he says it's because nothing is as good as real sex, but you think it's just because he's bad at it.

hardly the dirty talker, toji gets you off with actions more than words. he's mean with sharp thrusts rather than degradation, and sweet with the odd kiss instead of praise.

on the phone, he's got nothing but words. which he sucks at.

"toji, your thumb is on the camera, i can't even see you," you exhale, one hand between your thighs, stimulating yourself in slow, small circles as you stare at a black screen.

apparently, facetime sex is even worse than regular phone sex.

"fuck's sakes," he grumbles, shifting around. it takes a moment, but eventually your screen lights up again, and you blink past the sudden brightness to meet the most unflattering angle of toji you've ever seen. "i can see you."

"me too," you try to stifle a laugh. he's got his phone right down so that both him and his hard cock are in frame. he's stroking it slow with the hand that isn't holding the phone, staring down at the digital version of your face.

"you can see me?" he asks regardless, a frown on his face.

"yes, you and your three chins."

"what the fuck?" you watch as your tech-illiterate lover squints down at his phone screen, obviously finding the little box in the corner with his own reflection staring back at him. "what the fuck? this is what you see when you're suckin' me off?"

you pull a face. "you're the one always wanting me to make eye contact."

"fuck this," you can vaguely see him roll his eyes, tugging at his cock a few frustrated times before nodding down at you—or, his phone. "let's do this then. show me your pussy. i miss her."

you roll the thought around in your head a few times, pretending to chew on your lip as you rub a few circles around your clit. on one hand, you'd like to see the look on his face when he sees you're touching yourself beneath the waistband of his boxers—the pair with 'it ain't gonna ride itself!' plastered across the front that you got him for his last birthday.

but after dragging out the moment, you shake your head. "nah."

"huh?" toji's feed glitches as he jolts his phone up to his face to get a better look at the smile on your face. "why the fuck not?"

"because?" you shrug. "i don't want to know what i look like when you're eating me out."

toji rolls his eyes again, this time in clearer view, and his camera shakes. a little—the bastard is still jerking off. "wait 'til you find out what i see when i eat it from the back."

"i will hang up."

"don't. you touching yourself at least?"

you give him a flat look, but nod.

"yeah you are, i can fucking hear it. you're soaked for me, aren't you?" he tries his hand at dirty talk. "you know i hate this shit, not being able to touch you. bet you'd cum easy with how worked up you are."

you keep your face neutral, but your stomach tightens a little. sure, he's 70 years old when it comes to tech, but toji's voice alone is enough to bring you right to the sweet sweet edge. the simultaneous blessing and curse of being an audiophile, you suppose.

he has a tendency to bark out orders, and you have a tendency to roll over and obey. he tells you to lift your top and play with your tits, you oblige. he has you stick two fingers in that pretty mouth of yours and 'shut up for a sec' while you get them nice and wet to fuck yourself silly on, who are you to deny him?

you can see the glistening precome smeared all over toji's length as the two of you fuck yourself slightly out of sync with the other. you try your best to curl your fingers up inside of you in time with the firm strokes toji gives his cock, but he's fast and mean with his pace and you're so close to the edge that anything new would—

"jesus fuck," is all you can make out of the strangled noise toji makes, and you watch as his contorted face suddenly leaves your screen, covered instead with a layer of... white.

oh, gross.

"did you just cum on your phone?" you gawk, your pending orgasm forgotten almost entirely. "on me?"

"shut the fuck up," toji grumbles. "you looked hot."

"you are fucked up," you press the pretty red 'END CALL' button at the bottom of your screen and push yourself up in bed with a sigh. your legs are a little shaky despite your lack of orgasm, and your head spins a little as you stand and walk from bedroom to living room.

there, toji sits on the couch. his sweats are pulled down beneath his balls, and he's holding his phone screen out in disgust as he wipes at it with a tissue. all he does is grimace when you walk in.

based off this ask

you weren't even planning on being home when your ex boyfriend choso came over to pick up the last of his clothes. sure, maybe letting the poor soul in to pack his things might've resulted in him swiping a few pairs of your unmentionables, but it would have been worth avoiding this.

you lean against the wall of your bedroom—the one you once shared—as you watch him pack his clothes into a bag. well, the clothes you didn't hide to keep and wear later. "eat what? i'm not cooking for you, asshole. men and your patriarchal entitlement to homecooked meals."

"eat you," he clarifies, cheeks a pretty pink as he plays with his fingers. "not... not eat you. but. you know—"

"yeah i get it," you close your eyes, trying desperately to ignore the throb between your legs to save face.

"eat you out," he rambles on regardless. "your pussy. i mean, am i still allowed to call it that?"

"oh wow," you nod, turning heel to walk out of your room and into the kitchen. it's a mess, you haven't cleaned up from breakfast, but you'd rather be here than there.

choso follows behind you. "why are you going to the kitchen? i already said i don't want you to cook for me. sorry, i'm trying to communicate better, like you said. i want to go down on—"

"oh my god choso," you press your hands against the countertop, leaning forward and squeezing your eyes (and thighs) shut. "i get it. we're in the kitchen because if you kept saying that shit in the bedroom i was going to ride you stupid."

you don't need to open your eyes to know what look he's got on his face. you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing when a small "oh," sounds out from behind you, followed by a "could we go back to the bedroom?"

some part of you thought that maybe sukuna would be startled upon being caught red-handed (or... mouth-handed) like this. but as you lean against the doorway and drink in the lewd position you've walked in on him in, he just looks at you.

"no," you watch his palm pull up and off the tip of his cock, and the drooling mouth that you're sure was just sucking the soul out of himself seals up. he makes a point of closing his fist around the thick length of his cock and giving it a few rough strokes. "you see things that aren't there. you're odd."

you cross your arms. "well i'm not the one sucking my own dick."

"don't call it that. and you have no cock to suck," sukuna bites, hitting right where it hurts. a sudden reminder that you'll never be able to slip it into a warm and loving mouth like your own…

“shut the fuck up.”

you step into the room, ignoring the disgruntled noise he makes at your movement, and plop yourself down on the bed where he stretches out, stroking himself languidly.

"you're perverted," he tsks, ignoring your hungry eyes as he keeps pace. "go on, then. serve me with your mouth."

"i think you can do that well enough for yourself," you shrug.

"i should spank your ass raw, brat."

despite his sharp words, sukuna doesn't make much of an effort to stop you when you pull his hand from his cock and trace your finger over his palm. there's no mouth in sight, though his skin is covered in a sheen of what could either be precome or saliva. you aren't sure.

you give his open palm a soft kiss. "come on, kuna. i think it's hot, you know."

he doesn't reply, just bears his teeth a little as you guide his palm back to his leaking tip, pushing it gently against the in-tact skin. you aren't so sure how it works, his hand-mouth. the only glimpses you get of it are when he's using it to suck on your clit while he fucks you full of his cock.

it takes you reaching down with your free hand to give his balls a squeeze for him to finally relent and, with a groan, let the mouth on his palm manifest. you watch it latch on to the tip of his cock, collecting his beading pre on the tongue before you gently push his palm down a little, feeding sukuna's own cock to himself.

"can you taste it?" you ask, rolling his balls a little with your free hand.

"yes."

"do you like it?"

"keep asking questions and i'll replace this mouth with your own."

he's groaning his words out, rolling his hips up a little to push into his palm better. you don't listen to his threats, though you know they aren't empty.

"does it have a gag reflex?" you chime, taking sukuna's irritation as a chance to push his palm down even further, and watch in awe as he takes his own cock down to the base. "holy shit."

sukuna groans at the sudden engulfment, tipping his head back and bucking his hips up in rhythm with the push of your hand down on his own. he's in nirvana for all of five seconds before you laugh.

"it's like the fucking bag from mary poppins!"

"what the fuck is a—" sukuna cuts himself off, preferring to find his orgasm in peace than entertain the weird shit you say. his free hand comes up to the back of your head, and with a strained 'shut the fuck up', he pushes your head down to his balls.

you're easily occupied, smiling as you mouth over his sack with a kiss before starting on worshipping him properly. your warm mouth works in beautiful tandem with his, which takes his cock right down to the base.

you only chime up again when his balls tighten up, and you're met with the full force of his orgasm as he spills right into his mouth-hand with a chesty groan. you pull off his sack with a grin "ha, you just ate your own load."

chest heaving, sukuna growls. his hand pulls off his cock and shoots down to caress the side of your face, all too soft to be genuine. there's a stupid spark of amusement in his eyes that has your lips parting to ask what the fuck he has planned for you.

your question is answered before it can even leave your lips. pushing you backwards onto the bed and pressing himself in between your thighs, he doesn't give you a second to react before he's covering your mouth with his hand.