That was when Toji moved. His brows furrowed and jaw clenched, followed by a flick of his tongue. Your nipple visibly stiffened in his mouth, and his eyes cracked open lazily until he realized he wasn’t alone with you. That someone else was there. Touching you.

Toji’s head lifted slightly off your chest, lips slick and smug. His voice came out low and raspy from sleep. “the fuck are you doin' here?”

Gojo grinned like a devil caught red-handed. “enjoying the view.”

Toji sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes with one hand and cupping your breast with the other, entirely shameless. “you really couldn’t give it one damn day, huh?”

“You’re literally suckling her like a baby cow and somehow I’m the problem?”

"She was cold."

“You’re inside a fuckin' blanket, bro! I saw you snuggling her.”

"Yeah, 'cause I can."

Gojo scoffed and leaned in further, his hand now boldly resting between your thighs. “and you think you’re the only one who can, daddy dearest?”

Toji's eyes narrowed. “move your hand.”

Gojo’s smile widened. “make me.”

Your sleepy sigh interrupted the stare-down. You squirmed slightly, still hazy and caught between their bodies. One warm heavy hand on your breast. Another slowly stroking your thigh. What did you wake up into?

Your fingers curled into the blanket. Toji noticed. Gojo definitely noticed.

“…She’s awake,” Gojo said, eyes lighting up like a christmas tree. “aren’t you, sweet thing?”

You barely managed a small nod, eyes fluttering open. Still caught in the haze of sleep and the scent of both of them—musk and whatever cologne Toji didn’t bother to wash off.

Gojo kissed the side of your neck, slow and soft, whispering, “poor thing. surrounded first thing in the morning.”

Toji leaned down to press a hot, slow kiss to your collarbone. “you gonna tell him to fuck off?”

You didn't answer. All that came out was a muffled groan as you buried your face deeper into the pillow, already exhausted by them and whatever ridiculous argument they'd decided to start before sunrise.

Unfortunately, silence had never stopped Gojo before. A grin tugged at his mouth immediately.

"See?" he said, sounding far too pleased with himself. "she's not gonna say no. she never does. she looovesss me."

Toji rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible. One arm tightened around your waist for a second before he muttered, "you're such a mouthy little shit."

Gojo's grin only widened. "and you're jealous."

Toji’s hand dropped between your legs again, and you gasped.

“Oh look,” Gojo cooed, “gotta stake your claim again?”

Toji growled low in his throat. “touch her again like you own her and I’ll break your fingers.”

Apparently neither of them stopped. If anything, it got worse. Gojo nuzzled into your neck, rubbing himself against your back, while Toji kept groping and stroking, pretending Gojo wasn’t there at all.

“You’re really gonna let him keep touching you?” Gojo taunted.

“You’re really gonna keep acting like you’re part of this relationship?” Toji shot back, not even sparing a glance at him.

Your eyes moved from one to the other, and a slow groan built in your chest. Seriously? You'd barely been awake for a minute and they were already at it. It was too early for this shit.

The grin on Gojo’s face turned downright unbearable. “baby,” he murmured, turning his attention back to you. “who do you want kissing you first this morning?”

You tried to speak, but the words melted on your tongue when Toji sucked on your nipple again, this time harder.

"She just woke up. quit yappin' for a second,” Toji mumbled around your skin.

“Oh, she loves my voice,” Gojo laughed, now kissing down your shoulder. “don’t you, princess?”

You moaned breathy, and a little guilty. And that was all the answer either of them needed.

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Toji had one massive hand cupping your breast, squeezing it like he owned it, while Gojo’s fingers were still rubbing your thighs. Both of them were trading low growls, looking two seconds away from throwing hands over you.

“I’m the one who made her pass out last night,” Toji muttered smugly, his thumb lazily brushing over your nipple like he was proving a point. “you think your little humping is gonna top that?”

“Please,” Gojo snorted, grinding his hard cock against your ass like he couldn’t help himself. “you’re old news. she literally moans when I kiss her—”

Knock knock. The door swung open before either of them could react.

“Baby, did you see sator—” Geto paused mid-sentence. He blinked once, then twice.

You were in the middle of a Toji-Gojo sandwich, blanket barely covering the scene of morning sin. One man groping, the other one humping.

And you? shrieked softly and yanked the covers over your face like a kid playing hide-and-seek.

“Ohh?” Geto said slowly, lips curling into a smirk as he leaned against the doorframe. “what do we have here…”

Toji groaned under his breath. Not this bastard too. He was already trying to get rid of Gojo, and now the other half of the problem had shown up. Could somebody give this old man a fucking break?

Gojo, of course, looked far too happy for god knows what. “she was warm,” he offered like it was a valid excuse.

“I was here first,” Toji said, as if it somehow settled the argument.

"Congratulations!! want a trophy?" Gojo scoffed.

And before they could start going in circles again, Geto crossed the room in three unbothered steps. You peeked from under the blanket just as he reached the bed, and without a word, he leaned down and kissed you hard.

The kind of kiss that shut everyone up in the room and lit you on fire. Deep and with tongue, hand braced on your cheek like you were his for the day.

Toji’s jaw clenched audibly. Gojo let out a choked noise that sounded suspiciously like betrayal.

When Geto pulled back, you were gasping for air, lips shiny and blanket falling halfway down your body again.

"That,” he said smoothly, “is how you say good morning.”

“Are you kidding me?” Gojo started whining as usual. “that was my kiss—! we fought for that!”

Geto arched a brow. “and I just won.”

Toji sat up like he was about to throw a punch. But before it could escalate any further, Geto reached out and grabbed Gojo by the hair. “alright. I’m taking him.”

“Huh—wha—heyHEYHEY—” Gojo flailed, legs kicking wildly as Geto dragged him backward off the bed like an exorcism victim. “W-WAIT—WHAT IS THIS—YOU CAN’T JUST—!”

“Oh, I can. because someone,” Geto said, dragging the overgrown manchild toward the door, “left his crusty underwear in the floor. again.”

“I was gonna wash it!!”

“After three days?!”

“It's been three days?!”

Gojo grabbed onto the doorframe gripping hard as Geto yanked him through. “wait, princess—tell him I’m good! tell him I deserve to be near your tits too—!”

Geto gave him a harder yank, and Gojo’s head promptly smacked into the doorframe with a dull thunk.

“OUCHH! NO! don’t take me away from her—! I wanna be with herrrr!!”

The door slammed shut. Silence.

Toji buried his face in his hands. “I want to be mad,” he muttered, “but honestly, I’m just glad he’s gone.”

You peeked again. Toji was staring blankly at the wall.

“…You hungry?” he muttered.

“Starving.”

Toji shifted, about to get out of bed, grumbling something about coffee and maybe punching Gojo in the throat, but you reached out and caught his wrist. He paused, cocking a brow, clearly amused.

“Hmm? what is it, princess?”

You didn’t say anything. Just tugged gently, urging him back down toward you. He let you pull him without resistance, body lowering over yours, broad shoulders framing you, that faint smirk playing on his lips.

And then you kissed his cheek. Soft press of your lips to that scarred skin, warm and slow.

Toji blinked, eyes widening a little like you’d short circuited his brain. He actually flushed. Yes, flushed—the same man who’d had you drooling and crying on his cock not even few hours ago.

“What was that for, huh?” he asked, almost suspiciously gentle. He was trying to play it off like it didn’t melt him. But you could see it in the way his jaw tensed, in the sudden stillness of his hand where it hovered over your waist.

You buried your face in the blanket. “nothing.”

"Nothing?"

“Toji,” you whined softly, face burning, trying to pull the blanket higher, but he wasn’t having it.

“Uh-uh. don’t you hide now,” he murmured, sliding closer, snatching the edge of the blanket and tossing it down.

His lips met your cheek in return. Then your forehead, nose, jaw. Soft kisses everywhere, like he was trying to memorize every spot he’d ever see you blush. His hand stroked your side lazily under the covers, knuckles brushing just under your breast as he dragged his lips down to yours.

And when he kissed your mouth, it was gentle. Uncharacteristically sweet. Like he didn’t want to spook you.

You leaned into it, shy and slow, your hands curling into his forearms. He pulled back barely an inch, smirking against your mouth.

“Baby’s so clingy today,” he whispered. “what happened? hmm? ”

You stared up at him, lips parted, unsure how to answer. "what... do you mean...?"

He tilted his head, nosing at your cheek, voice smug. “you ain't usually like this around me,” he muttered, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “so what’s the deal? what changed?”

“...Nothing changed. I’m fine,” you insisted, but even you sounded unconvinced, eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor instead of him.

Toji chuckled, the low, deep rumble vibrating against your chest as he dipped lower, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. His hand was already traveling south, sliding across your thigh with a feather-light touch that had you shifting under him.

“Don’t tell me last night got to you that bad,” he murmured, catching the way you refused to look at him. A low chuckle slipped from him. “that what this is?” he teased. “got you all fucked out now?”

You smacked his shoulder, squeaking, but he only laughed harder, kissing your neck like he was going to start again.

“Keep looking at me like that, princess,” he murmured, “and I’m gonna end up skipping breakfast.”

Eventually, he let you go reluctantly, with one last smack to your ass as you slipped out of your room wearing the same shirt he’d pulled off last night. You barely made it down the hall before Satoru "can't breath without bunny" Gojo caught you, yanking you straight into his arms on the couch like you’d been gone for days.

Yeah, you're not getting out of those octopus arms anytime soon. Good luck to you.

***

Later that evening.

TV humming, your legs tangled with Gojo’s on the couch as he clung to you like a koala. Nanami sat at the table, typing on his laptop, probably writing a strongly worded email draft for some client that pissed him off. Geto was passed out in the recliner, one arm hanging off the side, mouth slightly open like a peaceful angel—if angels wore black boxers and nothing else.

Then the front door creaked open. Toji walked in, looking the same as always. Tired, unbothered, and hot in that ex-hitman-who-fucks-too-good way.

You sat up a little and gave Toji a small smile. He didn’t say a word. Just walked over to you, dug into the brown paper bag in his hand, and plopped something pink into your lap.

It was a shampoo bottle.The same cherry blossom scented one you mentioned last night. You blinked at it, surprised.

Gojo blinked at it too, slower. Then grabbed it as he squinted at the label like it was some cursed relic. “what is this?”

“A shampoo bottle?” you offered, incase if he was being dense on purpose.

“No shit, princess. I meant why is he bringing you this?” Gojo held it high like it might explode. “cherry blossom, pink bottle, imported. huh?”

Toji sighed, grabbed the bottle out of his hands with a scoff, and shoved it back at you. “because she likes it, dumbass.”

Nanami paused whatever he was doing, glanced up at the scene, then went back to his work with a tiny knowing smile tugging at his mouth. Classic Toji, trying to be nonchalant and failing spectacularly.

Gojo let out the most dramatic sigh known to man before collapsing across your lap like he'd just received devastating news.“yesterday it was a kitty plushie. today it's her favorite shampoo,” he complained. “what's next, huh? gonna skip straight to the ring?”

Toji looked about two seconds away from throwing him out a window. “done?” he grunted. “or you got more bullshit left in you?”

“Oh, right. I'm the one talking bullshit now?” Gojo scoffed, staring between the two of you. “at this rate, we're gonna wake up and find out you've eloped.”

Toji let out a long, tired sigh. “please,” he drawled. “keep talking. see what happens.”

Gojo pointed an accusatory finger. “you made a whole speech about me treating her like a girlfriend just ‘cause I took her out and bought her a dress and dinner!”

“I never said that—”

“You said, and I quote,” Gojo sat up straighter, deepening his voice into a growl, “‘quit actin’ like you're her fuckin’ man, she ain’t yours.’ remember that? I do. because it was RIGHT before you threw me onto the couch.”

Toji rolled his eyes at him. “you were being annoying.”

Gojo gasped, hand on his chest. “I was being romantic! but now look at you. bringing her pretty shit, buying plushies, playing the "nice guy" all of a sudden. what’s next, hmm? gonna braid her hair? paint her nails? rub her feet and tell her she’s your special little babygirl?”

You snatched a pillow and pressed it over your face, cheeks burning. If you couldn't see them, maybe you could pretend this conversation wasn't happening.

Toji’s jaw ticked. “shut the fuck up. I do whatever I want.”

“Ohhh. so it’s whatever you want now? you tryna be her boyfriend too? oh wait, you can’t—” Gojo leaned closer with a grin, eyes glittering. “you’re like, halfway to being her dad. Is this fatherly love, toji? gonna spank her for skipping curfew next?”

Toji’s brow twitched. “I already spank her. not my fault she cries when I do.”

You nearly choked on air. Did he seriously just say that? This stupid man—

“TOJIIIIII!” you immediately hurled the pillow at him.

Toji barely reacted, catching it just in time. “what? am I wrong?”

Gojo snorted, throwing his head back with a laugh. “Okay damn, you're never beating the allegations.”

Toji shot him a sideways glare. “better than being a needy manwhore who can’t stop humping his morning wood on her like a mutt in heat.”

“Wh—” Gojo looked genuinely offended. “a whore?” he stared at Toji for a second. “did you just call me a whore?”

Looking around the room for confirmation, he pointed at himself. “did everyone hear that? did he actually just call me a whore?”

Nanami, as usual, couldn't have cared less. He kept typing away on his laptop without even glancing up. Geto, unfortunately for Gojo, was still passed the fuck out on the recliner. Years of living with the loudest bastard alive had apparently trained him to sleep through anything.

“Thought I said it pretty clear,” Toji replied flatly.

“You—” Gojo pointed an accusing finger at Toji. “you can't just call people that!”

“Pretty sure I just did.”

“You SHOULD NOT!”

Toji leaned against the couch with crossed arms, staring him down. “you really mad I got her a fuckin' shampoo? don’t act like you wouldn’t hump the damn thing if it smelled like her.”

Gojo blinked and paused. Calculating the possibilities in his head. “…okay you got me there.”

You kicked them both with your foot. Toji looked down at you, smirked, then plucked the shampoo from your hands again and set it on the armrest beside you.

“Use it tonight, princess,” he said, voice dropping low, eyes dragging over you slowly. “wanna smell it while I got my face between your legs.”

“TOJI.” you and Nanami said it in unison.

Gojo let out a long groan before flopping back across your lap like the most oppressed man alive. “bunnyyy,” he whined, burying his face against your thighs. “he's bullying me again,” his voice dropped into a mumble. “help me, please.”

You looked down at him, utterly unimpressed. The stupid pout on his dumb pretty face made it ten times harder than it should've been to keep a straight face. You pressed your lips together, desperately holding back a laugh.

***

It kept happening.

Day after day, like clockwork.

Evenings would roll in, the apartment dipped in gold as the sun lowered and Toji would walk in, all quiet… and something in his hand.

Never big. Never dramatic. Just… something.

Ribboned hair clip. Cat-shaped bag charm. Tiny blue lighter even though you didn’t smoke. Your favorite chips—the exact flavor you once muttered you craved while half-asleep. Heart-shaped keychain with your initial. That weird Korean jelly candy Gojo tried stealing and got slapped for.

And every single time, he’d toss it to you like it was nothing.

"Here."

"It’s for you."

No eye contact neither any explanations. Just a quick drop-off and a faster retreat to his room, jaw tense like showing care physically pained him.

But the house noticed. Nanami would glance up from whatever he was doing and smile a little without saying a word. Geto would just hum in amusement from the kitchen.

Gojo… well, Gojo was just Gojo.

So when the day came that Toji walked in holding a tiny pastel bag with a lipstick inside, he practically sniffed it in the air.

“Oooh,” he sang as Toji dropped the bag in your lap like he was doing you a favor and not, y’know, secretly thinking about your lips the whole day. “what’s this, bunny? gift? from him?”

Toji grunted and headed towards the fridge. “saw it on the store. thought she might like it.”

You opened it, curious—only to blink at the bright, coral lipstick inside. It was... not it, not even close. It clashed with your skin tone, your undertone, your style, your vibe, your entire essence as a woman.

But it was sweet. Little dumb and very much Toji.

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. Gojo, on the other hand, did not.

“Oh. oh, wow.” Gojo cackled, plucking the tube from your hands before holding it up like evidence in a murder trial.

“Toji, sweetheart, what the hell is this?” he squinted at the label. “you tryna turn her into a traffic cone?”

Toji immediately narrowed his eyes. “don't touch it.”

Gojo paid him absolutely no attention. “no, seriously. look at this color,” he held it up to the light. “flaming sunset #3?”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“See? she gets it!” Gojo pointed at you triumphantly. “bunny, please don't wear this, I'm begging you...”

“Give it back,” Toji said, sounding seconds away from violence.

“Toji, be honest,” Gojo continued, clutching it to his chest. “did you pick this with your eyes closed?”

Toji crossed the room with that look—that big, brooding, annoyed glare and snatched the lipstick back. “she said she liked lipsticks.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean any lipstick, old man,” Gojo said, flopping onto the couch beside you. “you just grabbed the first one you saw, didn’t you?”

“She’ll still look good in it.”

“Oh my god, you're so down bad. you wanna see her wear this while she moans and calls you daddy, huh?”

Toji didn’t even flinch. “yeah. what of it?”

At this point, you highly doub if Toji was intentionally trying to embarrass you, because what the fuck was that?

From the other side of the room, Nanami let out a long, suffering sigh. This was the poor man's 13th reason why.

Gojo, meanwhile, looked completely dumbfounded. “...are you like... alright in the head, mate?”

Toji looked at you, then back at him. “least I don’t act like a chihuahua when she puts on socks.”

Gojo looked personally attacked. “come on!! they were thigh-high and you weren’t even home. who the hell is snitching?” he looked around as if to find the culprit.

Toji ignored him, sitting down beside you now, setting the lipstick on the table like a trophy. “she’ll wear it once.. for me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Gojo sneered. “I’ll buy her a whole set. nudes, gloss, plumpers. I’ll line ‘em up like fuckin' pokémon cards.”

Toji's mouth twitched. “must be rough, havin' to work that hard.”

"Excuse me??!!"

As if the first jab wasn't enough, Toji twisted the knife. “the shit some losers gotta do just for a shot.”

Gojo narrowed his eyes at him, giving him a long look before immediately scooting closer to you. “tell him, baby,” he said, draping himself over your shoulder. “tell him who you love the most.”

A yawn echoed from the hallway.

“Jeez, are we still doing this?” Geto appeared a second later, stretching lazily as he walked in. His gaze landed on the lipstick in Gojo's hand. “and someone please hide the damn lipstick before satoru tries to use it.”

“Oh, I'm absolutely using it,” Gojo said without missing a beat. “maybe I’ll kiss her neck with it, make her pretty.”

You let out the most undignified wheeze of your life.

Toji just sat there, jaw twitching, staring at Gojo like he was debating whether murder would hold up in court. Eventually, Nanami had enough. He stood up, walked over, plucked the lipstick from Gojo's hand, and sighed.

“I'll return this and get her the right shade.” Then he looked between the two of them. “you're both idiots. go die.”

And honestly? Thank God.

to be continued in the next chapter

Yeah, he's tired of fucking his own fist. His hands were too rough, knuckles scarred, skin like sandpaper. Even when he tried to go slow it just felt like punishment. He wanted soft. He wanted delicate fingers that didn’t know what labor felt like.

What he wouldn’t give to slide his cock into a pair of warm, soft hands… forget a tight pussy for a second, forget a warm wet mouth sucking him stupid. He’d settle—hell, he’d even beg —for some pretty thing with big glossy doe eyes looking up at him all innocent while her manicured fingers pumped him lazy and teasing, maybe a little tongue flicking out, barely there kitten licks, to wet the tip just because she felt like being mean. His cock jumped again in his jeans at the image, thick and insistent, like it was personally offended by reality.

Girls these days are too fucking clever. They clock him the second he opens his mouth—some dumb, crude shit spills out, no filter—and they’re already waving bye-bye in his face before he even gets to the good part.

Used to be his body alone was enough currency: big shoulders, mean eyes, the kind of dick that makes promises it can keep. Now? They want conversation. Charm. Money upfront. He’s got none of that left.

He’d been half-chubbed since Shiu’s call came through. And then he fucked it.

Got turned around in some maze of alleys, lost the tail, lost the mark, lost the payday. Shiu’s voice on the phone afterward had been ice picks, short, sharp, disappointed in that quiet way that hurt worse than yelling. Toji didn’t even argue. Just grunted, hung up, and started walking.

No hotel.

No steak.

No pussy.

Just twenty bucks and a dick that wouldn’t quit throbbing even though the fantasy was officially dead.

He exhaled hard through his nose, fogging in the cold night air. The thought kept looping anyway, nasty and stubborn: if only he’d pulled the job off clean, he could be balls-deep in some overpriced escort right now, or at least getting jerked off slow and sweet by a girl who didn’t mind the scars.

He’d been dreaming about it since Shiu’s call. Now everything’s ashes and he’s down to the last twenty in his pocket.

Well. No pussy for him tonight it seems.

He scanned the empty street, almost dead at this hour, just the occasional car hissing past and the low buzz of dying neon. That’s when he spotted it: one single place still open. Shabby little joint, pink and green lights flickering like a bad hangover. Looked like the kind of spot that served coffee that tasted like motor oil and burgers that would sit in your gut like regret. But twenty bucks might stretch to something hot and greasy. Enough to shut his stomach up for a few hours.

He cracked his neck, shoulders rolling under the worn leather, and started walking toward the glow.

He just kept moving. One foot. Then the other. That was the only plan he had left.

Then he saw her.

Leaning against the brick wall just outside the diner’s side door, like she owned the shadows. Knee-high black boots hugging her thighs, shiny patent leather catching the pink light. Tiny pleated skirt, if you could even call it that, barely skimming the tops of her thighs, sheer black net peeking whenever she shifted. Crop top so cropped it was basically a bra: thin straps, deep V plunging straight down to her navel, tits pushed up and spilling like they were trying to escape. Cherry-red gloss smeared shiny across plump lips, smoky eyes half-lidded and bored. Hair dyed some faded candy red, roots already dark and showing like she hadn’t bothered touching it up in weeks.

If he wasn’t trying to be a tiny bit respectful in his own fucked-up head, he’d just say it out loud: she looked like a high-end whore. The expensive kind. Not street-cheap, but the type who knew exactly how much her holes were worth and dressed like a walking invoice.

Or maybe he was just a judgmental old bastard who read books by their covers.

Whatever. She was pretty. Looked dumb enough. And right now, with his dick still aching from all the mental porn he’d been running, he figured what the hell—might as well shoot his shot.

**********

“Lonely, doll?”

You whip around at the low gravel voice behind you.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s massive. Easily a head taller, even with your heels on, shoulders wide enough to block the streetlight, arms thick under that beat-up jacket. Scar slicing through one corner of his mouth, smirk already in place like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. You haven’t seen a man built like this in years—real man, not the soft pretty boys who pay to feel dangerous for an hour. You bite your glossy bottom lip, twirl a strand of fading red around your finger.

“Mmmhmm… yeah. Wanna keep me company?”

He steps closer, eyes dragging down your body slow and shameless.

“Oh my… this old man enough for ya'?”

You rake your gaze over him—broad chest, thick thighs, that obvious fucking bulge straining the front of his jeans even soft. Shit. That thing looks like it’s smuggling a forearm.

“You don’t look like an old man,” you purr, biting the tip of your index finger.

Next thing you know, his big scarred hand snatches yours, presses your palm flat against the fat outline of his cock. Hard heat throbs under the denim. Thick. Heavy. Already half-hard and obscene.

“I don’t act like an old man either.”

Good fucking lord. That monster between his legs feels like it’s got its own heartbeat. You wouldn’t be shocked if it started talking shit. Your cunt clenches hard, sudden and traitorous, slick already soaking you.

You yank your hand back, trying to play it cool.

“Well… I’m not cheap.”

“Well, duh.” He smirks wider, eyes glinting. “Look at you. Damn, doll… I want you."

All he got is twenty bucks and a throbbing dick. He figured he'd play the only card he have.

Before you can answer, he grabs your hand again—this time sliding it up under his shirt. Your fingers meet hot skin, slabs of muscle, ridges of old scars, tight ripped abs that flex under your touch.

Fuck. Who’s the whore now?

“Come on, doll… I’ll pay with my body.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes even as your thighs press together. “Isn’t that *my* job, mister? I’m the one who pays with body.”

He sighs, dramatic, like you’re killing him. Yeah, not working. “Fine. How much for an hour?”

“Usually three hundred, three-fifty.” You step closer, tilting your head up, lashes fluttering, arms hooking slow around his thick neck. “But for you… and for this—” you give his cock a light squeeze through the jeans, feeling it jump “—just two hundred.”

“Doll… can you knock it down some more?”

“Ohhh, like maybe one-eighty?”

“Some more.”

You lose it. “Ughhh, come on. How much you even got, you broke-ass?”

He just chuckles, low and rough. “Well… If I'm being honest… around twenty, doll.”

“The hell?? Fuck off, mister. Shove that twenty up your ass.” You spin to leave, heels clicking sharp.

He’s fast. Too fast. Big arm snakes around your waist, spins you, pins you back against the cold brick wall with his hips caging you in.

“Doll… where ya' runnin’ off to?”

“I don’t fuck brokies.”

“Even if the brokie got somethin’ real big to offer, hmm?”

You open your mouth to snap back but he leans in, nose dragging along your throat, inhaling deep.

“God damn, doll… you smell so fuckin’ good. I'mma bust a nut right now just smellin’ ya. Please. My cock hurts. Balls so full they’re killin’ me. Please…”

You try to shove him off. Really try. But his mouth is already working—hot open kisses along your pulse, teeth grazing just right, tongue flicking the spot that makes your knees buckle.

“Fineeee,” you whine, “but you ain’t gettin’ to fuck me.”

Toji’s face darkens for a second. Then he shrugs. “Fine. Just a blowjob then.”

You laugh, sharp and mean. “You think you can get a blowjob from me for twenty dollars? Stop dreaming, man.”

He knows he can’t bullshit you. You’re not that dumb. So he tilts his head, voice dropping softer, almost pleading. “Then what can ya give me…?”

You smirk, slow and wicked. “Well… for twenty? I could just flash my pussy real quick.”

“Doll… as temptin’ as that sounds, I need more than a peek. Please. Handjob would be enough. With these soft hands wrapped around my cock… shittttt…” He lifts your hand, presses a slow, wet kiss to the center of your palm.

You pretend to think, tapping your glossy lip. “It’s still cheap… but fine. Under some conditions.”

“Anything, doll. Name it.”

“Okay, hear me out.” You lean in close, lips brushing his ear. “I give you a handjob till you cum once. You give me that twenty… and you eat me out till I cum twice. Twice. Deal?”

Toji’s smirk stretches slow, feral, eyes going dark. “Deal.”

Toji Fushiguro really thought you were some clever little thing, playing hardball, thinking you’d come out on top. But nah.

You’re just a dumb, pretty girl who has no fucking clue whose hands she just fell into. You really thought that was a bargain? You really thought you held the power here? Poor thing.

He’s almost sad he’s only getting those soft fingers around his cock for twenty measly bucks. Almost. Because you just handed him the keys to that sweet, dripping pussy on a silver platter.

He gets to bury his face between your thighs, tongue-fuck you stupid, suck on your clit till you’re crying and shaking and creaming all over his scarred mouth—twice—and all it was only gonna cost him a crumpled twenty.

More for him. Way more.

He’s already imagining it, your knees hooked over his shoulders, those knee-high boots digging into his back, red-glossed lips parted in a gasp while he laps at you like a starving man. Your fingers yanking his hair, hips bucking, calling him every filthy name while he drinks you down like it’s the only meal he’s had in days.

Yeah. You thought you won this round, doll. But Toji’s about to eat like a king for twenty fucking dollars. And you’re gonna cum so hard you forget your own name.

Twice at that.

****************

“So… where we goin’? Motel?”

Toji throws his head back and laughs—loud, rough, the kind of bark that echoes off the empty street like he just heard the funniest goddamn joke of the year.

“Doll, if I had cash for a motel room right now, I’d already have you pinned against that wall over there, fuckin’ you stupid till the bricks leave marks on your ass.”

You scoff, crossing your arms under your tits so they push up even higher in that barely-there top.

“Broke-ass,” you mutter, rolling your eyes hard enough to hurt.

He just grins wider, scar tugging at the corner of his mouth. You huff, annoyed but already turning on your heel.

“Fine. My place then. Come on.”

Toji falls in step behind you without a word—big, silent, looming. Like a good puppy.

Except this puppy’s built like a goddamn grizzly bear that’s been starving for red meat and pussy in equal measure. Every few steps he brushes against you on purpose, big hand grazing the small of your back, knuckles dragging along the curve of your hip, thumb hooking just under the hem of your tiny skirt like he’s testing how easy it’d be to flip it up. You swat him away each time, half-hearted, mostly because the heat of his palm makes your skin prickle in ways you’re not ready to admit.

Ten minutes of that and you’re finally pushing open the door to your apartment.

It’s decent. Better than decent, honestly. Clean lines, soft lighting, nice couch that didn’t come from the curb, plants you actually remember to water. Not luxury, but comfortable. Paid-for. The kind of place that makes Toji’s brows lift when he steps inside and kicks the door shut behind him.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but you can see the question flickering behind those sharp green eyes. Why the fuck are you doing this for twenty bucks?

Truth is, you’ve got enough. Rent’s covered, fridge isn’t empty, closet’s full of shit that costs more than his entire net worth right now. But it’s been ages since you’ve seen a man like him—raw, rough, built like he could snap you in half and make you thank him for it.

The soft boys who book you for hours always feel like playing pretend. This one? He’s real. Dangerous. Hungry. And yeah, maybe you’re a little wet just from the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only meal on the menu.

But you’re not about to let him know that. No way you’re handing him the upper hand this easy. Might as well bleed that last crumpled twenty out of him while you’re at it.

Toji doesn’t waste a single heartbeat.

The second the lock clicks, his hands are on you—big, scarred palms clamping around your waist, yanking you flush against his front. Hard chest to your back, thick cock already grinding shamelessly against your ass through both your clothes. His mouth drops to your neck like he’s been dreaming about it. Hot, wet tongue dragging up the side of your throat, teeth scraping, sucking hard enough to bruise. He’s groaning low, animal, like a stray dog finally let at a steak.

You squirm, shoving at his forearms even as your head tips back on instinct.

“Eww—get off. Lemme shower at least.”

He freezes for half a second, mouth still latched to your pulse.

“Doll,” he rasps against your skin, voice wrecked, “you better be fuckin’ kidding me.”

You raise a brow, twisting just enough to shoot him a look. “What now?”

“I don’t care about that shit.” His hands slide lower, greedy, squeezing the meat of your hips, thumbs dipping under the waistband of your skirt. “You smell like sex already. I want you like this.”

You snort, trying to sound unimpressed even as your cunt flutters at the gravel in his voice. “Well, you look like someone who doesn’t give a fuck about hygiene, so.”

He growls—actually growls—nips your earlobe hard enough to sting, then lets you go just enough for you to slip away.

You saunter toward the bedroom on purpose, hips swaying, boots clicking slow. You can feel his stare burning holes through the back of your skirt.

Toji follows like he’s tethered. He shuts the door with a heavy click, the sound echoing like a promise in the dim bedroom light. Toji's on you before you can even turn fully—big hands gripping your hips, yanking you back against his chest, mouth crashing down on yours like he's trying to devour every breath you've got. His tongue's rough, invasive, tasting like cheap cigarettes and raw hunger, and fuck, it's been months since he's had a woman this fine in his grasp.

Soft skin, plump curves, that bratty little mouth—he's half-hard just from the smell of your perfume mixed with the faint tang of arousal already leaking from between your thighs. Too bad the deal's got him leashed; he can't bury his fat cock balls-deep like he wants, split you open till you're sobbing. But fair enough. He'll take the scraps. The breadcrumbs. Whatever the fuck you toss his way, he'll lap it up like the starving dog he is.

He breaks the kiss, dragging his scarred lips down your jaw, your throat, sucking bruises into the soft skin there while one hand slides up to grope your tit through the crop top. Squeezes hard, thumb rolling over the hard nipple poking through. His other hand's already dipping lower, fingers hooking under your skirt, but you smack his head—sharp, stinging.

"Owww, what the fuck, doll?"

You pull back, smirking, eyes half-lidded and smoky. "What did I tell you? You're breaking the deal already, caveman."

He groans, rubbing the spot on his skull, but his cock twitches in his jeans like it's got a mind of its own. "Ughhh, fine. Jesus fuckin' Christ."

"Don't act like you've never seen a woman, okay? Take it slow. I'll show you how to do things right." Your voice drops, all honey and tease, as you saunter over to the bed. You perch on the edge, legs crossed prim for a second, then beckon him with one crooked finger. "C'mere, big boy."

Toji chuckles low, that gravelly rumble that vibrates straight to your clit. He stalks over, drops to his knees between your legs like he's worshiping at an altar. Big hands rest on your thighs, waiting—barely. You uncross your legs slow, deliberate, spreading them wide till the cool air hits the damp heat between. His gaze locks there, Adam's apple bobbing hard as he swallows, throat working like he's already parched.

You lean back on your elbows, smirking, and inch your tiny skirt up—higher, higher—revealing the sheer black stockings clinging to your thighs. No fuckin' panties in sight. Just bare, glistening cunt winking at him under the thin barrier of nylon.

As expected of a whore.

Toji leans in close—too close—nose brushing the inside of your thigh, inhaling deep like a junkie getting his fix. His eyes fucking roll back, a low groan ripping from his chest. Fuckin'… finally. Smell of a real pussy after so goddamn long. He's dizzy with it, head spinning, fresh precum beading at his tip and soaking through his boxers. Thick, sticky, begging for relief.

"Mister…?"

His eyes snap up, dark and feral. "Yeah, doll?"

You bite your lip, all innocent-like even as your hand trails down. "Do you like what you see?"

"Very fuckin' much, doll… lemme see it proper, yeah?" His big paws crawl up your thighs, calluses scraping deliciously, thumbs pressing into the meat like he owns it.

You smack his hands away again, giggling soft and mean. Then, slow as sin, you shimmy the skirt off completely, tossing it aside. Toji's breath hitches.

Just those slutty stockings framing your bare, dripping cunt. He drags both hands down his face, groaning like he's in pain, scar twisting with the motion.

"Shit… you filthy little tease. Gonna make me bust in my pants just lookin' at this pretty whore hole." He's throbbing so hard it hurts, cock straining the zipper, but he can't touch yet.

You crawl backward to the headboard, ass sliding on the sheets, then lean back all lazy and luxurious. Knees hook up to your tits, spreading yourself obscenely wide—pussy lips parting, slick already stringing between your folds. Toji crawls after you like a predator, face hovering right over that stocking-covered mound, hot breath fanning through the nylon.

"Mister…"

"Yeah?" His voice is wrecked, barely a rasp.

Your whole vibe shifts, the bratty girl gone, replaced by full-on vixen. Sweet, seductive poison dripping from your tongue as you drag two fingers through your own slick folds, parting them further, clit peeking out swollen and needy.

Toji's never seen anything like it. This perfect mix of dumb-pretty and downright demonic, luring him in like a siren ready to drown him in his own cum.

"Mister… lick here." You tap your clit lightly, smirking.

He doesn't hesitate. Leans in, tongue flat and broad, stripes one long, slow lick right up the center, through the stockings, tasting salt and musk and you.

That first drag has you arching, a gasp ripping out as stars burst behind your eyes. You almost saw heaven. Pure fucking heaven.

But the man between your legs? Already there. Eyes fluttering shut, savoring the tang like it's ambrosia, a low moan vibrating against your skin.

But he stops. Pulls back just enough to roll the flavor on his tongue, smirking up at you.

You whine, frustrated, grab a fistful of his dark hair and shove his mouth back down. "Don't stop, you broke fuck—lick it."

Hips buck up, grinding your leaking cunt against his face as he finally dives in. Tongue lapping sloppy and desperate, pressing through the nylon, sucking at the fabric like he can draw your juices straight out. Wet smacks fill the room, his groans muffled against your heat.

"Fuck, doll… taste so goddamn sweet. Leakin' like a faucet for me." He growls it between licks, nose bumping your clit, making you jolt.

You push his head back suddenly, breathing hard. He looks up, lips shiny with your slick, scar glistening, eyes black with lust.

You bite your bottom lip, all swollen and red, then reach down and rip the seam of your stockings open with a sharp tear, just enough to expose your bare, dripping pussy fully. Slick coats your inner thighs, clit throbbing visibly.

Toji cusses under his breath—"Holy shit, you nasty little slut"—then presses a filthy, open-mouthed kiss right to your folds.

Tongue dives in deep, spearing into your hole, fucking you with it slow and nasty while his thumb finds your clit, circles it rough. "Gonna make this greedy cunt squirt for me, huh? Twice, like we said. Bet you're already close, clenchin' on my tongue like a vice."

You moan loud, back arching, fingers twisting harder in his hair. "Y-yeah… right there, more, more."

He obeys, lips sealing around your clit, sucking with wet, obscene pops while two thick fingers shove inside, curling up, hitting that spongy spot dead-on. Pumps them fast, squelching loud in the quiet room, your walls fluttering, sucking him deeper.

"Shit, doll, you're tight—gonna cream all over my face? Do it. Flood my mouth, you filthy bitch." His words buzz against your skin, free hand pinning your thigh wider, bruising.

It builds fast, coils tight in your gut, thighs shaking. "Oh god—fuck, I'm gonna—" You shatter, cunt spasming hard around his fingers, gushing slick that he laps up greedy, tongue flicking your clit through the waves. You scream it, hips jerking, vision blurring white.

He doesn't stop. Keeps fingering through it, slower now, drawing out every aftershock till you're whimpering, oversensitive.

"That's one, doll." He pulls back just enough to grin, chin dripping, eyes locked on yours. "Ready for number two? Or you tappin' out already?"

You collapse back against the pillows, chest heaving like you just ran a marathon in heels. Legs limp, thighs trembling, cunt still fluttering with aftershocks—pulsing weak little clenches around nothing.

Slick’s smeared everywhere, your inner thighs, the torn stockings, the sheets beneath your ass. That orgasm ripped through you so hard you swear you blacked out for a second. Brain fuzzy, body boneless. You can’t even close your legs properly; they just flop open, obscene and spent.

Toji’s not having it.

He snatches your wrist, big scarred fingers wrapping easy around it and hauls you upright like you weigh nothing.

“Get up, doll. Don’t fuckin’ pass out on me now.” His voice is wrecked, thick with need, but there’s that mean edge. “How the hell are you a whore with this little stamina? Thought you’d be built for this shit.”

You manage a weak, breathy “Shut up…” but it comes out more like a whine.

He laughs low, dark, dragging your slack hand straight to the obscene bulge still straining his jeans.

“You’re so goddamn selfish, doll. Just gonna doze off after you got your fill? I’m the one payin’ here. Help a broke bastard out, yeah?”

The second your palm presses against him, that fat cock jumps under the denim—hot, thick, throbbing like it’s got its own goddamn heartbeat. Your eyes snap wide despite how heavy your lids feel. Jesus. Even through the fabric it feels monstrous. You fumble with weak, shaky fingers, button, zipper, till it springs free.

Toji Jr. slaps against his abs with a wet smack, angry red, veins bulging, tip already leaking a fat pearl of precum that strings down the shaft. The thing twitches happily, like it’s finally seeing daylight after ages in solitary. Another bead wells up immediately, dripping slow and sticky.

“Here, doll,” he growls, voice cracking with desperation. “Jerk me off. I’ll fuckin’ die if I gotta wait any longer.”

You nod dumb, hazy, still floating and wrap both hands around him. Soft palms, pretty nails, no calluses. Heaven for him. Toji’s head lolls back instantly, a long, guttural groan ripping out of his throat.

“Fuuuuck… that’s it, doll… oh god… finally some soft fuckin’ hands…” His hips jerk forward on instinct, fucking shallow into your grip. He almost blows right then—cock pulsing hard, a tiny spurt of precum dribbling over your knuckles. “Shit… almost came just from that. Keep goin’… yeah, like that…”

You stroke him proper now, slow at first, then firmer, twisting at the head the way you know makes men lose their minds. Your legs are still splayed wide in front of him, ruined pussy on full display, puffy lips, clit still swollen, slick shining under the bedroom light. Toji’s eyes keep dropping there, hungry, feral.

“Doll…” His voice is hoarse, pleading. “Fuck… can I… can I move closer? Please. He just wanna be near her.”

You blink up at him, confused, still stroking lazy.

“He…?”

He jerks his chin down at his own leaking cock.

“Please, babe. Just near. We don’t gotta make ‘em touch. Just… lemme feel that heat. Been so long since I was this close to a pussy.”

How the fuck are you supposed to say no to that wrecked look in his eyes? You’re half-gone yourself, cunt still tingling, thighs sticky with your own mess.

“Fineeee…” you drawl, lazy and teasing even as your heart kicks up.

Toji shifts forward fast, knees spreading your legs wider, fat cock hovering inches from your bare, dripping slit. So close you can feel the heat radiating off him, the occasional twitch brushing the air between you.

One hard thrust and he’d be buried to the hilt, stretching you stupid. You don’t trust the bastard not to try it… but fuck, at this rate? You might not even stop him.

You stroke faster, eager now, hungry to see how much this loaded fucker can unload. Those heavy balls are drawn tight, swollen, promising a flood. You twist your wrist on every upstroke, thumb swiping over the slit, smearing precum everywhere.

“Doll—slow down—agghhh fuck—” His abs clench, thighs shaking. “I’m gonna—”

“Cumming, doll—” He erupts.

Not a polite little spurt. A goddamn geyser.

Thick ropes of cum shoot out—hot, endless—splattering your thighs first, then painting your pussy lips, dripping down your slit, coating your clit in pearly white. Another pulse hits your belly, streaking up to the underside of your tits.

You keep pumping, milking him ruthless, angling him so every jet lands on your skin. It won’t stop. Pulse after pulse, his cum keeps pumping out—sticky, warm, obscene amounts—like his balls have been saving it up just for you. You swear it lasts a full minute: him groaning broken, hips stuttering, cock jerking in your grip while you wring him dry.

Finally—finally—he slumps back, sitting heavy on his heels, chest heaving. Dick still half-hard, twitching weakly, smeared glossy with his own load and your spit-slick hands.

“Doll…” he rasps, voice shot to hell, eyes locked on the mess he made of you. Cum dripping slow down your thighs, pooling in the crease where leg meets cunt, streaking your ruined stockings. “Look at that… fucked up my twenty bucks worth of paradise and painted you like a goddamn canvas.”

He licks his lips, scar tugging, already looking like he’s thinking about round two.

********************

Toji’s still catching his breath, slumped back on his heels, chest rising and falling like he just ran ten blocks. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs—still twitching, still leaking the last sluggish drops of that insane load he just painted you with.

It’s obscene. Filthy. And you? You’re just lying there, legs still hiked up lazy, knees bent toward your tits, cunt on full display like a goddamn invitation.

Your fingers trail through the mess absentmindedly—swiping a glob of his spend, rubbing it slow between your swollen lips, circling your clit with it like lube. You’re not even trying to be sexy; you’re just… fascinated. Amused, almost.

“Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath, half-laughing. “There’s so fucking much.”

Toji’s eyes snap to the motion. His cock jerks hard, already swelling again, thickening against his abs like it never even softened. He hasn’t seen a sight this depraved in years.

A pretty little whore playing with his cum like it’s finger paint, smearing it over her puffy clit, dipping a fingertip inside herself just to feel how slick and full she is from him.

That’s it. He snaps.

No warning. No asking. Just big scarred hands clamping around the backs of your knees, yanking your legs up high and folding you in half to a nice fuckin' mating press. Your ass lifts off the bed, cunt presented like a gift.

“Mister—what the fu—ahhhhh!”

He doesn’t hesitate. Lines up that fat, leaking head and rams forward—whole length sinking in one brutal slide. Your walls are still loose and fluttering from the last orgasm, soaked with your own slick and now his cum acting like the world’s dirtiest lube. It’s obscene how easy he bottoms out, balls slapping wet against your ass, cockhead kissing your cervix in one go.

Your mouth falls open on a broken moan. Eyes rolling straight back, tongue lolling for a second before you can even form words. He stays buried deep, perfectly still, hips locked flush. You can feel every thick vein pulsing inside you, stretching you stupid.

“Mister—noooo—”

He leans down, scarred lips brushing your ear, voice gravel and wrecked.

“Name’s Toji, doll.”

“T-Tojiiii…” You whimper it, hips twitching despite yourself. “You… you promised—”

“I know, I know.” He exhales hard through his nose, fighting not to move. “But you’re such a fuckin’ tease, doll. Parading this greedy little cunt around, playin’ with my cum like that… how the hell am I supposed to hold back? And look—” He rolls his hips just enough to make you gasp. “This tight pussy’s grippin’ me like it never wants me to leave. You don’t hate this, yeah?”

You bite your lip hard, cheeks burning, eyes sliding away because, fuck—he’s right. Your walls are fluttering around him, sucking him deeper like they’re begging.

“Look at me, doll.” He grabs your chin, forces your gaze back to his. Green eyes dark, pupils blown. “Lemme have this. I’ll make you cum so hard on my cock you forget your own name. Deal?”

You hesitate one heartbeat… then nod, small and needy. Your hips already cant up, chasing that delicious stretch.

Toji chuckles—low, filthy—and presses your thighs harder to your tits, folding you tighter. Then he starts fucking you like a man possessed.

No buildup. No mercy. Just brutal, deep thrusts pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, balls slapping wet and loud against your ass. He yanks your top down with his teeth, freeing your tits, and latches onto one nipple sucking hard, teeth grazing, tongue flicking mean while his hips never stop pistoning.

“Fuck—Tojiiii—” Your voice cracks, nails digging into his shoulders. “Right there—ahhh—right there—”

“Yeah? You like that spot, doll? Gonna cream all over this fat cock?” He switches to the other nipple, biting down just enough to sting. “C’mon, give it to me. Milk me dry again.”

You shatter fast—too fast it's almost embarassing. Walls clamping down like a vice, fluttering wildly as you cum with a broken scream. “Tojiiii—cumming—m'cumming—!”

He groans like he’s dying. “You beat me to it, huh? Greedy little—fuck—”

Your orgasm milks him ruthless—squeezing, rippling, pulling him deeper. He tries to hold on, jaw clenched, but it’s useless.

“Doll… you’re fuckin’ milking meeeee—”

He slams in one last time and unloads.

Deeper than before. Hot, thick spurts painting your insides, flooding you till it’s leaking out around his shaft with every weak twitch of his hips. More than last time—way more. Endless ropes filling you up, spilling out, making a creamy mess where you’re joined. He bites down on the soft swell of your tit ,hard enough to leave marks while you fist his hair, yanking, moaning through the overstimulation.

Finally he stills. Breathing ragged. Cock still buried, softening slow inside your stuffed cunt.

He pulls out with a wet suck, his cum immediately gushing out, pooling on the sheets. You’re a wreck: legs limp, tits marked, pussy gaping and leaking, eyes already fluttering shut.

“Hey—hey, doll—” He pats your cheek lightly. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

Too late.

You’re gone, eyes rolling back, body going slack, fucked-out and unconscious from cock alone.

Toji just laughs—low, rough, a little disappointed. “Fuckin’ lightweight… wanted to rail you all night.”

He presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to your forehead, then tucks himself away, zips up, and slips out quiet.

***************

When your eyes crack open again, sunlight’s slicing through the blinds. Morning.

Your whole body aches in the best-worst way—thighs sticky, cunt sore and puffy, the unmistakable throb of being stretched and filled too deep. You sit up slow, wincing, looking around.

No Toji. Anywhere.

Bed’s cold on his side. Bathroom empty. Living room deserted. For a second you wonder if you hallucinated the whole thing—some fever-dream fuck from a broke stranger who smelled like smoke and danger.

But the dull ache between your legs, the dried cum flaking on your skin, the bruises blooming on your tits? Yeah. Real.

Annoyed, horny, and weirdly disappointed, you shuffle back to the bedroom.

And there it is.

On your nightstand: one crumpled twenty-dollar bill.

Next to it, a scrap of paper, torn from some receipt probably. Ugly, blocky handwriting scrawled across it.

His number.

On the flip side, in the same messy scrawl:

“Call me, doll. Next time I’ll pay you 30$.”

You stare at it for a long second. Then you laugh—hoarse, tired, but real. Exhaustion still clings to your bones, but heat’s already pooling low in your belly again.

Yeah. You’re definitely earning that thirty.

"Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t think at all when I’m working."

He slammed the door and circled to the driver’s side, completely unfazed by your kicks against the window. You scrambled up, heart racing.

“You’re so dead. Do you know what I—”

“Don’t care.” He started the car like this was just his morning commute. “You don’t shut it, I will gag you. And trust me, I’ve got real good tools for that.”

You shoved at the door. Locked. Of course. “You’re gonna regret this! You fucking freak!”

“I’m regrettin’ it already,” he muttered.

***

The next few hours were a blur of rough curses and rapid turns. You had no clue where he was taking you, only that he was confident and fast, and you didn’t dare try jumping out when he slowed. His eyes—sharp and dead—flicked to you every time you opened your mouth. And you kept opening it.

“This car smells like rotten corpse.”

“...You look like you eat raw meat.”

“Ever heard of moisturizer? Or is being ugly part of the job?”

At the third insult, he sighed like a disappointed parent and pulled a thick piece of cloth from the glove box.

“No—don’t you—DON’T—"

He stuffed it in your mouth with zero ceremony, tying it behind your head like a gift bow. “There. Peace and fuckin’ quiet.”

Your glare could’ve set him on fire but he didn’t flinch.

“I miss the kids who cried. You just won’t shut up.”

He kept you tied to a chair in what looked like a storage room for the next several hours. He tried to feed you once. Took the gag off. Brought over what looked like cold noodles.

“Eat.”

“Go to hell.”

His brow twitched. “Really wanna die, huh?”

“I’d rather die than eat your half-assed garbage.”

“Suit yourself.” He shoved the bowl into a bin with a clatter. “Starve then.”

Later, he paced the room like he was trying to burn off the irritation you caused just by breathing.

“Thought you’d be more scared,” he said at one point.

“You thought wrong,” you sneered.

"Should’ve figured. Smart mouth like yours? Bet you grew up with too much attention. Or not enough. Couldn’t shut up for five minutes if your life depended on it."

“Would’ve been quieter if you weren’t a fucking prick.”

His jaw clenched. For a second, you swore he was gonna haul you up and slam you against the wall. Instead, he just chuckled dryly and turned away.

“You’ve got some nerve. Might actually be fun breakin’ you down.”

You ignored the weird flutter that gave you. When he finally got on the phone, out of your earshot, you only caught snippets through the wall.

“Yeah... got her... no, didn’t check... what the fuck do you mean that’s not her?... She had the same hair, height, whatever... What? You’re kidding me.”

The next time he came back into the room, he was rubbing the back of his neck like he had a migraine.

“You lucky bitch.”

“What?”

“Shiu’s coming to get you.”

“And who the hell is that—?”

“You’ll see. Try not to bite him too. Or do. Whatever.”

Shiu showed up ten minutes later, perfectly put together in a sleek coat, pressed shirt, and not a single hair out of place. The contrast between him and Toji, arms crossed like he’d rather punch the wall than be part of this was staggering.

Shiu blinked at you. "...Who the hell is this?"

Toji exhaled through his nose. “The girl. Obviously.”

Shiu’s lips flattened. “Toji. That’s not the girl.”

A long pause. Toji turned his head slowly toward you. His eyes narrowed. “...You serious?”

Shiu tilted his head, something almost like pity in his gaze. “This one’s not even close.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake—” Toji turned, walked a few feet, and kicked the wall. “I knew something felt off—mouthy little brat...”

“You kidnapped the wrong person?” you yelled.

“Shut up,” Toji snarled at you. “You looked close enough, alright? Got the pic this morning, blurry as shit.”

Shiu sighed. “I apologize for the… inconvenience.” He crouched beside you, undoing the ropes around your wrists. “Are you hurt?”

“Only emotionally. I’ve been in a dusty room with that ogre for twelve hours.”

Toji flipped you off.

Shiu chuckled softly, then said, “I can take you to eat. At least.”

You stared at him. “Oh, now I get food?”

“Yes. Anything you’d like.”

You cleared your throat. “I have a list.”

Shiu raised a brow. “A list?”

You held up your fingers. “I want Pasta. Smashed burger. Chocolate milkshake. Fries. Ice cream—chocolate, and vanilla. Oh, and a side of vengeance.”

Toji muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “spoiled brat.”

Shiu helped you up. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You better. I’ve been starving all day because that man is an uncultured ape.”

Toji gave you a smirk, stepping past Shiu as he made for the door. “Whatever. I’ll go get the real one.”

You throw the cloth at his back. “Hope she kicks your ass.”

“Hope you choke on your fries.”

You flipped him off as you walked out with Shiu.

***

Shiu was true to his word.

He took you to a sleek, dimly lit rooftop restaurant, not some greasy hole-in-the-wall. He must've felt bad. Or maybe just embarrassed by Toji's mistake. Either way, you weren’t complaining.

“Order whatever you like,” he said, offering the menu with a mild smile as you sat across from him.

You didn’t hesitate. “I want pasta. Extra cheesy. And a double patty burger. Extra cheese. Fries. Large. A Chocolate milkshake. And blueberry cheesecake.”

“Drinks?”

“Obviously. Tequila shots.”

He paused. “You sure?”

“You kidnapped me.”

“Toji kidnapped you.”

“You work with him.”

“…Fair point.” He flagged the waiter. “Get her whatever she wants.”

The food came quickly. You ate like you hadn’t tasted joy in weeks. Shiu watched silently, arms folded on the table, a glass of red wine untouched at his elbow.

“You’re quiet,” you said between mouthfuls. “What, cat got your tongue?”

“I’m just… fascinated,” he said flatly.

“By what?”

“You. The amount of food you’ve consumed in ten minutes.”

You rolled your eyes at him, then downed another tequila shot. The warmth hit your chest like fire. Another round. And another. Until the edges of the restaurant softened and your limbs got heavy, eyelids drooping.

Shiu’s voice came faintly from across the table. “What’s your address?”

You blinked at him slowly, lips parted. Then slumped forward, cheek hitting the table.

“Shit,” you heard him mutter.

He didn’t intend to carry you. But the rain started just as he was walking you to the car. Not a drizzle. A storm. The kind that soaked you both in seconds. His coat was useless, the umbrella in the trunk forgotten as thunder cracked across the sky. Your unconscious body hung limply against him, breath soft against his chest, and he cursed under his breath as the fabric of your shirt clung to you.

"You're going to get sick," he muttered, unlocking the door one-handed and carefully settling you into the passenger seat. "Tell me your address, kid."

You replied something incoherent.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “Alright. My place it is.”

***

He laid you on his bed like you were glass. And then just… stood there.

You were drenched. Hair stuck to your face. Shirt nearly see-through. Shorts riding up. And cold—your body still trembling slightly, even unconscious.

“I’m not doing this,” he told himself, dragging a palm down his face. “I’m not that guy.”

But then you whimpered again, shifting, your teeth faintly chattering. And his conscience overpowered his pride. He grabbed one of his soft, oversized black t-shirt from a drawer. Closed his eyes. Swore like a sinner in church as he carefully peeled off your wet clothes.

Hands careful and way too gentle. Not looking, not touching more than needed. When you were finally dry, dressed in his t-shirt that swallowed your frame, he exhaled and tossed your clothes into the dryer.

The rain continued to pound outside, and you slept like the dead, curled up in his bed, warm and safe now. He didn’t look at you when he changed into a towel and moved around the room, searching for dry sweats. His back was to the bed when you finally stirred.

Your lashes fluttered. Eyes opened halfway. You blinked slowly, taking in the unfamiliar ceiling, the scent of soap and cologne that didn’t belong to you. Then your gaze landed on the tall man standing in front of a closet, steam from the shower still clinging to his skin. Only a towel hung low on his hips. And nothing else.

You blinked again. “...What the fuck?”

He turned, startled and saw you staring at him. You threw the blanket off and sat up. Looked down. You were wearing a shirt that clearly wasn’t yours. And… nothing underneath.

“What the fuck—?”

"Listen, kid. It's not what you think."

"You bastard, what did you do to me?"

Shiu lifted both hands, voice calm. “You were shivering and then you passed out. Wouldn't wake up. Your clothes were soaked. Could’ve gone hypothermic—”

“So you fucked me?!”

"I didn't fuck you."

"Then you stripped me?"

“You’re wearing a shirt.”

“Your shirt!”

He sighed. “Do you want your wet clothes back? Or another round of tequila and hypothermia?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it, followed by a huff. "...Still creepy."

He turned back around. “You’ve been unconscious for three hours. I haven’t touched you.”

“You’re wearing a towel.”

“You’re wearing my tshirt. What’s your point?”

You folded your arms, lips pursed. “You’re weirdly calm about having a half-naked hostage in your bed.”

“You’re not a hostage anymore.”

“Tell that to the trauma.”

He finally turned, towel still secure, brow arched. “Do you always run your mouth when you’re drunk?”

“I’m sober now.”

“Pity.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why, you liked me better when I wasn’t yelling at you?”

He smirked, eyes dragging down to your exposed thigh where the shirt had ridden up. “Yeah. I just really liked the silence.”

Your stomach flipped. There it was. You yanked the blanket back over you, glaring at him. “Don’t flirt with me. I still remember the part where your co-worker tied me up.”

“His name's Toji. I rescued you.”

“After the kidnapping.”

“Technicality.”

He moved toward the dresser, back to you again, muscles shifting under damp skin. You watched in spite of yourself, then mumbled, “This shirt smells like you.”

“I know.”

You swallowed. “…Why didn’t you just drop me at a hotel?”

“Too much trouble.”

“Why didn’t you just let me shiver?”

He paused for a moment. “That… would’ve been cruel.”

You blinked at him. “So you do have a conscience.”

“No,” he said, turning to meet your eyes again. “I just hate owing anyone anything. Now we’re even.”

“You think we’re even?”

“You got free food. A warm bed. My favorite shirt.”

You snorted at that. “Fine. Next time I get kidnapped, I’ll ask for you.”

“Don’t. I’m not babysitting again.”

You didn’t respond. Just stared at him, the tension between you growing thicker by the second. Then your voice dropped. “…If I asked for another drink right now, would you say no?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just stepped toward the bed, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“No,” he murmured, voice low.

“Then why aren’t you moving?”

“Because you’re in my bed, wearing my shirt,” he said softly, “and if I stay here any longer, I’ll want to take it off.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. He walked away and the tension crackled like static.

The moment he turned away with that comment, you felt it everywhere. A flush bloomed hot on your cheeks, neck, even down between your thighs. And then your mouth tried to fight the heat rising through your chest.

“Wh—what’s that supposed to mean?” you stammered, pulling the blanket tighter around you, fingers gripping it like a shield. “I… you—shouldn’t say stuff like that, perv.”

He strolled over to a cabinet, towel slung low on his hips, and pulled out a glass. His voice came soft, almost bored.

“Stuff like what?” He glanced at you over his shoulder. “I’m not the one calling strangers pervs while naked in their bed.”

“I’m not naked.” you sounded scandalized.

He turned, finally, one eyebrow quirked. “No? That shirt’s barely covering your ass. Want me to check?”

“Don’t you dare—!”

He stepped closer. You instinctively pulled the blanket tighter, but your eyes didn’t leave his chest, vision catching on the light trail of hair down his torso, on the sharp lines of his hips as the towel shifted just a bit too low. Your mouth worked, trying to form words.

“But—but you—why are you even wearing a towel still? Can’t you put on some pants like a normal adult?”

His voice was smooth, slow. “Does it bother you?”

“No—yes—I mean—” you cut yourself off, flustered, heartbeat thudding like mad in your ears. “I’ve just been through a lot today, and now there’s a half-naked man teasing me in a bedroom that isn’t mine.”

Shiu poured himself a drink. “So dramatic. You act like you didn’t try to bite Toji.”

“He gagged me.”

“You deserved it.”

“I insulted him.”

“My point exactly.”

He took a sip, and then sat at the edge of the bed. Not too close, but close enough that you felt the warmth of him seep through the air. The towel still held firm, but barely. He was bone-dry now but you weren’t. You pulled the covers tighter, avoiding eye contact.

“Calm down,” he said, setting the glass aside. “I’m not gonna jump you.”

Your voice came out small. “You said you wanted to take the shirt off.”

“Did I?” he blinked slowly. “Hm. Must’ve slipped out.”

He knew exactly what he was doing. Your lips pressed into a tight line, face burning. Then you looked at him from under your lashes. Your voice dropped just a notch, soft and slow. “Well… next time you say something like that, try not to sound so disappointed. Makes it feel like a threat when it could’ve been an offer.”

Silence. It hit him like a slap. You saw the shift in him. The way his lips parted just slightly, eyes narrowing in a way that was no longer amused. Not teasing. More like… Curious and dangerous.

He tilted his head, slow. “You sure you’re sober?”

You shrugged, gaze still on his mouth. “Sober enough to know when I’m not being taken seriously.”

“Hm.” He leaned back on one palm, gaze dragging down your figure beneath the blanket, even though most of you was hidden.

“I didn’t expect that from you,” he murmured.

“Didn’t expect what?”

“That mouth.” His voice was barely audible now. “So full of attitude, but sharp when it matters.”

You licked your lips. “Disappointed again?”

“No,” he said softly. “Not even a little.”

There was a long pause. A pull in the air, heavy and slow. His eyes flicked to the blanket again.

“I bet you’re warm under there,” he said casually. “Sweating, maybe. Flushed. Not just from the drink, though.”

You glared at him. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you moved? You keep holding that blanket like it’s gonna save your soul.”

“Maybe I just don’t want you to see something you can’t handle.”

That landed again. Way harder this time. He laughed, soft and low in his throat. “God,” he muttered. “You’ve got a fuckin’ attitude for someone I rescued.”

“I never asked for it.”

“No, but you didn’t exactly fight when I brought you here either.”

“I was unconscious.”

“Not my problem.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but paused when his fingers brushed your ankle. He’d found the edge of the blanket. Lifted it just a few inches.

You stiffened. “Don’t.”

“Relax,” he said, voice too damn calm. “Just wanted to see if you’re trembling again. Can’t have you catching a cold, right?”

But that wasn’t why he did it. He was testing the waters. Testing you. And your body betrayed you, thigh twitching, a shiver not from cold but from heat skimming along your spine. His thumb ghosted along your ankle bone. Just once.

“Thought so,” he said, pulling away.

“You’re playing with fire,” you whispered.

He smiled, slow and unbothered. “So are you.”

Then you leaned back, licking your lips again. “Well,” you murmured, curling under the blanket, heart racing, “I hope you sleep with that towel tied tight.”

He stood up slowly, smirk widening. “I don’t plan to sleep much.”

And then he walked out of the room. Left you there with your racing heart, your soaked thighs, and his shirt clinging to you like second skin. You didn’t sleep either. Not with the sound of the door clicking shut and the image of him seared behind your eyelids like sin.

***

You tossed and turned. Pulled the blanket tighter. But nothing worked.

That damn man had infected your thoughts. That older, smug, calm bastard with the sharp jaw and sharper tongue who acted like he couldn’t care less and still put you in his shirt, still bought you food, still looked at you like he knew things you hadn’t even admitted to yourself.

Tch.

Why was it so warm when he was near? Why did he smell like expensive cologne and a sin you want to commit?

The storm outside hadn’t let up. Rain slammed against the windows, wind howling like some cursed beast. You curled tighter under the covers, but the cold still crept in, little shivers climbing up your spine, down your thighs. You just needed some warmth. That was all. Just a little heat. Your feet touched the floor before you could stop yourself, wandering out of his room, blanket clutched around you like a cloak, bare feet padding soft against the cool floor until you stopped in front of another door.

It was barely open. Light from the hallway poured across the wooden floor, a stripe of gold slicing through the dark inside. You pushed it open slowly.

He was asleep, sprawled across the bed. One arm thrown over his face, the other resting low on his stomach. His towel was gone now. Replaced by loose sleep pants hanging dangerously low, hips exposed, one leg bent just enough for you to see the muscle, the curve of his waist. His chest was bare, rising and falling slow.

You weren’t even sure if he snored. Of course he didn’t. The bastard was perfect even in his sleep. It’s because you were cold, you told yourself again. Just that, nothing more.

You crept inside, heart thudding, slipping into the farthest side of the bed, staying by the edge. You didn’t even lift the blanket he was under, just pulled your own around you tighter and curled toward the wall, facing away from him. His bed was so warm. So was his body. You sighed, eyelids getting heavy. You didn’t even realize you were falling asleep until—

A hand on your waist makes you flinch. You're wide awake now.

“What,” his voice rasped behind you, slow and deep and not sleepy at all, “are you doing?”

His palm tightened slightly, just enough for you to feel the press of his fingers through the thin blanket. Just enough to make your thighs twitch.

You cleared your throat. “I—I couldn’t sleep.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It was cold. The rain. I just—needed to get warm.”

He paused for a second. “You couldn’t just ask for a heater?”

“Do you even have one?”

“No.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Didn’t think I’d need one.”

You shifted slightly, pulling the blanket higher. “I wasn’t gonna disturb you. You were asleep.”

“Was I?”

Your breath caught again. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you whispered.

“I’m not the one crawling into people’s beds.”

You rolled your eyes. “You didn’t complain.”

“I didn’t have time to complain.”

His hand moved lower, dragging slow across your waist, settling on the dip of your hip. “You always sleep this tense? Or is it just when you're pressed up against older men who make you nervous?”

“I’m not pressed up against anything,” you muttered, voice hitching as you tried to keep still.

“You will be if you keep wiggling like that.”

“I’m not—wiggling.”

He chuckled. “Sure, sweetheart.”

You hated the way your skin tingled from that one word. “Don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you, then? Trouble? Brat? Mouthy little thing who says no but keeps ending up exactly where she shouldn’t be?”

You squeezed your thighs together under the blanket. God. What's the deal with this man... His hand was still on your hip. Still warm. Still there.

“I should kick you out.”

“Then do it.”

“You’d pout.”

“You wish.”

“You’d stand in the hallway shivering in my shirt like a pathetic little stray.”

Your breath faltered. “Asshole.”

His hand moved again. Not off you, but down. Lower and lower, slowly grazing your lower stomach now.

“I can feel you shaking,” he murmured. “Still cold?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You hated how your voice would betray you. He leaned in then, the heat of his chest brushing your back, lips right beside your ear.

“Or maybe it’s not the rain making you tremble."

"Wh.. what do you mean..?"

"You came to me, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, eyes anywhere but him.

“And now,” he added, fingertips brushing the hem of the shirt you wore “you’re in my bed, in my clothes, lying right beside me, breathing like you want me to do something about it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No,” he said slowly, “but you didn’t say no either.”

You looked up at him. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

“Want me to help you fall asleep?” His hand slipped just under the shirt now. “Just a little... yeah?”

Your eyes fluttered shut.

“Tell me no,” he whispered.

And you didn’t. His fingers grazed your skin again, just under the hem of the shirt, barely brushing, barely there, but burning like fire.

“Still cold?” he murmured near your ear, his breath warm and even. You felt it drift down your neck, across your shoulder. “You’re shivering.”

“I-I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely a whisper.

“No,” he hummed, dragging his fingertips higher, over your stomach, the shirt riding up with each second, “you’re not. Still tense. Still freezing.”

You swallowed hard. His hand moved up, grazing your ribs.. then higher, cupping your breast beneath the shirt like he’d done it a hundred times.

“You’re cold here too,” he murmured, thumbing your nipple slow. “Need to get you warmed up everywhere, don’t I?”

Your hips shifted. Didn’t even realize how tightly your thighs were pressed together.

“You’re not saying no,” he said, fingers rubbing your nipple now, slow circles, featherlight pressure that made your back arch despite yourself.

“I-I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” he asked, voice composed but wicked. “Didn’t ask me to stop? Or didn’t think this would happen when you crawled into bed with a man like me?”

His hand slid down again, gliding across your stomach, dipping into the waistband of your panties now. You gasped loudly at the feeling.

“Look at that,” he muttered, smirking, “you’re warm down here already. But still trembling.”

His finger pressed lower, right between your folds, teasing you through the slick mess he found waiting.

“You were gonna sleep like this? Dripping and needy?”

You buried your face in the pillow, mortified.

“Might as well help you out, yeah?” he added softly. “Can’t have you cold and fussy all night.”

He rubbed slow, lazy circles over your clit, two fingers sliding between your folds while the heel of his palm kept pressing right there, exactly where you needed. You choked out a moan.

“Just getting you warm,” he mocked, voice low. “That’s what you said.”

“Y-you—ah—you’re—”

He pinched your nipple again, harder this time, and your hips jumped.

“That mouth of yours,” he muttered, voice tightening just a little. “So fucking loud earlier. Couldn’t shut the hell up. And now?”

You were panting, biting back more sounds. He pushed two fingers inside you slowly, deep and curling up. You let out a broken whimper.

“Now look at you. Fucking soaking my hand.”

“Shiu—”

His name left your mouth like a plea. Like a confession.

“You always get like this?” he asked, curling his fingers again while the pad of his thumb rubbed your clit. “Mouthy brat until someone gets their fingers in you?”

“F-fuck—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He pumped slowly, rhythm deliberate and unhurried. You were unraveling against him, thighs quivering.

“See?” he whispered. “So warm now. All that attitude’s melting off you.”

He kissed behind your ear. It was soft but cruel at the same time.

“You gonna thank me?” he asked, voice low. “Or should I keep going until you’re crying from how warm and full you feel?”

“Please,” you gasped, hips rocking into his hand now, chasing the high.

“Please what?”

“Don’t stop—”

He chuckled. “Tch. That mouth’s real sweet when it’s begging.”

You moaned again, louder this time.

“I should gag you with your own panties next time. Bet you'd cum even faster.”

You cried out, body tightening, all heat and slick and shame. And his fingers never stopped. Not until you were shaking for a different reason entirely. Your body trembled under the weight of your release, legs still parted around his hand, your slick coating his fingers as he slowly pulled them out. You were gasping into the pillow, throat hoarse from moans you didn’t realize had been that loud.

He leaned in again, his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Feeling okay now?” he asked lowly, fingers lazily dragging up between your folds, spreading the mess you’d made. You didn’t respond, brain was still foggy, skin burning hot, but you shook your head weakly.

Shiu’s smirk returned.

“Still cold, huh?” he said, licking his fingers clean with slow, deliberate ease, like he was tasting fine wine. “Maybe you need something hotter.”

“Wanna try that?” he asked, fingers now pulling your soaked panties down your legs, inch by inch. “Wanna feel something even warmer?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, thighs still trembling. He tsked.

“Such a good girl all of a sudden,” he murmured, flipping you gently onto your back.

Your shirt had ridden up past your chest, exposing your breasts, nipples stiff, marked with his fingerprints. Your thighs were wet, spread and waiting.

“I should’ve fucked that bratty mouth shut hours ago,” he said calmly, tugging the pants down from his hips just enough to free himself. Your eyes widened. You could see all of him now. Long, thick, already hard. He chuckled at the look on your face.

“Don’t look so surprised. You asked for it.”

He lined himself up, not rushing, just dragging the tip through your folds, pressing it against your overstimulated clit until you squirmed.

"Still twitching from those fingers," he noted, amused. "Bet you’ll sob once I’m in."

And then slowly and merciless he pushed in. You gasped, your hands flying up to grip the sheets. He was thick, hot, stretching you open with no resistance. Your body, already slick and aching, took him in inch by inch.

“There we go,” he sighed, hips finally flush against yours. “So tight after all that. Gripping my cock so tight.”

You moaned again, one leg wrapping weakly around his waist. Shiu groaned under his breath, leaning in close, his chest brushing your breasts, his hand sliding up to hold your jaw.

“That’s it, pretty,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous. “Let me fuck the cold right outta you.”

And he moved. Slow at first, deep—then faster. Harder. Your body jerked with each thrust. The headboard tapped the wall, your moans rising again, louder, more shameless. His hand found your breast, squeezing, thumb flicking your nipple. He slammed into you harder.

You whined, head thrown back. “Shiu—too much—”

“Too much? Didn’t seem like too much when you were rubbing up on me like a needy little tease.”

He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, fucking into you deeper, pace brutal and perfect.

“That mouth gave me hell,” he panted against your ear. “Now it’s just begging. Moaning like a good little girl who knows her place.”

You keened under him, body shaking again, and he felt it.

“Ohh,” he laughed darkly, “you’re gonna cum now?”

“No—m'not—”

“You will.”

He snapped his hips even harder, grinding into you at the end of every thrust. Your back arched off the bed.

“Cum on this cock,” he growled, voice finally rough. “Show me how warm you got from me.”

And then it hit. You came again—loud, shameless, your walls clenching around him like a vice. Shiu cursed, buried himself deep, and stilled. A thick, hot wave filled you seconds later—his release, raw and endless. He groaned in satisfaction.

“Fuck,” he muttered, still inside you, still hard. “Now you’re warm.”

***

You didn’t even know when you passed out, your body must’ve given in. But what roused you now wasn’t sleep... it was warmth. Wet warmth.

A cloth, soft and damp, moving slowly between your legs. The tenderness of it made your skin twitch. His fingers were steady, sliding delicately over the mess he left inside you. The towel grazed your folds, and you could feel the ghost of his earlier touches all over again.

You stirred with a little noise, eyes cracking open.

And there he was—Shiu, crouched beside the bed, holding the cloth and smiling faintly, like he was just wiping crumbs from your chin.

“Morning,” he said casually, patting your thigh, then your head like you were some sleepy kitten. “Let’s eat something, yeah?”

No mention of last night. Not even a hint in his voice. The same calm, smooth-talking devil. He didn’t even wait for your answer. Just left you there to dress while he moved into the kitchen, unfazed, like he hadn’t fingered you into delirium and fucked the cold right out of your body hours ago.

After some quiet bites of toast and lukewarm coffee, you’d murmured your address. And now, silence filled the car. You hadn’t said a word. Just stared out the window, arms crossed. You were barely processing the scenery when the back door opened and in slid him—Toji.

He sprawled out in the backseat like he owned the damn car, one leg propped up, eyeing you with a half-lidded grin.

“Well, well,” Toji drawled. “The brat’s all quiet now. What, you finally got house-trained?”

You glared forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Shiu chuckled lightly, keeping one hand on the wheel.

“She needed some… warming up,” he said, voice like velvet and smirking at the windshield.

Toji let out a bark of a laugh. “Tch. Figured. You got that look like you had your fill last night.”

Shiu didn’t even blink. “She was cold. I fixed that.”

Toji leaned forward just enough to let his eyes catch yours in the rearview mirror. “Damn, you really shut her up. Didn’t think it was possible.”

Before you could open your mouth, Toji tapped Shiu’s shoulder and gestured something low about the next job, slipping into conversation like none of this was abnormal. When it was time for him to get out, he opened the door but not before flicking your forehead with his fingers, hard enough to sting.

“Later, princess,” he snorted, then sauntered off.

You rubbed your forehead, still silent and stewing. Shiu kept driving like it was a regular Thursday. The rain had eased, leaving streaks on the windows. Your house came into view, and he pulled up with a smooth stop. Didn’t even put the car in park, just leaned his elbow on the wheel and looked at you with that same unreadable calm.

“Here,” he said.

You unbuckled, still not speaking. Still pissed. Still flushed. Still aching in a way that had nothing to do with your body and everything to do with the smug prick who acted like you were just another day’s job. You grabbed the handle, but stopped suddenly.

“Y’know what?” you muttered, voice small but angry. “You’re a fucking dickhead.”

That got him. Shiu’s hand reached out fast, faster than you expected and wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back slightly before you could get out.

“Mm,” he hummed. “What’s with the attitude, princess?”

You finally looked at him, really looked. Your eyes were wet, red around the edges, and your mouth trembled slightly. Not from sadness but from frustration and confusion. Want and need. You hated how calm he looked. Hated that smug glint in his eyes. Hated that last night meant something to you and maybe nothing to him.

He just chuckled. That low, knowing sound that made your stomach tighten. Then he reached into the console and pulled out a slim black card, tucking it into your hand.

“Next time you feel cold,” he murmured, voice dropping low as he leaned in, close enough for your breath to hitch, “call me.” His lips brushed near your ear. “I’ll come stuff you full of heat until you pass out.”

You blinked, mouth parting open. Brain fried.

And Shiu? he just smiled, lazy and smug, eyes dipping to your stunned face one last time. “Maybe then you’ll learn to keep that bratty little mouth busy.”

He let go of you and sat back. And just like that, the door was open, the rain had stopped, and then he left you standing on the curb with your heart pounding, thighs clenched, and his card burning in your palm like a fucking brand.

“Shut up, satoru,” Geto hissed, already beside you. “you’re not helping.”

Nanami swept in a second later like a man on a mission. He didn’t panic. Just scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing, carried you to the sink, turned the tap on, and started gently rinsing your face.

“Deep breaths,” he murmured. “drink some water. don’t speak yet.”

Toji was still crouched near the mess you made. He didn’t complain. Just grunted and started cleaning it with a rag from the kitchen.

“You threw up, almost fainted, and your skin’s burning,” Nanami said. “we’re going to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “I just need to sleep…”

“You can barely stand.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Nanami hesitated, jaw clenched. Then he sighed, lifting you again and walking you to your room. “fine. sleep now. but if anything feels worse, I’m taking you in. no arguments.”

You nodded weakly and let him tuck you into bed. Within minutes, the pain lulled you back into a restless sleep.

***

Out in the living room, a heavy silence clung to the air for a second before Gojo cleared his throat. He was pacing back and forth like a caged wolf, long legs eating up the space in front of the couch while Nanami sat stiffly in the armchair, book forgotten in his lap. Geto and Toji were sprawled on the couch, phones in hand, though both of them had stopped scrolling the moment Gojo opened his mouth.

“…Guys. hear me out. I don’t think she’s just sick.”

“No,” Nanami shot back immediately, voice sharp, his fingers tightening around the edges of his book. “don’t you dare.”

“I’m serious.” Gojo stood still at last, arms crossed over his broad chest, his usual cocky grin replaced by something oddly thoughtful, almost intense. “she’s puking. dizzy. glowing a little. guys—what if she’s pregnant?”

Geto blinked slowly, lowering his phone. Toji raised a thick eyebrow, lips already twitching. Nanami looked like he’d aged ten years in a single second.

“Pregnant?” Geto said flatly, voice dripping with disbelief.

“Yeah,” Gojo nodded, eyes bright. “think about it. she’s been all flushed lately. eating weird. and now this?”

“She is just fucking sick,” Toji muttered, leaning back against the couch with a yawn.

“I’m just saying, this could be it.”

“I blame Toji, he's the culprit.” Gojo added suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at the man.

Toji smirked, pride rolling off him in waves. “damn right I am. about time she got knocked up with all the times I’ve dumped a load in her.”

“Excuse me??? I fill her up a lot, too,” Gojo huffed, chest puffing out. “If anyone’s breaking through her birth control, it’s me. my dick is powerful.”

“That’s not.... how it works,” Nanami growled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Toji scoffed, his voice rough and smug. “she probably got it from me. I don’t even pull out half the time.”

“Liar. you never pull out,” Gojo snapped.

“Exactly.”

“We're blaming each other,” Toji pointed toward Nanami with a wicked grin, “but mr. husband here might’ve slipped up. always acting like he’s married to her. might’ve busted one out of love.”

Nanami’s jaw twitched hard, eyes narrowing. “I use protection.”

Toji grinned wider, all teeth and dirty satisfaction. “you used to. past tense. you don't use it anymore.”

Nanami opened his mouth—and closed it. “…fuck.”

Geto sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face as he glanced between them.

“Alright. can we all stop panicking?" he pointed around the room. “she’s on birth control. and none of us use rubbers—yeah, nanami, you too.”

Nanami groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “okay. okay. enough. when she wakes up, we’re taking her to the hospital. get her checked. then we’ll know.”

Everyone nodded, the thick tension still crackling in the living room like it wasn’t anywhere near done.

***

A while later, while you were still asleep:

Gojo flopped dramatically onto the couch, groaning loud and dramatic as he stretched his long limbs. "mannnn, hope it's me who knocked her up. I mean, if any dick could overpower birth control? gotta be mine." he grinned. "Imagine a little Gojo running around, white hair, blue eyes, so cute. and she’s breastfeeding the kid? GOD—so pretty.”

Toji scoffed from the other end of the couch, a dirty smirk pulling at his scarred lips. "oh please. If anyone ruined that pill’s magic, it’s me. I know how I fuck her. I’m hard just thinking about her round and glowing with my kid. I’d never stop fucking her. If it’s mine, I’m fucking her every day until the kid pops out."

"As if you're not doing that already." Gojo barked a laugh.

Nanami cleared his throat from the armchair. "If anyone would make a good father, it’s me. I take care of her the most. I’d marry her. pregnant or not."

"Whoa, what are you? a saint?" Gojo threw his hands up in shock. "I can take care of my kid too. probably better than you all."

Toji scoffed, voice low and mocking. "mr. perfect's tryna play the husband card. like hell you’d be better."

Nanami’s tone sharpened, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "unlike you, I don’t leave shit half-done. you’d disappear the second there’s a diaper."

"The fuck did you say to me?"

Gojo chimed in with a shit-eating grin. "yeah, I agree. If we wanna get rid of Toji, all we gotta do is make him a dad. he’d vanish like smoke. gone. poof."

"I’ll kill you both," Toji growled, muscles flexing as he leaned forward, looking ready to actually throw hands.

Geto sighed deeply, brushing his long hair back with one hand, clearly done with their bullshit. "now, now. let’s not get personal. we don’t even know if she’s pregnant."

Nanami exhaled slowly, trying to keep his cool. "enough of this father-of-the-year contest. let’s just take care of her."

They all agreed, grumbling under their breath. Then, after a beat:

Geto mused with a soft little smile, "I mean, she would be pretty if she got my hair."

"You already picked a gender too?" Gojo snapped, eyes wide.

Nanami sighed, standing up from the armchair before he lose it for real. "I’m gonna check on her. you kids keep bickering."

Gojo snorted, leaning back with his arms spread across the couch. "yes, father. look after mother for us."

Nanami ignored them and walked to your room, pushing the door open softly. You were still curled under the blanket, face pale, breaths slow and shallow. He crouched beside the bed, big hand gently stroking your hair with surprising tenderness.

You blinked awake. "n-nanami…"

"Hey, you okay?"

"I feel like I’m gonna vomit again."

He nodded, voice firm. "okay. that's it. get up."

***

Hospital.

They ran you through tests, asked you a hundred questions, and finally gave you the blessed answer: Spoiled leftovers. Food poisoning. Definitely not pregnant.

They all sighed in unison. Nanami let out a long, heavy breath he didn’t realize he was holding, shoulders dropping in relief. Gojo flopped dramatically over your lap with a loud wail, burying his face against your thighs.

“My bunny… she’s not carrying my baby!”

Geto thwacked him upside the head without hesitation.

Toji said nothing, just muttered, “knew it,” arms crossed over his broad chest as he leaned against the wall, looking vaguely disappointed like someone just took away his favorite toy.

You blinked at them from the hospital bed, still a little out of it. "…you thought I was pregnant?"

"No!"

"Yes."

"Possibly."

"Satoru did."

Gojo turned on Geto with a betrayed glare. "why are you snitching?!"

You sat back on the hospital cot, sipping the cold electrolyte water while the doctor rattled off instructions. Light food. Hydration. Rest. Easy enough.

Nanami stood right at your side like a protective wall, his big warm hand rubbing slow circles on your lower back. “how are you feeling?”

“Better,” you murmured.

“Not pregnant, sure?” Geto closed the pamphlet in his hand with a soft snap, that wicked smile playing on his lips.

“Shame.”

“SHAME??” you blinked.

Toji shoved his hands in his pockets. “would’ve been a good excuse to fuck you every night for the next nine months.”

You gawked at him spewing that raw bullshit right there in the hospital room. “that’s… not how it works.”

Gojo leaned in closer, pouting, his eyes sparkling. “doesn’t matter. I'm disappointed.”

Nanami groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “gojo, please.”

“I already had baby names!”

“Oh my god—”

Nanami rubbed his temples, clearly exhausted. “let’s just get her home. this is what happens when you two keep ordering shady takeout. from now on, only food from restaurants I approve of."

"Yes, sir," Geto said sheepishly.

"We agree," Gojo mumbled.

Nanami exhaled. "and maybe… it’s a good idea to start using protection."

Gojo: "yup."

Geto: "sure."

Toji: "I’ll think about it."

The air was thick with unspoken bullshit. They all knew that was never happening. They all knew it was a lie. Even the one who suggested it. Especially him.

***

You were tucked back into the car, nestled nice and snug between Geto and Toji in the back seat. Geto handed you a small bottle of water, his fingers lingering on yours a second longer than necessary. Once he was sure you were okay, he leaned in closer.

“So. not pregnant.”

You groaned again. “please. not again. stop saying it like you’re disappointed.”

Gojo turned around from the passenger seat and pouted hard. “but I am disappointed. I already imagined a little you with pigtails and my eyes. we’d dress her up like a bunny for halloween—”

Toji cut in, in a rough voice. “that’s disturbing.”

Nanami said nothing. He just drove, knuckles tight on the steering wheel.

“But seriously,” Gojo grinned, twisting further in his seat. “y’know what’d be funny?”

“No.”

“Yes,” he continued anyway. “what if we all knocked you up at the same time and had no clue who the dad was?”

You choked on your water. “satoru.”

“Like, imagine—quadruplets. each one looking like us."

"I don't think that's possible." you muttered.

"But google says—"

"Shut the fuck up." Toji flicked his forehead.

Nanami muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “kill me.”

Back home, you were fed warm soup and tucked under fresh blankets like their favorite little doll. Geto sat behind you on the bed, brushing your hair with slow, gentle strokes while Nanami changed the sheets with that serious care he always gave everything.

Gojo whined about not being allowed to feed you because you might “get distracted by his pretty face.”

Toji just mumbled about how “next time, I'm cooking for you.”

“You cook?” you asked groggily.

“I grill.”

“Ah. caveman cookery.” Gojo mocked.

“Still food, brat.”

Gojo rolled around on the bed and patted your thigh possessively, big hand squeezing. “okay, real talk. If you ever do get pregnant, we need a plan.”

You narrowed your eyes. “what kind of plan?”

“A daddy rotation chart.”

Nanami, from across the room: “no.”

“Monday–toji, tuesday–me, wednesday–suguru, thursday–nanamin—”

“No.”

“Fine, fine! fridays are wild card days. she picks.”

“Satoru—”

Toji looked at you suddenly, serious for a beat, his usual smirk gone. “If you ever get pregnant, you’d tell us, right?”

You blinked. “of course.”

His eyes softened slightly. “good.”

Geto leaned in, lips brushing near your ear. “not that we wouldn’t figure it out eventually.”

Gojo: “I’d notice the glow.”

Toji: “I’d notice the tits.”

Nanami, pinching the bridge of his nose again: “oh my god.”

You grinned, tired as hell, but so fuckin' full. Not just of food, of love.

You had a man to rub your feet. Another to feed you soup. One to brush your hair. Another to threaten murder if anyone made you cry.

You were safe. And, so, so loved.

Toji raised a brow, towel slung over his neck. “If you’re sayin’ that ‘cause you think you’re fat, ain’t takin’ you.”

You shifted on your feet, chewing your lip. “But if I just… wanna get stronger? Maybe more stamina?”

He tilted his head like he was sizing you up, then grinned. “Hmm that's nice... If you’ve got more strength, I don’t gotta hold back, y’know.”

"Tojiii... youuu!!!"

“Good girl,” he muttered, giving your ass a smack making you squeak and red as Geto chuckled.

You hugged Toji quickly, mumbling a thank you before scampering off to your room. where, unsurprisingly, Gojo had already invaded your bed. He was curled up hugging your plushie like it was a lifeline, nose buried into it.

“Satoru…?”

“Mhmm?” he cracked open one icy blue eye and grinned. “You smell like heaven. Don’t leave me ever.”

“I won't,” you laughed, sitting beside him. “Will you come help me shop for gym clothes?”

That, apparently, was the magic phrase.

“YOU’RE GOING TO THE GYM?!” he practically flew out of your bed. “I need to supervise. I’m coming.”

You shouldn’t have asked. At the store, it was a disaster. Gojo was yanking crop tops off hangers, tossing booty shorts into your arms, dramatically flinging sparkly sports bras over your head.

“Satoru!!” you hissed, holding a pair of tiny shorts like they were radioactive. “I can’t wear this to the gym!”

“Why not?” he pouted. “It’ll keep the boys away ‘cause they’ll know you’re already taken.”

“Th...that doesn't even make any sense. They’ll stare.”

“Let them!” he said proudly. “Let them die from jealousy!”

Thankfully, Geto came to the rescue, offering you a few sleek, modest and comfortable sets in earthy tones. “These look good. functional too.”

You smiled sweetly, relieved. “Thank you, suguru.”

Gojo looked betrayed. “Okay, what is this? Everyone ignoring me. I bring spice to your life and all I get is disrespect.”

Back home, Gojo plopped onto the bed while you laid out your new clothes on them. “I’m gonna miss you when you're gone,” he said, pressing his face into your thigh.

“I’ll only be gone for a few hours,” you giggled, stroking his hair.

“Exactly. Too long.”

***

The next morning, you stepped out in your brand new gym clothes, shorts hugging your hips, a tight sports bra, and a loose T-shirt thrown on top. you felt a little silly, but excited.

Geto handed you a gym bag with a smile. “Water bottle. Banana. Trail mix. Text me if you need anything.”

“Thank you…” you hugged him, touched by the thoughtfulness.

Nanami appeared, kissed your cheek gently. “Call me if anything’s off. Anything.”

Toji, who had just walked out from the kitchen munching on something, scoffed. “She’s with me, jackass.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Nanami deadpanned, adjusting his tie.

“Yeah, yeah.” Toji stuffed the last of the bread into his mouth. “Let’s go, doll.”

He took a helmet for you and slung an arm over your shoulders, steering you out the door. You couldn't even wave goodbye before he led you to his black bike. He handed you the helmet and straddled the seat.

“Get on,” he said. “Gotta hold tight though. Might go fast.”

You obeyed without a second thought, sliding on behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Like a fuckin’ koala,” he muttered, shaking his head fondly. “If I feel your tits pressin’ into me one more time I can't promise if I'm gonna crash us into a wall.”

“Shut up toji!!” you squeaked, as he laughed loud and revived the engine.

“Hold on, princess. Let’s go build that stamina of yours.”

***

Gym smelled like sweat and steel, music pumping through the speakers as you stepped inside with Toji beside you. Instantly, heads turned.

“Yo, toji !”

“Morning, fushiguro!”

“Spot me first, yeah?!”

He grunted a few responses, barely sparing them a glance, his hand sliding down to your lower back possessively. Everyone knew him. He was the best trainer in the gym. Big, broad and confident, the type of man people admired and secretly drooled over.

“All right, baby,” he said, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “Let’s see what that soft little body can handle.”

You swallowed hard as he started guiding you through the beginner routines. But the man couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Every “correction” involved groping, his calloused fingers brushing your inner thighs, his palm flat on your lower belly, adjusting your hips with a grip that lingered.

“Stretch, bend… yeah, like that,” he murmured behind you. You bent forward and thump.

You gasped, feeling the unmistakable pressure of his bulge nudging against your core. “Toji…” you whined, cheeks burning.

“What?” he feigned innocence, rocking his hips just slightly. “Form’s gotta be perfect, baby.”

Your knees trembled. He let out a chuckle and finally pulled back. After teasing you within an inch of sanity, he finally let you catch your breath, handing you a water bottle. “Walk on the treadmill for a while, yeah? gotta see a couple of clients.”

You nodded, slightly dazed, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck followed by a sharp bite.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he smirked, walking off.

You walked slowly, sweat sliding down your back as you tried to focus on the rhythm of your steps. You took a sip of water, cheeks warm. That’s when you heard someone giggling. You turned slightly and there she was.

Toned thighs, tight gym shorts, sports bra hugging a perfect figure. Her ponytail bounced as she smiled up Toji. He stood beside her, adjusting her posture, saying something too low for you to hear. She laughed again, arm brushing against his. His hands were on her hips, not in a dirty way but just there, showing her how to move, how to hold the stretch. Still, she leaned in too much. Her fingers brushed his bicep under the pretense of balance. Her eyes didn’t leave his mouth when he spoke.

You knew it was part of his job but it stung. Hard. You looked away. Swallowed and then looked again. And that was it.

“Tojiii,” you called, loud enough to carry. His head snapped to you instantly.

“Yeah, doll?” he jogged over, concern furrowing his brows. “You okay? Tired?”

You shook your head quickly. “I wanna go home.”

He blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Doll, … I work here, yeah? Got that girl to train—she’s one of my regular clients. And those two too—” he nodded toward a couple of girls lifting weights across the floor. You nodded slowly, eyes flicking back to the girl who was still watching him.

“I’ll book ya a cab, hmm?” he said gently, pulling his phone out. “Call me when you get back.”

You stepped back and reached for your towel from his hands. “I don’t need a cab. I’ll call suguru.”

His brows drew together slightly. “Huh? wait—”

But you’d already turned, walking toward your bag without looking back. Outside, the cool air stung your skin. You dialed Geto with shaky fingers.

“Honey?” he answered on the first ring. “Done already?”

“Suguu… can you pick me up?”

He was there in ten minutes. You didn’t say a word, just climbed into the passenger seat and pulled your knees up to your chest. He didn’t press. But when he glanced over at the red in your eyes, his jaw tightened. He drove you home in silence, hand resting protectively on your knee. He dropped you home, a kiss to your cheeks then drove off to work.

***

You didn’t have class today. And yet the whole day felt heavier than usual. You tried to read, tried to write, maybe even clean your room but your thoughts kept spiraling back to the image of that girl at the gym. He let her touch him. Let her press up close, even if it was all part of the damn job. You hated that it mattered so much. Hated that he was still at the gym right now. Still surrounded by girls like that.

Eventually, the weight of it made you curl into bed and sleep the day away, your chest tight and mind restless. Evening came. The apartment door clicked open. You stirred only when you heard the shower running. You moved to the couch with the plushie Gojo bought you once. A few minutes later, warm arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you gently from the couch into a lap that was all peace and safety.

Nanami smelled like cedarwood and clean skin. His damp hair brushed your cheek as he kissed your temple. "How was your day, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and smooth.

“I… just slept,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, voice barely audible.

He tilted your chin with two fingers. “All day?”

You nodded up at him. "Yeah..."

He hummed. “And how was the gym?”

Your face faltered before you could stop it. Your eyes dropped. You hated that he noticed it instantly.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing," you whispered too fast, trying to turn away.

His voice turned firm. “What happened?”

“I-it's nothing serious—really.”

“Did Toji do something to you?”

Your head snapped up, panic flashing. “No! no, nothing like that—he didn’t—he didn’t do anything.”

Nanami narrowed his eyes slightly. “Then talk to me. What is it?”

You exhaled shakily and looked down again. And then, in a quiet, hesitant voice, you finally let it spill.

“It’s just… at the gym… when toji left me to go train someone else, there was this girl, she was really pretty and she kept touching him and smiling at him and… I know it’s his job but… I felt… so stupid.”

Your voice broke a little as you reached the end, cheeks flushed with shame. Nanami didn’t speak for a second. he just tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed your temple again.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “He’s a trainer. That’s what he does. It's nothing to worry about.” he smiled.

You nodded reluctantly. “But she was touching him. On the arms. And her laugh was like… flirty. She likes toji. I know it.”

He raised a brow. "Oh? she likes him?"

You nodded, like complaining.

“And who does toji love?”

Your lips parted. "Wh-what?"

"I asked who does toji and all of us love, hmm?"

You blinked, dumbfounded. “…Me?”

“Exactly.”

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, then lower, down your neck. “You're our girl, yeah?” he whispered, breath warm.

You giggled softly, heat rushing to your chest. His hands moved up under your shirt. “That’s more like it,” he murmured, thumbing your nipple. “My pretty girl getting all upset over this… adorable.”

Before you could respond, the front door opened.

"I'm home," came Geto's familiar voice from the hallway.

You froze in Nanami’s lap as Geto stepped into the living room, a little strand of his hair damp from sweat. His eyes landed on you, then narrowed slightly when he saw where you were.

“Well, well,” he drawled, walking over and crouching beside the couch. “I don’t get this greeting?” he leaned in and kissed your lips gently, fingers brushing your knee. “How was the gym, baby?”

You flinched slightly, eyes darting to Nanami. He chuckled when you gave him a pleading look—please don’t tell him. Nanami raised his brow. “Should I not say?”

You shook your head so fast it was almost embarrassing. “Nooo...!”

Geto's brows pulled together as he looked between you and Nanami. “Okay, what'd I miss?”

A quiet laugh escaped Nanami as he shook his head. “She's been sulking all day,” he said, “ranting to me about this girl at the gym who was looking at toji.”

“Nanamin!”

The realization dawned on Geto almost immediately, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Ohh,” he hummed. “You were jealous, baby?” he teased, tilting his head. “Over toji?”

“I-I wasn’t! I mean—no!”

Nanami leaned in, his palm resting on your thigh again. “Oh, you should’ve seen her. Face all scrunched up the whole time.”

Geto’s hands joined his, trailing up your other leg. “You poor baby,” he murmured. “Did he stretch her out too? like he do to you before he fucks you dumb?”

Your mouth fell open, mortified. “S-stop! You two are being mean…”

They both leaned in, trapping you in the heat of their bodies. “You like when we’re mean,” Geto said softly, licking your pulse point.

“I’m not jealous,” you stammered, pushing at their chests feebly.

“Oh?” Nanami smirked. “Then why are you shaking like that, hmm?”

“I-I’m not!”

“I think you are,” Geto grinned at you. “Should we call toji, tell him how you’re acting like a brat over him?”

“Noooo! you can't...” you squeaked, face burning. You shoved them both lightly and scrambled off Nanami’s lap, your heart thumping. “I’m not jealous!” you insisted, running toward your room and slamming the door shut behind you. You could hear their soft laughs echo behind the door.

“She’s definitely jealous,” Nanami said.

“Agree, agree.” Geto replied.

And you were behind the door, cheeks on fire and your heart thumping like crazy.

***

Toji came home a little later than usual, sweat clinging to his skin, hair a little damp, gym bag slung over his shoulder. You didn’t greet him like you normally did. Didn’t even look up from the couch when he walked past. Not a smile, not a “welcome home.” Just silence.

He noticed. Ohh, he definitely noticed.

The first time he passed you, he let it slide. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you didn’t hear him. The second time, when he tossed his bag on the chair and asked, “You eat anything yet?”, and you just mumbled a “yeah” without even turning your head, his jaw ticked. When you pulled away from his touch later saying you were “not in the mood” he snapped.

And the next thing you knew, Toji’s hand was gripping your wrist as he dragged you inside your room, slamming it shut behind him.

“The fuck is wrong with you today?” he barked, pushing you gently but firmly toward the bed. “Been giving me this cold-ass shoulder since morning.”

You swallowed hard, eyes wide.

“Didn’t call when you got home,” he said, voice rising. “Didn’t reply to a single fuckin’ text. Didn’t pick up any of my calls. You just walked out the gym and vanished. And now you’re actin’ like I did something?”

“Toji, I—”

“No, you don’t get to shut me out like this without telling me what the fuck is wrong.” He stepped closer, hands on either side of your waist, pinning you in place. His eyes scanned your face, furious but confused, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling too fast.

Your lower lip trembled, eyes getting wet. “You’re scaring me…”

Toji froze when he saw your face changes. “Shit. No, No—fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, stepping back. “Don’t—don’t cry. Fuck, don’t do that. Didn’t mean to yell. Shit. I didn’t even do anything, why are you crying like that?”

“You’re.... so mean,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I hate you.”

You pushed at his chest with both hands, stumbling out of his grip, hot tears streaking down your cheeks. Before he could react, you ran straight to the living room, where Nanami was reading on the couch. You threw yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. He held you without question, his arms secure around your waist, hand soothing your back.

Toji came after you, of course. Stopping at the hallway, panting, looking genuinely wrecked.

“The fuck happened to her?” he demanded, eyes narrowing at Nanami. “She said I’m mean. What did I even do? She’s never called me that, not even when I was bullying her cunt like—”

“Toji.” Nanami cut him off, calm but sharp. “For the love of God, don’t finish that sentence.”

Toji blinked, then rubbed his temples. “I didn’t even fuckin’ do anything…”

Geto strolled in just in time to hear the tail end of it, sipping on something cold. He glanced between the three of you and smirked.

“Toji,” he said with a chuckle, “You might wanna consider a career change if this is how it’s going.”

“What?” Toji blinked again, clearly not following. Then it clicked. “Oh.” his voice dropped into a knowing growl. “Ohhhh.....”

He started laughing, low and sharp. Cruel in how accurate it was. “That’s what this was about?” he pointed toward you. “That girl today?”

You didn’t answer, face buried in Nanami’s chest, fists clenched in his shirt.

Toji walked over with purpose. “You really got all bratty over that stuck-up cardio chick? Baby, that’s work. That ain’t fun.” He grabbed you by the waist, prying you from Nanami’s lap like you weighed nothing.

“Toji—let go!” you squealed, trying to fight him off.

“You wanna cry? fine. You can cry on my cock,” he snarled.

He carried you toward your room, ignoring your squirming, ignoring the way Geto was cackling behind him, ignoring Nanami’s slow exhale and murmured, “Toji. Don't be so hard on her.”

He dropped you on the bed, crawling over you, his big frame caging you in. You thought he was gonna fuck you mean out of anger. Instead, he pulled your shorts down and nudged your legs apart, slowly running the thick length of his cock up and down your folds not pushing in.

Your eyes widened. “Toji—”

“Shh,” he cut in, voice smooth and dark. “Let me ask you something, baby.”

His cock slid through your slick folds again, dragging right over your clit. You gasped, trying to close your thighs but his hand pushed them back open. “Want me to put it in?”

You swallowed thickly, face burning, unable to speak. He chuckled, slow and mean. “Just the tip, yeah? That’ll shut your jealous little head up?” he lined himself up and rubbed the tip right against your entrance without pushing in. “That enough to make you forget about her?”

You whimpered, hips twitching.

“No?” he murmured, kissing your throat, teasing the head of his cock at your tight entrance again, not entering. “Want me to really fuck it in? want it deep, or you just want the tip like a good little slut?”

You squirmed, unable to form any words, shaking your head.

“Don’t want the tip?” he smirked, hand sliding under your shirt, palming your tits. “Then what do you want, baby? want me to fuck it in deep and ruin that jealous little cunt so you remember who you belong to?”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” he cooed mockingly. “Sorry for what, sweetheart?" he slides his cock up your folds teasing.

"Sorry for saying you hate me?" another grind.

"Or sorry for not calling?" he rolls his hips again.

"Or sorry for being a pouty, bratty, little thing?”

“…All of it…” you whispered, breath hitching.

Toji’s eyes softened just for a second. Then he shoved the tip in. Just barely. Enough to make you jolt and moan. He groaned. “Tight little hole. Fuck, missed this cock, huh?”

You nodded desperately. “Please—Toji…”

He smirked, sliding in just another inch. “Gonna take it back now? that thing you said earlier?”

Your heart stuttered. “I—I didn’t mean it—” another push. “I don’t hate you—!”

“Then what do you feel, huh?”

“I—” you choked out, tears spilling again, “I love you—I love you, Toji, please—!”

He chuckled, finally burying himself all the way in one slow, punishing thrust. “Yeah. that’s my girl,” he whispered. “Now tell me… who’s my good baby?”

“Ahhh.... me,” you gasped.

He pulled out slowly and slammed back in. “Say it again.”

“Me—!”

“Who’s the one who gets all my love and kisses?”

“Me—!”

“Who’s the little thing bouncing on my cock every night?”

You sobbed, head spinning. “That's—!”

He smirked, licking a stripe up your cheek like a reward. “That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, he grabbed your hips and started fucking you for real. Deep, slow thrusts, each one sealing every filthy word inside you. Toji grinned down at you, his cock still twitching inside, his body hot and heavy as he leaned in, voice smug and low against your cheek.

“Jealous little bunny, huh?” he murmured, dragging his thumb along your bottom lip. “Gets all possessive for me? Hmm? Love me that much?”

You nodded furiously, lips parted, breath shaky.

“Oh? Thought you hated me?” he teased, voice dipping as he nipped at your throat. “Didn’t you say that, huh?”

“S-so… sorry,” you whimpered, clutching at his shoulders. “Won’t say it again… I– I love you…”

He hummed, pleased, his cock grinding just a little deeper. “Is that so?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Then… wanna mark me up?” he smirked.

“What?”

“To show that gym chick not to fuck with me, yeah?” he murmured, dragging your hand over his bare chest. “Come on, mark me up like a good little bunny. Start with my neck.”

Your eyes widened, but he tilted his head, baring his thick throat. “Come on,” he growled softly. “Bite me.”

You leaned in, sinking your teeth gently into his skin. He chuckled low. “Oh? you can do better than that. Bite harder, baby—gotta show her, hmm?”

You obeyed, a little harder this time.

“Good girl,” he groaned, voice roughening. “Now my arms. Come on, leave marks everywhere they can see. You want them to see, don’t you?”

Your lips trembled as you nodded and leaned in again. Toji just grinned, letting you claim him. He slowed his thrusts, just enough for you to breathe barely, his chest heaving, your body trembling under his. One of his big hands gripped your jaw, tilting your teary, fucked-out face up to meet his eyes.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, voice low and filthy against your lips. “Next time you feel jealous, you tell me, yeah?”

You nodded weakly, barely able to keep your eyes open. he smirked, cock still buried deep inside you.

“I’ll make sure to fuck the jealousy right outta you. Every single time.”

You don’t even look at him.

“Nothing," you mumble, a flat, clipped, lieee

His eye twitches.“Don’t give me that,” he mutters, pushing himself off the wall and walking closer, “you’ve been acting weird for the past hour”

You slam a drawer shut harder than necessary. “I said it’s nothing.”

and that’s it

That’s the moment it snaps, because Sukuna hates a lot of things, but being ignored by you might actually be at the top of the list

“You’re so damn annoying when you do this,” he snaps, voice rising, hands gesturing sharply. “Just say what’s wrong instead of stomping around like a pissed off kid”

Your head whips toward him.“Oh my god, I’m annoying? Maybe if you actually listened earlier, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself”

“you didn’t say anything earlier”

“yes i did”

“no you didn’t”

“YES I DID”

Now you’re both yelling. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glossy with frustration, and Sukuna feels his chest tighten, but he’s too far gone now

“Well, clearly it wasn’t important if you’re gonna sulk instead of saying it properly”

Your face falls for just a second...just a second, but he sees it, and suddenly he’s even more pissed

at you

at himself

at the fact that he noticed

“Fine,” you say, voice quieter now but sharper somehow. “Forget it. I don’t even care anymore,” you turn away from him again, and that silence comes back...worse this time

Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, pacing once like a caged animal “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but it’s weaker now

You don’t respond, that’s what really gets him. Not the yelling, not the attitude, it’s the way you just… shut him out, like he doesn’t matter

His jaw clenches, then he marches over, grabs your wrist and turns you back to face him. Not rough enough to hurt, but firm enough that you can’t ignore him

“don’t do that,” he says, voice low

“do what”

“act like i’m not here”

You blink at him, still upset and stubborn. “Then stop acting like you don’t care”

and that hits

straight through all his anger, because he does. He cares too much actually, it’s irritating. His grip loosens a little, but he doesn’t let go

“I do care,” he mutters, almost like it annoys him to admit it

You huff, looking away. “You have a funny way of showing it”

He stares at you for a second, then clicks his tongue, frustrated. “You make it impossible sometimes”

“i’m not doing anything”

“exactly,” he shoots back, stepping closer. “you just shut down and expect me to magically know what’s wrong”

You hesitate, and that tiny hesitation is all he needs. "So tell me,” he says, softer now but still intense, “properly this time”

You chew your lip, still a little defensive. “… I was trying to tell you about something important earlier, and you just brushed me off”

his brows pull together “…when”

“when you were on your phone,” you mumble. “i kept talking and you just said ‘yeah’ without listening”

oh

ohhhhhh...

He actually remembers that, he just didn’t realise. “…tch”

He looks away for a second, annoyed at himself now, then back at you. You’re still upset, still a little hurt, arms crossed like you’re protecting yourself, and it does something to him, something soft, something he doesn’t like admitting.

“…fine,” he grumbles, letting go of your wrist only to grab your chin instead, tilting your face up so you have to look at him. “say it again”

you blink

“…what”

“the thing,” he says, quieter now. “i’m listening”

You study his face, like you’re trying to see if he’s serious.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me repeat myself," but his thumb brushes lightly against your cheek, and that gives him away.

You sigh, shoulders relaxing just a little “… It was just something about my day,” you admit. “It felt important at the time”

“then it is important,” he says immediately

You look surprised, which only makes him scowl. “Don’t look at me like that”

“…like what”

“like i said something weird”

You almost smile...(almost), and that’s when he knows the anger is gone from both of you. He exhales, pulling you closer by the waist this time, less force, more… habit.“Next time,” he mutters, resting his forehead briefly against yours, “don’t go all quiet like that. It pisses me off”

“maybe don’t ignore me then”

“…yeah, yeah”

You huff, but your hands come up to hold onto his shirt anyway, and after a second, he presses a quick, slightly awkward kiss to your forehead, like he’s not used to being gentle, but he’s trying

“Just talk to me,” he adds, quieter now. You nod against him, “…okay”

He squeezes your waist once, “good”

pause

“…so what happened in your day”

and this time

He actually listens

You looked at him carefully, almost waiting for him to realize he’d gone too far on his own (He didn’t.)

“She embarrassed me,” you said quieter this time.

“She does that with everybody. That’s her humor.”

“And somehow I’m supposed to just be okay with that?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You literally are.”

Sukuna sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like this conversation was exhausting him. “You’re acting like she murdered somebody.”

“And you’re acting like I’m crazy for being upset.”

“That’s not what I said either.”

“But it’s what you mean.”

The apartment fell quiet again, except for the TV that neither of you were watching anymore. Sukuna leaned back against the couch. “You take everything personally.”

Your face twisted immediately. That one hit hard because he knew that was something you were insecure about. Knew you worried sometimes that maybe you were too sensitive. Too emotional. Too much, and hearing it from him made your throat burn.

“Okay,” you said softly. That soft tone made his eyes flick upward again. You grabbed your phone from the coffee table.

“Where are you going?”

You laughed once under your breath. Not a happy laugh. “I don’t know. Away from you for, like, ten minutes before I say something mean.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“There you go again.”

You headed toward the bedroom, and he finally sat up properly. “Come on.”

“No.”

“You’re seriously this upset?”

You turned around so fast your hair whipped over your shoulder. “Yes, Sukuna. I am.”

Now he looked annoyed too. “Why the hell are you acting like I betrayed you?”

“Because you did.”

That shut him up. You could see it happen in real time. The irritation on his face faltering for just a second. But you were too upset now to stop. 

“I tell you somebody hurt my feelings, and your first instinct is to defend them instead of me.”

“She’s our friend.”

“And I’m your girlfriend.”

His jaw tightened. “You want me to lie to you?”

“I wanted you to care.” The room went completely still after that. You hated how emotional your voice sounded, aboslety hated how your eyes were burning now too.

You turned away before he could see it properly and walked into the bedroom, shutting the door harder than you meant to. Not slamming, but enough to show you were pissed. 

The silence afterwards felt awful.You sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded tightly over yourself, while trying not to cry over something so stupid, which somehow only made you more emotional. Because maybe it wasn’t stupid. You just wanted him on your side, that was all.

After a few minutes, the bedroom door creaked open. You ignored him. Sukuna stood there for a second before muttering, “You gonna ignore me now?”

You looked at the wall instead, making him click his tongue softly in response. Then you felt the mattress dip beside you.

“You’re dramatic.”

You wiped under your eye angrily. “Get out.”

“No.”

“You literally told me I was overreacting.”

“You are.”

You looked at him with watery, offended eyes.“Then leave me alone.”

Sukuna stared at you for a long second. And the second he noticed the tears properly, something in his expression shifted immediately. Tiny, but there.

“…seriously?”

You laughed bitterly. “Wow. Sorry my emotions are inconvenient.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He looked uncomfortable now. Actually uncomfortable, which was rare since Sukuna was usually confident in every argument, every sentence, every opinion. But emotional stuff? Feelings? He handled them like they were bombs.

“I just…” He exhaled sharply. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It mattered to me.”

His eyes flicked away, and that was the problem. To Sukuna, if something wouldn’t hurt him personally, sometimes he didn’t realize how deeply it could hurt somebody else. Especially you. Not because he didn’t care, but because he was stupid sometimes, especially with emotions.

“You know what sucked the most?” you said quietly.

He stayed silent.

“You didn’t even ask if I was okay.”

That one landed. You could literally see it. His shoulders stiffened slightly, expression tightening like he suddenly realized he messed this up badly.

“…shit.”

You looked down at your hands. “I just wanted you to take my side first.”

For once, Sukuna didn’t argue back immediately. Didn’t defend himself. Didn’t call you dramatic, instead he rubbed a hand over his mouth and muttered something under his breath. Then finally– 

“…I should’ve done that.”

You blinked. Sukuna rarely admitted fault immediately. The anger in your chest cracked a little, but only a little.

“You made me feel stupid.”

“I know.”

“You kept acting like I was insane.”

“I know.”

“And now I’m crying over dumb friend drama.”

“That part’s still kinda dramatic.”

You glared at him instantly.

“Ryomen.”

“Alright, alright.”

And finally, he moved closer. Big hands grabbing your wrists gently until your arms uncrossed from your chest.

“You know I hate when people upset you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He rolled his eyes softly before pulling you toward him anyway.

You resisted for maybe three seconds.

Then you melted into his chest with a miserable sigh.

“There it is,” he muttered. “C’mere.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Mhm.”

You could hear his heartbeat through his hoodie. Steady, warm and annoyingly comforting. Sukuna rested his chin on top of your head before speaking more quietly this time.

“For the record… I didn’t like what she said either.”

You pulled back slightly. “Then why were you defending her?”

He looked annoyed at himself now. “Because I thought if I made it seem smaller, you wouldn’t feel as bad about it.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Probably.”

“You thought invalidating me would help?”

“When you say it like that, I sound stupid.”

“Because you were stupid.”

He sighed dramatically. “Alright. Damn.”

You tried not to smile.

Tried very hard.

But Sukuna noticed immediately.

“There you go.”

“Shut up.”

One of his hands slid to your jaw, thumb brushing under your eye gently. His voice got quieter.

“I’m on your side, idiot.”

The softness of it made your chest ache, because Sukuna wasn’t naturally gentle. So when he was, it always felt important.

“You didn’t act like it.”

“I know.”

“And if someone embarrasses me again?”

His eyes darkened immediately. “Then I’ll tell them to shut the fuck up.”

You snorted.

“There she is.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you fully into his lap despite your complaints. “You done being mad now?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“…maybe a little less mad.”

“That’s what I thought.”

You buried your face into his neck with a grumble while his arms wrapped tighter around your waist. And after another quiet second, he muttered against your hair–

“…sorry”

The anger finally disappeared completely after that.

Because you did it on purpose.

You'd squeeze Yuji tightly, pressing kisses to his cheeks and whining loudly about how cute he was. Occasionally, you would even glance over Yuji's head to see Sukuna's jaw tighten.

“Why is he so cute?” you’d say dramatically. “It’s unfair.”

Sukuna scoffed. “You’re annoying.”

But later— later, when Yuji was tucked away in his room and Sukuna finally had you-

That’s when the jealouusy really showed.

You were straddling him on the couch, his hands locked tight on your hips, thumbs digging in like he didn’t trust you not to disappear. His mouth was on yours, rougher than usual, hungry. Like he was reclaiming something.

His kisses were deep, insistent, breathing heavy against your lips.

“Mine,” he muttered once, barely audible.

“Possessive muc-” you'd start, only to be cut off by him pressing even closer, muffling your teasing.

You rocked against him slowly, deliberately, feeling the way his grip tightened instantly and the bulge in his jeans grow harder. He groaned low in his throat, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. 

He was already gone.

Then, a small whimper echoed from down the hall.

Sukuna froze for a split second. Then he kissed you harder.

He refused to pull away, mouth pressing into yours like if he kept going, the sound wouldn’t be real. He chased your lips when you tried to breathe, clearly annoyed.

Another sound followed. Softer...Sadder.

“…uh…” You pulled back, hand flat on his chest. “Sukuna.”

“No,” he growled quietly, trying to pull you back down. “Ignore it.”

“Yuji’s crying.”

He clicked his tongue. “He’s fine.”

Another sniffle. Then—

“y/n..?”

That did it. You slid off his lap instantly. Sukuna let his head fall back with a long, frustrated groan. “You’re kidding,” he start, fists balling against his sides.

You were already walking away. When you opened Yuji’s door, your heart melted all over again.

He was sitting up in bed, hair messy and sticking out everywhere. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glossy with tears, teddy bear clutched tightly to his chest.

The second he saw you, he reached out. “I had a nightmware,” he whimpered, words slurred and messy. “It was scawwy…”

“Oh no,” you whispered, immediately lifting him into your arms. “Come here, baby.”

He curled into you instantly, tiny hands gripping your shirt. He wiped his tears straight into your sleeve, hiccupping softly.

You rocked him gently, pressing your cheek to his hair. Wiping the fallen tears. “You’re safe,” you cooed. “I’ve got you.”

Sukuna appeared in the doorway moments later, arms crossed, irritation written all over his face. He looked between you and Yuji and scowled.

“idiot, go back to sleep,” he said flatly. “It was just a dream.”

Yuji whimpered louder, face pressing harder into your chest. “Ryomen,” you warned.

“He does this every time,” Sukuna muttered, reaching for your wrist. “You’re enabling him.”

“He’s three,” you hissed quietly.

“Tell him to stop.”

You stared at him. “He’s literally a baby.”

Sukuna groaned, dragging a hand down his face, clearly pissed—but he let go. He stood there watching as you rubbed Yuji’s back, whispering softly until his breathing slowed.

Yuji sniffed one last time, then peeked up at you with watery eyes. “Stay…?” he asked quietly. “plwease.”

Your chest tightened. “Okay, but you promise to go back to sleep?” He nodded immediately, cuddling closer before asking “kuna,” to stay too.

Sukuna groaned even louder. “fuck no- go to sleep,” he started, but you cut him off with a loud cough, hoping Yuji wouldn’t hear his vulgar words. “Sukuna, c'mere,” you pouted, gesturing for him to join you in the tight space beside you on the tiny twin bed. Reluctantly, Sukuna complied.

Both of you stayed until Yuji fully drifted off to sleep, his little face relaxed and his teddy bear tucked under his chin. He looked incredibly peaceful. Your fingers were still loosely intertwined with his, while his tiny nails dug into Sukuna's wrists whenever he tried to move.

When you finally slipped out and closed the door—

Sukuna grabbed you.

He lifted you effortlessly, tossing you over his shoulder like nothing. You yelped, then laughed, kicking lightly.

“Sukuna!”

“You’re evil,” he muttered, carrying you straight back to the couch.

He set you down and immediately crowded your space, hands firm on your thighs, eyes dark and jealous.

“You spoil him,” he said low.

“You’re jealous,” you teased.

“Of him?” he scoffed. “Tch.”

But he leaned in again, kissing you like he’d been waiting, frustration pouring into it. Slower this time. Heavier. Possessive.

“You disappear every time he cries,” he murmured against your mouth.

“He needs me.”

“So do I,” he muttered.

You smiled, brushing your nose against his. “You’re bigger. You can handle it.”

He huffed, arms wrapping around you tightly, pulling you flush against him.

“…Still annoying,” he said.

But he didn’t let go.

“You done?” you asked quietly.

Sukuna swallowed. His throat actually fucking hurt.

“No.”

Your laugh came out broken. Small. “What else is there to say?”

Everything. Too much. Not enough.

The problem was Sukuna had never learned how to explain himself without sounding angry. Even now, his jaw was tight enough to crack teeth apart. His huge frame stood frozen near the front door like he didn’t know if he was allowed any closer.

Because he probably wasn’t. The image kept replaying in his head. You're calling him over and over. Him ignoring every single fucking call like an idiot. The bar and Yorozu hanging all over him.

His arm around her waist because he was drunk and pissed and stupid and wanted to hurt you after the fight. 

And then your face when you walked in.

Jesus Christ.

He’d seen people die before and somehow that look still haunted him worse.

“I said I was sorry,” he muttered hoarsely.

You finally looked at him then. Red eyes. Wet cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t erase it.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” your voice cracked. “Because I don’t think you get it, Sukuna.”

His stomach twisted violently hearing his name like that.

Not Ryo.

Not even Ryomen.

Just Sukuna. Cold and distant, as if you were referring to a stranger.

“You embarrassed me,” you whispered. “You humiliated me.” 

His chest caved inward.“I know.”

“You made me feel stupid for loving you.”

That one physically made him flinch, actually flinch. You noticed too because your face crumpled for half a second before hardening again. Good. He deserved it.

Sukuna dragged a hand down his face hard enough to redden the skin. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s the problem.”

Silence. 

The constant drum of rain, the sound of your uneven breathing. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t fucking breathe in it.

“You think I wanted her?” he snapped suddenly. “You think I looked at her like I look at you?”

“You had your hands all over her.”

“Because I was angry!”

“And that makes it better?!”

“No!” His voice thundered through the apartment before he caught himself. You stepped back instinctively, tbat nearly killed him. The second he noticed fear flash across your face he looked sick with himself.

“...fuck,” he whispered.

You wiped your eyes aggressively. “I think you should leave.”

“No.”

Your head jerked up. “No?” you repeated in disbelief.

“I’m not leaving till you hear me out.”

“There’s nothing to hear!”

“There is for me.” His voice cracked on the last word, actually cracked. You both froze. Sukuna looked almost startled by it himself, like his own desperation disgusted him. His fists clenched so hard his tattoos stretched over his knuckles.

“You think this is easy for me?” he asked quietly. “You think I know how to do this shit?”

“You should’ve thought about that before–”

“I know!” he barked. 

Then softer, broken. “I know.”

God, he looked awful.

Not physically. Sukuna always looked intimidating no matter what. Six foot something of muscle and sharp edges and dark eyes.

But emotionally? He looked ruined. Hair messy from shoving his hands through it nonstop. Eyes bloodshot. Hoodie half soaked from the storm outside because apparently he hadn’t even bothered with an umbrella when he chased after you.

“You didn’t even come home,” you whispered.

His face twisted because that was the worst part. You’d waited for him, called him, texted him. And he’d ignored every single one because he’d been angry after your argument and wanted to “win.”

God, he hated himself.

“I know.”

“That whole night I thought maybe something happened to you.” Tears spilled faster now. “I was terrified.”

His breathing stuttered. 

Then you laughed bitterly. “And then I walk in and see you with another girl.”

Sukuna looked like someone had punched him directly in the throat.

“She didn’t matter.”

“But I did,” you whispered. “And you still did it.”

That shut him up, because you were right. Completely right. The silence stretched so long it became unbearable. 

Then finally– 

“I don’t know how to lose you.”

Your eyes flickered. Sukuna stared at the floor like the words physically hurt to say. “I don’t know how to do that.”

His voice had gone rough. Not angry rough, raw rough.

“I’ve lost damn near everybody else in my life. Parents. Friends. People leave. Shit happens. Fine.” His jaw tightened. “But you…”

He looked at you finally.

And God.

You’d never seen him look afraid before. Not truly afraid.

“I can’t fucking do that with you.”

Your face wavered. Sukuna noticed immediately and stepped closer before stopping himself halfway like he didn’t trust his own body anymore.

“You’re all over this place,” he whispered desperately. “You’re in my routines. My brothers love you. Yuji asks for you before bed every damn night. Choso tells you shit he won’t tell me. Your stupid hair ties are all over my bathroom. Your coffee order’s stuck in my head permanently.”

He laughed once. Humorless. “I see somethin pink in a store and think of you automatically. That’s sick.”

A tear slid down your cheek.

“I fucked up,” he said shakily. “I know I did.” His breathing got uneven. “And I swear to God I’ll spend every day makin up for it if you let me.”

You stayed quiet. And that silence was making him unravel. Sukuna took another step forward, then another, until he was right there. Close enough that you could see his hands trembling.

Sukuna.

Trembling.

“I don’t know how to beg,” he admitted quietly. “So if I’m shit at this, that’s why.”

Your lips parted slightly. Then his voice dropped even lower.

“But please.”

The word sounded painful, like glass in his throat.

“Please don’t leave me over the worst mistake I ever made.”

You looked down immediately because your eyes filled too fast. Sukuna panicked. Actually panicked. His hands hovered near you before gripping his own wrists instead.

“Fuck– no, don’t cry, baby, please–”

“You made me cry!”

“I know, I know, I know–”

His words stumbled over each other desperately. You’d never seen him like this.

Never.

Sukuna was the kind of man who got angry when he got hurt. The kind that buried feelings so deep they turned poisonous.

But now? Now he looked like he was drowning right in front of you.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I’ve been outside this apartment for an hour tryin to figure out how to make you stay.”

Your chest tightened painfully. “I almost didn’t come up,” he admitted. “Thought maybe you’d be happier if I disappeared.”

Your head snapped up immediately. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes softened instantly at your reaction. There you were, still caring, even now. That nearly destroyed him all over again.

“I love you,” he said suddenly.

You froze.

Sukuna almost never said it first. Almost never said it at all. But now the words were falling out of him uncontrollably.

“I love you so fucking much it makes me sick sometimes.” His voice shook. “You think I touched her because I wanted her? I did it because I knew it’d hurt you and I was angry and stupid and selfish.”

His face twisted in disgust at himself.

“And the second I saw your face I wanted to rip my own fucking arm off for touching her.”

Your breath hitched.

“I know sorry isn’t enough,” he whispered. “I know that.”

Then finally–

The thing that broke you completely.

Sukuna reached for your hand carefully. Tentatively, like he thought you might pull away. And when you didn’t? His entire body visibly sagged in relief. 

“Please,” he whispered again. Not angry, not proud, just desperate. 

“Tell me how to fix this.”

.

.

.

Will you forgive him?

Before you can say anything else, his hand comes up, tilting your chin just slightly. You blink, confused for half a second– and then he kisses you. It’s quick at first. soft snd familiar.

Then he exhales.

Warm breath, laced with smoke, slips into your mouth before you even realise what he’s doing. Your eyes widen, instinctively pulling back, coughing lightly as you push at his chest.

“Sukuna–!” you choke out, half laughing, half scandalised. “What the hell was that?!”

He’s already grinning. Not big, just that stupid, smug curve of his lips. “You said I smelled,” he shrugs. “Thought I’d share.”

“You’re disgusting!” you smack his arm, sitting up properly now. “That is so– ugh!” But you’re laughing. He notices, making his hand slide to the back of your neck, pulling you back in before you can complain again. This time, the kiss is slower. No tricks. Just him.

You hesitate for a second… then melt. Because of course you do.

When he pulls away, your forehead bumps lightly against his, and you can still faintly taste it, mixed with him, and it’s annoying how it’s not even that bad anymore. You narrow your eyes. “You did that on purpose.”

“Obviously.”

“I hate you.”

“Mm.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek, casual. “Still kissed me.”

You go quiet for a second, trying to think of a comeback. Nothing comes. He watches you struggle, amused, then flicks your forehead lightly. “Dumbass.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, grabbing his shirt and tugging him down onto the bed with you. He lets himself fall, arm wrapping around you automatically like it’s second nature. You bury your face into his chest, muttering, “If I get lung cancer, I’m blaming you.”

He snorts, resting his chin on your head. “You’ll live.”

A pause.

“…don’t do that again,” you add.

Another pause. “Maybe.”

You pinch his side.

He groans. “Alright, alright– fuck– fine.”

 You smile into his shirt. Five minutes later, you tilt your head up and kiss him first anyway.

You stared at him, and he stared back before finally looking away and continuing to walk. You remained where you were, refusing to move. After about six steps, he noticed the distance between you and turned around. 

“What.” 

You looked genuinely offended. “Sukuna.” 

“What,” he repeated.

“Pick it up.”

He glanced at the cup, then at you, and shrugged. “There are cleaners.”

Your mouth fell open, and you glanced around as though searching for confirmation that you had actually witnessed that. “Sukuna.” People nearby turned their heads. He looked mildly annoyed. 

“What.” 

You marched toward him. “Their job is not to pick up after fully grown men.”

“They get paid,” he said flatly.

Your jaw tightened, and you pressed a hand to your chest in disbelief. “I cannot believe you.” He watched you with a blank, unreadable expression. 

“Do you know who I am?” you demanded.

“Unfortunately.”

You gasped. “I run the environmental club.”

“scary.”

“I organised campus clean‑up day.”

“Horrific.”

“I made you come.”

“You tricked me.”

“...Ryomen, seriously.”

His eye twitched. You drew in a slow breath and lowered your voice, trying to stay calm. “Pick it up.”

He crossed his arms like a stubborn brat, refusing with a firm, “No.”

Your eyes widened, and you became painfully aware of the people listening. You held his gaze for several seconds, feeling the hurt settle deeper, then nodded once. “Fine.”

You turned and walked away. Sukuna blinked, confused. “Where are you going.”

“Nowhere.”

Suspicion edged into his tone as he followed you. “What does that mean.”

You did not answer; instead, your replies became short, clipped: “Mhm.” “Okay.” “Cool.”

He narrowed his eyes. You never acted like this. You usually annoyed him on purpose, and the sudden quiet distance unsettled him far more than he expected.

Several minutes passed before you finally sat down on a bench. He stopped in front of you, watching you closely. “You're sulking.”

You lifted your gaze. “No.”

He continued staring. “You’re upset.”

“No.”

A long pause settled between you.

“You are.”

You looked away. “I just don’t like it.”

His expression shifted slightly. You fiddled with your sleeve, trying to steady your voice. “It feels stupid to say out loud.”

He stayed silent, waiting.

“My parents always made us clean up after ourselves,” you said softly. “I know one cup isn’t the end of the world. People think that. Everyone does, really. They don’t realise it adds up. It always adds up.”

Your voice wavered. “I care about this. It matters to me. It feels awful when someone I care about treats it like nothing.”

His face remained unreadable, which only made your stomach twist. You looked down, suddenly self‑conscious. “Forget it.”

Sukuna watched you for a moment before he sighed, turned, and walked away. Your face fell immediately, your chest tightening as you watched his figure grow smaller. The hurt surprised you with its sharpness. You stared at the ground, feeling foolish for caring so deeply about something he clearly did not value.

Thirty seconds later, heavy footsteps approached again. You looked up to find Sukuna standing in front of you, holding the cup- and three other random pieces of rubbish.

You stared at him, unable to form a single coherent thought. He looked irritated, as if this entire situation inconvenienced him. “Happy.”

“What,” you whispered.

“There wasn’t a bin nearby,” he muttered, pushing the cup toward you.

Your eyes widened. “You went back.”

“It took twenty seconds.”

You stared at him, then noticed the extra rubbish in his hand. You lifted a hand to point at it. “What is that?”

“There was more.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again, because your brain needed a moment to process what you were seeing. “You picked up other rubbish.”

He immediately grew defensive. “Do not make a thing out of it.”

Your eyes widened even further, and something warm and overwhelming rushed through your chest. This was Sukuna. The Sukuna. Six‑foot‑something, built like a wall, and covered in tattoos. The same man who never cared about anyone or anything, who most people openly called a dick and who you occasionally agreed was one.

Yet he had gone back.

He had picked up the cup.

He had picked up other rubbish.

He had done it because you cared.

Your environmental‑club‑president heart practically launched itself into orbit.

You rose slowly to your feet, stunned and a little breathless, because the sight of him standing there with a handful of trash felt more intimate than any romantic gesture you had ever experienced. For a ridiculous second, you genuinely wondered if this was what it felt like to fall in love. You even felt the faint, absurd urge to propose on the spot.

He looked alarmed. “Why are you looking at me like that.”

You smiled far too brightly. “Oh my gosh.”

His eyes narrowed. “No.”

You grabbed both his hands. “No, but this is huge.”

He tried to pull away. “Stop.”

“You voluntarily cleaned.”

“I picked up garbage.”

“Sukuna.”

His face warmed noticeably, and your emotional expression did not help. “This is character development.”

His eye twitched. “You’re acting like I found religion.”

You squeezed his hands. “I’m proud of you.”

He froze, his ears turning faintly pink. “Stop talking.”

You grinned and reached into your bag, pulling out a folded sheet of paper. He stared at it suspiciously. “What is that.”

You unfolded it. Environmental Club Sign‑Up Sheet.

He looked horrified.

“Sooo…” you said sweetly.

He immediately turned and walked away. “No.”

“We meet Wednesdays.”

“No.”

“We have matching shirts.”

“Kill me.”

“We’re planting native species next week.”

“No.”

You followed him with a smile. He suddenly stopped, looked down, and let the sign‑up sheet fall to the ground.

You gasped.

He looked at you with a tiny, smug smile. “Oops.”

You stared at him. He stared back. Eventually, he sighed, bent down, picked it up again, and continued walking.

Your eyes softened. You stepped closer and quietly took his hand, prompting him to glance down. “What.”

You shrugged. “Thank you.”

He looked away. “Whatever.”

A few seconds later, his hand squeezed yours back, small and subtle. When you passed a bin, he tossed his rubbish into it with dramatic flair and looked at you.

You clapped immediately, earning an offended glare. “I hate you.”

You beamed. “No you don’t.”

He didn’t respond, although he did make sure his receipt went into the bin as well.