♥️

He finally looked up, and that’s when you saw it. The glint of amusement in his crimson eyes, the smirk playing on his lips. He was trying to school his features into something neutral, but he was failing spectacularly.

“It’s just…” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “The way you’re walking.”

The air in the room seemed to crystallize. You could feel your blood pressure skyrocket. “The way I’m walking?” you repeated, your voice dangerously low.

“Yeah,” he said, and the idiot actually chuckled again. “You’re waddling.”

And that was it. The dam of your carefully maintained composure broke.

“Waddling?” you shrieked, and you were vaguely aware that you sounded like a tea kettle reaching its boiling point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “I am not waddling! I am carrying your child! A human being! Do you know how much this weighs? It feels like I’m smuggling a watermelon, and you’re over there, laughing at me?”

The smirk on his face finally vanished, replaced by a look of dawning horror. He’d been with you long enough to recognize the signs of an impending hormonal meltdown. He slowly put his phone down, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Okay, okay, baby, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice placating. “It was a stupid thing to say. You’re not waddling. You’re… gliding. Like a majestic, pregnant swan.”

“A majestic, pregnant swan?” you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do I look like a swan to you, Sukuna? Do I?”

He wisely chose not to answer that question. He stood up, crossing the room in a few long strides, and tried to pull you into his arms. You sidestepped him, your arms crossed over your chest (or, as much as you could with your belly in the way).

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

And that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? You were furious with him, so angry you could spit nails, but the thought of actually being away from him was unbearable. Your hormones were a tangled mess of contradictions, and you were just along for the ride.

That’s when the idea struck you. It was brilliant in its absurdity, a perfect solution to your current predicament.

“Go get a paper bag,” you commanded.

Sukuna blinked. “A what?”

“A paper bag,” you repeated, pointing a finger at him. “From the pantry. The big ones we use for recycling. Go get one.”

He looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, but he didn’t argue. He knew better than to argue with you in this state. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later, holding a large brown paper bag.

“Okay,” he said, holding it out to you. “Now what?”

“Put it on your head,” you said, your voice deadpan.

He stared at you, the bag dangling from his hand. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed, a long-suffering sound that you had become very familiar with over the past few months. He unfolded the bag, and with a final, defeated look in your direction, he pulled it over his head.

And so, here you are, three hours later. Sukuna is sitting on the sofa, a paper bag over his head, and you’re on the armchair opposite him, still fuming. The silence is thick with unspoken words, a testament to the ridiculousness of the situation.

You have to admit, it’s a little hard to stay mad at a man with a paper bag on his head. Every so often, you can hear him sigh, a muffled sound from within his paper prison. You’ve made him cut eyeholes in the bag, so you know he’s watching you, but you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, his voice distorted by the bag.

“Yes,” you say, your voice clipped.

“It was a joke,” he says, his voice softer now. “A stupid one, I’ll admit. But I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It wasn’t funny,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you hate it. You hate that you’re so emotional, that you can go from rage to tears in the span of a few seconds.

“I know, baby,” he says, and he sounds genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

You sniff, trying to hold back the tears. “You’re just lucky I love you,” you mumble.

“I know,” he says again, and you can hear the smile in his voice, even through the bag. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

He stands up and walks over to you, the paper bag rustling with every step. He kneels in front of you, and you can feel his hands on your knees, his touch warm and familiar.

“Can I take this off now?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. He reaches up and pulls the bag off his head, and you’re met with the sight of his handsome face, his eyes soft with affection. He leans in and kisses you, a slow, tender kiss that makes your heart melt.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I love you too,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “Even if you are an idiot.”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through you. “I know,” he says.

And as he pulls you in for another kiss, you know that he’s right. He’s your idiot, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he does make you want to strangle him sometimes.

Genre: Serial Killer AU, No Curse AU;

Warning/s: Depiction of Death, Depiction of Crime, Sadist Behaviour, Mentions of Graphic Violence, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Alcohol, Sex and Drugs, Depiction of Smoking, Explicit Depiction of Harm, Toxic Relationship, Forceful Touch, Use of Pet Names;

masterlist

listen: devil by the window by txt

IT'S INTERESTING HOW LIFE IS A PUZZLE TO ME. Navigating life without curiosity is a challenge. But like all challenges, it can go in its highs and lows and it can lead me intrigued and it can leave me bored. In this small town, its often a wonder, how long I would last without the excitement of digging through mystery itself.

It's an inherent trait in human nature to explore the mysterious, to grapple with the vastness that life presents, often laying before us enigmatic puzzles that defy simple understanding. My mother observed that my inclination towards the peculiar mirrored that of my father, a man who found solace in the allure of unconventional discoveries.

He, like a nomad of intrigue, perpetually sought out the mysteries that captivated him more than the comforts of family, unraveling the secrets hidden beneath foreign grounds. My mother's words, though not intended as a slight, carried a stark truth – I am undeniably my father's child, a descendent of a wanderer who pursued the unknown.

In essence, I am akin to my father's devil's spawn, a title that, surprisingly, never bore the weight of condemnation. Instead, it acknowledged the relentless curiosity that fueled our existence. This inclination to question, to explore, is, after all, an integral part of the human experience.

My affinity for deciphering the intricacies of those around me often led to accusations of rudeness. People, uncomfortable with the depths I probed, felt exploited. Yet, what if life's truths aren't laid out for everyone to see? What if our existence requires a discerning eye to uncover the subtle nuances that elude the ordinary observer?

During childhood, I found adults to be intriguing subjects for my curiosity. However, as the years advanced, their lives often seemed to follow predictable patterns, culminating in the pursuit of common desires – money, fame, and success. The initial spark of curiosity waned as conversations veered toward the mundane.

Yearning for more profound engagements, I sought discussions layered with challenge and mystery. I craved the stimulation of the unknown, a desire to crack the intricate codes that define the human experience. Life, to me, held the promise of better conversations, a tapestry of intrigue waiting to be woven with the threads of challenge and mystery.

I wanted to be stimulated.

To feel alive.

Soon enough, I gave up trying to find that.

I felt like the tie had come to accept my boring fate.

Until Ryomen Sukuna came along.

He had been new in town, and had just arrived a month or two ago. 

He stood there in the window from my view.

He had a demon's shadow, from where I stood.

He was a devil by the window.

I first met him in that class, we were both in the same track for college and so met often in classes. But we never interacted. He was fairly quiet, never talking unless he had been spoken to. He often comes to the professors to insist on working alone on projects which require partners. I don’t think I’ve even seen him in the get-togethers that are spread around the campus map. 

No one knows who he was, where he came from — what he liked and did not like. What he does in his spare time, how he lives. He doesn’t even talk about his family. He didn’t seem to like interacting with any one either. The small town did not pique his interest, and the life within it either. He mostly kept to himself.

He immediately piqued my interest.

I liked what he looked like —  not that I really had a type. But I concluded that he was rather pretty. From the way his hands moved against the push of gravity, to the way his lips quivered into small grins as he found things intriguing him from afar. The color of light pink shrouded his head, it almost reminded me of light pink sunsets.  His eyes were pale red as though burning hot flames in the morning glow. 

His features were untouchable, almost like those ancient marble statues - perfect in their wonder. Everything about him seems fit to worship. It was as though he was their most favorite creation, shrouded by such precious anointment from the powerful above. The beauty of all life was etched into him the moment he was born. Yet somehow, he could not care anymore about such a thing. He did not seem to care for the gods, nor for their gifts. 

He would rather not be glorious or live valiantly.

He would rather be the echoes of flames and chaos.

Ryomen Sukuna was not built for that sort of life.

Looking at it now, I was the only one who saw it first hand.

Because I was just like him.

I can never take being bored.

I finally interacted with him months later — at some fraternity party that I didn’t bother remembering about until it was too late. 

I wondered if it was worth it to even leave.

I yawned, rolling my eyes as I stood up.

I decided to go, last minute.

All I remember was seeing him standing there at the large mahogany doors, eyes like hawks awaiting its prey. Arms crossed, his fists pressed tightly against the hard leather of his jacket. I couldn’t stop staring at him at that boring gathering. When I arrived, I didn’t even want to be here. But he’s here.

That was all I needed to fill through this uneventful night.

The music roared through the speakers. The music wasn't all that good, not even if people tried to excite themselves into it along with the alcohol.  But everyone danced like it was their last, oddly moving through the beat without an inch of propriety. They were beasts, but they were innocent ones through mindlessness. Lights soon went through different shades of moving spotlights, like a circus plowing through with an illusion - hiding the nakedness of this farce.

I lost sight of him that moment. 

So I went to look.

I walked through the crowd of drunken bodies, reeking of disgusting alcohol and sweat. The loud screaming of some piercing my ears, loud enough that perhaps my own ears could possibly bleed. I looked left and right, and upwards to the steps of spiral stairs and towards the opened doors of people walking and passing. 

In the end I could not find him. 

And soon enough, I wished to go home.

I pushed myself through with all of my beings, raging against bodies that were coupled together in embraces. In mindless and sporadic movements that one could not even consider dance. Through the smell of alcohol, sex, and even drugs. 

But by chance, my curiosity to find the way out had led me to him.

The room, once a canvas of ordinary existence, had transformed into a theater of macabre artistry. The oppressive metallic scent of blood mingled with the dampness of the cold air, assaulting my senses as I stepped into the scene. The thumps, once rhythmic in their brutality, now echoed as haunting whispers against the walls, a testament to the violence that had unfolded.

His figure, bathed in the dim light that filtered through the blinds, stood as a chilling silhouette against the canvas of crimson. The air itself seemed to recoil from the horror that clung to every corner, every crevice. I approached cautiously, my steps muffled by the gravity of the moment.

His hands, stained with the visceral truth of the act, cradled the remnants of a life extinguished. He stood above his victim, as though a beast that had devoured its prey. That  person no longer breathed, that was much too obvious. Instead, they lay there in a sea of scarlet pooling from the broken dam of flesh and bone. The bright scarlet dripped through his fingers like a morose symphony, each drop a note in the tragic ballad of the departed. The macabre beauty of the scene held me captive, a voyeur to the secrets unveiled in this clandestine theater. 

The weight of the unspoken truth hung in the air, the room itself a witness to the transgression that had occurred within its confines. As my eyes traced the contours of the tableau, I couldn't help but feel an electric pulse in the stillness, a palpable connection to the enigma that stood before me.

In that moment, curiosity eclipsed fear, and an unspoken understanding passed between us—the observer and the architect of this grim masterpiece. The boundaries of the known had been shattered, and I found myself standing on the precipice of a journey into the shadows, guided by the hands that bore the honesty of the crime.

Then there was silence.

I wasn’t afraid of what I should see.

He stood there, smacking the blood away.

As though what he had done did not matter.

Sukuna's cold demeanor remained unchanged, his eyes locking onto mine as I reveled in the macabre scene before us. The rhythmic pulsating of music and distant screams provided an eerie backdrop to our twisted encounter.

"You saw," he repeated, the weight of his admission hanging in the air.

"What?" I replied, the sounds of chaos outside still piercing through me, rendering me frozen.

"I killed him," he declared plainly.

"I can see that," I finally blinked, snapping back to reality, and took a step closer to him. Without hesitation, I closed the door behind me, shutting out the muffled sounds of the party.

“Who are you?”

I told him my name, I furrowed my brows. “Why do you need to know my name?”

“I’ve seen you around town, but I have never met you.”

“That’s to be expected when you don’t talk to anyone.”

His eyes furrowed at my lack of fear. "You don't seem scared."

A rumble of laughter escaped my chest. "No, no—not at all."

"Most people become scared when they see things like these," he remarked, gesturing to the gruesome scene.

"So?" I shrugged nonchalantly.

"You were frozen for a bit."

"Because I've never seen this before," I smirked, regaining my composure. "And it's a wonderful surprise!"

Sukuna raised a brow at my unconventional reaction. "A wonderful surprise?"

"You finally gave me something interesting," I declared, walking over to him. I paid no mind to the blood staining the floor or the potential mess it was making of my clothes. I let my lips linger near his ear, whispering, "I like that."

His gaze remained intense, but a subtle change in his expression hinted at a fraction of intrigue. We stood together in the aftermath of his gruesome creation, surrounded by the echoes of distant revelry.

"What are you?" I asked, genuinely curious, my eyes locked onto his.

He remained silent for a moment before responding, "A curse."

The revelation sent a shiver down my spine, but instead of fear, I found a strange fascination. "A curse, huh?" I mused, stepping back to survey the carnage. "Well, I've always been drawn to the mysterious and cursed. Beyond that meets the eye in being cursed, after all."

Sukuna's gaze followed me, his stoic exterior beginning to crack under the weight of my unorthodox reactions. The air between us thickened with an unspoken understanding.

"Let's clean up," he suggested, a hint of resignation in his voice.

I nodded, unfazed by the prospect of disposing of the gruesome evidence. As we worked together to erase the traces of his dark artistry, a peculiar camaraderie blossomed—a connection forged in blood, both literal and metaphorical.

Little did I know that my encounter with Ryomen Sukuna would unravel mysteries far beyond the confines of that room, setting the stage for a relationship defined by curiosity, darkness, and the allure of the unknown.

As we meticulously cleaned the room, the atmosphere shifted between us. The silence was broken by the occasional clinks of cleaning supplies and the distant muffled echoes of the ongoing party. The allure of the unknown bound us together, forging an unspoken connection that went beyond the gruesome tableau we were erasing.

Finally breaking the silence, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and measured. "Why are you not afraid of me?  Of what I did?"

I looked up from wiping the blood-stained floor, meeting his intense gaze. "Fear is a natural response, but it's not the only one. Sometimes, fascination outweighs fear."

He seemed to ponder my words, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're not like most people."

"Is that a problem?" I retorted, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

He didn't respond immediately, focusing on his task. The rhythmic swaying of the mop seemed almost meditative, a stark contrast to the chaos we had witnessed.

Eventually, he spoke again. "People usually fear curses. They avoid them."

"I've always found that the things people avoid are often the most intriguing," I replied, tossing a blood-soaked cloth into a trash bag.

He glanced at me, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "You're drawn to darkness."

"Maybe I am," I admitted, not flinching from his piercing gaze. "But darkness doesn't have to be feared. It can just be intriguing, don’t you think?”

A rare hint of a smile ghosted across Sukuna's face, a subtle acknowledgment of our shared perspective on the unconventional. The dichotomy of our personalities—his stoic nature and my unyielding curiosity—created an unexpected harmony in that dimly lit room.

As we continued our cleanup, an unspoken agreement settled between us. The mysteries that unfolded that night became the foundation for a unique connection, a bond woven from the threads of the unknown.

Hours later, the room bore no trace of the grim tableau that had unfolded within its walls. We stood side by side, surveying the transformed space. The air felt charged with an energy that surpassed mere curiosity; it hinted at the unexplored depths of our entwined destinies.

Sukuna broke the silence, his voice carrying a rare warmth. "You're different."

"And you're not?" I countered, a playful glint in my eyes.

He snickers back at me. "Perhaps."

The party outside continued its raucous celebration, but in that moment, a quieter understanding passed between us. These people are unaware what just happened, how much of that scarlet red faded and thinned against the water that flowed down the drain, carrying away the remnants of the gruesome tableau we had encountered. The distant music from the party seeped through the walls, a stark contrast to the solemnity that lingered in the air. 

“Do you do this often?” I asked him, leaning against one of the walls. 

He raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“What we just did.” 

"Perhaps," Sukuna repeated, his gaze distant as if contemplating the intricacies of his own existence.

The darkness outside the room felt like a tangible presence, a silent witness to the enigmatic connection that had taken root between us. I couldn't help but wonder how our lives had become entangled in a web of mysteries, a dance between curiosity and the unseen forces that lurked in the shadows.

As we stepped out into the corridor, the echoes of the party became more pronounced. The laughter and music, now accompanied by the rhythmic footsteps of carefree dancers, seemed worlds apart from the reality we had just left behind.

Sukuna led the way through the maze of dimly lit hallways, each step echoing with the weight of our shared secrets. The air felt charged, not just with the residue of the past, but with an anticipation of the unknown that awaited us.

We emerged into the chaotic sea of the party, where vibrant lights and pulsating music masked the underlying currents of darkness. The revelers, lost in their own world of celebration, were oblivious to the transformative journey Sukuna and I had undergone.

Our eyes met, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. The unspoken understanding lingered, transcending the noise and fervor of the party. As if guided by an unseen force, we moved through the crowd, navigating the maze of bodies with a shared purpose.

Outside, beneath the open sky, a quiet courtyard beckoned. The cool night air offered a respite from the suffocating atmosphere within. We found an isolated bench, away from the prying eyes and the ceaseless revelry.

The night had become a tapestry woven with threads of darkness and curiosity. Sukuna and I, two individuals drawn together by the inexplicable, sat in that secluded corner—our destinies entwined, our fates sealed by the mysteries that lingered in the spaces between us.

Sukuna's gaze held a silent intensity as he finally broke the silence. "There's more to this world than meets the eye. What you've witnessed is just the surface."

A shiver ran down my spine, a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "I want to know more."

He nodded, a tacit agreement passing between us. "Then prepare yourself. The path you've chosen is not for the faint of heart."

“You say that as though I haven’t known that before.” I said to him, grinning at him as I took out a pack of cigarettes from my pockets and put one against my lips. 

“You’re mad.”

A huff of smoke releases from my lips. “Just like you?”

He laughs. “Almost, little pet.”

I raised my brow, intrigued. “Coming up with nicknames for me now, are you?”

I feel the intensity of Sukuna's gaze, a potent mixture of desire and dominance. The air thickens with a primal energy, and my heart quickens its pace as his hands assert their control. The harshness of his touch is electrifying, a paradox of both brutality and a strange tenderness.

He leans in, his breath mingling with mine, and the scent of danger envelops us. The dim moonlight accentuates the predatory gleam in his eyes, mirroring my own defiance. A silent understanding passes between us—a dance between two individuals drawn to the forbidden.

"You're not like the others," he murmurs, his voice a low, guttural growl that resonates through the night.

I meet his gaze unflinchingly, the echo of laughter from the distant party forming a dissonant backdrop to our clandestine encounter. "Why would I want to be?"

Sukuna's lips curl into a predatory smile, and the air crackles with a tension that defies conventional boundaries. He tilts my head back with a force that simultaneously demands submission and challenges my resilience. It's a paradoxical dance of power, a tug-of-war between the allure of surrender and the thrill of resistance.

"You court danger," he observes, his thumb brushing against my jawline.

"Maybe danger courts me," I respond, my voice laced with a provocative edge.

He chuckles, the sound a dark symphony that resonates with the undercurrents of the supernatural. Sukuna's grip tightens, a silent promise that he is both the predator and the prey in this mysterious exchange.

As the night unfolds around us, shadows flicker across Sukuna's face, revealing glimpses of the enigmatic figure that exists beyond the boundaries of the known. The moonlight casts an ethereal glow on his features, heightening the surreal atmosphere of our clandestine meeting.

"What are you seeking?" Sukuna questions, his gaze probing the depths of my soul.

"I seek the unknown, mysteries that defy explanation," I reply, a defiant spark in my eyes. “I do not want to be bored.”

As Sukuna's lips hover dangerously close to mine, a surge of exhilaration courses through my veins, electrifying every nerve in my body. The air crackles with anticipation, and I find myself standing at the precipice of an unknown abyss. The thrill is not just a fleeting emotion; it's a visceral acknowledgment, a recognition of the uncharted path that lies ahead.

In the dimly lit courtyard, shadows dance around us, reflecting the enigmatic dance unfolding between two individuals drawn together by a magnetic force that defies rational explanation. Sukuna's predatory gaze, intensified by the moonlight, holds a promise of both danger and an unspoken connection—an invitation to venture into realms untouched by the ordinary.

My response is not born out of recklessness but stems from a deep-seated desire to explore the mysteries that lie beyond the boundaries of the mundane. The challenge Sukuna presents is met with unwavering determination, a resolve to confront the unknown with open eyes and a fearless heart.

In that charged moment, the unspoken agreement between us solidifies. It's a pact forged in the crucible of darkness and desire, where the line between fear and fascination blurs. The mysteries that beckon us are not merely external; they echo within the recesses of our souls, intertwining destinies in a tapestry woven from threads of uncertainty.

As Sukuna's thumb continued to brush against my jawline, I couldn’t help but release a moan as the smoke poured out like toxic air. His touch is both commanding and intimate, almost sensual, almost a manifestation of wonder.

It's a tactile manifestation of the uncharted terrain we are about to explore together—a journey into the depths of the supernatural where danger and allure coalesce. Finally, the beast in front of me had found someone to play with.

"The unknown can be treacherous terrain. Are you prepared to navigate its thorns, little pet?"

An electrifying thrill surges through my veins, a visceral recognition of the unexplored journey awaiting us. Sukuna's challenge is met with resolute determination on my part, a commitment to venture into realms unknown.

In this moment, I experience a vitality I've never felt before, a vivid aliveness ignited by his touch and the revelations of this night. It's as if we both share a fervor for existence, a mutual excitement for the unpredictable.

Leaning forward, Sukuna inhales the pungent scent of nicotine, his movements purposeful as he presses his lips fervently against my neck. The convergence of sensations, the heady rush of adrenaline, and the intimacy of our connection weave a tapestry of emotions that transcends the ordinary.

In his embrace, I find myself caught in the nexus of exhilaration and danger, an exploration of desires that redefine the boundaries of the known.

"I'm ready for whatever comes my way," I declare, sealing our unspoken pact beneath the watchful eyes of the moonlit night. I leap on my tip toes, near his ear and whispered. “Let me thread the excitement with you, master.”

Sukuna's dark eyes bore into mine, an inscrutable intensity that sent shivers down my spine. In the dim glow of the moon, a wicked smile curved his lips, acknowledging the unspoken understanding between us. The night held a promise of unknown pleasures, and I had willingly stepped into its embrace. His fingers traced a delicate line along my jaw, a gesture that felt both possessive and seductive.

"You're playing with fire," he murmured, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the quiet courtyard.

A mischievous grin played on my lips as I met his gaze head-on. "Fire is just another form of excitement, isn't it?"

Sukuna's laughter rumbled, a deep and resonant sound that seemed to echo the secrets of the night. "You're more intriguing than I anticipated."

The wide expanse of the secluded area seemed to transform under the gentle glow of the moon, casting an ethereal aura upon the space between them. Shadows danced and intertwined, weaving a tapestry of mystery and desire. In this clandestine playground, Sukuna's touch became a force of both command and electricity, igniting dormant desires that had lingered in the recesses of my curiosity.

As we delved deeper into the unknown, the night revealed its hidden secrets with a conspiratorial whisper. I willingly surrendered to the intoxicating dance with darkness, embracing the enigma that was Sukuna. The moon, a silent witness, bathed us in its luminescence, casting a celestial glow upon the connection forged in the crucible of curiosity and the allure of the uncharted.

The odyssey of what we could do together had only just commenced, and in that moment, beneath the celestial canopy, I found myself enthralled by the devil's seductive caress.

It was a descent into uncharted realms, orchestrated by the enigmatic presence of Sukuna. Standing on the precipice, I eagerly embraced a thrilling odyssey that vowed to reshape the boundaries between the familiar and the unexplored, lured by the temptations of the diabolical. 

I once saw the devil by the window.

And here I was, taking his hand in my own.

I smiled, the bright red of devil’s eyes glistening.

Ryomen Sukuna returned it, almost monstrously.

IF THERE’S ANYTHING SUKUNA’S GOOD AT, IT'S CHEWING GUM AND WINNING YOU. And your boyfriend revels in it. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your fingers tangling in the sheets beneath you as Ryomen Sukuna’s mouth works you over with expert precision.

It’s a sight you never thought you’d be part of—a "goodie two-shoes" girl, everyone’s picture-perfect student, tangled up with the campus bad boy. But here you are, completely undone. He’s the only one who can do this to you. And he knows it.

You could feel his rough hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you pinned down while his tongue moves skillfully against your throbbing core. He grinned as though he was delighted. Because you know he was. You knew that he was happy, that none would see him the way he does. No one's allowed to see his goodie two shoes like this but him. And no one will.

You can't stop the loud echoing moans spilling from your lips, the intensity of his mouth sending sparks through your body. Your hips move on their own, grinding against his face as his tongue flicks and curls in a rhythm that drives you to the edge.

You glance down, and the sight of him between your legs only adds fuel to the fire. His bright scarlet eyes lock with yours, a wicked gleam in them as he gives you a grin, never slowing his pace. Your face twists in pleasure, a mix of gasps and whimpers falling from your lips. Your boyfriend’s the most wicked man in the world. And you’re excited about it. 

You feel like you’re going to lose it, your body trembling, legs shaking as he pulls you deeper into a euphoric haze. You haven’t come in a while, not even when you want to. You were too crazy about not failing your exams. And Sukuna respected that. But you know it too well that it got the best of him too, to wait. He likes pleasure as much as he loves you. And Sukuna adores having both. 

Even with his tongue buried deep between your thighs, Ryomen Sukuna’s bad-boy persona never falters. You catch the faintest scent of mint—he’s chewing gum, the same cocky grin stretching across his lips while he devours you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You don't know why he does it. But he does this sometimes. And he enjoys it. So you feel the sweetness of his mouth and the mint of his breath take you in as though there was nothing sweeter or delicious in the world than you.

The rhythm of his tongue never stops, even as he adjusts his jaw slightly, that damn piece of gum rolling from one side of his mouth to the other. It’s maddening, the way he’s so casual about it, like he isn’t unraveling you entirely, like he’s not completely in control.

Your body’s trembling, skin on fire as you push your hips harder against his mouth, chasing the wave of pleasure building with every stroke of his tongue. He hums against your soaked core, and the vibration sends a shudder up your spine. 

"Mm, tastes better than gum, doll." he murmurs, his voice muffled, laced with amusement. "You tastin' so good, even better than before."

He doesn't even stop to swallow his words, just dives back in, his grip on your thighs tightening, pulling you closer to his face. You bite your lip to stifle a scream, overwhelmed by the sensation. It was all too much. And yet you still craved for more.

Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably, and Sukuna seems to revel in it, his mouth never losing its cruel, delicious pace. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and the sound of him lazily chewing that gum only heightens the absurdity, making your head spin.

You grind against his face, desperate for release, and with a low growl, Sukuna pushes you over the brink. The world around you shatters into blinding pleasure as your body shakes and trembles under his relentless mouth. His tongue doesn’t let up, riding you through the waves, leaving you breathless and spent, pinned under the weight of his wicked grin.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath, still trembling from the intense orgasm Sukuna just pulled from you. Unshed tears pooling in your eyes, your head slanted to the side, as you take a breath. He made a mess out of you.

He pulls back slightly, lips glistening with evidence of his handiwork, and that damn piece of gum is still in his mouth, rolling lazily over his tongue. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and then, with that smug grin of his, he looks up at you, eyes dark with mischief.

"Didn't expect the good girl to be such a mess, doll." he teases, his voice low and full of that rough-edged charm. His fingers trace lazy circles along your inner thigh, sending aftershocks through your overstimulated body. “You sure you're not addicted to this already?”

You try to glare at him, but your body betrays you, hips still twitching slightly, aching for more despite everything.

"S-Shut up!" you manage to gasp, but it’s weak, your voice shaky from how thoroughly he wrecked you. The smirk on his face grows wider as he leans forward, his breath hot against your thigh.

"You’re all shy and innocent in class, doll." he continues, his voice dripping with arrogance. "But when you're spread out for me, you can’t stop begging for it, huh?"

His words are teasing, cruel in a way that makes your pulse quicken, but there’s something magnetic in the way he says it. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s infuriating. You try to sit up, but he pushes you back down gently, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before trailing his mouth back up toward your sensitive core.

"What’s the rush, doll, hm?" he purrs, eyes locked on yours, completely unbothered. "I’m not done with you yet. I’m still…hungry."

You can feel him smirking against your skin as he slides a finger through your slickness, deliberately slow, watching your reaction. "Look at you, doll." he drawls, clearly enjoying every second of your helplessness. "Already soaked again. Guess I’m pretty good at this, huh?"

You grit your teeth, trying not to give him the satisfaction of another moan, but your body betrays you, heat pooling in your stomach again. His finger teases you mercilessly, sliding just barely inside before pulling away, leaving you aching for more.

"Come on, just admit it, doll." he coaxes, clearly reveling in your frustration. "You love it when I do this, don't you?" His finger circles your entrance again, maddeningly slow, as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me, doll. Tell me how much you love it."

You want to resist, but the words slip out in a breathless whisper before you can stop them. You mewl in pleasure. "I love it. I love it so much, baby!"

You chuckle, but oblige and show Yuji your artwork first, offering him a gentle smile as you point to the parts that you’re most proud of. You are proud of yourself, even if your drawing had merely been the product of you entertaining your nephew.

“Do you like it? I tried really hard with this one.”

Yuji only beams up at you while nodding his head vigorously, eyes never leaving the sheet of paper in your hands.

“It’s so cool, aunty!” Yuji peers down at his own drawing and you catch a glimpse of his wide smile morphing into a smirk that looks all too familiar.

It's a poor attempt at a smirk, but you recognize it as Sukuna’s doing. Yuji has obviously picked up on his habit.

“But mine is cooler! Look, look!”

Yuji turns his drawing to you and the smile that had been plastered on your face falters. Yuji doesn’t notice, thankfully. He's far too excited about rambling on about what he’s drawn for his uncle.

What you’re looking at isn’t a drawing that should be drawn by a seven-year-old. He’s a boy, a child with the freedom to experience the world with child-like wonder, yet the drawing in his hands doesn’t express that.

You’re caught completely off guard.

You can’t make everything out, but what you can make out is a giant man with a scar over his right eye and mop of pink hair. That’s Sukuna without a doubt. Though, that isn’t the part that’s bothering you.

What is bothering you is the fact that your sweet, sweet nephew had gone and drawn his uncle standing over another man with a wide mouth while holding a knife. And there’s blood. Lots and lots of it.

“Yuji, sweetheart… what is—what is this?”

Yuji is still blissfully unaware of the worry etched onto your face.

“It’s uncle ‘Kuna!” Yuji motions to his drawing and you try your hardest not to grimace. Your eyes dart to the bottom of the chair Yuji had drawn where the man with the wide mouth is sitting and you manage to make out bloody sausages.

“Look! He’s torturing an enemy because he doesn’t wanna give uncle ‘Kuna information.” Yuji points at the sausages. “This is the man’s fingers.”

Okay. Not sausages.

Your eye twitches. There is only one person in this world who could have possibly taught Yuji the words that he’s just uttered and that person is currently upstairs in his office doing god knows what.

“Right… ah, Yuji, sweetheart,” you try your best at keeping your tone light while you pry Yuji’s drawing from his hands.

“This really is cool. I’ll go and show your uncle, m’kay?” You offer him a smile, and Yuji’s eyes go wide as he continues to beam up at you. “Why don’t you run upstairs, and I’ll come and tuck you in soon, yeah?”

Yuji nods before he darts to the foot of the stairs before all but flying up the staircase with heavy footsteps. You glance back at the drawing when he reaches the top of the staircase, and you feel exasperation and anger simmer deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re not mad at Yuji, you could never be.

It's the broody man who you call your husband who you’re mad at.

Jin is Yuji’s father—Sukuna’s brother and the sibling who wanted nothing to do with his family’s inheritance. He trusted both you and Sukuna with his son while he saw that he’d secure a stable job elsewhere, his son who is slowly being corrupted by his uncle that he adores too much.

Jin had spoken to Sukuna before, long ago, and the request had been that he keep his business far away from Yuji. That, clearly, is not the case. Based on Yuji’s drawing and the way he’d explained everything, it’s quite clear that Sukuna had taken him along to witness something that no child should ever bear witness to.

Now, you’re no stranger to the mafia and you understand what that life entails.

You ran away from that life—ran away from a life where you’d be married off simply to keep the peace, but despite your best efforts to crawl out of a world where bloodshed is celebrated, you found yourself falling headfirst into that very same pit when you moved away from home.

Sukuna who had been a little older, who was as menacing and dangerously handsome as many men who are in his line of work, lived the exact same life you did. The only difference is the fact that he never had an opportunity to escape his reality. He’d been stuck in it, inherited everything at a young age.

Your feet carry you up the stairs and you make your way to where Sukuna is, pushing the door open with a force that nearly knocks it off its hinges.

“Ryomen Sukuna.” Your voice is cold and sharp enough to cut the tension that begins to simmer in the air.

Sukuna lifts his gaze and yours trails over his face, over the scar that pulls at the skin on the right side of his face. He regards you with boredom that that’s as clear as day before he sighs and glances back at the laptop sitting on his desk. You don’t know what he’s doing—reviewing credentials, searching for blackmail—whatever it is, you don’t care.

You hold up Yuji’s drawing.

“What the fuck is this?”

Sukuna glances up again, gaze lingering on Yuji’s drawing before exhaling an exasperated sigh.

“That’s a drawing and it’s clearly not mine.”

Your face contorts into a snarl as you step further into Sukuna’s office. His gaze is still fixated on his laptop and that just means that he isn’t at all bothered by your distress.

“It’s the contents of this drawing that’s bothering me—did you take Yuji with you so that he could witness you torturing a man?”

Sukuna glances up at you. You’re fuming, clearly aggravated.

“If I answer honestly, you’d only be further aggravated.”

Right. Of course. You already know the answer to your question. You don’t know why you bothered asking in the first place.

“Sukuna—oh my god. What’s wrong with you?”

He’s not looking at you, still far too engrossed in whatever is on the screen that glares back at him.

You bristle.

Without another word, without another thought, you find yourself standing in front of Sukuna’s desk and in the quiet of his office, a loud SLAM! resounds in the air when you snap his laptop shut.

A heartbeat passes. Then another.

“I’m speaking to you,” you hiss, eyes narrowing when Sukuna has the audacity to glare up at you like you ended his entire bloodline. “When I speak, you listen.”

“I was busy, woman,” Sukuna eyes your hand while you keep it pressed to the top of his laptop. “What the fuck is—”

“Do I make myself clear, Ryomen?”

Sukuna’s mouth snaps shut and his face contorts into a snarl before he drags his hands over his face. You’re upset; he hears it in your tone and feels your anger radiating off you in waves.

Then, his eyes find yours again and he leans back in his chair, gaze unwavering as he crosses his arms. You’re not going to allow him to get back to work and Sukuna knows that.

So, he might as well indulge you.

You shove Yuji’s drawing into his face before throwing it in front of Sukuna and for the first time, he analyses the illustration. He’s impressed, though, only a little.

“You have five seconds to explain why you took Yuji with you so that he could witness a man being tortured.”

Sukuna scoffs and pushes the drawing back in your direction. He’s kept his mouth until now, he’s told the brat to keep his mouth shut, but there’s no way around it now. Lying to you is an option, but Sukuna knows that’d just make matters worse.

Besides, he wouldn’t lie simply because it benefits him. Who is he if not unabashedly truthful?

“I took the brat with me because I wanted him to see what he’d be inheriting one day—I plan on making him my successor.”

Your fingers curl and your nails dig into your palms. He did that without talking to you about it. It’s not that he has to, but you’re the closet person Yuji has to a mother-figure, and you’d think that your husband would take that into consideration at times.

You are only his aunt and Jin is his father, but he’s been so busy lately. Far too busy. So naturally, it’s up to you to ensure that Yuji stays safe and is well looked after.

“Does Jin know that you’re preparing his son to take over the business?”

“No and I plan on keeping it that way.”

You scoff.

“Jin wants nothing to do with the business—he wants Yuji, his son, to have nothing to do with the business and you need to respect that.”

Sukuna grumbles under his breath, glaring off to the side.

“You can’t just do what you want because you feel that you need a successor—it’s stupid.”

That earns you a snarl from Sukuna paired with a glare that does nothing to faze you. You’re not scared. You’ve been far from scared of him for the longest time now.

“It’s not stupid. What is stupid, is the fact that you’ve got a lot to say about a child that isn’t yours.”

The air goes stale. The tension only grows thicker, palpable to the point it feels like it’s constricting your lungs.

“I could say the same thing about you. Yuji isn’t your son, he’s your nephew.”

“We’re blood related.”

Your eyes narrow.

“What are you trying to say? That I don’t have a say because Yuji and I aren’t blood related?”

“Yes.”

The answer comes quick. Too quick for you to even recover. You’re mad. Annoyed and you know that you can’t—won’t—continue this conversation with the state that you’re in. It’s going to get you nowhere.

“Fine. If that’s how you feel, then it can’t be helped, can it?”

You don’t give Sukuna a chance to respond and it’s not because you don’t want a response, it’s because admittedly, you’re far too hurt to wait for one. His words cut a part of you that not even a real blade could.

His office door slams behind you as you pull it shut and with a grim expression, you make your way to Yuji’s allocated room for whenever he visits.

You do as you promised; you tuck him into bed, even if it was after cuddling him after he’d requested it with droopy eyes. Though this time around, you lingered behind to watch his ever-peaceful sleeping form with a gentle smile on your face.

You couldn’t ever imagine that he’d have to suffer the way you and everyone else in his family did.

When you’re sure that he’s fast asleep, you leave Yuji’s room and shut the door behind you before heading downstairs. There’s still some tidying up that needs to be done and you’re thankful that you’ve managed to find a distraction.

You’re still bothered, but you’re not about to breakdown and cry, no. You’re wounded. Deeply. Sukuna’s words are a stark reminder that you are in fact, only married into this family and that regardless of what you think, you don’t truly have a say.

You pack the crayons in their respective box, you stack the blank pages, pick up the smaller pieces of paper, though you can’t necessarily concentrate with the gaze that you feel weighing you down. You thought he’d still be in his office, but as it seems, he made his way downstairs before you did.

“What do you want, Ryomen?”

You don’t look his way, you don’t spare him a single glance, but you know where he is. You feel his presence behind you. Sukuna doesn’t say anything, just steps into your line of view and still, you say nothing, still you don’t look up to meet his gaze. Your focus is entirely on tidying up.

“I’ve come to apologise.”

“That’s nice.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow. He deserves that. He knows that he does.

“I’m serious.”

“Mhmm. Okay.”

“Woman, will you look at me? I’m trying to make amends.”

You roll your eyes but stand and meet his gaze regardless. You don’t say anything, you allow him to make his cue. Sukuna swallows his pride, but he remains composed, muscles taught as he peers down at you. He knows that he has to apologise because if he doesn’t, you’ll make him sleep in the guest room.

It's happened before.

Sukuna is a dangerous man, a formidable foe to those who fight him, but he’s nothing if he isn’t allowed to sleep next to his wife. Holding you is the closest he comes to feeling peace.

“I’m—I apologise for my choice of words earlier.”

“That’s great.”

You turn and Sukuna’s jaw ticks.

“I apologised.”

“I know, I heard you.”

You make your way to the kitchen with Sukuna in tow. He feels guilty. You know that he does because his actions say a lot. The fact that he’s being so persistent, the fact that he’s following you shows that he’s willing to make up for his mistake.

You’re just not ready to forgive him. It’s not just his words; it’s the fact that he doesn’t trust you enough to know what’s best for Yuji.

“You’re still mad.”

“Because I have every right to be.”

He’s quiet after that and you relish the silence for a moment as you head to the dish rack where only a handful of dishes that you’d washed earlier rests. Sukuna is supposed to pack them away, but you’re looking for anything to do right now.

Anything to keep you busy.

“I’m supposed to do those—leave the dishes, woman.”

You don’t say anything, you don’t even stop your movements. You grab a hand towel and a plate, keeping your back turned to Sukuna who only glares daggers into the back of your head.

You’re far too stubborn, far too hard-headed for your own good, Sukuna thinks.

“I said—” Sukuna’s legs eat the distance between you and before you know it, his arms rest on either side of your form while he keeps you caged against the counter. “Leave it.”

You set the plate that you’d been holding down, but you still don’t say a word. You stare at the countertop in front of you while Sukuna breathes down your neck, undoubtedly breathing you in.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Acting like an apology is going to fix what you said.”

Sukuna grumbles under his breath and despite him being so close, you don’t quite catch what he says. You don’t care though. Your gaze is fixated on a knife in the dish rack and you’re far too distracted by the urge to grab it.

“If an apology isn’t going to do anything, then what—"

You grab the handle of a downturned knife before manoeuvring yourself so that you can turn and face Sukuna. You haven’t subjected yourself to the mafia life again, you haven’t trained or refined your abilities, so your movements are a little slower, sloppier, but quick enough to cut Sukuna off as you bring the knife to his neck.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even stop you even though he’s fully capable of doing so. He merely regards you with what you make out to be bored amusement.

You hold the blade right against the sensitive flesh of his neck and you notice his Adam’s apple bob. It’s not nerves, no. You know Sukuna well enough to know that he doesn’t give in to such trivial emotions as he so calls it.

“Put the knife down before you hurt yourself.”

You ignore him. Although you’re a little rusty, you’re quite skilled at handling a knife and Sukuna knows that.

“You know…” Your voice comes out soft, controlled. “Had this been anyone else, you’d have grabbed the knife and slit their throat in three seconds flat.”

Sukuna makes a sound. Perhaps a growl, perhaps a grunt or maybe even a mixture of both.

“You’re my wife.”

Your gaze snaps to his and the intensity of his gaze has your heart and stomach doing funny things. As much as he is insufferable, as much as he gets on your last nerve, he’s still your husband—the man that you’d fallen for despite everything.

“I trust you.”

The words slip from his lips before Sukuna even realizes it, but even when he does register what he’s said, he doesn’t try to cover it up. You hum, holding the very tip of the knife to Sukuna’s pulse point, but you don’t press down. The contact is light, nothing that’d actually cut his skin.

“So you trust me with your life.”

It’s a statement. One that you know that you can make with unparalleled confidence.

“Yes.”

You stay quiet for a moment, but the silence that encompasses the kitchen is short-lived.

“So why can’t you trust me with Yuji’s life?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, undoubtedly pondering your words. You see the gears moving in his head, you see the way his brows furrow in concentration as he works on a response.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Sukuna huffs but still makes no move to push the blade away from his throat.

He's giving you the power, allowing you to make whatever call you deem necessary and it’s clear that he does in fact, trust you.

“Aside from wanting him to inherit the business,” Sukuna pauses, like he’s not sure if his next words are a curse or not. “I just don’t want the brat to be weak.”

That makes sense.

“And you think exposing him to your world once in a while will toughen him up? Desensitize him?”

“Mhm.”

You flatten the blade and drag it lower, allowing the smooth surface of the knife to drag along Sukuna’s flesh until it reaches the collar of his shirt.

“Yuji deserves to have a childhood devoid of problems that concern adults. He’s a child who should enjoy the world the way a child should.”

Sukuna is still looking at you like he’s seeing something that you’re not. Though hidden under a small frown, his eyes are soft. If you were anyone else, you’d miss it.

“I resent my parents for trying to force a life that I didn’t want on me, and I know that you do too. Our most vulnerable years were stolen from us.”

You inhale, breathing Sukuna in. You don’t mean to; it’s a force of habit.

“And I know that you may act like he gets on your last nerve, but I know that you won’t ever survive if Yuji is to grow up and resent you because you stole a part of his life that he couldn’t even fight for.”

Sukuna’s jaw ticks. He knows that you’re right. You know that he knows that you’re right.

“Yuji is far from weak and I have faith that he’ll grow up to be far stronger than you give him credit for—you share the same bloodline after all.”

That seems to stir something within your husband. Though, he doesn’t admit that you’re right, not blatantly that is.

“You talk a lot.”

He has his own way of expressing that your words hold truth and meaning.

You hum, pulling the blade away from Sukuna’s neck as your grip grows slack. Having kept your arm up for so long made it numb.

“And you don’t like it because whenever I do I’m always right—I know.”

Sukuna lifts a hand to grip your wrist before he uses his free one to pry the knife from your hand while keeping his movements gentle. Despite his size, despite his never-ending craving for chaos and bloodshed, Sukuna always moves with purpose and careful precision. The knife clatters on the counter behind you, but neither of you tear your gazes from each other.

Your eyes trail over Sukuna’s scar, over the crinkled skin and his eye that no longer has the ability to see. When he works, he’d often wear an eye patch and many people consider his inability to see with both eyes a weakness, many look down on him thinking that being blind in one eye is a disability.

It's far from that. Sukuna is many things but weak or disabled isn’t any one of them.

“You’re staring.” His voice is rough. Rough, but as soothing as ever.

“Not staring, simply admiring.”

Sukuna scoffs before standing tall and his large hands find purchase on your waist before he presses forward, leaning against you. You feel him—all of him and you don’t doubt that having had held a knife to Sukuna’s throat got him a little too excited.

“That’s my job.”

“What, to admire? Stop being so ridiculous.”

Sukuna’s grip tightens on your waist, but it’s not enough to hurt you. His eyes snap down to your stomach and unconsciously, he grazes it before cupping it like he’s expecting to feel something there. You shift, feeling heat rise from your nape.

“I’m not pregnant, Sukuna.”

“Let me change that.”

You suck in a breath, eyes fluttering as you register his words. You haven’t really breached the topic of growing your family with the dangers that lurk around every corner but hearing that he wants a family of his own, even if it’s in Sukuna’s own way, has warmth stirring within you.

“You do a great job at looking after a brat that isn’t even yours,” Sukuna murmurs, still staring absentmindedly at your stomach. “I can only imagine how good of a mother you’d be to a brat of our own.”

You narrow your gaze. Despite the giddy feeling that blossoms in your gut, you see right through your husband.

“You just want a new successor now that Yuji is off the table.”

Sukuna’s lips tug at the corners before they curve up.

“You see right through me.”

He’s being playful, you hear it in his tone.

“Sukuna, this is serious.”

Sukuna grunts before lowering his head so that his lips can find the exposed flesh of your neck. His kisses are soft and urgent as he litters them from your neck to your jaw, but you don’t give him time to reach your mouth.

You huff, lips curving up as you push at Sukuna’s face, using your strength to angle his head away and you hear him make a sound of disapproval, but he doesn’t fight you.

You take the opportunity to turn around and see to the dishes once again, the ones that you didn’t get to dry, but you don’t get very far with that before your husband is pressing against you from behind.

“Still mad?”

His cock slips between your asscheeks and you stop yourself from pushing back on instinct.

“Maybe.”

“How about I apologise to you properly then?”

“You can’t settle this with sex.”

Sukuna tugs on the hem of your t-shirt and you swat his hand immediately, but he only rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ll make it good. I promise.”

“No.”

“Tch, you say no now but by the time we get to bed you’ll be all over me.”

You huff, angling your head away from Sukuna.

“Who said that we’ll be sleeping in the same bed tonight?”

© nyxiedreams 2026 ⋆ All rights reserved ⋆

A/N: The Yuji part lowkey came from the time my little cousin was dropped at my place and she had the AUDACITY to come into my home and draw weird evil monster shit at her young, young age 🤨

you looked like an angel fallen from heaven. your bangs framed your face perfectly, your eyes scrunched and glowing with happiness from the sunny smile of yours. the way your hand clutches at the strap of your backpack that’s hanging off one shoulder. its almost as if the world had slowed down for your sake and time has stopped just so he can gaze into you.

so much so to the point where he doesn't even register gojo's annoying voice talking to him, “what the fuck, sukuna? are you even listening?” he complains, “dude! snap out of it!”

“huh, what? oh yeah” he replies not even paying attention to what he was saying. “you werent even listening!” satoru groans. “hey, do you know who she is?” he nods his head in your direction. “oh, yeah. that’s toji’s girl.”

what.

that angel fallen from heaven is dating that bum ass toji?

“yeah, i know. it’s hard to believe, she’s not even his type!” fuck, did he say that out loud?

class time comes around, and like clockwork, sukuna is sitting at the back. he rests his chin on the palm of his hand, bored as hell.

until his eyes fall on certain someone: you. sitting at the front of the class. of course you’re smart. of course you’re both beauty and brains. sukuna believes that this is a sign from the universe. a sign for him to shoot his shot. who cares that you’re dating toji? he doesn’t deserve you anyways.

he’s counting down the minutes for class to end so he can approach you. albeit, class seems to be going slower than usual.

after a gruelling 45 minutes, the professor declares that class is dismissed. finally. sukuna quickly gathers his stuff and rushes over to you.

“hey” he says, attempting to be nonchalant and failing miserably. “i didn’t write my notes down and you seem like a smart girl. do you mind if i like borrow your notes?”

“hi! uhm, sorry. can’t give you my notes,” you mumble, “i need them to study.”

he falters at that. “oh, okay. thanks” he says while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

later at the frat house. he barges in satoru’s room ─ who was cuddling with his boyfriend, suguru. “and she even turned me down kindly!” the pink haired man groans. “the girl is taken, dude. let it go” suguru deadpans.

“i would normally agree. but you know, i swear i saw toji bring in a girl in his bedroom last week” satoru says, “you’re kidding.” sukuna asks. “toru, are you sure? you tend to see things wrong sometimes” suguru turns to satoru. “im a thousand percent sure. you know why?” he continues, “because they fucked like animals that same night.”

“WHAT?!” suguru and sukuna shout in unison. “and when i talked to him about it, he cursed at me and told me to say out of his business.”

suguru and sukuna stare at satoru in disbelief. “yeah, i know.” satoru whines, “literally wishing you the best, dude. even if you fumble her, the least you could do is break them up.” the white haired guy tells sukuna, “she doesn’t deserve him.”

sukuna stayed up all night, staring at the ceiling forming a plan.

what if i carry a pile of books and bump into her deliberately? hm, no. too cliche, plus its extremely unrealistic cause i don’t need all those books. oh, how about i go to the campus café she always goes to? ..no, its creepy as hell.

he groans, dragging his hand along his face. this isnt working out.

come next day, sukuna is running on 2hrs of sleep and 2 cans of redbull actively drinking the third. he walks in class in alongside choso. “hey, why does everyone seem so....frantic?” he asks choso, his pierced brow knitting together in confusion. “dunno, think the professor was gonna announce something.” the guy in question answers.

sukuna settles down in his usual spot next to satoru and suguru. they exchange greetings and chat for a bit until the professor walks in. “okay, everyone.” he declares and that seems to quite the class down. “you’re going to have a group project” he resumes, “it’ll be due in 3 weeks.” he walks around the lecture hall holding a paper, “the pairs will be as following: naoya and satoru,” satoru cuts him off, “oh, what?! are you serious?” he huffs in disbelief. the professor clears his throat, “toji and suguru, nanami and choso” he lists off the rest of the names until he reaches the end. “and finally, sukuna and y/n”

sukuna’s ear perks up. did he hear that right? he turns to his friends who are also shocked. “dude.” satoru tells him, “this is it. this is your one shot. dont you dare fuck this up” he grips sukuna by the shoulders and shakes him. “im gonna do my best, cross your fingers for me.”

he gathers his stuff and shoves them in his backpack. sukuna tries to stay calm and nonchalant about it but he can’t. “hey,” he rasps out nervously, heat creeping up on the back of his neck. “you must be my partner, right?” he asks. “yeah, i am!” you answer brightly.

he is so doomed. “cool, can i have your number?” he stammers, “t-to talk about the project, o-of course!!”

what the fuck was that??!!!

you giggle brightly, “sure!” a weird warmth spread all over his body hearing you giggle. you scramble your number on a paper and hand it to him, “here, i’ll wait for your text” you grin at him. “uh, yeah. yeah okay.”

sukuna felt like he wanted to tap the soles of his feet together like some middle aged man who runs a mediocre burger shop that costs 30 bucks. yeah, that’s how happy he is.

he went back to the frat house and plopped down on his bed and text you.

[sukuna]: hey, it’s sukuna

[y/n]: omg sukuna

[y/n]: hi!! (^^)

[sukuna]: alright, so where do you wanna meet for the project?

[y/n]: i’ll see at the campus library at 4pm

[sukuna]: alright cool

[sukuna]: i’ll see you then

[y/n]: can’t wait<3

sukuna felt himself blushing at your texts to the point where he turns on his stomach and kicks his feet in the air while giggling like a schoolgirl.

he has never felt this way considering that all his relationships with women were just quick fucks, someone to share pristine white sheets with. it was all so new to him. he tried not to get ahead of himself keeping in my mind that you’re toji’s girlfriend because toji was one of his closest friends after all.

meeting time came around. sukuna was rushing down the stairs wearing a led zeppelin tshirt with baggy pants seemed to clash with the same time toji came back from the gym. they bumped shoulders, “hey, watch where the fuck you’re going.” toji grits out, his scarred lips twitch in scowl. sukuna doesn’t bother replying, just grunts and continues walking.

he manages to reach campus exactly 2 minutes before the initial meeting time but much to his dismay, you were already there.

couldn't you get anymore perfect??!!!

“hey gorgeous,” he greets you. “hope i didn’t keep you waiting for long,” he grins nervously. “no, not at all! i came here early so i can just divide our work.” you clarify while smiling shyly. “you do the research and the poster board and i’ll do the paragraphing and the powerpoint, that sound good?”

“whatever works with you, beautiful” he grins, hoping to charm you. “alright,” you grin back at him.

you both fall into comfortable silence, doing your respective parts. that is until sukuna breaks the silence, “soo” he clears his throat, “you seeing anyone? not that im interested or anything” he stammers. “yeah, i got a boyfriend and i like him. although, it looks really weird when we’re together because he’s... huge.” you answer his question, staring off into space. “who is it?” sukuna asks. “toji fushiguro, do you know him?”

“yeah, i do. we’re in the same frat house,” he states. “oh” you hum. you fall again into silence, but this time its a tad bit awkward. “hey, do you want me to walk you home?” he offers “yeah, sure.”

sukuna mentally celebrates and sees this as a win.

you guys walk together in awkward silence under the stars. until sukuna clears his throat to break the silence, “so... is toji treating you well?”

“uhm, yeah. he’s very nice even though he might not seem like it. just because he falls under the frat boy stereotype that he sleeps with all of girls and all that stuff doesn’t mean it’s true.” you continue, “he said he’d change and he did. it’s really nice to see that he’s committing to us.”

“uh-huh....” sukuna nods reluctantly, trying to believe you. he feels bad with how toji is manipulating such a sweet thing like you. he feels like he should tell you the truth but he feels like you two aren’t close enough.

your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, “well, this is my stop.” you smile softly at him, “thanks for waking me home, sukuna.”

“yeah, you’re welcome.” he nods at you, then bids you good night and starts walking back to his frat house.

after you and him hang out for your projects, you became closer. he knows your coffee order by heart, you know his. you keep each other’s playlists and letterboxd, hell he even comes to your dorm to watch movies together.

it almost feels.... intimate. but that doesn’t mean toji is out of your life. he’s still there, still very much there. you try to initiate a date with him but there’s always a brand new excuse, always cancelling last minute.

“sorry, im going out w the boys tonight”

“cant, i have a really bad hangover from last night”

“got hw to do, baby.”

“feelin sick tdy, maybe next time”

which is funny because he never does his homework and rarely falls sick. so, who’s the second person to ask? sukuna, of course!!!!

[y/n]: hii kuna :PPPPP

[y/n]: are you free today??? im bkred and wanna go out w someone

[y/n]: we need to celebrate getting an A on that project

[sukuna]: hey, cutie

[sukuna]: yk im always down to hang out with you

[sukuna]: what happened to toji tho? i thought you guys were foing on a date today?

[y/n]: he cancelled again (¬_¬")

[sukuna]: oh

[y/n]: yeah....

[sukuna]: where do u wanna go?

[y/n]: let’s go to the park?

[sukuna]: alr, i’ll pick you in 20

[y/n]: yayyyyy!!!! can’t wait to see youuu (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)♡

he felt his heart flutter at the text but also he wanted to build courage to tell you that toji’s playing about you.

he put on a printed shirt and a tempered full sleeve underneath. sukuna walked to your dorm to pick you up.

[sukuna]: hey, im down

[y/n]: okay!!!!!

a couple minutes later, you came downstairs looking all cute in your bootcut pants and peacoat.

“hi,” you say shyly. “hey,” sukuna says back “why so shy? it’s just me, doll.”

you smile at that. you both walk to a café to get something to drink, you got an iced matcha and he got an iced latte. you sit down at a bench in the park.

“hey, i gotta tell you something about toji” sukuna says fiddling with his drink. “whats wrong?” you say, concerned. you try the growing anxiety in your stomach from whatever words are about to fall from the mouth of the guy sitting next to you.

“toji is not serious about you,” he finally confesses. “everytime he cancels a date, he was lying.” sukuna continues, “he was spittin out any half assed excuse just so he can bring a girl to screw on his bed. he doesn’t deserve such an angel like you, you deserve better than someone like him.”

you feel the tears well up in your eyes and try your best to hold them back but he notices, he always notices. he quietly puts his drink down and gives you a hug.

after everything is over, instead of going up to your dorm and crying yourself to sleep, you go to the frat house with sukuna to confront toji.

gojo and geto were sitting on the couch playing F1 24 when you guys walk in together. “yo, where’s toji at?” sukuna asks the couple on the couch. “upstairs i think, i dunno” choso replies because the couple in question are too locked in.

“alright, thanks. go get him, doll.” sukuna nods at the door and smiles from ear to ear at you. you smile back at him and head to toji’s room.

you stand in front his door and knock. “coming,” a raspy voice comes from behind the door and you tense up but only a little bit. “oh, hey baby.” toji smirks at you.

“we need to talk,” you say sternly. toji straightens up, “never thought i’d see shy little y/n so serious.”

you glare at him. “i was just tryna lighten up the mood, princess. come on in.” he attemps to defend himself.

you walk into his room and he closes the door.

choso looks at his older brother and goes, “do you think she’ll be okay?” sukuna looks at him and shrugs, “yeah, she’ll be fine.”

a good 45 minutes of muffled shouting and yelling go by until you’re coming out of the room tearful. sukuna just quietly opens his arms and you fall straight into his chest and wrap your arms around his middle, crying.

“i’m so proud of you, angel.” he says, hugging you back.

satoru, suguru and choso look at each other and look back at the delightful sight in front them.

a good three months pass, you’re over toji. well, you’ve been over toji since like a week after you dumped him.

a certain guy with pink hair approaches you and kisses your forehead “hi angel,” he says into your forehead. “hi,” you smile at him.

sukuna’s and your friends ─ shoko, yuki and utahime─ are standing dumbfounded.

“when did this happen?” satoru gestures dramatically to the sight in front of him. “last month,” you reply still smiling with sukuna’s arm around your shoulder.

“we were planning to tell you, just so you know” sukuna adds.

“when??!?!?! when you guys get married??!?!?” satoru yells, “i think its too early for that, baby.” suguru hold his boyfriend back.

you all laugh.

so, yeah sukuna still doesn’t believe in love but this time because he’s got all the love he needs standing next to him, smiling.

Ignoring the fact that you make up for it most months, it is all the more annoying to see him lounging around as soon as you get home. Especially when the house feels like what you imagine the inside of hell's darkest ass crack to be. Too much movement would surely result in one of you passing out from overheated exhaustion.

It's with great urgency that you strip yourself of your things, purposefully making an unnecessary amount of noise as you toss your keys onto the nearby counter. The sound seems to pull Toji's attention away from the TV ahead of him, earning a lazy turn of his head as he glances back to you.

He can't even get a full greeting out before you scoff.

"Toji," His shoulders slump in instant reaction to the sound of scolding in your voice. It's way too fucking hot for you to start an argument with him now. "You've been home all day and you still haven't fixed anything."

He grunts from across the way, turns his attention back to the TV, and then rolls his eyes, "Can't work in the heat, doll."

"You wouldn't have to if you fixed it as soon as I said something months ago." You throw back at him, pulling your body through hot air just to get to your fridge.

You wanted to be disappointed to see that there's no water in the freezer nor fridge, really. But when you look back over to where Toji's been sitting on his ass all dat—spotting more empty water bottles than you can count—you find an expected wave of disappointment slither into you.

"Said sorry for that already, didn't I?" He asks, the lack of true care in his voice doing nothing to ease your irritation with him.

At this rate, you'd be sending out offers for a new roommate by tomorrow morning.

The freezer is opened back up for a moment, your hand diving in to try and get some sort of cooled relief, even if only for a second. Unfortunately for you, that seems to be yet another thing in your apartment in need of fixing.

You let the freezer door slam and your forehead follows after it as you rest yourself against its outside. Sighing, "Sorry doesn't fix anything, Toji."

You couldn't see it but he was smiling at that. The only reason he's lasted this long in this apartment with you is because he doesn't mind your nagging too much—it keeps him on his toes most times. But after not listening to you for months, he wonders if he'll actually get in trouble with you this time around.

When he turns to get another look at you, he's met with the sight of your back as you make way towards the bathroom. Toji figured you're off to shower in hopes of cooling yourself off in the process.

Unfortunately for you, the building you live in has the opposite issue most complexes do and instead of running out of hot water, your place has an issue producing cold water. This wouldn't be so bad if the person who showered before you was conscious of how much he used.

But when annoyingly mild tempered water hits your fingers, you're left knowing exactly who to blame. Again.

He may enjoy living with you because he doesn't mind hearing you cold him, however you are slowly starting to dread sharing this apartment with him more and more as each day lugs on.

——

After a warm shower, you tuck yourself off into your bedroom only to find that it is undoubtedly the hottest room thus far. You try to ignore it as you pull on some shorts and a t-shirt that won't have you drenched in sweat come next morning but naturally it's difficult to do so once you lay yourself down.

You toss and turn against your sheets—comforter practically tossed to the floor, and body already beginning to perspire in a thin layer of sweat—until you manage to doze off for a solid ten minutes. Apparently that was all it took for your body to decide that sleeping under this heat was going to be impossible.

Which is how you end up out in the living room. Toji wasn't occupying the couch anymore so you tried to sleep there, figuring that if he could spend the whole day in one spot, you could spend a night sleeping there and it would provide you just the slightest bit of coolness in comparison to what you bedroom had given you.

Yet, every slight shift in your movement somehow made you impossibly hotter. The couch cushions did nothing but toast your skin and the humidity in the air led you into peeling yourself right off of the furniture and trudging towards the last known resort.

Toji's bedroom.

Now, you're no stranger to your roommate being quite the pervert—which is why you avoid his bedroom at all costs—but sometime back during the winter season, you do recall a few weeks were your apartment's heating system gave out and it was established then that Toji's bedroom had been the chilliest. He ended up sleeping in your room for some nights because of that, cuddling up against you in the name of sharing body heat.

So now that it's summertime, you're standing outside of his door hoping that something similar still applies to the temperature of his room. Your room is obviously the hottest, the living room and main area of the apartment barely fairs any better, and all that leaves his room to be hopefully a few degrees lighter than everywhere else.

You push his room door open sluggishly, nearly doused in sweat from head to toe as you trudge towards his bed and smack at his foot while you walk by. "You up?" your voice cuts through the air carelessly, earning a low grunt from the man sprawled out across his mattress. "Cool, move over."

That seems to wake Toji right up. His eyes peel open and he lets out a huff heavy enough to add to the heat occupying the rest of the apartment, but neither of you have the energy to say anything about it. "Why're you in here?" he asks as he scoots his large body over to give you some room.

For a short moment—and a short moment only—Toji wonders if the heat has finally made you come to your senses where he's concerned. He hoped that maybe a wet dream involving him brought you into his bedroom.

The weight of your body makes the bed dip in a bit as you shuffle onto his sheets right beside him, instantly melting into the faint frigidity it provides, and letting out a short sigh. "It's cooler in your room, so I'm sleeping in here tonight. You better get that shit fixed tomorrow."

Toji looks over and feels the excitement he had to share a bed with you rapidly die inside him as he's met with the sight of your back facing him. This wasn't the worst scenario possible, but he was really wishing for something more interesting to have led you into this position next to him.

He doesn't say anything in response to you with his mouth and decides on letting his eyes speak for him with the way they slide down your body. The shirt you have on was hugging your torso due to how much you'd been sweating, glued to every slight curve and dip of your frame, and leaving him unable to look away quickly enough.

It didn't take a genius to see that you were at ease beside him rather quickly. Toji is suddenly very appreciative for the slightly chiller conditioning of his bedroom. Technically it's still hot—as too much movement could quickly result in exhaustion just as it would in any other area of the apartment—but with you laying beside him in shorts small enough to drive him insane, he figures it's all worth it.

Meanwhile, you don't have to be facing Toji to know his eyes are on you. You could practically feel the way his gaze crawled over you, eventually settling onto the scarce fabric of your shorts that did little to conceal the entirety of your ass. There's a sudden and prominent urge to adjust the way your clothes are sitting on you, and Toji watches as you slowly move a hand to tug your shorts down an inch.

The scar at the corner of his lips shifts as his mouth twitches and he fights off a smirk.

He would never touch you without your permission or anything like that, but he was aware that you knew the real effects you had on him. Even laying beside him was enough to make his hips shift against the bed.

There was only so much space between your body and his, and his mattress wasn't the largest thing in the world so most movement was easily acknowledgeable. Even so, you decided to ignore it as best as you could.

Even though you could tell his hand had lifted from his side and moved somewhere towards his legs. Your eyes squeezed shut and you hoped silently that Toji wouldn't do what you figured he was about to.

Surely it was too hot for that.

Right?

At first he wasn't going to do anything. It started off as his fingers going off to pinch and tug at the fabric of his gym shorts, giving the steadily rising erection in between his legs some space to breathe. Then he told himself he wouldn't give it any attention and try to sleep it away.

Toji was on the same page as you in the beginning, he really was. Jerking off with you trying to sleep beside him was way too hot of an activity under all this warmth.

And yet, he's palming at his dick within the next twenty minutes. You drifted off just enough for him to be able to move without you noticing, and while he didn't touch you, he did lean over to glance over your shoulder to make sure you were fast asleep before his hand had wrapped around the bulge that'd formed against his shorts.

You'd shift around in your sleep a little and he'd twitch against his hand, watching the way your hip looks adjusting against the bed. Oh, the things he'd give to perch his hand there instead, turning his body over to cup yours and rubbing the outline of his hard cock up against the natural curve of your ass instead of his palm like some loser.

The thought alone brought his bottom lip up in between his teeth. Then he was moving his hands beneath his shorts and letting out a quiet breath of air. He didn't intend to jerk off like this. Seriously.

When his hand first makes contact with his dick, he shudders. Toji's tugged at his cock in thought of you over the years more times than he could count, but somehow this was different. He'd never done it next to you like this, where leaning over a couple inches brought your scent into his nose and the natural warmth of your body closer to intertwine with his.

Even back when he'd shared a bed with you during the winter he managed to control himself each night and refused to stroke himself. Well, right next to you, at least. He most definitely got off like a whore the very second you were gone.

Toji ends up spitting into the palm of his hand as quietly as he can manage before he pulls his cock free and rubs at the head whilst staring at your body. You seemed so upset with him earlier, sending those slight jabs his way. He's sure if it was a bit cooler, you would've cursed him clean out like you normally do.

But just the thought of the few comments you'd made thus far is enough to have him leaking into his hand as he finally wraps his fingers around his thick shaft and jerks off. The sounds of his actions are a bit loud, schlick after schlick after sopping schliiick. Technically you should've woken up, but the fact that you didn't made him all the more horny.

He knows you'd get annoyed if you caught him like this—the fact that he can't even handle you sleeping in his bed is definitely enough to piss you off.

Little did he know, you were pretending to sleep the entire time. You were in and out of your slumber, sure, but you certainly weren't able to get a full night's rest when the sound of your roommate touching his wet cock next to you was loud enough to drive any woman insane. There was an image of it somewhere in your head, courtesy of accidentally walking in on him in the bathroom a couple times in the past, so it was a little difficult to sleep with those thoughts combined with his strokes all in one hot night.

Not to mention the way he was panting behind you with not one care in the world for how noisy he was. Hell, some of his breaths managed to slither towards the back of your neck.

You made the mistake of adjusting yourself again and accidentally pushed back towards him, your ass nearly making contact with the side of his body. Toji had to grip at the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming just then, his next breath choking its way out of him before he could help it, and his other hand moving to pull his shirt up.

He went to bite down on the fabric to hopefully help with the sounds threatening to spill from his lips but it didn't help much.

The man resumed with his strokes and it wasn't long before you felt something land on your butt in thick spurts.

Despite the fact that you already had your eyes closed, they squeezed shut a little harder as you fought the urge to flinch. You hoped desperately that what you just felt wasn't what you thought it was. There was no way Toji managed to cum on your ass while you were "sleeping", right?

You figure that right then is as good a moment as any to stop pretending to be asleep and let yourself yawn—giving him a sign that you've stirred awake. Toji's body tenses up almost immediately, his eyes widening a fraction as he realizes what exactly he just did. He gulps, frantically looking around the bed to see what he can use as an excuse for the white mess currently drooling down the side of your ass.

Fairly enough, he has half a mind to snap a picture before you turn over. Just so he can have something to remember this by, y'know?

He doesn't though, considering how he moves to tuck his dick back into his shorts and clears his throat.

After which he moves to prop himself up on one of his elbows, and you feel something brushing against your butt. You can't help the way your eyes broaden.

Then you peek back at him from over your shoulder, and your gazes meet for a breif moment. There's not an ounce of guilt on his face and he only holds the eye contact with you for a few seconds before he looks back down to focus on what he's doing.

You follow along with the redirection and angle yourself back just enough to catch sight of what exactly is brushing against you. You see a cloth in his hand and watch silently for a few seconds as he wipes you clean.

Somewhere in your mind, you wondered if he was going to casually explain that he just came on you and then try to go to sleep like it was no big deal.

To your surprise, neither of those things happen.

The next bit of eye contact that's exchanged between the two of you is awkward. He's still wiping and you're just starring at him as try to figure out what you're supposed to say to him. What exactly was the proper way to react in this situation?

You're too hot to argue, too tired to be disgusted, and fainly aroused since you've always had a mutual attraction for the man that you've been trying to ignore for as long as you've been living with him.

“Sorry,” Toji’s the first to break the ice. “Had this in the bed,” he moves his other hand up and within it is a convienent bottle of lotion. Part of you wanted to laugh at him because of course he has enough junk in his bed to use as a cover up for what he'd really just spilt on you. "Saw some of it got on ya'," he finishes off with a half-apologetic grin on his lips.

You obviously knew that wasn't true since you heard every little detail of what he'd been doing—from spitting into his hand, to thoughtlessly huffing out your name under his breath. Toji wasn't fooling anyone here, but you'd let it slide for now.

“Might wanna change out of these,” he suggests in reference to your shorts, tapping at your butt once he's done wiping you off, “I could lend you somethin’, or—“

“No, it’s fine.” is all you say before you turn your head away.

With no warning, Toji ends up watching how you slide your hands down and swiftly remove your shorts—tossing them off the bed and then laying yourself back down as if to sleep.

He blinks.

Then his eyes unfortunately find themself on your panties because surely you were doing this on purpose now. Coming into his room this late because of the heat, sleeping next to him and nearly rubbing your ass against his body, and now clad in nothing more than a thin shirt and even thinner panties?

If he squinted hard enough at the right angle, he swears he'd catch sight of your pussy.

You heard him scoff behind you, then the weight in the bed shifts around as he decides to pay no mind to your attire this time. He already got off, so naturally there should be no need to go again.

…Even if you're clearly testing his patience.

——

Minutes fly by. Neither of you get a wink of rest.

You're starring blankly at the wall in front of you and Toji's left blindly looking up at the ceiling. Both of you tried to go to sleep, honestly.

But Toji kept adjusting his legs to stop the constant twitching of his cock and you repeatedly rubbed your legs together as if to lightly soothe the ache that'd came about after that whole fiasco of his seed ending up on you.

At this point the only thing occupying Toji's bedroom were two idiots in heat. Whether or not that meant heat in the literal sense or in the physical sense was beyond understanding to either of you.

After thirty minutes of you two staring into space and waiting on the other person to make a move, both of you manage to get some rest.

Though, it doesn't take much longer for you guys to realize that this was the worst possible outcome. Somewhere in your sleeping, your bodies naturally find one another. You'd think that under the hot air some distance would be created, but it seems as though you both had unintentionally different plans.

The next time you wake up, it's to the steady sound of something thumping against your ear. When your eyes flutter open, you're met with a naked chest and the feeling of something weighty wrapped around you.

The weight in question seems to be Toji's arm and the thumping you hear is coming from his beating heart. You lift your head a little to look up at his face and he's already giving you a half-lidded, groggy stare.

“It’s hot as shit in here ‘n you decide to lay on me? You’re tryin’ to kill me.” He mumbles, the very vibration of his deep voice involuntarily causing you to shift against him.

Both of your limbs are already tangled with one another, so the next movement of your body wakes you up fully as your clit presses somewhere up against his thigh.

You try to nudge at him playfully to distract yourself from the sensation that invoked, “No one’s trying to kill you, Toji. Hush.”

None the wiser, your roommate tries lifting his legs to move over a bit and accidentally grinds the firm muscle you'd already been pressed against, into you. You turn your face away just in time to hide the expression that tugs out of you, but fail to swallow down the sound that follows.

“Mmnh,” The sound floats out of you before you can control it.

Then Toji's brows scrunch up—as if he has any room (literally) to be confused, “Fuck was that?”

Your head shakes, “Nothing.”

That singular word flips some type of switch in his head, resulting in that same leg lifting up a few inches in between yours, and simultaneously pushing your body further up against his whilst rubbing between the dampened fabric concealing your core. Your jaw falls open helplessly this time and Toji eyes the way your hand flies down to his chest as if to grab at it.

Technically you were trying to brace yourself, but the breathy bit of air you release along with all the movement makes him cock a brow.

“You sweatin’ down here?” Toji asks bluntly, now dragging his leg back down just to cop a bit of a better feel than the first time.

It would be obvious to anyone with eyes that neither of you were in your right mind at the moment. He was openly teasing you and you weren't shutting it down like you normally do. Perhaps it was the heat or the lack of proper rest under it—but either way—the two of you were clearly falling victim to the same sensations.

Your lashes flutter again and you hunch forward towards him a bit, “That’s not-," his leg adjusts again, the bulky muscle in his thigh flexing, "Toji.”

“What? That’s not what?” He grabs at your chin and tugs your face up to look at him properly, “Talk to me, doll. Tell me what that is I’m feelin’.”

The forced eye contact makes you throb. You suppose right then that the heat had finally gotten to you. Otherwise you wouldn't be feeling the way you do at the moment.

Right?

Your body adjust against him slightly and you fight the urge to let your eyes fall back as pleasure jolts throughout your body from the feel of your clit catching the firm build of his leg. “It’s not sweat, Toji.” You admit honestly.

There's a singular beat of silence that passes, filled only with your hardly discreet way of grinding against his leg, and him aiding you through every faint gyration.

“Mh.” His hum rumbles lowly, “So, you’re horny.”

You drop your face down into his chest out of embarrassment and you playfully smack at him, “Don’t say it like that!”

“Say it like what? It’s true." Toji cocks his head over and watches how your body is betraying your embarrassment. Then he finds himself smirking all over again as he his face back toward you, lips angling to your ear, "Your pussy’s droolin’ all against my thigh right now—should I have said it like that instead?”

You almost moan, “N-No."

“Hah.” Now he's smirking in full force, hands having gone to your sides just to feel your body twitching as they slide lower and lower, “Go ahead ‘n move your hips—rub one out against me, baby.”

There's a groan that snakes out of your throat in response before your hand curls into a frustrated ball against the planes of his abs, “Don’t call me that.”

Toji's hands grip at your hips and his voice seductively caresses itself throughout your eardrums, “Want me to do it for you?" Your head shakes in response to his question and he tuts, "Alright then rub that pussy against me, lemme feel her real good.”

And what more permission did you need?

You pluck your body away from being sandwiched to his, sitting up at some half-angle and let your hips buck forward just once. Toji smiles and wastes not one second in dragging his clammy palm around to properly grope at the fat of your ass.

“Mhm,” he hums encouragingly, to which you let off an airy sound that has his cock aching for attention all over again. “There you go. Keep making yourself feel good, pretty girl.”

“Toji," his name leaves you in something just short of a moan, and it's overtly apparent now that both of you are overcome with a mutual neediness.

His hand squeezes at your ass with each rock 'n shy rut of your hips—guiding you with your steady grinding over his thigh. Then you feel your clit roll at a rather juicy angle, quickly resulting in your upper half flopping back down against Toji.

He feels a hot pant fan out across his chest and he has to bite at his lip again to stop himself from making all kinds of noises. This was everything he'd fantasied about and more if he was being completely honest.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” Toji compliments with a greedy tug of your body, weeping a webby lather of precum from the slit of his cock in reaction to having your tits pressed against his naked skin—your perked nipples rubbing against him in a fashion near to the way your clit traveled his thigh beyond your panties. “My dick’s gonna start hurtin’ if I don’t do something. Can’t keep watching you like this.”

You're the one holding back responses now, instead answering him with a sudden kiss against his left pec. Toji's lips separate and he breathes out something soft once your hand slips down to the waistband of his shabby shorts.

“Can I?” You whisper against his skin, lips smearing.

Toji looks at you like you just asked him the dumbest question in the world. Then he scoffs, “Go ahead.“

You waste no time in dipping your hand beneath the dark fabric to haul his cock free. In your hand is a weight nothing could've prepared you for.

Toji's got a freakishly heavy cock, to say the least. It's massive within your fingers and when you look down at it, you almost moan from the sight alone.

Even though his room was rather dark, there was enough moonlight spilling in from the distant window to have the cum gathered around his plump head glistening. Your thumb pushed up and slipped right against that pretty slit of his, earning a sharp crack in his breathing.

Toji feels your the pad of your thumb applying pressure before he groans. Then you stroke downwards towards his base, feeling the dark, sweaty hairs of surrounding it tickle your skin.

“Shit," You mutter.

He—annoyingly—starts smirking at you again, “Big, ain’t it?”

Your eyes roll, then you turn your head back up to look at him, “Shut up.”

The next few minutes consist of you jerking him off whilst you continue grinding against his leg. Toji mutters filth under his breath that you're too horny to hear, and both of you are now sweating against one another for entirely different reasons.

Toji expects this act to be the very peak of his expectations, but amid your perfected strokes—because fuck if your hand isn't the best thing he's felt around his dick in weeks—your mouth meets his chest again, and he's quickly caught off guard by the way your lips wrap around one of his nipples. Your tongue swirls aimlessly, tugging the bud further past your lips whilst indulging in two other fruitless acts of pleasure simultaneously.

For a while you were convinced that Toji's laziness translated in the bed as well since he damn sure wasn't doing much aside from letting you rub all over him in every available aspect.

That was until he felt your breaths coming in shorter and your hand gripping at his cock a bit tighter to brace yourself for something. It was rather adorable how quickly you tensed up against him as your orgasm approached. All he could do was sit there and swallow down his groans as you gripped his cock and moaned against his nipple, clit throbbing at his thigh and cunt leaking your panties into a soaking mess.

The moment your body starts to convulse and he realizes you're cumming, his hand slides under your panties and he palms the bare skin of your ass before applying a hefty bit of pressure—weighing your body harder down against his thigh so you have no room to run from the orgasm that crashes over you.

Feeling you cum against his leg is easily one of the best feelings in the world in his opinion. He would have the air conditioning broken for months if this would be the result every night.

Not that he tells you this, of course.

As you're panting and trying to steady your breathing, Toji finally decides to stop being lazy and causes your hand to fall away from his length as he suddenly shifts about to push you over.

You land on your back and gasp, blinking rapidly before he's positioning himself above you—cock dangling nastily and sloppily kissing against the skin of your naked thigh. Toji's big arms bracket the sides of you body and you stare up at him innocently, as if you didn't just rub one out on his thigh and leech onto him throughout the entire ordeal.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

“You want me to fuck you, right?” Toji hums, abruptly hooking an arm under one of your knees and lifting your leg up. Then he's doing the same to your other leg and your breath is tangling around somewhere in your lungs. You're barely given a proper moment to process what's going in before he's dipping down in between your clammy legs as if it's second nature, "Gotta make you cum for me first."

"But I just—"

"Nah," Toji's smiles once he's got a face full of your pussy in front of him—your flimsy panties the only thing between his starving mouth and what was about to serve as a refreshment for him, "Not like that. On my tongue."

That's the only warning he gives you before diving in.

It should've been too hot for half of the things you two had done so far and yet here you were anyway—letting him grind the entirety of his mouth against the gorgeously swollen mound of your pussy, his teeth baring out to tug your panties over to the side so he could properly suction his lips to you. Your underwear is kept to the side by a singular thumb that he angles over, and his mouth is nothing short of disgusting against you.

In fact, the entire lower half of his face is nasty when met with your pussy. The tip of his nose nuzzles against your frazzled clit, and his lips motion outwardly before he sucks the slick out from in between your folds—tongue coming through to lap at it as if rewarded. When he groans, you feel the sound thunder against the entire lower half of your body.

Toji's busy going to town until you both are a mess of mixed sweat and pleasureful tears. Your hand found his hair somewhere in between his long tongue curving up inside you, and since then you've been grinding upwards against him, practically riding his face whilst he fucked you right back down into the matress with his mouth alone.

The same mattress of which rocked with both of your combined movements. The volume of your moaning and his groaning was surely enough to earn a noise complaint from a nearby neighbor the following morning but obviously neither of you cared.

Between Toji's tongue and the heat that continued to make you sweat into his sheets at a ridiculous rate, your next orgasm comes far heavier than the first one had. So much so that you were squirming all against your roommate, trying to push at his head as if you didn't want to cum—your poor mind scrambled from everything that'd taken place thus far.

It's not until after you spill something weepy into his mouth that he peels his mouth off of you and wipes at his mouth, licking the remnants that smear across his hand immediately after.

Yet even then Toji doesn't give you much time to recover. If anything, he gives you no time to recover whatsoever.

Your eyes are still stinging from prickly tears of pleasure, and as you're blinking them away, you catch sight of him crawling his way back up over you. Next thing you know and his mouth meets yours in a singular, haphazard kiss that consists of a slanted tongue sloppily breaking past your lips and a groan pouring into your opened mouth.

Then his cock slips against your exposed folds, a thumping vein felt mapping the outskirts of your sensitive clit before he angles one hand down to grip his base. Your body latches onto his all over again, arms wrapping around his neck despite the sweat on your skin making the both of you slip 'n slide against one another.

Toji smiles into his next set of smooches, trailing his kisses down to your jaw, and eventually the warm side of your neck before feeling you roll your body upwards—cunt kissing the head of his dick as he slides it downwards in one heavy motion.

“Awh, look at you grindin’ on my tip like that. You want this fat cock inside you, huh?” His voice slathers itself into your skin and it's making you impossibly hotter underneath him, but you couldn't be bothered with it right now. Which is exactly why you nod in response, and he leans up a little to look you in the eyes whilst releasing his length from his grip, “Yeahh? Here, take it then—let me see you put it in.”

No seconds are wasted as you dip your hand down and comfortably wrap your fingers around him, giving him a couple tugs that he can't help but glance down at. Toji eventually obeys your short tugs 'n pulls by letting his body follow the motion until his tip is getting snagged by your goopy entrance—globs of slick sobbing all over his first few pudgy inches.

The very moment he starts sliding into you, you're whining and he's left moaning above you.

“Ohmygodd,” His dick easily stretches you out a bit more than you were expecting it to, the sheer girth of him jerking a gaspy little call of his name out of your lungs, “Toji-, Toji!”

“What, what? What’s wrong?” He pauses rather quickly to ensure he's not hurting you or something, hardly even halfway inside you and staring down at your twisting face with worried eyes.

You’re panting, nails having moved to dig into his arms already, “You’re too fuckin’ big.”

That makes Toji grin before he huffs, “No such thing.” and pulls back to spank your cunt with the weight of his cock a couple times. He only tops to spit at his four fingers before smacking you with his dick again, inching in afterwards and reassuring you with a rather gently murmured, “She can take me.”

Your head shakes but there’s an eager glimmer in your eye whilst you whisper back to him warningly, “Just… go slow.”

“Mmmh, I’ll try,” He tells you before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whispering, “Just for you.”

Then he's nudging his way into you—inch by inch until his chubby balls are left flush against your sweat-glossed skin and his tip is bumping against your hilt.

He looks down and sees his cock bulging against your skin. Then he thumbs at your clit and tutts—popping a pout at how puffy your pussy lips are around his dick already. “Look at that slutty pussy—she knows how to take cock juuuust fine.”

Your walls constrict around him just once and the next thing you know, Toji's rocking himself in 'n out of you perfectly. Your insides seem to mold to the shape of him in a matter of minutes, getting used to his wide size and taking him in deeper as he moves along.

The sounds of sex practically cloud the room, his cock fucking into you faster than you can keep up with and your mushy walls sucking him in farther than he can comprehend. Sweat drips off of his body and onto your and the both of you are an utter mess of one another.

Every now and then he'd lean down to kiss you but the gesture always comes shabbier than the last, lips maligning across one another whilst warm saliva is exchanged and left across both of your faces.

Your hand makes the mistake of moving to his lower abdomen and pushing at his body just a few seconds after he starts fucking you down into the mattress—the bed rocking and shaking beneath your bodies—and Toji seems ticked off for half a second.

Then he nods his chin at your wrist, "Move your fuckin' hand and feel it, feel that dick inside you. Stretchin' you out real good."

He's not entirely sure if it's his words or the way he starts plowing forward even faster, but the slippery squelches one of those invokes from you most certainly is not something he imagines. Then your moans increase in volume and Toji figures he doesn't need a neighbor scolding the two of you for this tomorrow so he brings a hand up to your chin and then props his thumb up to your bottom lip.

“Open up, doll.” He orders plainly, to which you take his finger in without him even having to ask. Toji smiles at the sight, “Atta girllll, now suck on it.”

You do exactly that for him, the action suppressing how loud your moans are for a while until his cock knocks across your cervix and leads you to bite down on his thumb. The sensation is sudden and sharp, which nearly makes Toji's eyes cross for a moment.

Words couldn't describe what that little bit of pain did to him, honestly. All you both know is that within the next few seconds, something creamy is flooding your insides and making you two many degrees hotter than you'd been earlier.

Your brains turn off in sync after that and he's just thrusting mindlessly for another minute or two, as if to make sure he's properly bred you or something. Then his fingers move to the side of your neck and his thumb slides out of your mouth—leaving a thin trail of saliva in its wake—and his entire hand goes off to cradle the back of your head.

You gasp once Toji lifts you up from the bed in one, freakishly strong tug, still humping his dick into you slightly before your mouths collide somewhere in the air. You're hauled all the way up until he's sitting back on his heels and you're appropriately sat on top of him. Both of your arms and hands are everywhere on each other's body, and it feels like something utterly depraved as taken over.

The kisses you share is a slop of tugged lips and sucked tongues, mingled with breathy moans and murmurs of your names until his hands find the underside of your thighs and move to bounce you up and down on his cock.

A whine is punctured directly out of you as you're lifted, gravity aiding Toji in plopping you right back down onto his cum-smothered base. Then his mouth finds one of your tits and he's drooling all over you.

You thought you were unsure of what had gotten into you but apparently Toji was far worse off. It's like the heat of the room was of no concern anymore. The only thing that mattered to him was having your body be thoroughly appreciated by every part of him he had to offer.

He's even mumbling into you while his tongue swirls around your nipple, “So fuckin’ hot it here,” he puffs, “Making me lose my goddamn mind—fuckin’ you like this. Hahhh.”

You're babbling nonsense with your arms wrapped around hims head, “Tojiiii-, aanh! You feel s-so good inside me.”

Which, makes him feel all proud inside for the nth time tonight, “I know I do." His hands grasp at the thick of your hips again and he squeezes your skin just once before moving you vertically around the sticky inches of his length, “Feel good when I bounce you up ‘n down my dick like this too?”

You’re nodding stupidly. Then his hands find your asscheeks and he's groping you the way he's always wanted to.

Plap after plap after plap bounces against the walls and his cum has evenly started to leak down against his balls and drip onto his sheets—which were already a mess to begin with.

Then his head flies back and his hair is sticking to his skin due to sweat, “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum again." He warns, tipping his chin down a moment to meet eyes with you, "You ready for it, doll? Hm? Gonna fuck it into you.”

He earns another dumb nod of your head as you press into him. Whimpering, “Fill me up, Toji. Pleeease?"

The next and final load that he shoots into you comes in uneven bursts, painting your walls in a sluggish fashion before both of your bodies go still against one another. Well, safe for you shuddering as you release right along with him.

You're still hugging his head and he's still got his arms wrapped tightly around you but that only lasts for a few seconds before both of you feel another wave of heat draft over you. Then, for the first time in forever, you're remind of how you ended up in his room to begin with.

Toji lifts his head up to kiss your shoulder, “I uh-, fuck." He snorts into your skin—regretting it directly after since the sweat on both of your skin is beginning to make your bodies feel glued to one another, "I would’ve put on a condom but uhm… s’too hot for that.”

You scoff at him, “Liar, you ran out of condoms three weeks ago.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He mumbles back.

Then he realizes there's no way you'd know that unless you were just as much of a disgusting pervert as he was and had been tracking the number of condoms he had in the same way he'd been tracking how many pairs of panties you'd allowed to go missing over the past month.

Pulling away from your shoulder and blinking, “Wait a damn minute.”

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Rounding the corner, his long legs making no accommodations for your shorter ones, he says, “No. If you wanted better results, you should have put in a better performance. Surely you’re smart enough to work out that that’s how life works.”

Hands grab his arm, yanking back with all your strength only to be dragged along with him and his burly body. Your heels scrape along the floor. People stare. You don’t care. “Don’t be an asshole. You know my essay was good. It was really good. Just give it a read. A proper one, and not the rushed job you do because you’re overworked and underpaid.”

He stops.

Your face bumps into this back, forehead nearly bruised by the hardness. 

His brows rise above his glasses as he fixes you a look. “Kid, your essay was good — decent introduction, clear structure, sufficient evidence — but it’s not good enough for the extra marks to push you into the top band. Your closing argument fell flat ‘cause of your wishy-washy writing style, you didn’t adequately humour the counter arguments and undermine them to strengthen your thesis, and, worst of all, you misspelt ‘complement.’”

A frown graces your features. 

“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”

“No. With an I, it’s to flatter someone. With an E, it’s to enhance, pair well, or complete another thing.” Toji explains rather robotically, eyes still dead and voice monotone. “For example, if I said you’re a pretty girl, that’s a compliment. And if I said, your essay goes well with the trashcan over there, that’s a statement that suggests the two complement each other. See the difference?”

He’s already stalking off again, hands in his pockets, huge stature unwilling to accommodate the people walking down the hallway. 

You break into a jog, panting embarrassingly by the time you reach him. “Dude, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’re basically friends. Can’t you do your best pal a solid?”

Toji glances down at you. He pushes a door open, holding it a second longer than he needed to. You follow behind him. Somewhat amused, he replies, “We know each other because we’re on the same course, not by choice. And I don’t know what you mean by the whole ‘we’ve gone through a lot together’ thing — the most dramatic thing we’ve faced is when the projector didn’t work and we had to go into a different hall. And we’re definitely not friends.”

Well, fuck, you’re running out of rope. 

“Then, let’s officially be friends,” you offer, elbowing him gently. “If you ever need help, buddy, I’ll always have your back.” Then, in an act of complete desperation, you begin shakily singing, “You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. When the road looks tough ahead—”

A heavy hand shoves you away by your head. You stumble into a bulletin board.

“Enough,” he gruffs. “My day’s already fucked because the prof lost his papers and wants to blame me. I don’t need to lose my hearing on top of that.”

Your head flits around. “Did you guys see that?” People give you weird looks. “He just shoved me. The TA just shoved me. We need to protest his violent behaviour by demanding he remarks our papers. Who’s with me?”

Everyone walks past without another look at you.

Toji, on the other hand, lifts his glasses and runs a hand down his face. Muttering something under his breath, he pushes a door open and holds out a hand before you can mindlessly follow. “It’s the men’s bathroom. Tell me you’re not shameless and stupid enough to come in here.”

“I’ll wait outside.”

His eye twitches. 

As though an idea comes to him, he straightens ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take a dump; you’ll be waiting a while.”

“That’s okay — I have no more classes so take your time but make sure you don’t stay sitting down longer than you need to,” you tell him, smiling innocently and standing aside to let a guy walk out, ignoring the freaked out face he makes at you. “You can get hemorrhoids."

He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.” 

That seems to be as much of you he can tolerate because he walks in without another word to you. Opposite the door, you lean against the wall, whistling and coming up with alternative lines you can pull on him. 

God, he’s so stubborn. 

It’s not like giving you the marks docks his pay or lowers the professor’s opinion of him. He’s clearly just being an ass. 

If he wasn’t such a good TA, a genuinely intelligent man, you would have gone above his head and asked for the prof’s personal assessment. But no, he has to be knowledgeable, a helpful source of information when you’re lost, someone who seems to know everything about any topic, who knows the exact pages of a textbook you should read to further your understanding, and who’s never declined a meeting for clarification on something you wrote. 

For years now, you two have had a friendship-like relationship, often sharing snacks and exchanging brief words before or after lectures and classes, despite what he says.

Everyone gets along with him, though you’ve never actually seen him hang out with friends or go to parties. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Word on the street is he works part time in a couple different places. Some say so he can afford drugs, some for tuition. 

The rumours never interested you, apart from any that mused about his love life, which seems to be nonexistent except for the many girls who hit on him. Not that you’re especially interested.

It’s just fun to be in the know.

Who knows how long has passed since he went in there. Your phone says fifteen minutes. Is that a normal amount of time for someone to be taking a dump?

Hesitantly, you push the door open and yell out, “Fushiguro? You doing okay? Is it stuck? For a couple extra marks, I’ll give you a hand.”

No one replies. 

Brows furrowing, you bend down, looking through the stalls. No feet. What the hell?

Ahead, a window is ajar. Big enough for a man to squeeze through. Well isn’t that convenient? The kind of convenient that exists only in fiction.

Aggrieved and feeling bamboozled, you stomp back to your dorm room, slamming the door, jumping face down on the bed and screaming into the pillows. You’d feel better if you knew he had a grudge on you, if you bumped into him the first day and spilled his coffee all over himself and he’d never forgotten it. Instead, he’s just like that: does things by the book, does his job well, and achieves the best grades with ease. 

Naturally, he’d become the professor’s assistant, a coveted position that seemed like it was made for him from the very beginning, and made your life a living hell because he won’t ever make concessions for you.

Sure, you shouldn’t ask him to, but it’s not like you’re asking for much. You’re generally a high performing student — punctual, hard working, ambitious — but you had one bad day which resulted in one bad essay and it lowered your average and now the internship you’d been eyeing could be snatched from your hands in a blink of an eye. 

“It’s just not fair,” you cry out to your teddy bear. “It’s three marks. Three! Would it kill him to reread my essay and find those three marks?”

Mr. Teddy stares back at you and says, “He’s a grumpy man. Don’t take it personally.”

You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.

“Teddy…you’re right. He is a grumpy man, a TA with broad shoulders, yummy arms, and thick thighs with a bubble butt, but a man nonetheless. If he won’t pull favours for me, student to student, maybe he’ll pull favours for me man to woman.”

The plushie falls to the bed as you stand, staring at yourself in the mirror and formulating a plan. 

With that you decide to seek him out the next day, sporting a new outfit and a different attitude.

.

.

.

“Hi.”

“Fuck off.”

The cafeteria’s busy. It always is. It’s loud enough that most people wouldn’t even hear the exchange — chairs banging on tile, trays clattering, someone laughing too loudly at a table nearby. 

Toji’s hunched slightly over a bowl of udon noodles, chopsticks moving lazily as he slurps them down. Some sports clip plays on his phone, propped against his dented metal water bottle. Commentators yell about something you don’t understand. His sleeves are pushed up over his forearms, revealing ropey muscle and the faint silvery line of an old scar running across his wrist.

An old hoodie hangs off his shoulders over a plain white T-shirt. Distressed jeans, worn sneakers. He’s too big for the plastic chair, long legs spread under the table. When he saw you approach, his feet had hooked onto the chair legs, forcing you to fight to remove it from his clutches so you could take a seat.

So damn rude.

His glasses have fogged slightly from the steam of the noodles.

He doesn’t look up. But he knows it’s you. You can tell by the way his mouth tightens for half a second before he goes back to eating.

You snatch his phone away. His green eyes flick up, annoyed. You smile, arms pushing your breasts together so they spill over your tight top. Toji’s gaze doesn’t waver. He continues to stare at you like you’re a pest. 

“You can’t take no for an answer?” he asks though it’s not a question at all. “Might want to retake the consent course.”

Manicured fingers walk up his bare forearm before scratching down from his elbow. His skin is warm. Light dusting of hair tickling your fingertips. “Oh, Toj, have I ever told you how handsome you are? Because you really are. You’re so damn hot I can hardly focus on the lectures.”

He snorts, still eating his noodles and still refusing to look at your cleavage. “That’ll explain why you’re missing marks.”

Jaw dropping, you force yourself to recover quickly. A heeled foot brushes against his calf, sliding his jeans up. You bat your lashes, sultrily saying, “The only thing I’m missing is your cock in me, big boy.”

Toji meets your eyes again. His scarred lips twitch. “I don’t need to tell you that was bad, do I?”

You cringe, foot dropping and whole body slumping back into the chair. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.” Then you sit up, handing him his phone, and asks, “Are the noodles good? I’ve never had them.”

Phone pocketed, he shrugs. “They’re just the cheapest deal on the menu. Growing girl like you should get something more filling.”

The menu’s extensive, and the only thing sticking out to you is the chicken burger and chicken tenders meal deal. It seems to be especially popular today but you’re not sure you can finish the whole thing. 

“Hey, if I get the Meal Super Cluck Blaster, will you share it with me? I’ve got dinner plans later so I don’t want to fill up.”

That finally gets a reaction. Toji leans back a little and gives you a slow once-over. Tight top. Lacy bra peeking up. Glossy lips. More jewellery than usual. His eyebrow lifts. “That why you’re dressed like a hooker?” he asks lazily. “Hot date?”

“Nah,” you reply, waving him off. “Wore this for yo— Wait.” You lean forward, staring at him wide eyed. “Are you jealous? Are you in love with me already? Because for extra marks, I’ll cancel my dinner plans and promise myself to you for all eternity.”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Go get something to eat; you sound insane.”

You hop up. “Okay, but stay there, alright? Take my burger because I only want the tenders. Oh, and will you share a pot of cheesecake with me? I’m lactose-intolerant but I really want cheesecake right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He’s still here when you come back. 

As soon as you hand him the wrapped up burger, he scarfs it down the way big men do, like they haven’t eaten in days. You push him the tenders too. You’d actually gotten a double serving of everything so you have your own portion of tenders and he gets to eat another burger. There’s no way a man his size could survive on udon noodles.

“Also, let’s not act like you didn’t leave me hanging outside the men’s bathroom yesterday,” you bring up after sipping your juice. “Can’t believe you left through the bathroom window just so you could get away from me.”

“I didn’t,” he says, mouth full and adjusting his glasses. 

You frown, dipping a piece of chicken in hot honey. “No, you definitely did. I peeked and there were no feet in any of the stalls. Unless you’re telling me you can grow invisible.”

“Just lifted my legs when I heard you come in, which I knew your crazy ass would do, so I could finally leave in peace. Didn’t think it’d take you fifteen minutes though.”

A laugh escapes you. “You were waiting me out? Does that sound like the mature thing to do? Jeez, you need to act your age.”

Toji’s eyes meet yours. Your smile falters for the briefest second. “I’m not that much older than you,” he reminds you. “Only by two years.”

“And yet you call me kid or kiddo,” you retort, clearing your throat. Have his eyes always been that green and deep? And is his voice usually that husky and masculine? Because you could have sworn guys your age don’t sound like that.

He shrugs again, second burger finished in a blink of an eye. “Never hurts to remind yourself.”

“Remind yourself what?”

The legs of his chair screech as he pushes it back. He stands, picking up his tray, and answers, “Forget about it. Enjoy your dinner plans. And I’m taking the cheesecake — no one wants a gassy date.”

“Wait,” you call out before he can turn away. “My marks?”

A pat on the head ruffles your hair. 

“Still a no, kid.”

.

.

.

“What if I suck your dick?”

Toji lifts his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got a ton of papers to grade for another class; I don’t have time for you.”

The door shuts behind you. His office is bare, not a single decoration littering the place, not a plant nor a picture. 

His office is exactly how you remember it — disappointingly, aggressively empty. The walls are a dull institutional beige that makes the overhead fluorescent light feel even harsher. No posters. No photos. Not even a sad little plant struggling for life in the corner.

Just a desk. A filing cabinet. Two chairs that look like they were stolen from a waiting room. It’s the kind of office someone occupies temporarily, like he expects to leave at any moment and doesn’t see the point in settling in.

Leaning against the desk anyway, your fingers drum lazily along the edge.

You’ve been here before: once to argue about a paper he’d shredded with red ink, once because you’d missed an exam and needed him to sign a form, and once because you’d sworn you heard him swearing loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.

You grip his shoulder, squeezing as you scan the fat stack of papers on his desk — the prof’s particular about handwritten essays. There’s so much to read through; you do not want to be him. 

“God,” you mutter, flipping through a few pages of the stack. “There’s like fifty here.”

“Seventy-two,” Toji corrects without looking up. His handwriting is sharp and aggressive, red ink slashing through entire paragraphs like he’s committing academic murder. You wince in sympathy for whoever wrote the paper currently being dismantled.

“Good thing you can multitask, can’t you? I’ll suck your dick under the desk, you grade papers, and you bump me up a grade. Easy.”

He shrugs you off, hulking body hunched over and pen scratching on the papers, leaving harsh circles and comments like, ‘what the hell does this mean?’ and ‘you can’t just say perchance.’ 

Toji gruffs, “I’m serious. Take your jokes elsewhere.”

Nah, you think to yourself. 

With a massive struggle against his weight, you yank his chair back, wheeling him a distance from the desk and clambering under before he can fill the space again. He makes some noise above you but you pay him no mind. Your hands rest on his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, marvelling at the density, at the strength you find in them. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” His foot nudges your knee. “Get the fuck out. I’ll cropdust you if I have to.”

You call his bluff by clutching his clothed cock. He jolts, grunting. Laughing softly, you muse, “You say all that but you have a semi already — did my proposition get you hard, Toji?”

You’re rubbing his hard on, trying not to get flustered by how big he feels, and how fat the girth is. Of course he’s big. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’s a big man so naturally the proportions will match up. 

“Suck my dick, don’t suck my dick, it doesn’t matter,” he says, sighing and probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting those marks.”

He thinks that’ll stave you off because he knows you’re whoring yourself out for a grade. What he doesn’t know is that your stupid little brain’s already forgotten about all of that the moment you felt his cock. Now all you can think about is how you’ll have to stretch your lips nice and wide to take him in, and even then, even when your throat is lax and loose, you won’t be able to take him to the base. 

Toji grunts again, peering down at you. “You mouthing at my dick? Did’ya not hear what I said?”

Like you’ve been possessed, you press kisses to where his tip is, humming around it. “I heard, but your dick’s saying other things to me, and I know which I prefer to listen to.”

“My dick’s not marking your paper, so get the fuck up,” he growls.

“Don’t wanna.”

“You’re fucking killing me here.”

A heavy hand bundles your hair up, pulling but you fight against it, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints. His boxers have a hole, and yet you only find it endearing. Freeing his cock so it bounces up and smacks your cheek, it leaves a wet mark on your skin. 

Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin. 

Oh fuck, he really is big. 

With nothing between you and his dick, you can see him in all his glory in the partial shadow of under his desk — long, thick, flushed red, already shiny at the slit, veiny as hell, hairs at the base wild and unruly, with weighty balls to match. You’ve never seen anything better. 

Tongue out, you lick him from base to tip, prodding at his frenulum.

“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth. 

You moan wantonly, already addicted to the salt on his kin, to the texture of his veins, to the softness of his cockhead. “Toji, you’re so big. I don’t think this’ll fit inside me.”

The thing throbs, bobbing. A droplet oozes out and you quickly lick it up. The hand that was pulling your hair has grown slack, simply resting on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping the wood. 

Voice hoarse, he mutters, “If anyone can make it fit, it’ll be your stubborn ass.”

Your eyes meet his from under the desk, mischief sparkling in them you’re sure. His cock throbs again. “I thought you had papers to mark, Fushiguro. Maybe you should get on that, no?”

A calloused thumb presses down on your lips, shushing you. It slides down, bringing your bottom lip down with it, before releasing it so it’ll bounce back in place. That same thumb holds your jaw open, hand guiding your mouth to his tip. You know what he wants. You also know that he knows that you both know that you won this time. 

Wide as you can, you take as much of his length as possible. You don’t get much further than a third of the way, full beyond belief and overwhelmed by just how much of him there still is. Your nails dig into his thighs.

“If this is supposed to convince me to give you extra marks, then you’re failing real hard, doll,” he notes, gripping the base. “Can barely fit the head, can you?”

He’s acting like it’s your fault he’s so big. 

Challenged, you loosen your throat to take him an inch deeper. You gag around the length. Toji curses under his breath. “Careful,” he mutters. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

You ignore him in favour of shallowly bobbing, sucking and licking what you can, as though he’s a lollipop. It’s actually kinda fun.

The familiar sound of pen scratching on paper and paper rubbing on paper echoes in the relatively quiet office. Only the wet sounds of your mouth sucking his cockhead pierces the silence. 

Growing more and more used to his size, you flick your tongue around the head, letting your hands wrap around the rest of him, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth. Occasionally, he makes a couple breathy noises — low grunts when your tongue laps up his tip, gravelly groans when you hollow your cheek to suck, and rough exhales through his nose when you grip his balls, massaging them, thumb rubbing the seam. 

It becomes easier to forget why you were here in the first place; you’re just blowing him for your own entertainment now, wanting something to occupy your throat. 

Then, he asks, as though he’s making casual conversation, “How was the date?”

“Hmm?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “The date,” he repeats. “How was it? He pay for the meal? Open doors, see you to your door, kiss you goodnight and shit?”

Your lips stretch into a smile. You release him with a pop! “I didn’t go on a date,” you tell him. “My friends hosted a housewarming party because they moved in together. I had a great time, thanks for asking.”

Is he pleased? Unaffected? Genuinely just making conversation? Hard to tell, except for the pushing of his hand, urging you back to his dick, and taking him further inside your throat, till his tip bumps the back of the gummy walls. 

“Good,” he exhales out, thighs flexing around your body. “That’s real good.”

“My blowjob skills or that I had a great time?” you ask, words muffled and barely understandable.

“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”

A knock on the door has you both stiffening. Toji glares down at you and whispers, “It’s the prof. Do not make a sound.”

He didn’t need to tell you that — you’re well aware that if you get caught, you’ll both face disciplinary action, and will likely be kicked out of the university. That’s worse than not getting the internship. 

The office falls quiet so suddenly you can hear the ticking of the wall clock. Toji’s hand tightens briefly against the desk as the knock comes again. “Come in,” he calls, voice steady.

The door opens before he even finishes the word.

“Ah, Fushiguro, there you are,” the professor says, stepping inside with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d left already.”

From your position under the desk, you can only see shoes. Polished leather. Slow steps across the floor. You don’t slide his cock out of your throat, lest it makes a sloppy noise that’ll give you both away. So you breathe through your nose, being very, very quiet.

“No, I was just finishing up some grading,” Toji replies, cool as a cucumber.

His tone is annoyingly normal. Completely unbothered. He’s really convincing. Has he done this before? Is this a normal occurrence? Do a lot of girls offer to blow him for better marks, and does he take them up on it? Are you the one exception to his generosity? 

“Good, good.” Papers shuffle. A chair creaks as the professor sits across from the desk. “I actually wanted to ask about the research methods essays.”

Of course he did.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Toji shifts slightly above you — just enough that the movement brushes your shoulder — and then he leans back in his chair. “Yeah?” he says.

“I noticed something odd in the submissions this year,” the professor continues. “Half the class seems to misunderstand the section on sampling bias.”

He hums thoughtfully. “You mean where they’re supposed to explain the limitations of convenience sampling?”

“Exactly.”

A sheet of paper slides across the desk.

“You see this one here—”

From below, you hear Toji pick it up.

“—they describe the method correctly, but their conclusion contradicts their own analysis.”

There’s a pause whilst the TA reads. You stare at the underside of the desk and try not to shift your knees. God, this is like torture. Having a cock lodged in your throat and not being able to do anything with it is hell. Above the desk, they’re chatting away, talking about your fellow students, with the professor none the wiser that one such student’s under the desk. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “They’re treating correlation like it proves causation.”

“Precisely!” the professor says, sounding delighted. “It’s surprisingly common.” Another pause. You hear a pen tap the desk twice. “I was thinking next year we might restructure the lecture slightly,” the professor continues. “Maybe introduce a short case study before the assignment.”

“Could work,” Toji replies. “Give them something concrete, tangible, to analyse.”

Your legs are starting to cramp. Your lips tighten around his hot cock. Toji brushes your hair back from your face, a quiet act to show he hasn’t forgotten about you. The professor keeps talking, completely unaware.

“Also,” he says, shuffling more papers, “the literature review sections were stronger this year.”

“Mm.”

“I suspect the workshop helped.”

Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.

“You handled that well, by the way,” the professor adds. “The students seem to respond to your feedback.”

This is way too boring, you decide. In an act you might end up regretting for the rest of your life, your offended tongue prods his tip where he’s still leaking salty precum. 

He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood. 

The professor asks him if he’s alright, and Toji replies, “Fine. Sorry. Just had a cramp.”

A triumphant smile pulls at your lips, which is quickly wiped away by the sudden pinch at your cheek. You wince, unable to smack him in retaliation. 

A sigh fills the room. “I fear you work too hard, Fushiguro. You ought to take a break here and there. Do something fun and wild, or whatever it is people your age do nowadays.”

“I am having fun,” Toji says, hand coming back to rest on your head, growing heavier and heavier until you’re forced to take him inside your mouth, deeper and deeper. “In my own way.”

He’s filling you up more than he was before, now more insistent, no longer so passive. You’re struggling to take him but he’s not letting up. Fuck, you’re soaked between the legs. Who knew you had an oral fixation?

“Well, good,” the professor says. He pushes his chair back. Your heart jumps in joy. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know those papers won’t mark themselves. Boy do I not envy you.” He laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too, Professor.”

Footsteps move toward the door. The handle turns. The door opens. Closes. Silence. Two seconds pass.

Then Toji peers down, licking his scarred lips, and mutters under his breath, “You needy fucking girl. Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t resist not being a pain my fucking ass. If you want cock so badly, then here you go.”

His hips thrust up, hand keeping you in place. Your eyes fly open, throat stretching to take all of him in. Oh, he was as pent up, as frustrated, as you were. The force in which he’s rutting inside your throat displays that nice and clear. 

“You’ll do anything for a good grade, won’t you? Even debase yourself like this. God, you drive me crazy.”

You gag around his cock but he doesn’t pay any mind to that. No, Toji’s just rutting inside your mouth over and over again, grunting louder and louder now. 

Meanwhile, your hand seeks out the heat between your legs. You grind against the heel of your palm, moaning around his length. The vibration has his balls tightening up.

“Fuck!”

Hot cum bursts inside, coating the walls of your throat and your tongue. 

Toji leans back in his chair, which creaks. You pull him out, coughing at the salty burn. Damn, even his loads are big. It’s like a cream puff exploded inside your mouth. 

Hands carry you up, sitting you on his thigh. One rubs your back in circles, the other wipes away the tears at your eyes, licking at the wetness he’s collected on his thumb. “You good, kid?” he asks, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah,” you respond, voice hoarse and not fooling anyone. “I’m good.”

You take a sip of his water from his water bottle, not caring about the fact that you’re drinking from where he had been, and if he cared that your mouth which had been sucking on his dick and cum is on his cup, he didn’t say.

He sighs, tucking himself back in and says, “Come by my place tonight. Hand me your essay again and I’ll reread it. But I’m not making any promises about finding extra marks, alright? It’s just a second chance, and the only one you’ll get.”

Dopily, you smile at him. “Throat game that good, huh?”

His lips twitch. He shoves you away, smacking your ass as you walk away.

“I’ll text you the time and place. Don’t be late.”

Nodding, you head for the door, not leaving however till you ask, “Should I wear matching underwear, or is this a strictly keep your clothes on meeting?”

“Fuck off before I regret it.”

“Lacy thong it is!”

.

.

.

“Should I spread my legs now or do you want me to fluff you first?”

Toji’s deadpan face meets you when he opens the door. He sighs as though he’s regretting this already. Regardless, he lets you in. 

You can tell he showered recently — there’s the scent of cheap soap lingering on his skin and his hair is still a little damp. 

His apartment is nice and clean, which surprises you somewhat. Most guys your age tend to be messy. But you should have known the TA would be neat and organised. 

“I’m serious,” you begin, snuggling up to his side and batting your lashes up at him, “what position do you want me? I’m not the most flexible but I’m not too bad.”

Shaking you off, he pushes you in the direction of the living room where the coffee table is covered with carefully laid out papers he no doubt carried from campus to continue working on. “Go sit down, you horny gremlin. Make some room for your essay and let’s get this over with.”

You do as he says, folding your legs so you can sit by the coffee table on the rug. You take the essay out of your bag, shoving all the others to the side. With a frown, you ask, “So we’re really not fucking?”

He folds himself down too, sitting beside you, knee brushing yours. “I don’t solicit sex in exchange for academic favours. Dunno why you’re so surprised by that — can’t recall having done anything to make you think otherwise.”

“Well, you did give in after I blew you, so…”

“I was gonna offer before you did all that,” he informs you, snorting. “Just never promised to give you the marks.”

Toji adjusts his glasses, taking your papers and starting his reassessment of it. His lips purses, brows furrows, and he stares at the thing like it could tell him the answers to the universe. That or it’s so bad he just can’t fathom what you were thinking. 

“Second paragraph, third line, why the hell is it so convoluted?” he asks, voice returning to that grumpy tone you’re more than familiar with now.

It’s the latter, it would seem. He really meant business. You shaved and everything for nothing. What a shame. 

Leaning over, you rest your head on his big bicep, and, with a pout, reply, “I thought it sounded smart; I was pretty proud of that line actually.”

“No, doll,” Toji says, sighing. “The simpler the better. Don’t purposefully complicate your syntax. Only do what’s necessary to get the point across. If I, an expert in this topic, can barely understand what you mean, how is the ordinary person supposed to?”

“Yeah, okay. Simple is better, I get it.”

He continues reading, red pen in hand and making annotations as he goes. Meanwhile, you’re worming your way into his lap: one hand resting on his thigh at first, then a leg thrown over his. He notices what you’re doing — there’s no way he doesn’t know — but he doesn’t put up a fight. Eventually, you’re sitting in his lap, his chin resting on your head, and his arms caging you in. 

Toji’s warm. He’s comfy to rest on despite all the muscles. Closer now, his soapy scent envelops you. It goes straight to your head. You find yourself squirming. 

“Keep still,” he reprimands, underlining a phrase twice for emphasis. “You can’t just use jargon if you’re not going to explain it. It’s bad practice.”

“Got it.” Fiddling with his spare hand, running your fingers down his and over his palm, you ask, “Are academics supposed to have calluses?”

“They bother you or something?”

“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”

He hums. “I do odd jobs here and there, some more manual than others so yeah I built up some calluses.” Without missing a beat, he pivots the topic. “Tell me again what the difference is between compliment and complement.”

You bring that hand up to your breast, imploring him to grope your tits as you reply, “With an I is to praise someone or something, and with an e is to say something matches well with another.”

A moan escapes your lips when he squeezes in approval. Toji mutters, “Good girl. Guess you do listen to me.” Thumb brushing your hardened nipple through the thin material of your top, you squirm in his lap. His lips move against the top of your head. “No bra?”

“I figured you were going to take it off me anyway so I didn’t bother,” you say, still pressing his hand to your tit, riding the motions of every grope and flick of your nipple. 

Another hum. 

Slowly, you guide that hand down lower. He must know what you’re doing, where you want it to end up, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand or put up any resistance; he’s curious to see how far you’re willing to go. And you’re curious to see how much restraint he has, how long he can hold out before his façade of nonchalance breaks and he’s fucking up inside you.

You tease yourself, and him, first — his fingers, with your guidance, tease your bare thighs, following the hem of your tight skirt. Growing breathless, you ask, “What kind of odd jobs do you do?”

Toji’s calluses tickle the sensitive skin in your inner thighs just right. He’s still marking your paper, occasionally fact-checking your ideas and his theories in a textbook on the table. Amused, he retorts, “You curious about me, doll?”

“Hmm, I want to know exactly whose cock will be stretching me out in a minute.”

He snorts, patting your clothed pussy. You jolt with every impact. “I tutor on the side. Fix up some cars in the garage in town. I’m a physical trainer for three clients at the local gym too. And when I’m low on money, I sell risqué pictures of myself. That disgust you?”

All while he answers, Toji’s blunt nails scrape your slit through your panties. He’s not applying much pressure at all, if any, and yet every skim, every travel up and down has goosebumps rising on your skin.

“N-no,” you answer quickly. “I think that’s really cool. If I had a body like yours, I’d take pictures all the time too.”

His laughter rumbles in his chest. An odd sense of pride warms your own. He says, “Your body’s more than good enough to sell too, you know. Don’t act like you don’t know guys give you double takes all the time, or that your ass could stop traffic.”

Giggling, you lean back, gazing up at him with a smile. “Do you stare at my ass sometimes, Toji?”

God, you’re soaked. You can tell, though you’re not embarrassed whatsoever. If anything, you’re just itching for him to pull your panties to the side and touch you skin to skin, to plunge inside your pussy and make a mess out of you.

“Tell me where you can, and should, insert a semi-colon in paragraph six, and I’ll give you an honest answer.” 

He nudges you with his chin. “Go on. Quit thinking with your pussy and give me the right answer.” A little aggrieved, you sit up straight, holding his wrist to keep his hand between your legs. Your eyes scan the section. Tentatively, you point to a full stop on the second line. Toji shakes his head and smacks your clothed pussy again. “Try again, and don’t guess.”

“Here,” you snarl, feeling way past pent up. “Now give me my reward.”

Toji huffs. “Semi-colons help for varying sentence structures. It’s in the little ways you can convey your points compellingly. Don’t underutilise the right punctuations.”

“Yeah, yeah, smarty pants. Rub my clit and answer my question already.”

Cool air brushes against your swollen, glistening lips. You sigh when his warm hand covers the entire slit barely a second later. His middle fingers are instantly coated in your wetness. He groans. “Fuck, doll, you’re dripping.” Toji doesn’t give you a moment to respond to that; his fingers rub at your throbbing clit in tight circles, drawing it out of his hood. You moan, back arching. 

Finally, he answers, “I stare at your ass all the fucking time after I glare at the losers whose eyes wander from their laptop screens . I’m a big, fucking hypocrite — that what you wanna hear?”

“Fuck yes!”

Rustling of paper reaches your ears. Then two hands are on you: one furiously rubbing the bundle of nerves and the other gripping your throat. He squeezes threateningly. Your vision spots, jaw dropping. “Look at you, all desperate to have my cock inside you. And for what? For a couple marks? You’re not ashamed?”

Your ass is grinding back on his boner, sandwiching the hard thing between your cheeks as your own answer. How could you be ashamed when he wants you so bad too?

“I’m horny! Are you gonna fuck me or not?”

In a split second, you find your world spinning. Your back falls on something hard. You’re staring up at the ceiling, papers scattered beneath you. Rough hands tug you down by your thighs. When you peer down, Toji’s staring up at you from between your lips.

“Yeah, I’m fucking you. You already knew I was gonna. You gonna let me taste your pussy first?” A challenging brow quirks up, like he’s waiting for you to push him away. 

Instead, your legs hook over his shoulders, ankles crossed. You grin at him.

Panties pulled to the side, his fingers spread your pussy for him. Those eyes scan every inch. He releases a shaky breath, cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even your pussy’s pretty. Fucking gorgeous.” Running a hand through his hair, he says, “You’re always such a pain, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help that every part of me’s pretty,” you reply, twirling your hair.

“Shut up and play with your tits — I like a show with my dinner.” Toji spits a fat dollop right on your clit. It slides down your slit but before it can disappear in the crevice of your ass, his tongue is collecting it and shoving it inside your cunt. 

You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”

In spite of his aggressive tone, you pull down your top, letting your tits bounce out. Those eyes follow every jiggle. “Good girl,” he rasps. “Squeeze them for me nice and hard. Good. Real fucking good.”

His glasses are foggy now with your own humidity, rattling with every movement. He’s eating your pussy out like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything better, like he’s going to make sure not a single trace of you can be found in his apartment after he’s done with you. 

Growling, he spread your thighs wider. “Course you’ve got a sweet pussy,” he says, brows furrowing in what appears to be anger. “Course it’s sweeter than that fucking cheesecake. Course I’ll be craving you till I die.”

Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging for purchase. “Ngh, Toji, my clit…suck my clit!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Those scarred lips, the very ones you’ve stared at more times than you can count, wrap around your clit, sucking hard the way you did when you were blowing him under the desk. Electricity sparks inside, sending tremors up from your lower belly to your tits to the very tips of your fingers. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.”

Filthy squelches are being wrung out of you, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, addicted to how responsive your body is to him.

Two fingers worm their way through your pulsing hole, basking in the rough textures of your entrance, stretching your gummy walls on their way to curling against that spot that has you oozing more cum out. 

“You’re fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re gonna struggle taking all of me later.” Then he barks a laugh, spare hand pressing down on your belly where the pressure builds up. Your toes curl. “A better man would take pity on you, go slow or wait another day, but I’ve already had my tongue inside your cunt so I’ll spare you the gentleman act.”

More fingers shove in, ignoring the screech that you let out. You’ve never had more than two and yet all four of his thicker, longer fingers are inside pushing your walls to their very limits. 

Despite that, he remarks, entertained by the shock on your face which he studies through his glasses, “Suck it up, buttercup — my cock’s thicker than this, you know that.”

You do. 

It’s all you’ve been thinking about all day. Hours after, your jaw’s still stretched out, sore and creaking after the workout you put it through. The thought of having something even thicker, longer than his four fingers has you growing dizzy, head handing over the coffee table.

“Yeah, my cock can’t wait to feel you too,” Toji says, not to you but to your pussy which is squelching lewdly and loudly. “Had to resist jerking my dick raw all day so you better make it good for me.”

Is it seconds later, or minutes, maybe hours, when you cum?

How ever long it is no one can deny it’s the strongest orgasm of your life. 

Your entire body trembles, spasming beyond control. Are you screaming or silently moaning? Are your eyes shut or have you gone blind? And is he still pistoning his fingers inside you, damn near pushing all of his hand in? 

“Stop,” you cry out. “No more, please!”

Mercifully, he yanks his hand out. Unfortunately, it leaves you feeling so empty you immediately crave the feeling of his hand gripping you from inside. 

Lips and chin glistening, he kisses both inner thighs, which tremble. 

Toji gathers you with one arm, showing off his strength as he carries you off the table and to the glass door which leads out to the balcony. It’s dark out and all you can see are the lights of people’s rooms in the apartment across. There are families lounging, dogs sleeping, TV’s blaring. 

Behind you, you hear the rustling of his shirt as he throws it off carelessly. Bare skin grazes your own soon after his hands make quick work of the clothes you’re still wearing. In a flash, you’re naked. He bends down to pick up your fallen panties, inhaling the gusset deeply. Your legs cross tightly at the deeply satisfied groan he lets out. 

“Next office hour,” he starts, lazily spreading your pussy lips and smearing your juices around so he can listen to the squelches and keep your squirming, “you better leave your panties with me. Consider it payment.”

You laugh. “Sure.”

Groggily, you try to keep your head up, wondering what you’re doing by the window, still a little out of it. A hand clutches your jaw, aiding you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you against this window,” he announces, leaving no room for arguments. “You want those extra marks? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock like a champ.”

Ass gyrating back against the hot, heavy thing still confined in sweatpants, you wonder, “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”

He lets go of you. You have to catch yourself by pressing your palms to the cold glass. Toji drags your hips back, foot kicking your legs apart. His cock plops onto your ass, scalding. “No, I have a ‘get my time’s worth from shameless women who waste my time with demands for better grades by humiliating them’ kink.”

“Sounds long. We should get that shortened,” you drawl.

His cockhead slides through your pussy, coating itself in your wetness. The fat thing bumps against your clit. You shudder. 

Satisfied with your natural lubrication, he prods your entrance. “Yeah, we should. Let’s call it, Shut The Fuck Up And Take It.”

Then he enters you in one go.

You scream.

The window fogs up with your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

You’re taking so much of his length so quickly that it should be painful. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of pain, not one you didn’t like at least — only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled up is resonating. 

Toji grunts. “Almost had to fist this cunt and you’re -hah fuck- still too tight.”

Pummelling his cock in, his hips don’t pause for a second. You gasp for breath, palms slipping and sliding on the condensation that’s built up on the glass. It’s like you can feel him in your lungs, so impossibly deep, so hot, so intimidating. 

“God, it should be a crime to have a body like this,” he says, hands groping every part of your flesh he can reach. He slaps your ass to watch it jiggle for him. He’s an ass man, that much is clear.

The force of his thrusting has you pushed closer to the glass, so close now that almost your entire front is flush with the surface. The coldness grazes your nipples. You moan. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

He tugs you back to him, body sliding down the glass till your ass is jutted out. Toji carries your hips up so you can reach him, but it means your toes are only brushing the floor. You cling to the glass door as much as you can. Through the glossy haze, you see the marks you left on the glass, from the oils and sweat on your skin. You see the outline of your tits, all round and fat, the handprints you left and the smearing of them all over the place because you couldn’t grapple with one position to have them in. 

Are people watching? Are you flashing a poor old man, are you reigniting a sexual appetite in a pitiful divorcee, making a housewife jealous, creating fantasies for some guy your age? Are people rubbing one out to the flashes of ecstasy on your face, to the swaying of your tits, to the rippling of your ass?

Toji’s fingers creep under you, furiously teasing your clit. You whine. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”

“Go on, gorgeous,” he rasps. “Lemme feel you cum around my cock. Make my dreams come true.”

Two fingers gather the cream that’s formed a ring at his base. He draws three letters on the glass for you to stare at. It spells out c u m.

God, he’s dirty.

Another orgasm ripples through you. Your thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Toji!”

He growls out, hands tightening their grip on your hips, threatening to bruise, “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum early.”

Without waiting for you to come down from your high, he flips you around. Your back thuds against the door. His cock reenters you in a clean, easy slide, cunt beyond soaked and stretched out. Your arms and legs wrap around him. 

Those glasses of him have fogged up so thickly now that they fail to serve their purpose. Toji takes it off with one hand, sliding it onto your head, like a headband keeping your face clear of your hair. “Don’t let them fall,” he orders. “They break and you won’t be getting that internship.”

And his lips?

They smack against yours.

He kisses you, all tongue and teeth and drool dripping down chins, like he’s been waiting weeks, months, perhaps years to do that. And you kiss him back just the same. 

Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches. 

“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”

The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this. 

Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.

Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”

Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”

His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain. 

“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts. 

You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”

“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”

“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”

Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”

He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows. 

Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!

Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you. 

Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button. 

“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”

“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear. 

Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”

His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours. 

When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream. 

“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after. 

Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans. 

He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs. 

Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy. 

Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them. 

“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”

Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”

“Thanks!” you chirp. 

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

.

.

.

“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”

Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.

“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”

That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.

Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.

After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official. 

In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together. 

A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by. 

“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.

Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”

“Mmm.”

“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”

You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”

“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words. 

In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.

“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”

The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.

Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?

“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”

Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”

You go still, this time for a different reason. 

Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”

The bastard’s trying to distract you…

“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”

Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?

Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you. 

“Don’t mention it, Professor.”

The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants. 

He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.” 

Your jaw drops. 

Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.” 

“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.” 

The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again. 

“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.” 

Your heart? 

Drops to the fucking floor.

Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.

Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—

Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”

Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense. 

Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”

“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good. 

Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.  

Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.

“You sneaky piece of shit!”

He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.

Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”

“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”

“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.

“Whore,” he fires back.

Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.

“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.

Toji’s scar brushes your forehead with his kiss. 

“That’s the plan.”

1. walk in, look confused.

2. a man should come up to you within the first 5 minutes, if not, scout one.

3. accompany him for the night, become his ‘good luck charm.’

you tell them all the same story, none of your friends wanted to go out tonight and you were just oh so lonely.

what better way to cheer yourself up than losing your entire paycheck on the slot machines?

they’re all idiots in your eyes.

and so you rob them. you slip a hand into their back pocket when they’re too drunk or high to register it, or grab a handful of bills while they’re knocked out cold on the bed next to you.

it never occurs to them that you’re the reason their pockets feel emptier despite winning big—in the moment, that is.

when they sober up the next morning to find you and their money gone it clicks that the woman who looked like she couldn’t hurt a fly is the one who kept their winnings.

toji fushiguro is no different.

he isn’t your usual target, he doesn’t dress like he has money and neither does he act like it. since he approached you, you can make an exception this time. the man’s got a nice face and body to go with it so you might as well stick around.

your seated on his lap sipping a virgin cosmopolitan—after all you can’t be drunk committing crimes like this.

he’s been playing blackjack for what feels like years, switch it up a little would you?

“what do you think doll? stay or hit?”

his cards add up to 18, and the dealers add up to 13. most people would stay here but you couldn’t really give a shit if he wins or loses, you’ve already fished a few thousand from his wallet.

“hit.” you respond, not even looking him in the eye.

“bold choice, you workin’ for this place on the sly?” he jokes, tilting his head up, signalling for the dealer to draw his next card.

the dealer places a number card on his side of the table, a 2.

toji bursts out into laughter and strengthens his grip on your waist as if he’s already won. which he practically has, but the light getting stripped from the men’s eyes when the dealer places down a card not in their favour after they’ve come so close to winning always amused you.

it’s a shame that wasn’t the case this time, toji chooses to stay and the dealer pulls out a king from the deck—his own total coming to 23, bumping up toji’s win streak to 4 in a row.

“you’re comin’ everywhere with me from now on, ya hear me?!” you can definitely hear him, the alcohol in his body causes him to be way louder than necessary.

“guess i’ll have to stick around.” you smirk, eyeing the chips that slide across the table as your own prize for the night.

then you glance over your other prize, he reeks of whiskey and cigarette smoke, but don’t they all? you can tell he’s hung from sitting on that thing all night and you wouldn’t mind it putting you to sleep tonight.

plus, you could score another few thousand if his luck keeps up, so it’s a win-win situation.

some would call it prostitution, but you aren’t directly asking them for money—sometimes they mistake you for one and offer it up, to which you don’t decline.

you see it as fun, you get to pluck out the most attractive man in the place and go back to his fancy hotel with him. this way, you get dicked down and some extra cash!

🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

“too big! ‘s too biig..!” you underestimated the sheer size of him, he not only looks bigger on top of you but he feels bigger too.

“you can take it, aren’t my lucky charm for nothin’.” his gravelly voice filling the room has so much bass in it that you wouldn’t be surprised if you began to feel it in your lungs.

with every draaag of his thick cock against your walls you feel like your pussy won’t go back to normal after this one, maybe you should take your own advice and stop when you’ve won enough..

the cigarette in his mouth is starting to reach the end, burning his lips.

instead of holding them above his waist, he throws your legs over his shoulders so he can have his hands free—also allowing him to somehow go even deeper inside you.

your body instinctively attempts to pull back, but theres nowhere to go.

he fills you right back up with the 2 or 3 inches you managed to wriggle out of you with his next thrust,

“mm, tight as shit. guess you really are lonely.”

all you can do is whine as he continues to stretch you out—your hands scramble to grab onto anything you can, nails digging into the pillow you’ve now thrown over your face.

even with him fingering you beforehand it’s almost too big.

almost.

because the pain and pleasure start to mix together, creating a sensation that makes your eyes cross.

blowing out the last cloud of smoke, he leans over to put his cigarette out on the ashtray next to the lamp, and only when he stands up straight again does he notice the pillow covering your face.

“there’s no need for that doll.” he grins, prying it out of your hands and chucking it on the floor.

you gnaw on your bottom lip, it only causes you more pain but it feels like the only thing you can do with the loss of the pillow to ground you with the fat head of his cock knocking your cervix over and over again.

him taking it turned out to be pointless as your hands unconsciously move rest over your face now. “tojiii..” you moan out his name, voice muffled by your palms.

“yeah?” he taunts, making a joke out of your desperate moans. you make a mental note to be generous with the amount of money you take from him for that one.

he makes sure your legs rest comfortably atop his shoulders before he moves his hands down to bind yours together, pulling them away from your face and crossing them.

holding your wrists together with just one large calloused hand, “theere, now i can hear ya clearly.” his face so close to yours has the smell of tobacco filling your nostrils.

the scar at the corner of his mouth curls due to the smirk he’s wearing on his face as he continues to slide his cock in and out of your dripping hole, if that wasn’t enough he’s now snaking his unoccupied hand down to toy with your clit.

he rubs tight circles with the pad of his thumb, watching your face contort with each one. “waitwaitwait!” you cry out, feeling your orgasm building quicker than ever.

“you don’t mean that, you wanna cum reaaal bad don’t ‘cha?”

it hits you like a truck at his words, you’re unsure if you closed your eyes or your vision simply cut out with the force of it.

and toji’s still going even as you writhe below him, still playing with your overstimulated clit and pounding into you, chasing his own high.

“toji..haaaah..too muchh..” you manage to choke out through your hasty breathing.

it’s no use, the man above you just keeps going, throwing his head back and grunting until he eventually grows still.

“perfect pussy. why don’t you let me take you out so i can do this without a condom next time?” he doesn’t even know what he’s saying himself, still buried inside you whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“i’ll think about it.” you give him a lazy smile.

you don’t think about it and you’re not going to. he knows that, all of them do, and he’s got one thing in common with the rest.

cluelessness.

when the sunrise begins to shine through the clouds you walk out of the room on shaky legs, you never fail to regret your choice of footwear after doing this.

maybe you’ll invest in some more comfortable heels with the money you’ve left with.

🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

toji wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache wondering what, or who he did.

there’s no trace of a woman ever have been in his hotel room, it’s only his shit scattered on the floor but he definitely remembers your face.

it’s not like he was expecting you to stick around, but the clock on the wall reads 6:21 so he’s not sure how you managed to slip out so early.

in the midst of searching for his burner phone on the ground he notices his wallet, 2 bills sticking out of it.

toji never leaves his money laying around so carelessly, the man cherishes even every coin, so out of curiosity he opens it and looks inside.

only to find that the 2 bills sticking out were the only ones there.

the dots connect in his head quicker than most men, but it’s too late for him no matter how quick they did, you’re already gone!

🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

like all criminals, you made mistakes.

but often showing up to the same casino is what got you in the end, and you were given an ultimatum.

“you can work for us, or we can tell the police all about your little business.”

the choice seemed simple, it really did.

this specific casino was in a shadier part of the strip, it definitely needed renovation and you’re half certain theres some sort of organised crime going on in the back. no girl would ever choose to work here.

but what else could you do? waste away your years in prison? you were surely going to get a few if they added up all the money you’d stolen.

so here you are, it’s been over 2 years of this now, you’ve ditched your high-adrenaline lifestyle and began tending to the bar on weekends instead of being the one at it.

sometimes you miss it, working two jobs at once isn’t exactly your idea of fun, but all the downsides of your so called ‘little business’ keep you from going back.

you fit in easily too, there still isn’t any women desperate enough to apply but you joke around with your boss shiu, make conversation with your divorced 40 something year old co-worker, and even go on smoke breaks with the guys washing money in the back.

you’re thinking of leaving soon, you’ve saved up enough to finally get out of here and pursue a ‘normal person job’ in some dull office, you think your brains perception of colour has changed since working here where all colours of the rainbow are constantly in your face.

shiu said he’d let you leave without a bother if you could find some poor girl gullible enough to take your place, so that wasn’t weighing heavy on you either.

it’s a slow night, you tap your foot to the beat of the song that’s played way too many times over the last week as you mix an old fashioned for the poor soul who’s lost his mortgage payment across the bar, he swears he’ll win it back but all of them do.

“believe in ya.” you tell him.

it’s not like you’ve magically grown into a new woman after losing your old habits, you still think they’re idiots.

if anything its only strengthened your opinions. noticing the same back at the same slot machine all throughout your shift, seeing the women have to drag their husbands out, hearing the sobs in the bathroom.

“idiot.” you think to yourself, watching him get up to play another round of poker, a mans voice takes you out of your thoughts.

“excuse me doll, could i just get a shot of whatever’s cheapest?”

turning your head to look at him, you notice his face feels familiar. you don’t think on it for too long, “sure, our cheapest is the vodka but i wouldn’t recommend. we’ve got a deal on jäger bombs if you’re looking for a few? or there’s tequila—“

“yeah. jäger’s fine.” you’ve definitely heard that voice before but you just can’t put your finger on it, maybe he’s on TV?

you mix up his shots and pour them into 3 separate glasses, sliding them to him. “there’s your shots, cash or card?”

“thank you, cash.” he places a handful of bills on the table and you pop them into the register, out of the corner of your eye you notice he’s still watching you.

he’s got a grin on his face, lips curling upwards and dragging..

dragging that scar along with them.

shiiiiiit.

he knows that you know. his grin grows wider at your wide eyes and the goosebumps on your arms.

you can’t put a name to the face, you’ve stolen from countless men, spent the night with a few, but you’re sure he was one of them.

“took ya long enough.”

you don’t know how to respond, you’ve never been in this situation before, maybe if you were still playing the role of the woman you were before you could have played it off.

“want my money back.” he says it like it’s nothing, there’s nothing threatening in his tone but your stomach still drops at his words.

“sorry sir, i-i’m not sure what you’re talking about..” your voice cracks.

“save it. hand over what’s mine.”

you probably would if you could remember how much you stole from the guy in the first place.

“i don’t—i’m not—“ your brain can’t form a sentence, just blurting out whatever it can.

“i’m not here to sit and chat, hurry up doll.” he toys with the empty shot glass on the table.

you look like someones just pulled a gun to your head, and he finds it amusing. “whats wrong? all that catch up to ya and you’re left without a cent? figures.”

“idiot.” you say under your breath, cursing yourself for being so reckless, for not getting away from this sooner.

it’s funny really, how you’ve avoided the consequences for so long and now, years later when you’ve abandoned it all, you’re forced to face them.

“i can have security drag you out or you can leave calmly.” it’s laughable now, you’ve reached the same level of stupidity as those you curse in your head.

“oh you don’t wanna do that. if i leave here today i’ll find you tomorrow, and if you manage to run away i’ll find you the next day, and the day after, and the day after that.”

who is this guy?

“since you seem to be down on your luck, there’s another way you could pay me back.” he pauses, “finish your shift and come back to where ya took that money from me in the first place.”

you scoff, “you think i’m an idiot? how do i know you’re not gonna kill me in that room?”

he glances over the room before taking something out of his pocket, placing a gun on the counter.

“there.”

you scramble to slip it away from everyone’s view and he speaks again, “for the record, i still think you’re an idiot. you stole from me of all people.”

“and who are you exactly?” you question him.

he chuckles, “forgot my name?” he says, acting as if he should somehow stand out from the rest.

“…yeah?”

“thought you would’ve remembered considering i made you a hefty sum, but that’s alright—don’t remember yours either.” his memory of you seems to be quite vivid despite all the time that’s passed.

you give one last lazy attempt to get out of this situation as easily as possible, “let’s keep it that way. i don’t know you, you don’t know me. just leave and forget i ever existed.”

“ya see i just can’t do that.. in my line of work we don’t ‘forget’ about things like this.”

line of work? what’s he talking about?

as if he was reading your mind, “ask shiu who does his dirty work for him.” he clarifies.

“shiu? how do you know shiu?” the mysteries around this man only continue to grow the longer you talk to him.

“don’t know why i have to keep on repeating myself around you doll, just told ya i do his dirty work for him.”

your eyes flick to the gun, then back up at him, back to the gun, back to him.

“full of surprises, aren’t i? how about you clock out early and we start this as soon as possible, i’m sure he won’t mind if i let him know you’re repaying your debt.” he gets up from the stool he’s sitting on, still resting his arms on the table.

you could try and run away, or get security, but that little part of you that misses your dangerous life is screaming for you to do it.

fine, this is the last time you do something like this, and then this part of your life will be locked up forever.

the walk to his hotel is quiet, he has an arm slung over your shoulder—probably to prevent you from running, and you have yours crossed. that’s the only contact between you two, you don’t spare him a glance and neither of you add to the noise of the busy street.

the hotel is the same too, it’s one of the cheaper ones in the area but you wouldn’t expect anything more from him.

of course his room had to be on one of the highest levels too, you feel like prey in the elevator as his eyes scan over your body and he wears that same grin on his face. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on—him looking at you like a piece of cake.

“what?” you ask, cheeks growing hotter under his gaze.

he moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “just thinkin’ of all the fun we’re gonna have.”

‘fun’ was definitely an interesting choice on how to describe your situation.

the barrell of the gun he dropped on the table earlier is pressed against his neck, and the extra one you didn’t know he had is circling your nipple.

nothing about this should have your pussy this wet, but something sadistic in you loves it.

loves the way the cold muzzle feels against your nipple as you bounce up and down on his cock, loves the way his head tilts as far back as it can as if that was going to save him if you pulled the trigger.

you both had the same idea too, pulling it out the minute the lock clicked on the hotel door.

fucking at gunpoint, how romantic.

“keep squeezin’ me like that and i’ll cum so hard ill end up pulling the trigger.” he chokes out, the side of his throat being pressed down by the gun.

“not if i shoot first.” you tease him, clenching your walls tighter as you pull yourself up on his shaft.

he hisses through his teeth as he feels his cock getting choked by your pussy, “you’re liking this shit a little too much, you wanna play russian roulette or somethin’?”

“i’m not that crazy.” contradicting your words, you jam the gun further into his neck.

“wouldn’t be—ngh surprised.”

your thighs burn as you drag yourself up and down continuously, but you don’t care.

what you feel right now can be compared to someone in the desert finding a stream of water, or a crack addict finding their fix after going days without it.

despite teetering on the thin line separating life and death right now it’s the most alive you’ve felt in years.

“mm, you wanna know what i think?—i think you’re scared to death right now.” you tell him, a matching smirk splayed across your face.

“and just why would i be scared?” he sees no threat behind your words, zoned in on how his length disappears inside you.

“because you gave me the loaded one.”

his face remains still but you can just sense the shift in him, “what makes you think mine isn’t?”

“you had every intention of doing this, that’s why you brought two isn’t it?” you punctuate the last two words with a roll of your hips, pleasure coursing through your body as your clit catches on the hair of his happy trail.

“so why would you load both?”

every word you say makes his head spin, “if you’re so confident, why don’t ya let me hold it in your mouth?”

“would’ve let you even if it had all six. aaaaa..” you stick your tongue out, waiting for him to fulfil his promise.

that one almost made him bust right there.

he tilts you down, allowing him to slide the barrel into your mouth, finger still on the trigger.

the taste isn’t pleasant, it’s sort of metallic—but you’ve tasted worse.

“yeaah, clean it for me” he groans.

increasing your pace has the gun clanking against your teeth, so you open your mouth wider and toji can’t get enough of the sight.

he begins thrusting up into you, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth. “shhitwaigt..” you mumble out, unable to speak properly.

you feel your arms losing strength, relieving the pressure on his neck and allowing him to breathe properly, “what was that?” he teases you, picking up the speed of his hips.

“gonnacuum..!” this one’s more coherent than the last, he slams in and out of you faster than you can even process your orgasm washing over you, the gun falling out of your hand as your body goes limp.

“ohh fuuckk..” him seeing you fall apart sent him over the edge too, spilling his seed into you with one harsh thrust that you swear you can feel in your throat.

his first question after fucking your brains out makes you want to blow out his, “you on birth control?”

“bit late for that, no?”

“just saying if you aren’t, ya can pay for plan b with that money you stole.”

🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

toji’s just wrapped up another job, his gun weighing heavy in his hand as he strolls out of the bloody room and into broad daylight.

he looks down at it, noticing how half of the barrel shines while the other half doesn’t.

maybe he’ll drop by and spend his paycheck at shiu’s casino, for old time’s sake.

🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

a/n : got a toji labubu from a blindbox aka gambling so thought this was pretty fitting

not proofread soz about to go bar hopping every reblog increases my chances of getting cracked tn

jokes aside all interactions r appreciated <33

Best Friend!Satoru who tells himself he’s the same old him. You’re the same old you. Except he keeps catching himself staring at your mouth when you talk and your throat when you swallow and your pretty eyes and your pretty smile and your pretty tits (fuck, when did you get those?).

Like, objectively, they’ve always been there. But now they’re just.. there. And he’d be unappreciative not to look and admire, if only a little.

Best Friend!Satoru who finds himself wondering how soft they’d feel, how your nipples would look hard and wet from his tongue. How your neck would look with his marks painting your skin.

Then he blinks, realizes he’s half-hard in his sweats, and immediately starts complaining about being hungry again to distract everyone (mostly himself, and god, he’s hungry for so much more).

Best Friend!Satoru who – when you crash at his place after movie night and fall asleep on his couch with one leg thrown over the backrest and your shorts riding up so high he can see the little dimple where ass meets thigh – has to take the longest, coldest shower of his life.

Best Friend!Satoru who jerks off so hard he sees stars, biting down on his bottom lip so you don’t hear the way he whimpers your name like a pervert.

Fuck.

You.

He cums embarrassingly fast when he remembers you’re in the next room over. Spilling hot into his hand, groaning at the sheer amount. He then emerges half an hour later like nothing happened and tosses a blanket over you while muttering “slutty sleeping positions, jeez” under his breath.

Best Friend!Satoru who keeps telling Suguru “no, dude, she’s not my type”. To which Suguru raises a brow – because he sees the way Satoru smiles when you laugh.

He hums. Watches Satoru stare at you for a full ninety seconds longer – then raises his brow higher.

"Your balls are on the line, Satoru."

"Fuck."

Best Friend!Satoru who knows that you know that he likes your tits. Nothing really ever gets past either of you when it comes to each other. You call him a boob-obsessed pervert. He doesn’t argue, for once – because there’s nothing false about that statement.

Best Friend!Satoru who ends up drunk at your place one night. His head’s in your lap and you’re playing with his hair and his filter just.. evaporates, because he’s in your bed, and god, you’re pretty, and your tits are staring right at him, and fuck, he likes your tits, and he likes you.

“If I motorboated you right now, would you kick me out or moan?”

“Excuse me?”

He repeats the question, and you stare at him before laughing. So hard you snort, which makes him groan and hide his face between your thighs (out of embarrassment, and not for any other reason. no, no alternative motives at all).

“What would you even do if you saw bare boobs, Satoru?”

He gives you an incredulous look. Like it’s obvious.

“Uh.. duh. Squeeze ‘em. Bounce ‘em. Stick my face between ‘em and go brrr.”

He pauses. Looks at you as if waiting for approval. Then raises a hand and makes a little grabby motion mid-air.

“Honk honk.”

You blink, slow.

And maybe because you’re tipsy, maybe because his cheesy grin makes your stomach flutter, maybe because of some dumb concoction of the two – you tug your shirt up. Letting your tits spill free. “Okay.”

And for once in his life, Gojo Satoru is speechless.

No way.

There’s no way you– you, his dumb, stupid, gorgeous, absolutely-nothing-more-than-friends best friend – are in front of him right now. With your tits out. He’s gotta be delusional. Maybe this is one of those dreams he gets where you lean forward and kiss him and he wakes up with a wet spot in his boxers and the afterglow ringing in his ears.

Your shirt’s bunched just beneath your collarbones, tits sitting pretty like it’s nothing. And you’re perfect, just like you always are, and they’re perfect, just like he thought they’d be, and a flush is spreading across his face, and his dick is twitching so hard it hurts.

“Satoru.”

“Mm..?”

“You’re staring.”

“Whoops.”

You raise a brow. “You begged to motorboat me. So do it, loser.”

He answers with a wrecked noise wrangled from the throat – half-laugh, half-groan. Ridiculously long fingers landing on your bare waist as he surges up.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Mouth dry, hands clammy, eyes blown wide as his gaze snaps from your face to your tits to your face to your tits and then all the way down to your sleep shorts before back up. “You’re serious? You’re letting me–?”

“You’ve got about ten seconds before I change my mind, Satoru.”

And oh, that does it.

Best Friend!Satoru who lunges.

Zero hesitation and zero finesse and pure, greedy desperation. His face buries itself between your breasts with a muffled, ridiculous brrrrrrr that vibrates straight through your skin. Nose dragging along the inner curve of one, lips brushing the other, cheeks hollowing as he shakes his head side to side like he’s trying to drown himself in your cleavage. The vibration makes you squeak, before the sound dissolves into breathless laughter.

“You absolute fucking dork–”

He pulls back just far enough for you to see his face – flushed crimson from the tips of his ears to the hollow of his throat, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Lashes fluttering as he stares up at you in open awe.

“They’re perfect,” he whispers, voice cracking, “so fucking soft, holy shit– fuuuck, I might die. Am I dead? Oh, if I am, I’m so, so happy about it.”

Then he dives back in.

His lips are soft and his mouth is hot and he’s relentless – tongue laving open-mouthed kisses over every inch of skin, swirling slow, filthy circles around one nipple until it stiffens into a tight, aching peak. When he closes his lips and sucks – hard – your back arches off the bed. Fingers twisting viciously in his hair.

He groans at the pull, hips jerking forward. Grinding against the sheets.

“Look at these,” he murmurs, hoarse. Hands sliding up to cup your breasts, long fingers splaying wide as his thumbs brush over your split-slick nipples. “Been thinking ‘bout them for years, y’know? Every time you wore those stupid tops and leaned over to steal my fries and hugged me and they pressed against my body– shiiiiit, had to count backwards from a hundred. Didn’t wanna pop a boner in public like a perv.”

And oh, you see it. His hard-on, all warm and thick and pulsing with every heartbeat.

He’s so hard it has to hurt.

“Perv.”

He freezes. A full-body shudder rips through him.

“Don’t,” Satoru whispers. “Don’t– hah– or I’ll cum in my pants right now. I’m not joking.”

You giggle. Fingers running through his hair, cradling his head to your chest.

“Peeeeervert.”

“You’re evil,” he whispers, nuzzling closer. “You’ve always been evil. I hate you so much.”

“You’re literally suffocating yourself between my tits right now.”

“I take it all back. I love you. Never change. Marry me. Have my babies. Name them all after me–”

Best Friend!Satoru who thinks that taking off clothes is suuuuch an inconvenience. He does it because he has to, but really – you’re best friends. You shouldn’t need to wear clothes around each other. If you’re naked in his room all the damn time, then hey, that’s just what best friends are for. And honestly, while he’s at it, what’s a little cock, too? What are best friends for if not fucking?

Best Friend!Satoru who’s on his knees between your thighs before you can even catch your breath, long fingers spreading you wide, eyes glittering in the low light.

“Fuck, look at you,” he breathes. Voice wrecked, thumb sliding through your slick folds just to watch you twitch. “Soaked, huh? Hiii, pretty girl. I know. ‘Toru’s here, baby.”

You barely manage a snarky shut up before he spits – deliberate, filthy – right on your clit. Watches it drip slow and nasty down to your entrance, then drags two long fingers through the mess, mixing it all together before pushing inside without warning.

The stretch makes you gasp – and then he curls his fingers just right, and you swear you see stars.

Best Friend!Satoru who lets out a murmured “attagirl” while he pumps his fingers into your pussy. You’re unsure as to whether he’s speaking to you or your cunt – scissoring you open as his tongue flicks out to swirl ‘round your clit.

“Mmm. Been dreaming ‘bout this pussy, y’know? Used to jerk off in the shower imagining your taste and then– fuuuck, yeah, post-nut clarity would hit so fucking hard. Felt like shit. This feels like heaven.”

Best Friend!Satoru who seals his mouth over your clit and sucks. The way he sucked on your nipples earlier, only harder, and filthier. Tongue flicking fast and then slow and then spelling his own name out against your cunt because of course he does.

“Satoru– fuck! Slow down–”

Best Friend!Satoru who does not slow down. Instead, he pulls off just long enough to grin up at you, lips shiny, chin dripping – “No.”

Then he’s hauling you up by the thighs, lying back against the sheets and dragging you over his face.

“Sit,” he grins. “Sit. Want your thighs around my head when I make you cum.”

Best Friend!Satoru who frowns when you hover just above. Who yanks you down until you’re smothering him, nose buried against your clit, tongue swirling inside you alongside two of his fingers, knuckle-deep. He’s moaning like he’s the one getting eaten, hips grinding uselessly against the air, a pretty bead of pre-cum dribbling down his cock.

And every time you try to lift up to give him air, he pulls you back down harder.

“No, no, use me, baby. Use me. Ride my face. Want you to drown me.”

Your thighs shake.

You’re close, so close, grinding down shamelessly now, chasing it – and he knows. He always knows. Just like he knows the sky is blue and the grass is green and he loves his best friend’s pussy so, so much.

Best Friend!Satoru who sucks your clit into his mouth one last time. Crooks his fingers just right. And then you’re crashing into your high, cumming with his name all sweet on your tongue, gushing while he drinks you down like he needs your arousal to stay alive.

Best Friend!Satoru who doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, oversensitive, trying to squirm away – and only then does he let you collapse beside him. He’s panting, face flushed a cherry pink, lips swollen and glossy with you. Sprawled on his back with an arm flung over his eyes, both of your chests heaving in sync.

You nudge his ribs. “You good, weirdo?”

He doesn’t move his arm. Just lets out the most pathetic little whine you’ve ever heard in your life, then curls into a ball.

“..I came.”

.

You prop yourself up on one elbow, peering down at him. “Wait. Like.. just now? Untouched?”

He peeks from under his forearm, mortified. “Don’t laugh. I’ll actually cry.”

You bite your lip so hard it hurts. Shoulders shaking. And he groans, rolling facedown into the pillows.

“I hate you– shit, sorry, not you.. I hate my dick. Why’s it so loyal to you?–”

You poke the small of his back. “Satoru.”

“–betraying me all the time–”

“Satoru.”

He turns his head just enough to halfheartedly glare at you, cheeks flushed. “Yes?”

“Wanna fuck me?”

His whole body jolts up – dick included. The arm flies off his face so fast it’s comical.

“Hell yeah.”

Best Friend!Satoru who lines himself up with trembling hands. Rubbing the fat head of his cock between your slick folds once, twice, swiping up and coating himself in the mess he’s made of you. And he’s big – bigger than you expected – filling you up with a burningly good stretch. He bottoms out with a groan – long and low and wrecked. Forehead dropping to yours.

“Fuck. Fuuuuuck. Holy shit, you’re tight, baby.”

“Shush.”

He blinks. Pulls back. His eyes dart over your face – hesitant.

“Sorry.”

“It's okay, ‘Toru. Just give me a sec.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah– are you okay?”

You nod, slow. Silence fills the room.

And then his dick twitches, and the both of you burst out into laughter.

It’s awkward. In that best-friends-really-shouldn’t-be-having-sex way. But that’s what makes it fun, no?

And god, Satoru thinks he loves you.

He likes when you smile. He likes when you say his name. You’re really fucking pretty all the fucking time and even more so when you’re giggling – something in the frequency of your laugh making his brain short circuit to a pleasant buzz. And when you give him the green light, the buzz spreads all the way down into his chest, into some funny fuzzy feeling that makes his stomach do flips.

Best Friend!Satoru who fucks you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin and live there forever. Slow, reverent, hips rolling deep and deliberate like he’s trying to mold your walls into the shape of his cock with every inch. His forehead stays pressed to yours, breath hitching every time he bottoms out, those ridiculously blue eyes all wide and adoring and completely fucking gone.

“Shit.. shit, you feel–” he cuts himself off with a shuddering groan, pulling out slow just to watch the way your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate to drag him back in. “You’re sucking me in, baby. Greedy little thing.”

Best Friend!Satoru who can’t decide where to put his hands. They’re everywhere, frantic, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he stops touching. Gentle against your tits, sliding down to frame your hips, then up again to cradle your face while he kisses you all sloppy and open-mouthed, tongue swirling with yours like he’s starving.

And then his eyes flutter open, and he murmurs soft against your mouth – “the clitoris.”

“What?”

He smiles bright, hand drifting down to thumb at your puffy clit. Grinning wider when your head falls back against the pillow and your toes curl and you squeal his name.

“The clitoris.”

Best Friend!Satoru who loses the plot completely when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. The rhythm stutters, turning all messy and desperate, and he pants into your neck, hips snapping hard enough that the headboard smacks the wall with a steady thump-thump. But his hand cradles your head gentle, the other supporting your waist. So, so careful.

“Wait– fu– fuuuckk, m’not gonna last if you keep–”

He chokes on the words when you clench deliberately around him, walls milking his cock.

“Shit, cumming, baby–”

Best Friend!Satoru who tries to pull out. Because he’s a gentleman (allegedly). But you lock your ankles behind his back and your arms wrap around his shoulders as you hold him tight to your body, murmuring a quiet “inside. on the pill” – and he’s gone. Eyes rolling back so hard you’re worried for a second, before he slams back inside with a guttural sound. Hips grinding deep as he spills all hot inside you.

He cums forever. Like, literally. Forever. You didn’t know a guy could cum this much. Pulse after pulse, hips jerking helplessly, face buried in the crook of your neck as he whimpers, muffled against your skin. “Fuck, fuck, take it– take it, baby, shiiiit–”

Best Friend!Satoru who stays buried inside you the whole time. Cock still half-hard and twitching every few seconds like it’s raring to go. Trembling, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, peppering gentle kisses along your collarbone as the silence spills soft between the two of you.

And then he pulls out, slow. Watches his cum drip out of you with a loving sigh. Proceeds to scoop it all up with two fingers and push it back in, smiling when your walls flutter weakly around his knuckles.

“Mine,” he whispers. Rolling your clit beneath the pad of his thumb almost absentmindedly. “All mine.”

Then he flops on top of you like an overgrown cat, face smushing between your tits, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

Best Friend!Satoru who, five minutes later, is hard again. Nudging your thigh with his dick like a golden retriever ready to play.

“Round two?”

You flick his forehead. “You just came inside me like a broken hose, Satoru. Give me five minutes.”

He pouts. Then brightens.

“Cool, I’ll use the five minutes to motorboat you again.”

“Satoru–”

“Brrrrrrbrrbprbrpbrrrrrr.”

Best Friend!Satoru who swears he’s not perving. Surely not.

Best Friend!Satoru who absolutely is.

But he’s doing it respectfully!

Quietly.

Desperately.

In the stupid way stupid guys do when they fall in love with their stupid childhood best friend.

(Satoru is NOT cutting off his balls for this.)

“No, it’s a fever. I went to the doctor’s. Got my meds. I’m fine, and I’m sticky, don’t-” He sighs, trying to pull you away by the waist, “I don’t think you should be around me right now.”

“What?! You don’t like me anymore?” You pull away looking upset and about to cry, then he finds himself softening even more and conclude that you soothe his sickness just as much as you raise his temperature. Having a girlfriend means you have to accept someone cares for you, and he cares just the same. 5 months into dating, he still struggles to understand how helpless he is when you’re present. Sukuna does not recognize himself around you, but he does recognize the scent of your skin even when he’s sick.

“No, that’s not what I meant, you know that. Your immune system is frailer than mine. You’re gonna get sick too…” He comforts you a little while coughing, giving you a rare pleading look for you to listen to him once. But of course, his girlfriend wouldn’t be his girlfriend if she wasn’t so stubborn. So, you decide to push him down gently on his bed despite his resistance, and you start acting busy.

By “acting busy”, it means frantically grabbing a cup of hot water for him, but almost burning yourself with the thermal water. Trying to reach the top of his closet for more blankets to cover up his shivering body, but you’re not tall enough so you proceed to almost give him a heart attack by standing on his wobbly study chair to grab it. Sukuna thinks you should go home for the sake of his wellbeing.

If not for the rain during the rugby tournament two days ago, he thinks he wouldn’t have gotten so ill. The acid rain paired with an injured leg and running on an empty stomach was killing him.

“I told you to eat more! You loved to eat!”

“Sweetheart you know I control my body fat before my games. It’s mandato- ahem- mandatory.”

“Just be fat then!” You scold him as you cover him with the 2 blankets you found, overlapping them. Sukuna wonders if you’re aware that there’s still dust on the blanket and he’s damn well about to sneeze. You’re in sneeze range. He tries to hold it in but his unfortunately silly clumsy girlfriend with a sensitive nose decided to sneeze first, and you muttered a shy “xcuse mi” before turning away to find his meds. He sighs.

“Hey…but you love my abs. How else can I maintain my abs if i don’t control my body fat and go to the gym?” He lazily grins at the sight of your figure in his room.

“D-don’t get smart with me when you have a fever! I like you with a bit of belly too, whatever.” You turn around with a blush on your face, pretending to hit him. He coughs.

“Guess I’m ‘big’ enough for you.” Sukuna whispers, giving you a little wink after his little innuendo. How he’s even talking like a cheeky clown while bedridden with high fever, you don’t know. Maybe he’s getting into boyfriend mode right now.

“Pervert! Sick pervert! Go die!”

Okay, fine. If he’s going to die seeing his girlfriend as the last 7 minutes of his life, he can live with that. Sukuna wouldn’t miss anyone as much as you, but he keeps this to himself.

“I am actually sick, so…”

“I-I mean sick in the head!”

After fussing and a lot of back and forth eye rolling, you finally get him to take his meds. He’s a lot weaker than you expected. It’s your first time seeing your boyfriend so…so…You can’t voice out this oddly giddy feeling in your chest. Too taboo and controversial. There’s something wrong with you ever since the moment you got into his room.

It must be because you’re used to him pampering and spoiling you that you’re entirely clueless on the instructions and guidelines to taking care of others. As a friend, you’re great with words of encouragement. However, as a girlfriend, all you’ve done is awkwardly blushing and shyly asking for hugs and kisses. Sukuna cooks during homedates. Sukuna massages your feet when you cramp up. Sukuna helps you with homework.

Sukuna makes sure you feel good first before he does when you have sex.

Watching him with jelly limbs and a soft voice, helpless and pitiful…was doing something to your hungry gut. Not sure why. You just had a big breakfast earlier before rushing over after getting a text from Toji that Sukuna left his phone at his place and he’s sick.

“Why are you redder than I am?” Sukuna yawns from under his blankets, smiling with a sleazy grin. His fingers poke out underneath the fabric, gently running his thumb over your knee as you approach to sit on the edge of his bed. Such a tease even when he barely has the energy to move.

“It’s just…” You pout in embarrassment, “It’s my first time seeing you so…weak. You’re like…a…a baby..and I’m taking care of you…I like it.” Leaning over him more, you wipe away his sweat with a wet towel you got from his bathroom.

“Me being weakened is…appealing you?” He asked curiously.

“I guess. Dunno. You just look so cute…” You respond, hoping it doesn’t sound like you’re happy about his sickness.

“Mhm. That’s how you usually are to me,” His canines poke out with his smirk, less smug than usual, “Pitiful, cute and helpless.”

“I-i’m not helpless. I’m just- I’m just a bit slow…” You roll your eyes, trying not to be flustered over Sukuna’s words. So that’s how he views you. His little girlfriend who makes him have this urge to do things for you. To him, you’re sick all the time.

“I take care of you.” He mumbles.

“Um...” Your eyes dart to the side.

“You know you’re spoilt, huh?” He gently smiles, one hand pinching your lower lip lightly while the other on your knee slowly travels up your butt, grabbing a handful to squeeze. He watches with a yearnful exhale when you grab his wrist shyly, eyes wide and suddenly quiet. No matter how many times he flirts with you or makes a move on you, you still react as if it was your first day reporting in duty as “Sukuna’s girlfriend.”

“Perv…” You murmur. He gets a few more delightful squeezes before surrendering to your grip, placing his slimy hands on your thighs respectfully while you wipe at his sweat.

Can’t lie, the first day he reported in as your “Boyfriend”, it was serious for him. Sukuna never had a girlfriend before, used to simply fool around in his younger years where puberty hormones had did a great number on his libido, giving him a huge growth spurt in masculinity. At the time, the concept of romantice desire and affections was too foreign and irrational for him to accept that it could ever happen to him.

Sukuna couldn’t understand how his little brother Yuji fell in love with his friend Megumi, noting the differences in personality. He deemed romantic love incomprehensible, until love hit him like a freight train and he’s tied to the train tracks like a suicide attempt. You are nothing like him. You’re awkward, out of place, frequently impulsive and constantly, horribly charming.

He was right. It is incomprehensible. How your stupid puns got a chuckle out of him, he doesn’t know. He swore he was possess by a laughing ghost. How the little spots of acne scars make him do a double take, he doesn’t know. He swore he was possess by a dermatologist when he bought you some cream a few days later and you had gotten better from it. Then you hugged him all friendly with a loud ‘thank you bro!’ and all he could do was push you away because you’re too close to his personal space and he’s not your “bro”.

“Stop looking at me. So awkward.” You cover his eyes. Now he likes your personal space more than you do and he’s definitely not your “bro”.

Sukuna’s eyes crinkle with mirth.

“This reminds me of the time when your chicken wing flew to my face, and you kept trying to wipe my face clean.”

“Oh my gawd don’t bring that up.” The memory instantly has you burying yourself down onto the bedridden man’s chest, cheeks aflame. He’s talking about the first time you met at the cafeteria. Trying so hard to separate the chicken from the small bones with your fork and spoon, the tension broke and it jerked all the way to the next table where Sukuna and his friend Toji sat. Toji pointed a finger at him and laughed so loud everyone saw.

Running his warm palm over your back to pat you, Sukuna swears he can feel the little bump and ridges of your spine. The delicate curve from nape to pelvis. Maybe he’s just losing it because he hasn’t seen you in almost a week and a half due to his tournament. You had a special agreement that you would not see each other before big exams and games, just so you wouldn’t get too distracted by each other.

“I missed you quite a lot, honestly.” He whispers with all the mental strength he can muster.

“Missed yew tew,” Your confession muffles against his shirt, “Now you’re sick…” You raise your head to rest your chin on his chest, looking longingly down at Sukuna before wiping away his sweat again. He’s suppose to feel sleepy after his meds, but it seems like your boyfriend is fighting the sleep.

“I feel bad…” A small shuffle up and you plant a chaste kiss to his nose tip, dodging his attempt to kiss your lips.

“You feel bad, yet I’m banned from getting a kiss from my girlfriend.” His nose scrunches, displeased.

“You’re gonna infect me too!” You complain, squeezing his cheeks as an apology.

“Then you should tell me about your week, or something. I can’t sleep with you lying on me like this.” He pats your hair.

“Why not? You never complained I was too heavy, should I get up?” You try to get up, but Sukuna quickly yanks you back down, shaking his head softly.

“No, I mean, I…” He coughs, “You’re really distracting. My girlfriend’s lying ontop of my chest, and I can’t do anything other than go to sleep. So show me mercy and talk me to sleep.”

Recoiling away with a scandalized face, you smack Sukuna’s chest, twice as light as before since he’s sick.

“Y-you thinking about sex even when you’re sick?!” You hush whisper at him, as if someone was eavesdropping on your naughty conversation.

“You just kissed me,” He deadpans. You turn your head back to notice the small tent growing from under the blanket, then whip your head back in horror, now terribly aroused by your debuffed boyfriend still being able to get hard even through his condition. It might be true the penis has it’s mind of it’s own.

“Oh.” You puff your cheeks.

“You don’t seem particularly angry about my erection.” Sukuna bluntly speaks, quirking a mischievious brow. Are you actually entertaining the idea of having sex with him while he’s sick? No, it can’t be, can it? His sweet girlfriend who’s a closeted pervert? Possibly cannot be. So he pulls his arms out fully from under the blankets and grabs your neck and your upper arm, pulling you down for another kiss. You swerve him again, but you don’t stop him when his sloppy kisses go from jaw to neck, all the way down your collarbone and you whimper.

“We can’t! You’ll exhaust yourself.” You whine with no fight, holding onto his thick forearms, not meaning to pry them off at all. Alas, Sukuna succumbs to his dizziness and slumps back down on the bed, a frustrated sound escaping his throat.

“Ya horny bloke,” You joke with a goofy accent, ignoring the fact that he’s looking at you all panting and needy. He gives you a wistful smile, slow blinking.

Then a eureka pops into your brain and you’re firm to say that his lust has rubbed off on you because what you’re about to say will render both of you speechless.

“Wh-what if I try topping you for once?” Your voice meek and encouraging.

Sukuna’s eyes blow wide and awake, left eye twitching twice for a good omen.

A beat.

“I think my dick is fully hard now.” He blurts out.

“Yeeerrrr, pervert.” You giggle.

“No ‘takeback-sies’. Or whatever you like to say.” He jests.

Lacing your nimble fingers over his callous and scarred ones, you lean down hesitantly some more, gently nuzzling the tip of your nose with his, before pulling down the blanket by a small margin. Afraid of him to shiver and get cold, you dare not to pull back too much, but a feverish Sukuna is haughty and impatient, so he pushes off his blanket himself to lean up a little, kissing the side of your hair.

“Pull me up.” He urges, sultry voice strained with urgency.

“You’re like, shockingly impatient when you’re sick, noooo cannn doooo.” You sing with a betraying curl of a smirk on your face, basking in all the power you have over him now that he’s as docile as a lamb. He scoffs with a choked cough, before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer, quietly demanding you to do something before his dick explodes out his pants.

“Come on, sweetheart…I’m dying here.” The veins on his hands pop and protest with the harsh grip he has on your hips now, eyes conveying a sweet subservience. You debate within yourself if you should pull him up, but you decide to keep your upper hand and play your cards right.

“Only because you look so cute right now.” You whisper playfully into his ear, before slowly snaking your hand from his tattoed chest down to his firm stomach. The moment you feel his tented boxers, you let out a dorky squeak.

“Is my dick ‘cute’ too?.” Sukuna smirks, his sweaty palm pressing your hand down harder on his hard-on through his boxers, then he groans and whimpers in the same sound.

“Wah...!” You squeal, feeling his manhood twitch and jerk. You once told him a penis is like a worm to you, since it squirms and moves. Sukuna chuckled at you then, and asked you if you were fine with trying out “edible worms”. You smacked him for his lewd joke.

“Well,” He sniffles, “Since my cruel girlfriend won’t pull me up to sit, I guess you could try giving me a handjob. You know what’s that right?” He mocks with amusement.

“Don’t mock me! I know what’s that!”

“Okay, so…miss girlfriend, would you oh so kindly demonstrate once for me? I’m just a frail, bed-ridden patient after all.” He smirks.

“R-roleplay?” You stammer in surprise.

“Oh, I was joking, but I’m down, Doc. Fix me up?”

“Stop it. I’m shy...” You look away with an escalating heartbeat, no good at hiding your feelings.

“Awh. Too bad.” He feigns innocence, licking his dry lips in anticipation. He watches you get all shy and jittery before pushing your fingers into his boxers. His hips buck up on reflex the moment your cold hands touches his hot skin, his short cut nails on your waist almost tears into your shirt.

“Fuck, your hand feel extra cold when I’m sick. Shit, I might cum real fast.” His breathing starts to quicken even more, and you’re now wondering if it’s a really bad idea to be making him pant and heave while he’s already riding on a high fever and sore limbs, but Sukuna’s hand isn’t stopping, guiding you to torturously stroke him.

It’s slippery, you’re uncertain if it’s his precum or your palms being sweaty from nervousness and arousal that you’re jerking off your boyfriend for the first time like an amateur. You could hardly get used to the feeling of a penis. Meanwhile, Sukuna frantically reaches for the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it up, but you stop him quickly. He swats your hand away.

“No no! I promised today it’s about your pleasure! Don’t overexert your-”

“I can’t cum if you don’t- cough moan for me. Fucking- come here.” Sukuna’s temperature must be going up higher, noted by the way he’s rough in pulling up your shirt and stuffing the hem of it in your mouth. You shyly comply and bite it down before he pulls up your bra to let your boobs spill out. He’s usually a lot more teasing and sensual during foreplay, so the fever must be making his head spin like a centrifuge.

“I said stay still!” You shout, letting your shirt off your mouth and cover yourself again, squeezing his dick harder and press your thumb into his tip, making the big man below you shudder and throw his head back on the pillow, flushed and profusely sweating even more.

“Let me suck your tits,” He pants, one hand coming up to squeeze your boob through your shirt, relishing in the way you try to wiggle away but pump his dick sloppier as you do. Oh, it’s so good how bad you are at getting him off, that its getting him off anyways. His girlfriend who is really clueless at sex, is really good at being clueless at sex.

Sukuna can feel himself on the verge of cumming so hard from the tension in his spine and thighs. Just watching the way you fumble all over yourself trying to service him was his form of foreplay. He takes a mental note to fake being sick a few more times after this just so you could try “topping” him. Shit.

Something about the way you’re a novice at pleasure is extremely arousing to him. He was already your first, but he enjoys how you still get redfaced every single time you have sex. No matter how many times he tries to teach you, you’re still learning way too slowly.

He taught you how to kiss, but every now and then you still get the tempo wrong and drool all over his chin. He taught you how to grind yourself down at him, but you always exhaust yourself before you get to cum, angrily proclaiming you “give up at this sex thing” before he gives in and helps you.

Sukuna reckons some people are just meant to be pillow princesses. You’re already all worked up just from giving him a handjob, who knows what happens if you put your mouth on him? Sukuna groans out loud at his own fantasy.

“Do you- Do you want to put your mouth on my dick?” His eyes glazed over with lust.

“B-blow job?” You freeze, pausing your hand as well. Sukuna recognizes that you’re a little scared now, and squeezes your hand.

“Uh- no, yes, but sweetheart, I’m not going to be rough with you, trust me.” He tries to sit up, you push him back down.

“Can I just lick?”

“Yes, that’s what I meant. I didn’t say blow me, I said-…Fuck baby, I was gonna cum before you stopped.” He rubs his face in frustration.

“Oh! Sorry!” Your hand fumble to pump him again, but it seems that missing his orgasm was making Sukuna so frustrated that he looks properly in pain, covering his eyes with his hand and the other still on your waist. Are you the world’s most terrible girlfriend ever?!

To make matters worse, you can feel him starting to go soft.

No no no!

“Ryo I’m so sor-”

In a fast motion, Sukuna somehow managed to sit up right with a grunt and drags you to straddle him, ignoring your soft yelp. He starts to bunch up your shirt again.

“You tryna edge me, girlfriend? I’ll have you know I'm really horny. I’m really bad when I’m horny.” He grits, brows furrowing tightly, trying to suppress the sadistic smile that’s appearing on his face. Straining himself and being in pain to have sex is oddly turning him on. What’s that about sadomasochism?

“I swear I wasn’t…” Reflexes have you automatically loop your arms around his neck, looking at him like a pitiful thing. Sukuna lets out an angry growl at your genuine sadness, more so angry at himself being unable to practice self control around you. But fuck, he’s out of it.

He kisses your forehead and nuzzles it with his own, shutting his eyes close for a brief moment of composure.

“Listen to me sweetheart. How about you jerk me off while I suck your tits? I wanna suck your tits. I can’t cum if you don’t feel good.” He licks your collarbone, and you can feel how hot his breath is, “Don’t you want to make me cum?” He coos.

“I-I do!”

“So be a good girl and don’t think too much.”

Pushing his thumb in your mouth, Sukuna leans down to suck at your breast. It lacks his usual speed due to how tired he is, but its more sensual now from his kitten licks. His tongue trembles as he swirls, weak as he bites your nipple and breathes out loudly when he sucks on it hard.

Your mewls and whimper go directly into his eardrums, making his dick hard again and begging to be relieved. You listen to him and pump him fast without stopping, occassionally being too rough, getting lost in the feeling of Sukuna’s mouth on you. He doesn’t complain however, his breathing seems to get louder and louder until he finally jerks his hip up in a stutter and fuck your fist.

Your thighs rub together on instinct, getting awfully wet from the sounds of his pleasure and how delirious it is to have sex while he’s running hot and cold. You want to cum, you want Sukuna to cum, you want to cum together.

“Fuck! I’m gonna-” Sukuna cums loud, louder than usual with his hoarse voice and right into the hollow of your neck. Nipples lathered in his drool, he continues to tweak and pinch them even as he blows his load, hot white fluid splattering on your pumping hand. His thumb pops out your mouth and he swipes it over your nipple, making you shake.

Jaw slack with drool, Sukuna shoves his hand under your thighs and into your shorts, just to feel how wet you got for him. His dick twitches when he feels that wet, hot spot on your panties, and he’s guessing it’s probably the purple cotton one. He loves it this one in particular, because it’s thinner and he can feel the bump of your small clit through it. Rubbing it once, you cry out and he moans, greedy to make you wetter. His freehand kneads your ass again just to ground himself.

“God I want to lick your pussy so fucking bad.” He bites down at his own lip, his forearm getting sore and stuttering as he rubs you off. He knows he won’t be able to make you cum since he’s got no strength to fuck you right now, but god he wants to put his tongue to work. He wants to eat something and it’s only available inside the offensive barrier of your panties and his health.

“R-ryo you can’t…” You whine, thumbing his tip and feeling more semen ooze out of his dick.

“I know, I-I know. Hah.” He nods vigorously in resignation against your neck, peppering it with praising kisses, cursing out until he finally pulls his hand out from your shorts to suck on his fingers, desperate for the taste of your wetness on his fingers. He’ll be sure to make it up to you once he recovered.

“Think I’m gonna faint.”

“Ryomen!”

“Don’t leave.” Sukuna warns under his breath, you swiftly push him back down his bed. Rushing to get a towel, you wipe off the cum on your belly first, before wiping him down and pull his boxers back up. He’s sweating more after he came, flushed red and lightheaded. Rinsing a clean towel, you place it over his forehead.

Gazing down at your boyfriend who immediately passed out after your little session, you bury your face in your palms, your face hot and blooming. Why is sex with Sukuna always so hot? Maybe it’s because he’s hot. Or maybe because he wants you so much it’s hot.

Shaking your head, you open his closet again to pull out a small spare futon that he has stored in there. Sukuna bought this futon for his friends who used to like sleeping over at his dorm, but now it’s mostly used for the both of you. No, not to sleep, for…sex… You blush at the memory. Floor sex is great.

Anyhow, you lay out the futon on the floor and decide to sleep in for the night, watching over him tonight. He’ll definiely get angry with you for sleeping on the floor and not with him, but that’s tomorrow’s issue.

“Goodnight, boyfieee.”

No response.

“I’m so cringe…” You say to no one.

“…”

“I heard that.” A raspy whisper cuts through the sudden silence.

“Hey! You’re awake! Asshole!” You flush, embarrassed.

"Come here." He pats his bed twice.

"Go sleep!" You argue.

“Get up here right now before I come down there and scoop you up.” He orders.

You relent with a pout on your face. Best not to argue with a sick man.

Okay, so, well, perhaps Gojo had been right about something for once.

“I'm sorry,” You mumbled for maybe the millionth time in ten minutes? Thirty? Two hours? It was hard to tell.

“Uh-huh,” He dryly replied, sprawled out laying down, arms folded behind his head.

“I really mean it,” You pouted, kicking aside a few of the skulls littering the floor to plop down on the ground half a foot away. It wasn't like you wanted to be that close to him, but the place was fucking creepy.

“Would it make you feel better if I said I told you so?” He sarcastically offered, yawning like he was reclining at the beach instead of stuck in the prison realm with his least favorite coworker.

Truthfully, when you first transferred to Jujutsu Tech to teach a few years ago, you had the biggest tiniest of tiny crushes on him. His laugh, his smile, how easy it was to be around him. But he never said anything. So you didn't either. And eventually, you realized he was just sort of like that with everyone and promptly filed your feelings away to collect dust in some small corner of your heart.

“I mean, maybe a little,” You muttered.

“Then I told you so.”

“They'll be able to get us out, right?” You nervously asked. Surely, he'd told Suguru at least where he went to meet you at and someone would find you and be able to piece together you were stuck in this stupid fucking box.

“Eventually,” He shrugged apathetically.

“Eventually?”

“Mhm.”

Great, so you were trapped in here for potentially forever when for all you knew, only a minute had passed outside.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, ignoring the way your skirt rode up your thighs when you wrapped your arms around your calves, propping your chin up on your knee. It was freezing but he didn't seem to be even remotely bothered, humming quietly to himself.

He slipped two fingers underneath the bandages, pulling them back just enough to get a proper peek at your frown, a faint glimmer of amusement shining in the cold blue of his eyes. He hadn't tried to escape once, picking his spot on the floor after giving the place a preliminary look over, clearing out a circle barely big enough for the both of you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, a little tempted to get back up just to kick him.

“Relaxing a little,” He actually grinned.

You couldn't even tell him to cut it out when it was your fault you ended up here in the first place.

Forced to keep your mouth shut, lips pressed together in a thin line while you shivered.

“Maybe you should give it a try,” He sardonically suggested, patting the cold ground beside him.

You reluctantly scooted over, laying down next to him, smoothing your skirt down and folding your hands over your stomach like it'd do anything to soothe the anxiety working itself in knots under your skin.

“I don't think this'll help,” You commented. It was silly, laid back like you were stargazing instead of staring at enough skeletons to put any discount Halloween store to shame.

But his body heat was nice at least, even a few inches away his faint warmth seemed to float over, fighting off the brittle chill settling into your bones.

“Someone seems stressed,” He mocked.

“Yeah, you know, I'm really worried I might miss my manicure,” You returned his tone, closing your eyes like when you'd opened them again you'd be literally anywhere else.

“What? No plans with Nanami?” There was a subtle edge to his voice, one you might've missed if you weren't so close that every syllable seemed to reverberate through you.

“Why would I have plans with him?” You frowned, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. It's not like you had any way to know if his eyes were even open, but fuck, did it feel like he was staring straight through you. His pink lips curled down in a cute little pout and-

A pout?

Why would he-? Oh.

“You guys had lunch together yesterday.” It wasn't an observation. No, it was much closer to an accusation.

“Well, yeah, but-” It struck you before you could even finish the real reason he’d been in such a terrible mood today. You broke out into giggles, sitting up all the way. “Oh my God, you're jealous.”

“Me?” He pushed up off the ground too, towering over you even when you were both sitting. “You think I'm jealous of Nanamin?”

Emphasizing the nickname as if he just had to remind you that Kento was his junior.

“You totally are,” You laughed incredulously.

“Why would I be?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but his hand had snuck a little closer yours, his fingertips grazing against your own, no invisible barrier to separate his skin from yours.

“Mm, maybe because you are so hopelessly in love with me,” You taunted, hoping it didn't come across as wishful thinking as you reached over to interlace your fingers with his own just to see if it'd make him blush. And maybe it was how low the lighting was, but you almost could've sworn his cheeks were tinged pink at your touch.

Realistically, you figured all this time he knew you liked him and just couldn't conceive the idea you might move on some day. That it was simply the petty sort of childish jealousy of a kid who tossed a toy out just to want it back the second someone else picked it up. Surely, his six eyes had to pick up on all of your wistful stares, the yearning that simmered under the surface whenever he hung around or brought back souvenirs from his latest missions.

“And who was the one who was so desperate to have me all to herself that she just had to seal us in here?” He retorted.

You flinched.

Well, that was one way to kill the mood.

You let go of his hand, turning away and retreating back into yourself at the reminder of your shitty predicament and precisely who was to blame. His words from earlier ringing in your ear when he told you to put it back and you refused to listen out of spite. Even if he was joking, you couldn't convince yourself not to feel guilty.

There was the rustle of something behind you, faint movement like maybe he was taking the bandages off. You weren't about to turn and look.

“I didn't think it'd work,” You murmured quietly in your own defense, staring at your feet.

There was a small pause, his palms scraping against the floor as he sat up.

“I know, sweetheart,” Gojo spoke softly, one hand landing on the small of your back. And sure, he'd called you that hundreds of times before, but never quite like this, never the subtle sort of purr that made your heart stutter.

“I knew you had plans today,” You admitted, unable to face him.

He didn't move his hand though, holding it in place.

“Nanami only needed my signature on some papers yesterday, and he mentioned that you invited all of them to your place tonight. Guess he thought I was on your guest list. I dunno, I was just kinda hurt you didn't include me,” You continued in a sheepish attempt to clear your conscience. “But really, I just wanted to waste your time a little bit, not, uh, this.”

If you had known you'd wind up here, you never would've called him with some weak excuse why you needed into the storage room, and spent the rest of your afternoon wallowing in bed or out drinking with the rest of the people who were left alone today. Really, all you had in mind was messing around for a bit, dragging out your window shopping for a new cursed tool for some imaginary demonstration you swore you'd been planning for the students.

The thick silence seemed to seep into every atom of the air, bleed into every small breath you took. You didn't know what he was thinking, or if it'd make you feel any better if you did.

But then he laughed.

“Jealous girl,” He murmured teasingly in your ear, his hand sliding over to pull your back against his chest until you were pretty much on his lap, his sturdy thighs suddenly supporting you. Your face flushed at the contact, embarrassed at how easy it was for him to ensnare you back with just a couple words, a couple touches.

“Gojo, I'm being serious,” You tried to wiggle free, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“How many times have I told you to call me Satoru?” He sighed, the ends of his hair tickling your neck when he rested his head on the crook of your collarbone.

“Why are you-” You started to ask, just for his teeth to nip abruptly at your ear.

“Go ahead.”

“What?” Your voice only came out as a whisper when you felt how gently he was pressing his lips against your skin.

“Waste my time then,” He dared you, each word whispered in between butterfly kisses, his mouth gracing the column of your throat.

“Satoru,” You hesitated, body already melting into him more with every gentle graze of his canines along your tendon. “We-we-”

“We are going to be here for a while,” He chuckled, his fingers dipping into the soft flesh of your side, pulling you closer.

“You’re supposed to be mad at me,” You mumbled.

“No, I was supposed to invite you over when I saw you yesterday,” He offered reassurance in every searing kiss, each one growing sloppier, needier, the more you relaxed against him, your hand slipping up from your lap to interlock with his again so he'd hold you tighter.

“Why, ah,” Your question was interrupted by your own weak moan when he sucked hard, working the same spot over-and-over again, marking it for himself. “Fuck, I mean, why didn't you?”

“Maybe I was a little jealous,” He admitted with a dark chuckle, his free hand tracing along your figure like he couldn't decide what he wanted to explore first.

“I was just kidding before,” You whined when his arm wrapped around your waist, slipping his fingers under your shirt, skimming up to tug your bra down and pull your breast out for him to grope. Pinching and rolling your nipple in-between his soft fingertips, your head falling back onto his chest while you struggled to stifle your gasp.

“I'm not,” He casually said.

“You're fucking with me,” You accused, squirming when he squeezed harder.

“Why would I?” He hummed, like he was content to be here, in this hellhole, since he was with you.

“I mean, you could've had me years ago, and what? You wait until the one time I'm having lunch with Nanami to decide you want me?” You huffed, barely clinging to the last of your rationality to pull free just enough to twist halfway around and look at him, your shoulder brushing against his.

He stiffened, his face freezing and scrunched up in some unreadable expression. His fingers pausing too, the hardened bud of your nipple still pinched between them.

“What are you talking about? Years ago?” He hesitated with every word, his eyes glued to yours, the piercing blue you rarely got to see pinning you in place.

“You know,” You mumbled, wilting under his stare. Practically everyone had known, the subtle looks even the students would throw your way, the teasing you still heard every time he left the room.

“Believe me, I don't.”

“That I used to have a crush on you?” You bit down on your lip when you admitted it, realizing almost immediately just how wrong you must've been by the stunned look on his face.

“Used to?”

Okay, your choice of wording may have been a mistake.

It wasn't like you had anywhere to run either.

Your mouth was hanging open, but you didn't know how to get it to shut, your head tilted to the side while you stared at him over your shoulder.

“I mean, yeah?” You eventually said. “I thought you knew?”

“How would I know?” His brows were knitted together while he pouted, his question coming out in almost a whine.

“I figured Shoko or Suguru spilled. It was kinda obvious,” You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat, all your muscles tense. Acutely aware of the fact you were sitting nearly sideways on Satoru's lap, the possessive hold of his hands all over your body like he wouldn't be able to bear it if you moved.

He didn't say anything for a second, and you could feel the slow rise-and-fall of his chest, the breaths he forced out.

And then the hand that had been absentmindedly groping your tit traced up your sternum all the way to the line of your jaw, craning your head back far enough that he could kiss you, his mouth colliding against yours, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. The angle was a little awkward, sure, but it was hard to focus on anything other than his tongue begging for entry.

And giving in to him was terrifyingly simple.

A choice your mind and body unilaterally made in a split second, lips parting for him to slip inside. And you didn't realize you had been so hungry for him until the moment he broke the kiss so you could catch your breath and your heart ached. Starving after discovering something you'd imagined trying a million times before tasted far better than any piece of fiction your brain had come up with.

“I guess we've got a lot of time to make up for then," He breathed, his thumb dragged along your cheek, and your chest hurt like it couldn't contain how hard your heart was pounding. He cracked a lopsided smile, the same one you'd caught a glimpse of the first day you met him, and it stirred the same butterflies even now.

You kissed him back, harder this time, sucking on his soft bottom lip, the candied flavor of whatever he'd been eating before he'd shown up today still lingering on it.

Letting your back lay flatter against his chest to get more comfortable, making him do the work of craning his neck down to meet where your face was tilted up for him to kiss.

Even here, where you probably had all the time in the world, he was as impatient as ever. Decorating your cheeks with messy kisses like he couldn't bear to miss a single spot.

“You really didn't know?” You asked softly, eyes fluttering shut as his free hand skimmed down to where your skirt had started to bunch up around your waist from the constant readjusting, fingers tracing a line down the inside of your thigh until he reached your pantyline.

“If I did,” He hm-ed, slipping two fingers underneath the band and pulling it away just to let it snap back against your skin. “We would be doing this in my bed right now.”

Your laugh was cut short when his nimble fingers shoved your underwear over to slide himself inside, shuddering as he tore a sharp gasp from your throat trying to adjusting to his sturdy digits Pushing deeper, his sturdy fingers shoving past the first ring of resistance, any attempt you made at appearing unaffected entirely useless at how wet you were, how obviously aroused his voice and his mouth and his touch had left you.

“O-oh?” You panted, writhing under his hold as his fingertips grazed against the spongy spot that made you jolt in his lap. He clicked his tongue, curling his fingers like he was trying to claim every piece of you.

“Mhm,” He murmured, pumping in-and-out, rewarding every little gasp and moan you let out with a soft kiss on your neck. “You'd have a pretty ring on that finger of yours too.”

The hand that had been caressing your face, your hair, reached over to graze your left ring finger, his thumb rubbing the bare spot below your knuckle.

“Really?” You tried to chuckle, but you were pretty sure his knuckles were brushing against your entrance, his brutal rhythm unrelenting. “I'm, fuck, pretty sure the Gojo clan might have something to say about that.”

“I’m the Gojo clan, baby,” He laughed, rubbing the base of his palm hard down on your clit, tsk-ing at how fast your thighs tried to clamp down on his hand.

“What? You wanna marry me?” You heard yourself mutter, dizzy and disoriented, clawing back the cresting waves that threatened to overtake you more with every plunge of his fingers.

“You askin’?” He teased, his thumb skirting over the swollen bud, feeling more feverish with each passing second.

“N-no,” You whined, the desperation starting to peak, your hips rolling up to drive his fingers deeper.

“It's okay. That's my job,” He sighed dramatically, dragging the pad of his thumb back over your clit, massaging rough circles over-and-over until you couldn't hold back anymore.

“Fuck, Toru, there,” You cried out, too worked up to care about the hot tears brimming over your lashes, the makeup probably streaked across your face as you unraveled all over his hand. He refused to stop, working the same practiced motions as you mewled his name, a prayer in your tongue devoted to a man you'd happily get on your knees for. His mouth resumed it's messy trail of kisses staining your neck, probably leaving teeth marks scattered on every inch of skin he could reach.

“Sound so pretty for me, sweetheart,” He hummed into your skin, biting down at the same moment as he pinched the swollen bud, and you squirmed free of his lap, pulling away on trembling legs as you turned to face him, gasping for stolen breaths. “Where do you think you're going?”

He popped his still-slick fingers in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked them clean, letting his eyes shut like he couldn't get enough of the taste.

Your own fingers were moving before your brain could stop and think about what they were doing, unbuckling his belt and dropping it to the ground, the button undone and his zipper halfway down before he even seemed to process that you were on your knees in front of him, bent over with your face only inches from his waist.

“Baby, you-” He shut up once you started dugging his pants and boxers down, roughly pulling down until his cock sprung free. He flinched when it hit the open air, the tip pink and dripping.

You glanced up from it to the gleam of adoration reflected in his small sliver of blue left in his eyes, his pupils blown when your fingers wrapped around his shaft, the thick vein running along its side thrumming a steady pulse underneath your grip.

“Really, you, um, don't-” And here he was, stammering, yet another thing you didn't think Satoru Gojo would be capable of, another side of him you hadn't gotten to see before. Yet another page to add to the thick catalog of things you hadn't meant to store inside you, just more proof of the crush you’d been idiotic enough to think you'd ever gotten over.

“You want me, right?” You hesitated, your grip growing slack as you peered up at him.

“Yeah,” He answered like it came as easily as breathing, the lines in the creases of his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “I want you.”

If he was just saying that to get his dick sucked, it was unfortunately working.

You leaned down, your lips wrapping around his tip, starting with soft kitten licks just to see what he'd do. Tenderly stroking the base of his shaft, tiny motions as your tongue flicked over his tip. You heard him swallow, felt one of his hands reach out to pet your hair almost affectionately.

“You know how long I've been thinking about this?” He mumbled, still a talker even when your mouth was occupied teasing his cock. You made a soft hm before dragging your tongue along the vein, pressing down hard and flat over it. “Remember when you brought those cupcakes?”

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing, pausing to flicker your attention back up to his face.

“Seriously?”

That must've been what? A week after you started? It was just a silly attempt at making a good impression. All you'd done is bake a few batches of cupcakes, dividing them up between the students and the staff. And sure, you'd made an extra one just for him, but that was only because his sweet tooth was practically infamous, decorating the frosting with little blue sprinkles you'd spotted grocery shopping a few days before. It's not like you were a baker, and you probably would've just been better off buying some, but you figured it was the thought that counted.

“You? Showing up in a short little skirt in my office after hours? With those cute cupcakes you made for me?” He sounded so fond of the memory you wondered just how many times he'd played it on repeat in his mind. “God, I wanted to eat you.”

“I probably would've let you,” You admitted, shrugging before drifting your tongue across his cock again taking it inch-by-inch into your mouth, kind of hoping it'd end the topic before he drudged up any other embarrassing incidents of the different ways you'd hoped to catch his attention over the years, oblivious you already had it all along.

Gojo, Satoru groaned, bucking his hips up to force his cock against the roof of your mouth, his grip on your hair getting tighter as he abruptly thrusted deeper, his tip grinding into the back of your throat.

You almost gagged, choking on him and the spit starting to pool around his girth, but he held you there, breathlessly murmuring your name.

“Fuck, you're warm,” He mumbled to himself, and you snuck a peek up to see how content he looked, his head reclined back, his eyes shut, white lashes fluttering so prettily as the lump in his throat bobbed.

His grip relaxed enough for you to start moving up-and-down, your fingers stroking what you couldn't fit in, every groan or lewd noise you managed to extract from him only making the heat in your stomach burn brighter, the panties still askew and awkwardly clinging to your skin, growing damper by the second.

“You're doin' so good, sweetheart,” He promised, his heavy breaths and his pet names and praise only riling you up more. You moaned, not even meaning to, and something inside him snapped.

Whatever control you'd wrestled from him had been snatched back, his fingers tangling deep in your hair to move you for him, fucking your face like he might die if he didn't cum soon.

Pulling your hair back just to shove your face forward, not even caring when your teeth seemed to graze him, just that he pushed as much of himself in as possible, probably bruising the back of your throat.

And in all of your fantasies of this exact moment, you'd never imagined he would be so needy.

“God, fuck, you're so-,” He gritted his teeth, cutting himself off like he couldn't find the words, driving his hips up again and again as if he didn't have his hand pushing you down at the same time. “Gonna put a ring on it the minute we get out of here, baby.”

You doubted he was even aware what he was promising, almost delirious, drunk on you.

You made a muffled noise, nails digging into the hard muscle of his thighs, tapping with your thumb to get him to stop.

He paused, his chest shuddering as he reluctantly pulled out. His cock was practically red, the vein on the side pulsing like you'd denied it seconds before it managed to finish. He was breathing hard, staring at you with an almost feral look, barely in control.

“You wanna cum in my mouth?” You pushed out your bottom lip in a pout, tracing his vein with your finger. “Or inside me?”

He completely unraveled.

Rough hands grabbing you until you were suddenly on the back, all the air knocked out of your lungs as he flipped the tables, on top of you, all over you. Tugging your underwear down so fast it was a miracle he didn't shred them, shoving your panties in his pocket before bunching your skirt back up. Not even bothering to take his own clothes off, using just the weight of his body to hold you down as his fist wrapped around his cock, lining it up with your entrance effortlessly.

“Satoru,” You stared, blinking hard, the tears still clinging to your lashes leaving you glossy-eyed, stunned by the the lovestruck look on his face, the soft way he was staring at you when his fingers were gripping you so mean, pressing you to the floor like you might still pull away.

But before you could offer him any assurances that you needed this, needed him, he bottomed out in one rough thrust, sucking in a sharp inhale as the sheer force of it made you reflexively scoot back. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you down so he could fuck you deeper, dragging his tip over the same spots he'd mapped out earlier.

“Wanted you so bad, gorgeous,” He murmured, not moving for a moment, his breathing getting more ragged by the second, his cock throbbing the longer he stayed frozen.

“You’ve got me,” You mumbled back, slipping your fingers up his thick sweater and the t-shirt underneath so you could feel how warm his skin was, trace the muscles of his back, all the ridges and curves until you reached his shoulder blades.

“Y-yeah?” He stuttered and maybe it was how good he felt buried that deep inside you but you were pretty sure you were in love.

“Mhm,” You copied his same lazy drawl, pulling him down to plant a soft kiss against his lips.

He steamrolled it with his own heated kiss, his teeth tugging at your lip until it broke the first layer of skin and you could both taste the iron. Mumbling an almost incoherent apology into your mouth, struggling to ignore the twitch of his cock every time your nails dug into his back or matched his desperation.

You whined, trying to arch your back, lift your hips to force him to move. But he refused, just readjusting his weight so you couldn't move underneath him.

“Baby, please,” He moaned, like he wasn't just torturing himself too. “Quit squirming.”

“Can’t,” You complained with a weak moan, all the muscles in your thighs clenching, his cock pressed so snugly against your cervix you were almost convinced he wanted to mold you to his shape, impress every ridge and vein onto you. “Need you, Toru, please.”

A string of raspy curses flying from his mouth, his lashes fluttering hard as he closed his eyes, jaw setting in a hard line as he abruptly pulled out, the cold immediately hitting you when his heat dissipated. Your tiny mewl sounded pathetic even to you, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him scramble to his feet, his still-slick erection bouncing with every step as he snatched the bandages off the floor from where he dropped them earlier.

“Come back,” You muttered, frowning at the thought he might put them back on and you wouldn't be able to see his eyes anymore.

You weren't prepared for what he was actually planning.

He climbed back on top of you, his knee nudging your thighs further apart as he snagged your wrists in one hand, wrapping them up tight, the knot in your stomach straining every time he twisted the fabric around. Finishing it off with an oversized bow, and when you tried to flex your tendons, test the knot, you weren't surprised to find it didn't have any slack.

“Toru,” you pouted, pretending you couldn't feel how damp the inside of your trembling thighs were, how much the swollen bundle of nerves between them ached.

“Just let me take care of you, baby,” He murmured, caressing your cheek softly.

You tentatively nodded, running your teeth over the spot on your already kiss-bruised lips he'd bitten before.

A fluid movement was all it took for him to have your knees pressed against your chest, his fingers digging into your thighs, not giving you an opportunity to even consider what position he just put you in before his cock was sliding in, in, in until he slammed into your cervix.

You gasped. Or groaned. Well, both coming out in a strangled mess as he pressed his chest against your quivering legs, and you didn't think anything had ever burned so good, the stretch of trying to accommodate him forcing every sense to dial up higher, all your nerves on fire at the intensity behind every breath-stealing thrust.

Letting his massive palms slide up your thighs to grip your ankles, and for a second, you considered his attempts to fold you might go from bending to breaking.

“Fuck, you're, you're gonna-” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut like your walls weren't squeezing him even harder at the thought.

“Gonna what, sweetheart?” He asked, his playful nonchalance replaced with a hoarse growl.

The smacks of his skin on yours doing nothing to conceal your broken breathing as he desperately rutted into you, sinking in and overstuffing you with each stroke.

“Break me,” You whined your answer, your wrists straining in their hold, desperate to tether your fingers in his messy white hair. You just pressed your lips in a thin line instead, trying to hold it in, too enthralled by the idea of letting him have you however he wanted you.

“Aw,” He cooed, cocking his head to the side, his fingers tightening around your ankles. “Sounds kinda like you want me to.”

All you could manage was a weak whimper, your skin sticky, your forehead flushed, the heat of him and you making your head dizzy.

“M-maybe,” You confessed, but when his bruising grip pressed down a little too hard and you winced at the faint crack! from the direction of your ankle, his fingers loosened up, a small frown flashing across his face. It probably hurt, but you were currently too full to feel anything other than the throb of his cock, the burning desire that overrode every other thought and sensation. Later, you could make fun of him for taking breaking you literally.

“Oops, my bad,” He forced a crooked grin to conceal his worry, well-matched for his now nearly-black eyes, only a tiny apologetic twinkle in the faint blue outline left. "You can heal yourself, right, sweetheart?”

Because it looked like you were probably going to need it by the time he was finished.

“I mean, I'm, uh, not very good at it,” You stuttered out, your back trying to arch up from the ground while he stalled his thrusts, scanning over you to make sure you were really okay. Using reversed curse technique required the sort of concentration you were barely capable of most days, let alone one where you were folded into a mean mating press by the strongest sorcerer alive.

Well, actually, shit, could you even use any technique when you were stuck in here?

You guessed that was just another item to add to the list of things to figure out later.

He laughed at your attempts to buck up into him, lightening up on his grip as he resumed fucking you, softer this time, gentler. Murmuring a few saccharine-sweet apologies into your hair, like they weren't sparsed together with filthy fucking moans that made your stomach somersault.

You couldn't even make a noise at all anymore, lips parted and hanging open, just sharp little inhales and exhales as he pounded into the spot that left stars dotting your vision. Your nails digging crescent moons into your palm, toes curling while you felt the tension build and build and build in your core.

“You close, sweetheart?”

“Mm. Mhm,” You managed, watching him through half-lidded eyes, his swollen lips and the loose strands of hair now plastered to his forehead, the cute way his brows were drawn together in concentration.

“You really me to cum inside you?” There was a distinct lilt to his voice, teasing you even now.

You nodded, but he just clicked his tongue, waiting for a real answer.

“Please?” You didn't mean for it to be a whine, but you sure fucking felt how hard his cock jumped at the sound of you begging for him.

His thrusts getting sloppy, no rhythm to be found, just mindless rutting as his head tilted back, lost in his own lust while he started babbling again.

“Want me to put a baby in you, huh?” He drawled, his low chuckle only making you clench harder around him, your involuntary confirmation probably the last thing his ego needed. “Oh? You do?"

“Shut up,” You mumbled, one of his hands letting go of your ankle to skim over to your clit, rubbing a messy circle over it that sent a fresh shudder all over your body.

“You’re gonna look so cute carrying my kid,” He rambled on, relentlessly rolling the overstimulated bundle of nerves between his fingers, your brain too fried to consider what the fuck he was saying, mindlessly nodding and whimpering in agreement. He paused playing with the bud he'd been treating like his own personal stress-relief toy, skimming his fingertips up to where the fabric of your skirt was ruched up just below your belly button. Pressing down on the spot like he could feel the pressure growing inside. “Wanna be my pretty little pregnant wife, isn't that right?”

And as annoying as his delivery could be, maybe Gojo wasn't so wrong about something else today either.

Because apparently, his promises were enough to push you over, your second orgasm racking through you much harder than the first, all the tension in your body snapping at once as you cried out his name, everything trembling as the pleasure tore through you in one tsunami-sized wave.

“Oh God, oh fuck,” You moaned, faintly aware of how wrecked you must look, your damp cheeks and sore thighs (really, sore everything) quivering, your clothes all wrinkled and messed up considering he'd been too overeager to manage getting anything other than your panties off.

His eyes locked onto yours, and that was all it took for him to finish, your name sounding so tender, so intimate when it rolled off his tongue despite how sloppily he was thrusting into you, pushing his warm cum back in each time it started to drip out.

You were pretty sure you couldn't actually get pregnant in here, not without time actually passing.

But the idea of having a domestic sort of life where you went on dates, ate your meals together, even just watching stupid movies with Satoru left you flushed, your cheeks burning even as you started to come back down imagining what that might be like.

He was breathing hard, looking a little dazed as he stared down at you, his cock still faintly pulsing inside you as he fully released your ankles, one hand brushing the hair away from your face. Your legs numbly fell to the side, muscles aching from the aftermath.

“Toru,” You softly said.

“Hm?”

“We should probably start with dating, don't you think?” You tilted your head to the side, and he laughed, reluctantly pulling out of you as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah, you asking me to be your boyfriend?” He teased.

“No, I was talking to the skeleton over there,” You rolled your eyes, too weak to even gesture with anything other than the small bob of your head to your right.

“Too bad,” He tsk-ed, his lips finding yours again like he was trying to remind you that you were his now. “I called dibs.”

“On me?” You giggled. “Or the skeleton?”

“You, idiot,” He pulled away to pout.

“That's not a very nice thing to call your girlfriend,” You hummed, about to poke him when you remembered your wrists were still bound in his bandages.

“That's right. My girlfriend,” He echoed, too fucked out to notice, nuzzling his head against your neck.

“Um, Toru,” You mumbled, feeling his delicate flutter of his eyelashes.

“Mm?”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recognized it was a rare opportunity for him to really be lazy, at ease for once, the tension meling off him as his muscles relaxed. Maybe if he cleared out a few more skeletons, made some more space, it wouldn't make such a terrible mini-vacation.

“Could you at least untie me?”

“Pay up,” Shoko groaned, holding a hand out expectantly to Suguru.

“They still have their clothes on,” Suguru casually shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets, the spear you guessed he used to unseal the two of you discarded on the shelf as his eyes flickered from you to Satoru.

“Yeah, but look at them,” Shoko insisted, her mouth twitching up into a small smile.

Shit.

You hadn't expected eventually to happen when you were about to fuck Satoru for the hundredth? Thousandth? Okay, well, that was definitely an exaggeration but you'd lost count of what time it was exactly. Wearing his sweater, your skirt halfway unzipped, but you know, still on, at least. His zipper was entirely undone, his slacks wrinkled, t-shirt stretched tight against his muscles straining underneath it.

“What, um,” You awkwardly cleared your throat, hoping your face wasn't as flushed as it felt. “How long has it been?”

“Two days,” Shoko answered, amused, as Suguru dug his wallet out of his pockets. “For you guys?”

“Um,” You stalled, glancing over at him for assistance you were certainly not going to receive. “I, uh, dunno?"

Satoru didn't bother pulling up his zipper, slinging his right arm around you and pulling you against him.

“Guess what?” He grinned brightly at his friends.

“What?” Suguru grimaced, his eyes narrowing like he was ready to roll them. Satoru grabbed your left hand and held it up, a piece of his bandages he'd torn off tied in a cute little bow around your ring finger.

“We're getting married!”

taglist: @universal-s1ut @inthedarkshadows000 @chsuguru @sugurusfavemonkey @lavenderdaydream97 @marrymenanami

@keliskamo @fldfkdkldkdkxkx @sillystarfishstrawberry

@jasminelee324 @spookzz

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated I love love love interacting with you guys (pls someone talk to me)

From the bits and pieces of his backstory you managed to put together, his family was wealthy enough to have the sort of connections to make his shows possible - but it was his own personality that made them profitable.

"Come on," he beamed, picking out a guest at random, gesturing for them to come up on the stage. They blinked, looking around nervously before hesitantly pushing off the arms of their chair and starting for the stairs. "Let's play a little game, okay?"

You'd seen it before.

Every Friday through Sunday for the past six months.

Traveling to different cities, rehearsing in the evenings, practicing stage direction rather than his tricks. He never needed to work on those. Just guiding you on where he wanted you to stand and what he wanted you to do.

Brighter smiles, wider twirls, deeper bows.

It was fun. Almost everything about him and this was.

Getting dolled up on his dime, letting him help you zip up the last couple inches of your bodysuit, listening to the chatter of the audience from backstage. Using the expensive products he provided, a full face of makeup and hair completely done, sprayed into place so it wouldn't so much as budge while you were up there with him. How you could feel the applause in your chest standing up there at the end, how right it felt to have his hand in yours when he clasped it and made sure you took your bows by his side. He made you feel needed.

You knew his routine by heart. Memorized every line, knew every step and sword that he'd pretend to slice through you in a box with, daggers being driven into wood while you were tucked safely in the hidden compartment.

But it wasn't really just the tricks people came to see.

It was him.

Something intangible about him, not just his shining blue eyes or the stray wisps of white hair poking out beneath his hat, but the energy surrounding him, the way his words boomed out through his wired mic and entangled you in his web of carefully-crafted illusions. Sure, you had the tiniest crush on him, but you told yourself it was simply the amount of time you'd been spending together, the chemistry that came with putting on performances night after night where he rambled to an entire audience of people how gorgeous you were.

Anyone who saw him would either want him or want to be him.

Even now, when he was just doing the whole boring pick a card thing, the one practically every magician did, the whole audience was only paying attention to him, trying to spot his sleight of hand.

They never did though.

Always left whispering 'how did he do that?' or trying to ask for his autograph as he walked off stage, sometimes even waiting out back to catch him on his way to his car.

This show was no different.

The same spiel, the same jokes, the same good night speech, twirling his wand in that big hand of his before waving goodbye at the crowd, all while you smiled and held onto the pretty white bunny he used that you affectionately named Gojo Junior.

The third most important part of the act really, after Satoru in second. He liked to tell you that you were the star, as if you both didn't know that he'd do just fine without your support. He could probably pick any other girl off the street at a much lesser risk of getting pepper sprayed - but he scoffed and scolded you the one time you joked about being replaceable.

Tonight came with one change you hadn't expected though, one in the form of friends you hadn't thought even existed popping up when you were both preoccupied with taking photos with a few lingering fans.

"Yo, Satoru," someone called out, and you looked up to see a man, maybe about his height clasping a hand on his shoulder. With another guy, and a pretty girl who was distracted on her phone, brown eyes glazed over with boredom. "Nice show."

"Thanks," Satoru smiled, relaxed, easy. Not the showman. Performance dropped, almost seeming like a normal guy who just happened to be in a full tuxedo, tilting his hat off as he glanced between his friends. "Didn't think you guys would come."

"After how much you talk about it?" The girl dryly said, not looking up as she exhaled.

"And her?" The other man chimed in, his deep grunt catching you off-guard as your head snapped over to him at the realization he was talking about you.

Or, well, belatedly processing that he meant Satoru was talking about you to his friends.

Satoru was unfazed though, buzzing through brief introductions and offering up their names while you nodded along, your outfit started to rub a little around your thighs as you shuffled on the soles of your heels.

Standing a little bit behind him, like you always did, watching him banter back-and-forth, used to fulfilling the role of the accessory on his arm until someone crossed the thin line separating what was staged and what was real.

"Are you free after this?" His pink-haired friend casually asked you, cocking his head to the side as he sized you up, dark eyes dragging over your exposed body and the shimmery fabric clinging to it. Sukuna, wasn't it?

You paused, considering what to say. Sometimes after shows you let Satoru convince you to come back to his place or whatever hotel room he booked, staying up late ordering pizza or whatever junk food he was craving while you watched old movies together. But he always passed out on the couch, hand in a bowl of popcorn and drool dribbling from his lips, and you usually left before he woke up.

"I'm actually-"

"She's still mine for the next, ah, two hours?" Satoru smirked, looking down at his wrist to check his watch for the time.

Except, it wasn't his watch.

Sukuna glared at him, attempting to snatch his watch back only for Satoru to take another bow, bending down too low just in time for his hand only to close around air.

"Too slow," Satoru cooed with fake sympathy, stepping back and unclasping the watch from his wrist just to dangle it in front of his face. "Gotta be quicker next time."

"Clean up isn't going to take two hours," you huffed at Satoru, snatching the watch first before holding it back out for his friend to take.

"I know," your boss pouted at you, pretty pink lips pushed together in a dramatic (and fake) display of disappointment. "I have some, um, notes I need to go over with you."

"Oh," you blinked, glancing towards backstage. "I guess I'll go get changed then."

Your performance had been pretty damn perfect.

No missteps or mistakes you could remember making, at least, frowning at your reflection as you slipped out of your heels back in your dressing room. You had already returned Gojo Junior to his cage in the corner, the bunny happily napping as you scanned the bag next to his set up for your extra clothes.

While you picked them up and started to throw them across the makeup chair, a little voice in your head slyly suggested the slim chance that Satoru was jealous. That just maybe your feelings could be mutual instead of just one-sided pining blinded by the persona you were used to him putting on.

Two sharp knocks had you snapping out of it, glancing back in time for the door to creak open before you could answer it.

"Is my lovely assistant dressed in there?" Satoru's warm voice called through the thin wood, and you instinctively checked the mirror, making sure your makeup wasn't messed up before you actually replied.

"Yeah," you called back out, stifling a sigh as you resisted the urge to put on a little more lip gloss.

"Damn," he shamelessly flirted, swinging open the door the rest of the way.

"Is that your way of asking to help?" You sarcastically muttered, shaking your head just slightly as you sighed.

"Can I?" He asked, almost managing to sound earnest.

You rolled your eyes at him, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach at the sight of him standing there and staring at you.

It wasn't that you thought his flirting was serious. You just sorta wished it was. It couldn't hurt to tease him back just a little too, right?

His blue eyes burned down your body, his jaw tensing as you turned away from him. You reached over your shoulder, making your own little show out of getting ready to strip down, glancing back to see how his face went slack. Watching him hold his breath, his grip tight on the wand still in his hand, knuckles bone-white.

"You'd make a terrible assistant," you wryly murmured, mouth twitching and fighting back a smile at how he was just standing there.

"My sincerest apologies," he purred, feigning remorse, a familiar grin twisting up on his lips as he reached up to tilt his hat, leaning against the doorframe as your fingers stopped just above the hidden zipper along the back. "Can I assist you in getting out of that then?"

You didn't say yes out loud.

Nodded just enough to answer for you, biting down on your bottom lip at the thump of the door shutting behind him.

"I'll start with the zipper first," he muttered, delivering the line like you were some audience member he had to impress. But his breath was warm on the nape of your neck, little goosebumps running up and down your arms as you barely stopped yourself from shivering at the sound of him so close.

"How sweet of you," you hummed as casually as you could, a little more pleased than you ought to be at how it felt for his long fingers to skim over your spine to reach the zipper. His other palm settled on your waist, your nose scrunching up as you realized he must have managed to slip his wand away without you noticing just to have both hands on you.

"Only to you," he quipped back, and before you could make a quick retort, he was tugging the zipper down all the way, sucking in a sharp breath at the freshly exposed skin.

Did he want to touch you as badly as you wanted him to? Ached for a connection that would catch sparks instead of fizzling in the shadows? Where you'd both stop acting like your chemistry ended once you stepped foot off-stage?

Feet planted on the ground, glued in place as he stayed there, both of you refusing to budge, daring the other one to break.

"Well?" You swallowed hard, keeping your head forward so you wouldn't have to see his face. "Are you going to help me with the rest or not?"

"As you wish," he quoted, murmuring all sweet and low in your ear as he started pulling your bodysuit off, taking his time to wiggle it past your hips and down your thighs, using it as an excuse to run his palms over every inch of you possible.

You tried to find a sliver of rationality. You'd even take regret. But there was just excitement brimming beneath the surface, desperation and craving melting together into you were just putty waiting for him to mold.

"Should I keep going?" He asked in that pretty whisper of his, making your heart stutter and race, mind reeling at his proximity, at the increasingly real possibility that you were really about to find out what more meant with him.

"Please."

He stripped you down to just your thin seamless panties fast enough it really did feel like magic, just to take off his top hat and put it on your head instead. You reached up to touch the brim, but then you were being picked up, his big hands sinking into the soft flesh of your thighs as he hoisted you in the air, carrying you with your back still pressed to his chest over to the old couch in the corner, turning around and plopping down so you were on his lap.

You gasped, surprised at how sure he was even now, in this totally new territory of your friendship? Relationship? Acting like he'd planned it all out, knew how to execute every lingering touch, practiced the way his lips would graze against the shell of your ear.

"For my next trick," he grinned, his hand skimming down your stomach and stopping just between your thighs. "I'm gonna make your panties disappear."

Your lips parted, about to giggle at how sleazy he sounded, but then you blinked - and they were gone.

"Holy shit," you breathed, too surprised to care about how much you sounded like one of his fans. "How did you-"

"That's a secret, baby," he wryly chuckled, showing you an empty hand before he used it to cup your dripping cunt. A funny pulse shooting straight down to the pit of your stomach as he pressed a feather-light kiss to your shoulder. "Spread your legs a little more for me, princess."

You always complied when it came to him.

And he always made everything worth it.

Watching two of his thick fingers disappear into your soaked cunt, with his gloves still fucking on, mouth hanging open at the way he kept plunging in and making a fucking mess of you on the couch. Could anyone else hear the filthy squelch of his digits pumping in and out through the paper-thin walls? Your moans of his name getting sloppier and sloppier, somehow turning Satoru into weak whimpers of Toru as he wrapped one strong forearm around your waist to keep you from squirming while he worked to stretch you out for his, ah, wand?

God, you couldn't even think about it like that without being filled with the lewd mental image of him trying to stick his real wand inside of you.

"I-I thought you had notes for me," you groaned, grabbing onto the dark material of his pants as you rested your head back on his broad shoulder, struggling to hold onto your slipping thoughts with every brutal drag of his fingers inside you. The fabric made it somehow even hotter, your brain going all fuzzy as he dove in all the way.

"I lied," he bluntly confessed, burying himself down to his knuckles just to see you shudder, keeping you supported as he fucked you harder with just his nimble fingers, his practiced motions making you forget how you were supposed to feel about your suspicion that he was jealous being proven correct.

He didn't want to see you with someone else.

And when you were here, when he had you like this, you couldn't really picture yourself out on a date when he occupied all your thoughts anyways.

"Are you on birth control?" He paused long enough to ask, although you were hardly coherent enough to answer.

"Mm, mhm," you half-yelped as his fingers swirled up to poke and prod in a particularly sensitive spot.

"Thank God," he groaned, yanking his digits back out, and it was only at his absence that you realized the ridiculously hard thing you hadn't noticed poking your ass was his cock.

How the hell was it so-

"S'toru," you attempted to say his name, your throat growing dry at the thought of his size before he readjusted you off of him just enough to pull his pants down and let it spring out, a thick vein bulging along the side of it, his tip a pretty shade of pink and pre-cum already leaking along the slit.

"Change your mind?" He asked, as if your toes weren't already curling at the anticipation, thighs trembling as your body aches to have him back inside you.

"N-no," you mumbled, heat pooling deep enough in your stomach you could probably drown in it. "You're just, um, bigger than I thought."

"So you've been thinking about me too, princess?" He teased, not missing a single fucking thing, apparently.

Your first impression of him hadn't been that far off.

Satoru was a pervert.

And none of your rehearsing, none of your practice could have prepared you for how it felt to be lifted up by the back of your thighs, for that fat head of his cock to snugly press against your entrance and sink in before you had time to blink.

Eyes closing just to feel the burning pressure of his thick length bullying it's way in, pushing past the first ring of resistance to claim the rest of your body as his.

"Can I tell you something?" He whispered in your ear, all hoarse and rough, right as he folded you further, his cock rubbing against your walls and making space for himself.

You tried to respond.

But the only thing that came out was a fuzzy moan, messy syllables slurred together as you felt your insides getting pushed around, shoved up, up, up until you thought there surely wasn't any room anymore. Yet, he just kept pushing in deeper, inch after inch until you started to wonder if he was about to reach your lungs at this rate.

"Been fucking my fist after every show thinkin' about you," he rambled, oblivious to your whines, or maybe just spurred on by them. "Thinking about how this would feel."

He groaned, all deep and gravelly, bottoming out and hitting your womb while he was at it, reflexively jolting just for him to chuckle, pulling you right back down to meet him. Keeping you pinned, his hands on your thighs and your back to his chest, completely connected.

"Y-you could've said something," you cried out, tears collecting in your lashes as the pleasure started to condense into a hard ball at your core, pinging around and demanding attention as he started rutting his hips up, pulling out and pushing in at a pace you couldn't believe he was keeping up.

The couch creaked louder, the frame of it smacking into the wall as his thrusts picked up, your brain freezing as his tongue abruptly dragged up your throat before he started to leave a trail of kisses in time with his thrusts.

"I didn't want to lose you," he admitted, and you wondered if he could feel the way you clamped down, squeezing hard at how raw he sounded.

"You're not going to."

Satoru snapped.

Acting more like a bunny in heat, although this Satoru Junior was much meaner than the sweet ball of fur in the corner.

Fucking into you fast and hard, one of his hands moving to sweep over the swollen bundle of nerves between your thighs, making quick work of stroking and soothing your need as if he could sense it himself. The friction of the fabric only heightened it, his gloved fingers catching over your clit with adoration and perfected pressure. Treating you like his new favorite trick, delicately tracing over it, practicing different patterns until he found the one that made you throw your head back, a strangled gasp stringing through the air as he repeated it again and again.

"Oh, that's it," he purred, putting on his professional bravado to disguise the way his voice quivered at that last word. "Give me a good finale."

You finished for him with a moan you hoped made him proud, squirming in his hold as he continued to finger and fuck you through it, mouth permanently parted as he kept your thighs apart enough you had to feel the force of him thrusting up to fill you with cum.

Warmth that lingered and leaked down your legs, his cock only stalling when the last drops dripped out, both of you frozen in that intimate position as you tried to blink and bring back at least an ounce of sensibility.

"Can we go again?" He muttered while you were still out-of-breath, another strained whimper leaving your lips as his teeth nipped at your neck.

"W-what?"

"I forgot to kiss you," he whined, and you could hear his pout, feel the way his lips pressed together on your shoulder. "You can make it one more round for me, right?"

His cock throbbed inside you, not going soft as he gave you a small kiss just above your collarbone.

"Please?"

"Depends," you murmured, tilting your head to the side so he had easier access to paint your neck with more affection pecks. "Are you my boss or my boyfriend?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be."

reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3