Sukuna orders. "Make her cum."

Gojo's hand slides between your legs, fingers finding your clit, and you nearly scream into his mouth. The combination of Sukuna's thick cock hammering into you and Gojo's fingers rubbing tight circles is too much.

"I'm- I'm gonna-"

"Do it," Sukuna growls. "Cum for us. Let us feel it."

Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. Your whole body seizes, clenching around Sukuna so hard he curses, and you're dimly aware that you're sobbing, tears streaming down your face from the intensity.

Gojo keeps rubbing your clit through it, drawing it out until you're pushing his hand away, overstimulated to the point of pain.

Sukuna's thrusts get erratic and he buries himself deep with a guttural groan, hips jerking as he fills the condom. For a moment, he just holds you there, both of you shaking, his arm still locked around your waist like he's afraid you'll collapse.

Which you absolutely will, once he lets go.

Gojo's still right there, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks, your jaw, your lips. "You did so good," he whispers. "So fucking good."

Sukuna carefully lowers you both to the mattress, pulling out slowly. You whimper at the loss, feeling empty and sore and thoroughly fucked out.

He ties off the condom, tossing it in the trash, then collapses beside you with a satisfied groan. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," you manage weakly.