connie

You'd gotten used to your routine.

Adapted a little too well when you finally stopped avoiding him half the time.

He had told you more about his own family too. Invited his brother and nephew over a couple of time. Talked about how much he hated Gojo - how he'd only originally agreed to this arranged marriage to make sure that the land in his inheritance would stay in the family.

You hadn't brought yourself to ask what he meant by originally.

Because then, you'd both have to admit what all had changed.

For the past month, you'd basically spent every night in his bed, limbs intertwined as you both pretended to be totally normal about the marriage that was meant to end eventually.

You crawled out of bed, yawning as you tiptoed through his bedroom, the wooden floor practically freezing as you grabbed your robe from where it'd been tossed over a handmade wooden rocking chair in the corner.

Pulling it on with another sigh, tying it around your waist as you pocketed the note - and went back to the nightstand to grab your phone too.

The mornings didn't change that much here.

Making a small breakfast with usually fresh ingredients. Walking out on the front porch to pet the barn cat that like to prowl around hunting for stray mice and little rodents that snuck in. Sometimes, you took one of his horses for a ride, brushing out their manes when you returned.

Last weekend, you'd even went out on a picnic on a pretty secluded corner of his property, spread out an old quilt among the wildflowers and ate sandwiches you made while he asked about what your life had been like before...this.

And honestly, you had sorta stopped thinking about it. Stopped missing it.

This was peaceful.

You enjoyed the remote job you had - something you could just do on your laptop in the kitchen or relaxing on the couch in the living room before you switched back to reviewing your family's paperwork and documents later in the day, trying to get everything in order for when their ranch would be yours.

Hopefully Sukuna would come back sooner rather than later.

Maybe with good news too.

"How's she doin'?"

Sukuna bristled at the question, more annoyed at his in-laws than he should be when he knew he was supposed to suck up to them.

"Fine," he grunted, gritting his teeth at your father while he leaned back against his pick up truck.

Perhaps it was wrong to hold a grudge against them for pretty much selling you off into marriage considering he'd been the groom, but now that he knew you, now that he loved you, it grossed him out. Pissed him the hell off that you'd been put in that position due to their own stupidity to start with.

And every time he considered the possibility that it could've been Gojo in his shoes, that you could be curled up waiting for him to get home, he felt like he was going to puke.

"Your finances should be fixed now," he addressed your moronic parents through a locked jaw, running his fingers through his short hair. "I notified the authorities, so don't be surprised if he gets arrested soon. You should thank her."

"Course," your mom answered too quickly, embarrassment etched in the lines of her face as they awkwardly turned their backs to him, ready to scurry away with their tails tucked between their legs like the cowards they clearly were for letting you clean up their mess.

He watched the door swing shut behind them, clattering in the frame as he exhaled and rubbed his temples.

His morning wasted in meetings, paying lawyers and filing paperwork for you, knowing it would be worth it to lift the weight off your shoulders.

Wasn't that what a husband should be for?

Carrying as many burdens as he could for you?

"Where's your wife?" An annoying voice called out, haughty and high like he had a chance in hell with you.

Gojo was grinning at him, crooked cowboy hat covering his hair as the sun beat down on both of them, dirt dusting the denim of his jeans. He didn't get why he hadn't quit yet. He had his own farm to run. His own place to take care of. You weren't here anymore for him to flirt with or try to fuck.

It didn't make much sense.

"Probably sleeping in," he grunted, feeling like a possessive child whose toy was being tugged in. "We had a late night."

Implying more despite the reality actually being you both staying up well past midnight to watch a show that recently came out and him carrying you back to his bed when you inevitably dozed off.

Gojo's mouth twitched down into a grimace.

"All by herself?" He asked, obviously trying to bait him into picking a fight.

Sukuna scoffed, holding onto the fraying rope of his restraint as he turned from him. If he didn't leave soon, he might throw a few punches he wouldn't be able to take back. Ones you might not be so willing to forgive him for.

"Don't worry," Gojo called out. "I'll take good care of her when she divorces you."

He whipped around on his heels, his boots kicking up dirt and dust as he stormed back over, grabbing him by his collar before he could remind himself to be the better man. Before he could remember that he was the one who was supposed to be taking care of you now.

"She's not fuckin' divorcing me," he growled, even though he still wasn't sure what you'd do. But he couldn't help himself from confessing that he didn't want it. God, he couldn't fucking stand the idea of being separated from you. Waking up without you and forced to walk around an empty house. Listening to his brother and nephew bitch about how the hell he could let the first good thing that happened to him in years go.

"You think?" Gojo sarcastically goaded with an annoying arch of his pale, white brows.

"Even if she did," he said with a disgusted huff, "She wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole."

He had no idea if you would.

But he liked to believe you wouldn't. That a couple years from now, you'd still be sitting at his kitchen table, smiling at him when he walked through the door.

"Well, if she wants to help the ranch-"

A puzzle piece started to click into place, Sukuna's face shifting into a cold mask of anger as he heard his own voice turn taut. "The ranch is fine now. I just made sure of that."

He waited a second, but the realization in Gojo's tight frown clearly indicated he didn't need to be told what that meant. He already knew what was wrong with it then. And he only saw what he could get out of it.

"You goddamn-" He accusingly started, swallowing hard as Gojo gave up his infuriating good guy act.

"It should've been me, y'know," Gojo abruptly snapped, blue eyes clouding over with barely concealed rage. "If that moronic of an uncle completely fucked up my plans, she would have been with me after she graduated anyway. Why the hell would they chose you when I'm right here?"

Sukuna saw red.

And then blood, his fist connecting fast and hard with that oh-so-charming face of his. Not stopping until it was a mess of deep purple and blue, despite his poor attempts at fighting back, not even aware he was getting scratched and kicked until he was pushing himself off the ground, digging the hard toe of his boot into his ribcage at the sound of your mother's scream.

By the time he stood up, Gojo was groaning in pain, cursing at him and spitting out blood onto your lawn.

The next minute was a blur. Shouting at your family that they let a fucking snake in. Calling Gojo every nasty fucking name he could think of as he managed to get out a vague explanation that the white-haired asshole just wanted to take advantage of their shitty finances to have sex with you.

He didn't know if he'd been in on it the whole time, or if maybe he was just opportunistic. Convinced he could just buy your love. Probably the latter.

Honestly, he was probably way too pissed off to drive, but he was still slamming his truck door behind him and cracking it up, putting it in reverse with a loud squeal.

Your family could decide what to do with him.

Sukuna was just desperate to get back home to you.

See if you'd clean his wounds or condemn him for it.

The music was playing too loud. Wind whipping at his hair as he drove too fast, praying for once in his life to not get pulled over so he wouldn't have to justify his disheveled appearance to a cop. Not when the best his brain could conjure up was that he needed his wife.

He somehow made it back to his place in one piece. Putting the car in park and shutting it off in a hurry, practically ripping the keys out rushing out, startling a farmhand who had been approaching - and was now immediately scurrying away.

Normally, he'd stop, ask what he needed. But his mind was only set on one thing.

You.

He threw the door open before he could take two seconds to think about what he was about to do.

You were waiting there for him, knees pulled to your chest and your chin resting on them as you scrolled on your laptop, head immediately snapping up in surprise as you blinked up at him, clearly confused.

Sukuna thought he said your name.

Heard a sound leave him, his nerves too fried to figure out what exactly it was. When your lips parted, his focus was entirely on the shape of them, listening automatically.

"Kuna," you chided, disapprovingly exhaling as you took in his state as you shut your laptop and stood. "You're-"

And then he was already crossing the distance, cupping your face and crashing his lips into yours in a messy kiss.

It was a wreck.

Nipping at your bottom lip, hungrily sucking at it like a teenage idiot, wanting to assert a pathetic claim using his mouth. Still, you kissed him back, your tongue slipping between his lips as if it was second nature. It could've been a minute, or maybe five, just you and him connected. Your fingers tethering themselves in his hair as you let him hoist you up into the air. His hands on your ass, greedily squeezing as he carried you down the hall, back into his bedroom.

"You can yell at me later," he grunted when the kiss broke, tossing you on the bed as you looked up at him with eyes wide and wavering. Waiting for him to say something else, your sundress wrinkled and bunched high around your soft thighs, your lips all glossy and swollen.

"Should I be mad at you?" You asked, your voice light, teasing.

"He said that you should've been his," he grumbled, jaw clenched far too tight to be ever considered nonchalant. "You're mine."

"You're jealous," you accused, although you were really just acknowledging a fact.

He couldn't stand Gojo. Hated your former farmhand for more than just what he'd been to you.

But apparently, the idea of you being with him had lit a fire in him that burned brighter than anything you'd ever seen before.

"He said he was going to take care of you," he echoed with disgust, and at least watching your nose wrinkle up in matching irritation made him feel a little better.

And then you tilted your head to the side, lips pushing together as one of your hands slipped to the hem of your dress and lifted it enough to show him that you weren't wearing anything underneath it.

"Why don't you show me how much better you are at taking care of me then?"

It was embarrassing how quickly he managed to get all his clothes off, growling at you to strip too before he tore that pretty little dress off next, two fingers plunging inside your heat with no hesitation less than a minute later. Pumping in-and-out, pleased as hell to discover how fucking wet you were just from making out with him. Filthy squelches ringing out as he stretched you out, impatience curdling and coiling in his stomach as he drank up every heated moan of his name from your mouth.

"Shit, shit, S'kuna, you don't have to-" you gasped, thighs trying to close around his hand, your body squirming and shivering just from his fingers as he scoffed.

"Don't have to what? Remind my wife who this pretty pussy belongs to?" He grunted, abundantly aware that just touching you was feeding the starving animal in the pit of his gut. The beast waiting in the shadows wanting you so fucking badly for months. Tortured and teased from living in your warmth without being able to bask in it like this.

"It's yours," you whined, all your usual attitude evaporated into a mess on his blankets, apparently just as weak for him as he'd become for you. "I'm yours."

He'd never heard anything better.

And before he could humiliate himself by humping his bed and cumming on the spot, he was climbing on top of you in a hurry. Knees sinking into the mattress as he pulled his fingers out to push your thighs against your chest instead.

Trust gleamed in your eyes, your breath caught on your throat as his cock edged against your entrance.

He could barely inhale himself as he shoved it in, trying to take it slow despite it not being the first time you fucked. It felt different.

More...special.

A sign of something more. Not a mistake. Not a single night either of you could overlook.

Your warmth wrapping around every ridge of his cock, letting him push in deeper and deeper as you tilted your head back and moaned his name.

He was pretty sure he fucking lost it again. Picking up the pace out of instinct, fingers digging into your plush thighs as his cock plunged in and out, attempting to mold you to him so that no one else would be able to fill you up instead.

So no one else could occupy the hole he was trying to carve in your heart.

Your fingers were carving their own scratches down his back, digging into his shoulder blades and leaving marks as he rutted into you, like you were attempting to make sure he was yours too.

He was pretty sure he'd been yours from the first time he heard you laugh.

Doomed from the start to fall for you.

Sukuna didn't think he minded anymore.

Not when he got to be the one fucking you dumb into the mattress, watching all your thoughts turn all hazy as you moaned for him, making cute noises as the bed frame creaked in time with his thrusts.

It was messy, the sheets probably damp with sex and sweat, his mouth clumsily colliding with yours as he slowly shifted one hand down to play with that cute bud between your thighs. Rubbing it while he split you open, making practiced circles and feeling you cum for him when your cunt clenched tight around his thick cock, your face scrunching up in pure pleasure, your mouth falling open as he felt whatever thin thread was holding him together snap too.

He pulled out at the last second, fingers wrapping around the fat base of his cock and pumping it out as he came all over your thighs. Watching it leak down as you let out a fucked-out whimper, his brain desperately working to save the memory, etch it as deeply as he could into his synapses as your lashes fluttered.

Fuck.

You were his.

This was his.

He felt like he could cum again just from that, the last of his cum dripping out as you came back down from your climax.

Sukuna wasn't sure how long he stared at you. Stayed there with his hand around his dick like a loser until you started to pout at him.

"Clean me up," you huffed.

Your wish was his command.

And hopefully, you'd be wishing for things from him for the next fifty years instead of just five more months.

But he bit his tongue, getting up and grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom, dutifully wiping you down and tossing it in the laundry basket only for you to come pat the spot next to you in bed.

He didn't need to be told twice to lay down.

And you were immediately getting back on top of him once he did, your bare body pressed against his as you sighed and started to examine his hands. They were scraped. A bit of blood sticking to them, but you didn't seem to mind.

You accepted it. Accepted him.

"Gojo will probably try to get me charged with assault," he groaned as you rested your pretty face on his chest. You giggled a little, bringing his bruised knuckles up to your lips to plant a soft kiss over them.

"Will I need to post your bail then?" You hummed, your lips curled up in a small smile.

"Probably," he murmured. "Will you wait for me to get out of jail? Or just send the divorce papers to my attorney?"

You made a light noise, a soft laugh that made his dumb heart daydream of a life where he heard it all the time.

"Who says I'm divorcing you?"

a/n: they def lived happily ever after on the farm and had like five kids :3 reblogs + comments always appreciated angels <3

You had been pretty closed off. Keeping all of them at a distance, claiming you just wanted to focus on final exams, avoiding actually interacting unless it was in group settings. Fuck, he even texted Sukuna to see if you were still going to work, but you had stopped answering his messages after your argument. Recoiled back into your shell and desperate to repair the cracks in it you let them see.

So much for giving you a great send-off for the school year before graduation.

Did you feel like it ended for you the same way it started? Alone?

Or did you at least consider them your friends now?

Graduation had come and gone without a change. Your parents didn't even show up to watch you receive your diploma. And you ditched all the after parties for the comfort of your room - although Satoru had cancelled the big blow-out barbecue he'd been planning previously, still turning people away from his door the rest of the afternoon and into the night who showed up expecting one of his usual ragers. Even though you were both living together, Satoru had told him that he saw the kittens more than you.

But despite your distance, you'd still decided to come with them to the post-grad trip they'd been planning before all of this stupid shit had started to spiral.

Suguru hadn't been sure if you wanted to come though, or if this was just another thing your parents had pushed you to do.

He guessed he couldn't complain this time.

Not when it meant he'd actually get a week where he could try to bridge the distance, to break through the barricades you'd hastily rebuilt around your heart.

You couldn't exactly run or retreat from your feelings when you'd be spending your nights under the same roof and your days on the beach together.

Especially with no Sukuna to steal you away.

You were the only reason he was even able to be here now.

Suguru couldn't go back in time. Couldn't talk himself into having the courage to just talk to you in person instead of letting himself get catfished.

The best he could do was cling to whatever tiny chance he could find to change your fate and his.

"How are you?" He asked, clearing his throat as he took half a step closer to you. Hoping his hand would just happen to brush against yours. Aching to just lace his fingers with yours to feel like a couple one more time.

"Okay," you mumbled shyly, trying to smile at him like he wouldn't be able to see it didn't reach your eyes.

You smiled at Satoru.

Why the fuck did he always have it so much easier?

"His mom wanted me to come, but I'm actually pretty excited," you added, attempting to lighten the mood. Nudging against him playfully, your glossy lips catching the light.

"Have you been there before?" Suguru asked, forcing himself to make the conversation casual.

To not sour it by being too serious.

He didn't want to disappoint you. To ruin an ounce of your fun when you had a lifetime of it ripped from you.

"No," you shook your head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "But I heard it's beautiful."

"I can think of something prettier," he evenly hummed, the words slipping out reflexively as your mouth clamped shut abruptly, shoulders going stiff as your eyes widened with surprise.

Shit.

He shouldn't have said that.

But it was too late to take it back, and honestly, he didn't really want to.

"I don't think you should flirt with your best friend's fiancée," you finally said after a long pause, reluctantly meeting his stare like you didn't want to be saying it.

"You wouldn't be his fiancée if it was up to you," Suguru responded, as if you needed the reminder.

Did it make him an asshole?

He didn't know. He sorta felt like he didn't know anything these days. Fumbling to find his footing when the world just kept crumbling, the crack between you growing by the day.

"It's not up to me," you murmured, no tears welling up in your eyes today, but a resigned sort of sadness that somehow made it all worse.

"You're not married yet," Suguru pressed, throwing a quick look over to where Satoru was still standing in line, playing on his phone rather than paying attention to the conversation happening behind him.

"Suguru," you said his name so softly, so considerately, he could hear what was coming before you even opened your mouth again. Well fucking aware you were about to confirm everything he'd been worried about in the past couple weeks with just your next shaky sigh. "I know it sucks, but I'm trying to just deal with it."

You were folding.

All your alone time lately was surely you talking yourself into this. Disentangling yourself, slowly snipping away all the heartstrings tying you to them in a matter of self-preservation. Convincing yourself you'd be okay, that they would all be if you played the martyr.

"You shouldn't have to-"

"I know," you stopped him, offering an apologetic smile as you rested your palm on his forearm. "I'm just tired of making things messier than they should be."

"There's nothing wrong with you wanting more out of your life than," he bluntly retorted, gesturing over to Satoru without really meaning to, fumbling for his next words, for the right thing to say to make you see that it was too soon for you to give up. "Than this."

Than marrying a man you didn't pick and punishing yourself for just craving human connection.

"I don't know," you mumbled, removing your hand from him as he resisted the urge to grab your shoulders and shake you out of this. The most he could do was follow after you, snagging your wrist and spinning you back around to face him. His pretty girl. Helpless and hurt. Looking at him with those tender eyes as your lips parted again, "I feel like all I really did was hurt you and Sukuna."

Like you weren't the one hurting even more.

As if either of them were fucking scared of your mother.

What the hell did he have to do to make you see he couldn't care less about the repercussions if it meant you would be happy?

"Don't worry about us," he grimaced, sure that Sukuna would probably say the same thing. Might actually shake you too if he overheard this bullshit. "You're the one-"

"Who can make it easier on everyone," you stopped him, before awkwardly coughing to clear your throat, tilting your head to the side to signal that a certain someone was coming back.

"Am I interrupting something?" Satoru chirped, passing you a small pink drink with a cheeky smile.

"No," you answered before Suguru could, his jaw clenching tight as he watched your lips wrap around the straw to take a slow sip.

"I think they're gonna start boarding soon."

And Suguru had already screwed things up from the start.

Keeping to himself as the three of you returned to the rest of your small group, letting them talk as he watched your reactions, studied the way you played with your fingernails. You had painted them purple, a soft shade with a fresh coat of lacquer over it.

You kept catching him looking, your lips pushing out in a pout as you tried to nudge him with your elbow to get him to stop staring.

Suguru wasn't sure he could stop if he tried.

Which, uh, he didn't.

Just eyed you a little more discreetly instead, pretending to listen and nod along to whatever they were talking about while his brain raced to work out how the hell he'd get through to you.

He promised Sukuna he would.

Swore that he'd make sure you wouldn't throw in the towel before either of them had managed to make their first move.

And while he worked on winning you back, making you believe that there was still a chance, your former boss had begrudgingly sworn to take care of the cats - and look into your parents while they were occupied with wedding planning.

He doubted your mother hadn't made it this far without making more enemies other than her daughter.

But even if she hadn't, how hard could it really be for Sukuna to break in and steal a few documents without getting caught?

They might live in a gated community, but that just meant they were probably the type to leave their doors unlocked.

"You want help with that?" He muttered, gesturing to your bag once you both made it on the plane, Satoru a few steps ahead while you stared down at the ticket in your hand. "What's your seat number?"

You held it out for him to see, and he felt a rare flicker of relief return to him.

"You're next to me."

Thank fuck.

He took that back about three seconds later at the realization Satoru was sitting in the same row.

You would be sandwiched between them.

“I kind of thought you’d both be in first class,” Suguru admitted, pushing your luggage up overhead as you slid into the seat, your knee already brushing against Satoru's as he manspread in his typical oblivious fashion. Satoru was already staring out the window, bright blue eyes squinting at the runaway before looking back to chuckle.

“And leave you back here bored without us?”

His mouth curled up in a smile, but Suguru was still childishly stuck on us.

Knowing there was nothing he could do but pretend he didn’t care, that envy hadn’t crawled under his skin and started slithering towards his heart when he had to sit next to you and listen to you casually chat with his best friend - who might really end up your husband if he couldn’t come up with something soon.

If Sukuna did manage to get the rest of your documents, would that be enough for you?

What would make you feel safe enough to snip yourself free from their control?

“i guess they must have given you your passport back,” he muttered, leaning in to talk closer to your ear.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she tries to take it back afterwards,” you mumbled, pulling your passport free from your pocket and passing it to him.

For a girl with ridiculously wealthy parents, there were barely any stamps in it.

He flipped through it again, as if it would magically make more appear, pausing on the photo of you that was clearly taken more than a couple years ago.

“Look at you,” he hummed, drawing out the syllables as he stared at your picture. You were as close as you could get to frowning at the camera without your lips physically curling down, eyes burning with something you’d lost somewhere along the last few years.

“I was having a bad day,” you huffed, nose scrunching up as you snatched it back from him and stuffed it in your pocket.

How many good ones did you get?

Suguru pulled out his own, holding it out for you to assess, enjoying the way your expression lit up when you realized he was returning the gesture rather than just teasing you.

“Your hair’s so much shorter,” you giggled, squinting as you held his passport up to his face to compare, and he’d let you laugh at him all you wanted if it meant he’d get to see you grin like this.

“That bad?” He asked, arching up a brow like he wasn’t coaxing you into a compliment.

“It’s cute,” you reassured without thinking about it, stare lingering on the photo before you placed his passport back on his lap. “I like it.”

If you only realized just how much he liked you.

God, it was fucking pitiful.

Pining on a plane for a girl promised to the one other person he deeply cared for, talking in circles around everything he really wanted to say.

Around what you clearly didn’t want to discuss.

Not when you knew he’d change your mind.

You pretended to be absorbed in the in-flight movie, sharing a set of earbuds with him so you could watch together, ignoring the way your thighs kept rubbing against each other.

As if the touch was anything close to innocent when he kept glancing over to find you watching him more than the movie.

Was this supposed to be enough?

Was he meant to spend the rest of his life wondering what-if and overthinking about these tiny moments he managed to steal with you?

Suguru couldn’t fucking stand the idea of you being the one that got away.

Or that he wasn't the one for you at all.

Satoru wasn't helping either.

Leaning against you constantly, tapping your hand and talking to you like you were an old friend, discomfort pooling and threatening to drown Suguru watching you end up sitting in the shotgun seat of the rental car after the plane landed.

That ridiculous ring glittering every time the sun's rays hit it, your hand resting on the center console a little too close to Satoru's arm as he drove the oversized van all of them had piled into.

Everyone was talking over each other, excitedly chattering over plans to go swimming or sight-seeing, but Suguru was just staring like a moron at the back of your head.

What were you thinking?

Did he even want to know?

You seemed so resigned. Like you found a little freedom in just letting yourself getting taken by the tides.

Would you want a life preserver if he threw one to you?

He hadn't come any closer to figuring it out by the time they made it to Satoru's vacation house, right there on the beach, painted a bright shade of blue that just hurt his eyes.

But it was big enough for them all to get a room, and the second they were all out of the van, his friends were scurrying to go claim one - with you trailing awkwardly behind them.

Suguru slung his bag over his shoulder, about to jog to catch up to you, but Satoru beat him to it.

Asking what you wanted to eat tonight, a stupid, simple question that shouldn't mean anything.

It didn't mean anything.

So why did it feel so fucking shitty?

Suguru didn't pick out a room. Just dropped his bags inside a few seconds after the two of you walked through the entrance.

And when no one turned, no one looked, he just started towards the back, unlocking the back door to go out on the wooden porch that led out to the shore.

Was he being dramatic?

Yeah, probably.

Not that they would notice.

Sitting on the sand as the waves washed in, exhaling as he tried to desperately tune out the sounds filtering out of the house he slipped out of. The bass thumping behind him after Satoru must've set up the speakers, the sound of your soft giggle from before ringing in his ears as he rested his face in his hands.

You might be a damsel in distress, but this wasn’t a fairytale.

It wasn’t Suguru’s story.

He was just a side character trying to steal the princess and play the hero, holding out hope that you'd choose him when he'd never be able to offer you what you deserved.

But he still wanted to make sure you had that choice.

That you weren't going to spend the rest of your life wishing he'd done something to change the plot instead of sitting on the sidelines like he was now.

The past few weeks without you had been so empty, he wasn't sure how he made it so long like that before.

But now that he knew what he was missing, he couldn't bring himself to fill that spot in his heart back in.

He just had to learn how to live with being a loser in love with you.

"Hey."

His head snapped around, the lump in his throat bobbing as his eyes locked onto you.

You had changed into a bikini, one of those see-through coverups thrown over it as you trekked through the soft sand with a pair of flip flops in your hand.

"Shouldn't you be back inside?" He asked, forcing himself to drag his stare back up to your eyes.

"Shouldn't you?" You returned the question.

"I'm just thinking," he shrugged, swallowing the drool pooling in the back of his mouth as you walked over and took a seat in the sand next to him.

"About?" You asked, a hint of nervousness in your tone that gave you away.

"You already know I'm thinking about you."

But before you were forced to reply to that, his phone began to loudly buzz in his pocket.

Of course.

Because clearly, he couldn't catch even the smallest of breaks.

Begrudgingly, he pulled it out, frowning automatically at what he found on it. Whose name was currently displayed on the caller ID.

Sukuna.

God, it better be good.

“Shit,” he cursed, feeling an invisible vein in his forehead throb as his finger hovered over the screen.

“Is something wrong?” You innocently asked, looking like a goddamn angel in the setting sun, basking in the fading warmth as you cautiously watched him too.

“I’ve gotta take this,” Suguru grimaced.

And for a guy who was used to planning five steps ahead, he still hadn’t expected what he would hear on the other end.

“So, uh, I got arrested.”

a/n: if anyone wants to be added to the taglist or has previously requested and was missed, pls comment on this chap and let me know :3

Sukuna could just go up to you, snatch you away from the man who looked like he couldn't possibly handle everything you were throwing his way and fuck you until the sun rose. Did he really want to involve himself with his friend's sister though? You were hot, sure, but it was nearly his last year of college and he'd rather not ruin that by losing a friend he basically considered his brother. 

He had a terrible reputation of one night stands and ghosting. Gojo was drunk but he was right: Nanami would kill Sukuna if he treated you like a common whore. So he wouldn't. He'd woo you, tell you what you wanted to hear, make you feel like no other woman existed. He might even fuck you two times, which is more than he'd ever give any other woman.

Mind made up, Sukuna tosses back the rest of his drink before throwing it at the head of a random pledge and starts moving toward you. Only before he can actually reach you, some guy walked up to you and pulled you away. 

Fuck. Sukuna can feel his anger flaring, always too quick to ‘crash out’ as Gojo puts it. But the night was still young so he would just have to try again later. 

Later came at almost two in the morning and didn't pan out quite like he imagined. The party was dying down, men and women alike were passed out in the lawn with their faces covered in sharpie drawings, red cups were everywhere and Sukuna’s head felt like it was splitting in half. Needless to say, he was in a shit mood.

Even Satoru “never take life too serious” Gojo, looked like his patience had ran out as he kicked at people on the ground, yelling at them to ‘get the fuck up and get the fuck out’. Sukuna however, was past words, simply glaring at people with his hat backwards and arms crossed at his chest until they got the hint and scattered away. 

He was pulling a new pledge up and away from the woman he was attempting to fuck on the living room couch and shoving him by his neck toward the back door. The sophomore understood immediately, grabbing a garbage bag and picking up cups and empty beer cans, mumbling about how he wasn’t a fucking new recruit but not too loud unless Sukuna heard him. 

Sukuna only remembered he was supposed to be finding you when he bumped into a pissy drunk Nanami, knocked out by the pool with his legs hanging in the water and vomit next to his head. The blonde was hardly a drinker, so whenever he decided to indulge a bit, it was like keeping a toddler from offing themselves. Sukuna thought to just leave him there, maybe teach him a lesson about drinking more than he could handle.

 But you would more than likely hate him if your brother accidentally drowned on his watch, and then he wouldn't be able to sleep with you. So begrudgingly, he hooked his arms under Nanami’s and pulled him until he was far enough from the pool, dropping him in the grass. 

His patience was beyond worn thin once the house was cleared of non frat members and when he went back inside in hopes of finally laying down, he was fuming at the sight of some random bitch chugging water from his personal hydro flask, fridge wide open while they basically stood inside of it. 

“Oi! The fuck are you doing touching my shit?” He was seeing red, not even realizing the person he was talking to was you until he was roughly turning you by the shoulder. 

Your eyes were wide and apologetic, hands scrambling to put the top back on it while you mumbled apologies, water dripping down the side of your mouth. “Sorry! I didn't know-”

He glared and crossed his arms, attempting to swallow his rage when he realized this night could end on a good note..

 “Hmm, you just drink from random water bottles? Shit could be laced y’know. Be more careful.” He relished in how you squirmed under his intense gaze but never took your eyes off of his, even if it annoyed him that you clearly lacked survival instincts. He wanted to lick the frown off your mouth.

“Calm down dude, it’s just water! Who are you anyways?” You pushed his leaning body away, disgust twisting in your features. Sukuna was beyond amused though, caging you against the fridge as he put both hands on the side of your head and leaned over you. 

“Ryomen-”

“Sukuna?” You finished, eyes wide in surprise that you hadn't noticed him before. The uncommon pink hair, face tattoos, lip piercing, the looming height. 

Sukuna raised a brow, smug grin on his face. “In the flesh. I know you from somewhere, beautiful? Don’t think I'd forget a face like yours.”

You chuckled, the confidence he saw in you earlier finally crawling to the surface as you stood a little taller, lifting your head to look at him better. You put your hand against his lower stomach and attempted to push him away but Sukuna didn’t budge, though the attempt was cute.

“Hmm, is that why you spent half the night staring at me from across the room like you were working up the nerve to say something to me?” 

Sukuna actually laughed at that, throwing his head back before looking back at you with a small smile. He hadn't realized that you’d been watching him as closely as he was watching you and that made him want you even more.

“I don’t work up nerve for shit.” 

You bit back a smile, a small giggle escaping and Sukuna’s chest clenched. Your eyes were hooded, your dress rising just a little and he was only a man. “Sure.”

“And if I was looking?”

“Then your game sucks since you never actually came over.” 

A low laugh rumbled from his chest. The fucking he was going to give you would be biblical. He would make sure you found difficulty in walking, convince you to stay the night and then fuck you again when you woke.

“You got a habit of insulting strangers in their own homes?”

He shouldn't have been surprised when you responded immediately, your mouth almost as reckless as his. Sukuna thinks he’s met his match when your hand moves from his naval to his chest, manicured nails scratching lightly. 

“Only the ones that yell at me over water.”

He squinted his eyes, moving one hand to squeeze your waist and pull you closer. “My water.”

“Your water.”

Neither of you moved or said anything. Just stared at each other as if in a silent battle. Sukuna’s thumb rubbing circles on your waist while your fingers were sprawled against his chest, biting your lips from the motion and doing a terrible fucking job at hiding the moan that instantly had him leaking precum. 

“Maybe I should leave before you charge me for the water.” You whisper with a shaky breath as he starts lowering his head. He could see the goosebumps on your exposed shoulders, his entire body buzzing with pure lust. 

“Or.. you could stay and make it up to me.” His lips were inches away from yours, breathing in the same air as you as he pulled your body flush against his. The pounding in his head was simmering, replaced by the pounding of his heart and the electric sparks flying between you two. The gravitational force pulling him closer and closer..

His lips were just above yours, hand moving from your waist to your chin, titling your head back. His lips nearly brushing against yours. 

“Is that a pickup line?” 

He hummed, letting his lips lightly touch yours. “Nah, just an invitation.” 

“And if I said no?” You asked as you snaked your hand behind his head, lightly scratching his nape and Sukuna was gone, patience snapped. 

He crashed his lips against yours, groaning and grinding against your body as you returned the kiss, arms tightening around his neck. His tongue danced with yours and he grabbed your hips and lifted you in the air, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. You both traded spit, his teeth biting into your lower lip and cock pushing desperately into your clothed cunt. 

“Upstairs.” You panted when a random person whistled, pulling back for air but Sukuna was ravenous and captured your lips again before letting you down and pulling you toward the stairs, ignoring the many people staring and the warning headshake Gojo gave him. 

When you made it to his room, he slammed the door shut with his foot and pulled you into his embrace again. Kissing and licking at your neck, sucking hard to leave a reminder of tonight. Pride and possessiveness were terrible things and the way you were moaning in his ear only served to strengthen those emotions. 

Sukuna was completely feral, squeezing your breasts and rubbing his thumb over your nipples as he walked you backwards. He only pulled back when the back of your legs hit the mattress, gripping your chin and pulling you impossibly closer. 

“You sure about this? I’m not gentle.” His left hand moved to your ass, sliding under the dress and cupping and squeezing. Sukuna was far from a touchy person but your body was singing to him, begging to be touched and who was he to deny that?

“Mhmm, I’m a big girl. I’m sure I can handle it.” You batted your eyes at him, fingers toying with the waistband of his pants and brushing against the happy trail that disappeared into his boxers. Sukuna felt his entire face heat up but before you could notice, he was ripping your dress over your head and pushing you back on the bed. 

He towered over you, hand palming his hard cock over his pants, watching you wither on the bed beneath him. Your eyes were bright, glassy and full of need as you started running your hands over your body. Sukuna had no plans on making you wait, pulling his pants down and laying his body between your legs, grinding his covered cock into you. His lips attacked your neck before traveling down to your boobs, biting on the soft skin and licking over the spots to soothe the sting. He was sure to give each breast equally attention, leaving individual marks that were sure to bruise.

“No need for foreplay, my panties are thoroughly soaked.” You cried out as his fingers made contact with your clothed pussy. He smirked when he noticed you were being truthful. What a needy little slut Nanami’s sister was. He had been set on woo’ing you, not wanting to make you feel used and here you were, as big of a freak as he was. 

“All for me?” He huffed out a laugh against your neck before sucking hard enough to leave another reminder of tonight, fingers pushing your panties to the side and sinking into you. You were so warm and wet, gummy walls contracting around his fingers as he pushed them deep and curled. 

You were moaning and crying his name, singing beautiful lyrics of “ngghh sukuna, need you inside of me.” and, “oh fuck, how are your fingers so long?” and his favorite, “I love the way you touch me.” It made his head swell with smugness, and the sounds you were making? Sukuna thought it might ruin him, the heavy breathing and crude words coming from such sweet lips.

“Gonna fuck you real good, ya hear me? Need you to cum on my fingers first, don’t be shy baby.” His fingers pumped faster. Sukuna pressed his forehead against yours, watching your every expression to make sure he was hitting the right spots. 

“Oh! Oh god yes, Sukuna- fuck that feels- uuhhh, so good.” Your hands were gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and the pain had his dick growing impossibly harder. 

“Come on sweetheart. You want me to make your little pussy cum, yeah? Fuck you’re so tight, gripping my fucking fingers like a virgin.”

He started rubbing his thumb against your clit, moving in circles and grinding his dick into the bed. Your body tensed, head thrown back as you squirted on his fingers, juices spraying his shirt and Sukuna was so gone. 

He placed a few kisses on your mouth, calling you a good girl before sitting back on his legs and pulling your panties down, lifting your body to unclasp your bra and pushing you back down. He quickly stood to pull his boxers down, his cock springing free and hitting his stomach. Pre cum was leaking from the red tip and the way you were eyeing him with blown pupils and literal drool falling from the corners of your mouth, made him want to shove his dick down your throat but he had to feel you around his cock or he just might die. 

“Wow. That’s- I don’t think-” 

Sukuna laughed at the uncertainty in your voice, yanking your legs open and sliding his body over yours, his cock pushing at your entrance. “What? Where’s that confidence from earlier, hmm? Don’t act shy now. I'll take good care of you, baby.” 

“You’re such a di- OH!” You cried as he slammed forward, almost bottoming out in one thrust and making your back arch off the bed, breasts pushing against his chest and Sukuna was going crazy. 

You were so fucking tight, gripping his cock like you were afraid it would slip out and he was instantly addicted. You were so warm, so wet and he knew he would fuck you again. He would fuck you until he satiated this need that consumed him whole. 

“Fuck, you’re taking my cock so well. Such a good little cock drunk slut.” He groaned embarrassingly loud but he was too dizzy with euphoria to reflect on it, too drunk on your pussy himself to have any kind of rational thoughts. He lifted your legs on his shoulders and his cock sank deeper, hitting that soft wall and pounding like a sex starved man. 

The room was filled with the sounds of your mixed moans, skin slapping together and your wet pussy sloshing and squelching as Sukuna slammed into you without mercy. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue fighting with yours before he pulled back and spit into your parted lips as you moaned his name.

You didn’t miss a beat, swallowing his spit and moving your hips to fuck yourself against him. Sukuna thought he might be in love. “Harder! M’gonna cum again, please-”

You yelped as he flipped you, placing you on all fours before slamming back in. Only then did he realize he never put a fucking condom on but it was too late, he was already sliding back into you, head thrown back at the sensation of your raw pussy. He fucking hated condoms anyways.

“Yeah? Be careful what you ask for.” He gripped your hips with a brute force and started slamming into you with no warning. You yelled out and fell forward but he didn’t stop. He was pounding into you like you were nothing more than his own personal fleshlight, cock hitting all the right spots and stars were exploding behind your eyes. 

“Ooohh Ryo- haaa, gonna cum again. Don’t- ngghhh- don’t stop!” 

Sukuna couldn’t breathe, chest overwhelmingly tight with desire but he didn’t stop either. You felt too fucking good for that, so he ignored it and focused on the way his stomach was tightening everytime he dragged you back against his cock. His veins dragging against your squishy walls so good, he was reaching forward and pulling you up against his chest. 

“Get over here, pretty.” He pulled your face to his and smashed his lips against yours, one hand holding onto your hip to keep you upright while the other worked against your dripping pussy. Pinching and rubbing at your clit with a speed that had tears leaking from your eyes as you started clenching around him. 

Sukuna didn’t stop, moving his head to your neck and he fucked you faster, each thrust taking him deeper as his balls started tightening. 

“Are you on birth control?” He asked even though he had decided long ago that he was gonna stuff you full of his cum and deal with the consequences later. He had never been this irresponsible but this is the man you had reduced him to. 

“Yes! I’m so close, Ryo-” You were moaning like a pornstar and he almost came at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. A name he typically only allowed family to call him but he wasn’t about to correct you while he was balls deep inside of you. 

“Give it to me baby. Fuck I’m gonna fill you, yeah? You want that?” 

Sweat covered his body and pink strands stuck to his forehead, his red eyes blazing from the feeling of his impending orgasm.

He rubbed at your clit faster and bit down on your neck, a few seconds away from cumming when you squeezed his cock in beats, orgasm taking you under and pulling him with you. 

You were shaking and crying out his name and Sukuna was shooting a massive load into you, pushing deep to make sure not one drop escaped. The groan he gave was guttural, his balls pulsing as he pumped you full, white cum painting your walls so fucking good. 

“Fuck. That’s it, t-take my fucking cum like a good girl. Filling you so much baby-” 

Sukuna didn’t know what was happening to his body but before he could catch his breath, his hips were snapping into you as you both fell forward, his hands holding your hips as he grinded deep into you, shooting an even bigger load into you as you writhed beneath him and he groaned loud and long. 

He fucked you into the mattress as he rode out his second orgasm, mouth dropped open, hips twitching until he was left a panting mess above you. He pushed into you a few times, riding out his high and making certain his cum stayed where it belonged before kissing your shoulder and rolling onto the bed beside you. 

He was so blissed out he didn’t even question it as he pulled your body into his, hardly giving himself time to breathe before he was wrapping his arms around you and tucking his face in your neck. 

Sukuna had never slept as well as he did that night and to say he was disappointed to find you gone in the morning, would be an understatement.

He had no idea that he would be seeing a whole lot more of you in the very near future.

ch. 2

note: guys I promise the next chapters will be longer! but lemme know what you think, comments are always appreciated! <3

series tags: @httpswilloww @rhaewinsdaughter @kingjuliancypher @itoldyouimanalien @4ngelc0ded @natsolox @planetnico @junipersdiary @unlimited-impressions @radiantlyviolentskull @jae-n0 @cupidsblonde @nova-rush @choochoocho @Lunarcrystallize @ttyl0lxyx @cheacheasstuff @nanamistieonfridays @sukunash0e @bathingape00 @prettygalleria @hyeon3y @yorukana @raeyelora @tsnataly @dollyplayhouse @kidd3ath @catkuna @areyna @nyaaaaa3 @euphwriwjk-blog @ejk31 @milliemoo114 @underratedmage @xadenpoop @lovebuglissas @voidst4r @Emeraldpurple @shittypunkbarbeque @urmomswitch @maidofking123 @shazzer29 @princssjellyfishs @alebrasil0101 @hoppitysstuff @meanielotus @Thraxpatty @733164 @ambrosiarosesworld @kiikiigojo @prettygirllkk000 @addictedtotvshows1 @angel-ishere @animez96 @k1yomee @retiredpieceofshits @barcus-protection-squad @Itsmeeelol @Mintedmis @Icebearcucumber @sxlarhwa @shittypunkbarbecue @man1cslut {closed!}

You kept your face blank, eyes lowered like the obedient daughter they expected, while inside your mind screamed.

Later that night, when the household finally fell into drunken slumber and the torches burned low, you moved.

You had planned this in secret for weeks. A plain dark wool cloak stolen from the stables. A small bundle of hard bread, dried cheese, and a waterskin. Soft leather shoes you hoped would last. But the most valuable thing you owned was the wedding gown itself. You had decided to wear the half-finished white dress during your escape — the expensive satin and delicate lace might fetch enough coins in a distant village to buy you passage far away from here. It was risky, but you had nothing else of real value.

You slipped out through the narrow servant’s entrance at the back of the kitchens, the heavy door groaning softly behind you like a warning. The moment your feet touched the cold, dew-soaked grass, terror and fragile hope surged through you in equal measure.

You ran.

The forest swallowed you whole.

Ancient trees loomed like silent judges, their branches clawing at your white gown as if trying to drag you back. The delicate satin — still only half-finished, with pins and loose threads — snagged mercilessly on thorns. You heard fabric tearing again and again: sharp rips that sounded far too loud in the darkness. The long lace veil caught on a low limb and nearly yanked you off your feet; you tore it free with shaking hands, leaving half of it fluttering behind you like a surrendered flag. Mud and wet leaves caked your bare feet. Sharp stones and roots sliced into your soles until every step left bloody prints in the dirt. The cold night air burned your lungs. Sweat soaked your back and chest despite the chill, making the torn gown cling obscenely to your skin. Your legs screamed with exhaustion after only an hour, but fear kept you moving. Behind you, distant shouts echoed through the trees — your father’s guards, torches flickering like angry fireflies. Dogs barked. They were coming.

You pushed harder.

Branches whipped your face, leaving stinging cuts across your cheeks. Your hair fell loose from its elegant pins, wild and tangled. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with blood and dirt. Every shadow looked like a man ready to grab you. Every snap of a twig made your heart seize. You ran until your vision blurred and your chest felt like it would burst. You ran until the shouts grew fainter and the trees finally began to thin.

Hours had passed. The moon hung high and merciless overhead, bathing the world in cold silver light. Your legs trembled violently as you stumbled out of the treeline onto a wide, muddy road. In the distance, warm golden lantern light glowed between clusters of simple wooden buildings. A village.

You nearly collapsed with relief.

The main street was deserted, shutters closed tight against the night. Only one building still showed signs of life. Warm light spilled from its open front door onto the dirt road, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood and raw meat. A weathered wooden sign creaked overhead in the cold breeze:

Fushiguro Meat Co.

You limped toward it, every cut and bruise screaming.

A massive man stood under the wooden awning, illuminated by the lantern light. He was enormous — broad as a barn door, easily over six feet tall, with shoulders and arms so thick with muscle they looked carved from stone. He wore a blood-streaked leather apron tied low on his narrow hips. Beneath it, a simple white tank clung to his sweat-slicked chest, the thin fabric molded to heavy slabs of muscle and dark, scattered scars. His black hair was damp and messy, strands falling across his forehead. A deep, jagged scar twisted the corner of his mouth, giving his face a permanent, dangerous smirk even when he wasn’t smiling.

Thick veins stood out on his forearms as he slowly wiped a long, wicked boning knife clean on the edge of his apron. The blade gleamed.

He looked like violence given human shape — raw, brutal, and utterly terrifying.

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know anything about him except that he was the only soul still awake, and you were completely out of options.

Your legs gave out the final few steps. You dropped hard to your knees in the cold dirt right in front of him, the torn white satin of your ruined wedding gown pooling around you like spilled milk mixed with blood and mud. Your chest heaved. Fresh tears cut clean tracks down your filthy cheeks.

“Please—” Your voice came out cracked and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Hide me. Just for one night. My family… they sold me to Lord Kato to settle their debts. He’s going to break me. Hurt me in ways I can’t even speak of. I’ll do anything you ask — scrub floors until my hands bleed, haul carcasses, sleep in the cold room with the meat, be your servant, your cleaner… anything. Just please… don’t let them take me back.”

You bowed your head, trembling, and clutched desperately at the bloody hem of his apron with both hands, staining your fingers red.

The man stopped moving. He looked down at you slowly, sharp green eyes narrowing as they took in every detail: your torn and filthy wedding dress, the cuts on your face and feet, the desperate tears, the way you knelt before him like a supplicant before a god of slaughter.

He flicked the long knife shut with a loud, metallic click that echoed in the quiet street.

“Not my problem, princess,” he rumbled. His voice was deep, low, and rough — like gravel being dragged across stone. There was no pity in it. “I don’t hide runaways. Go beg somewhere else before you bring trouble to my shop.”

You stayed on your knees, fingers still twisted tight in the bloody hem of his apron. Tears kept falling, mixing with the dirt on your cheeks. “Please… I have nowhere else. They’ll find me by morning. Lord Kato will—”

Footsteps. Soft, quick, coming from the narrow alley beside the butcher shop.

Three women emerged into the lantern light, their shawls pulled tight against the night chill, each carrying a small lantern. They stopped short at the sight of you kneeling in your ruined white gown in front of the massive butcher.

“Gods above,” the tallest one gasped. “Is that a wedding dress? Child, what in the world happened to you?”

The women hurried closer, lanterns swinging. Warm golden light spilled over your torn satin, the mud-caked hem, the blood from his apron smeared across your bodice and hands. One of the younger women pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s bleeding… and look at her feet!”

You looked down at yourself — the once-beautiful dress now filthy and shredded — then up at the stranger towering over you. His green eyes were narrowed in clear irritation, jaw clenched like he was seconds away from shoving you into the street and bolting the door.

A wild, desperate plan came to your mind.

You pushed yourself up on shaky legs, ignoring the sharp pain in your cut feet. Before he could step away, you grabbed his large, calloused hand with both of yours, clinging desperately. His palm was warm, rough, and still faintly sticky with dried blood.

Turning to the three women with the most exhausted yet radiant smile you could force, you announced clearly:

“This is my husband.”

The words rang in the quiet night air.

The women froze.

You kept going, voice trembling but determined. “We were married in secret this evening. My family didn’t approve — they tried to sell me off to a cruel lord to settle their debts. So I ran away through the forest to reach him. The dress… it got ruined on the way, but I’m here now. I’m exactly where I belong.”

Silence stretched for a heartbeat.

Then the women erupted.

“The butcher got married?!” the tallest one exclaimed, eyes wide. “Toji Fushiguro actually took a wife? I never thought I’d live to see the day!”

One of the younger women clapped her hands together, beaming. “Look at her, even all torn up she’s lovely! Brave thing, running through the woods in the middle of the night just to get to her husband.”

The third woman laughed warmly. “We’ll bring fresh bread and some stew first thing in the morning for you newlyweds. Can’t have Toji’s new wife going hungry on her first day here!”

Toji.

So that was his name. Toji Fushiguro.

You felt the man — Toji — stiffen beside you. His massive hand twitched hard in your grip, muscles flexing like he was fighting the urge to rip free and deny everything. His sharp green eyes burned into the side of your face, dark with fury and silent threat. But the women were watching excitedly. The whole village would know the story by sunrise if he contradicted you now.

You squeezed his hand tighter, nails digging into his skin in a silent, desperate plea. Please. Just play along.

Toji’s scarred jaw flexed. A low, dangerous growl rumbled deep in his chest. For one terrifying second you thought he might expose you.

Then, in the flattest, most reluctant voice you had ever heard, he grunted:

“…Yeah. She’s mine now. Wife.”

The women squealed with delight. They offered more congratulations, promised gifts for the “newlyweds,” and finally bustled away down the dark street, lanterns bobbing and their voices already carrying the juicy news.

The moment their footsteps faded, Toji’s grip turned bruising. He yanked you forward so hard you stumbled against his broad, solid chest, then dragged you roughly through the open door of the butcher shop. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud that rattled the walls.

Inside, the air was thick and heavy — cold iron, raw meat, woodsmoke, and the faint metallic tang of fresh blood. A single lantern burned low on the wooden counter, casting long, flickering shadows over heavy chopping blocks, hanging meat hooks, and rows of sharp knives.

Toji spun you around and shoved your back against the closed door. One thick, powerful forearm braced beside your head, completely caging you in. His massive body loomed over yours, heat rolling off him in waves. The scent of blood, sweat, and raw masculinity filled your lungs.

His green eyes were dark with fury… and something much darker, much hungrier.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, voice low and lethal. “You just told half the goddamn village you’re my wife. You got any idea what you’ve done, little runaway?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel the hard press of his chest against yours, the sheer size of him making you feel tiny and trapped.

“It was the only way,” you whispered, breathing fast. “They would’ve dragged me back to Lord Kato by morning if they knew the truth. Now they think I belong to you. No one will question it. Please… just let me stay the night. I’ll disappear at dawn, I swear it.”

Toji stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. His scarred mouth twisted into a slow, dangerous smirk. His free hand came up and gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his intense green eyes.

“Disappear?” he growled, thumb pressing hard into your jaw. “Too late for that, princess. You just tied yourself to me in front of witnesses.”

He leaned in closer, so close his breath ghosted hot across your lips. His voice dropped even lower, rough and full of promise.

“You owe me now. Big time.”

His gaze dragged slowly down your body — over the torn white lace barely clinging to your curves, the bloodstains, the way your chest heaved with fear and adrenaline. He just held you there, pinned against the door, letting the heavy tension coil tighter and tighter between you.

“Upstairs,” he finally ordered, voice like gravel. “Now. We’re gonna have a long talk about what you just got yourself into.”

Toji didn’t give you time to argue.

His massive hand clamped around your upper arm like a steel band and he hauled you away from the door. You stumbled after him on aching, bleeding feet as he dragged you through the back of the shop. The scent of raw meat grew thicker near the cold room, but he turned toward a narrow wooden staircase tucked behind a heavy curtain.

“Move,” he growled when you hesitated at the bottom step.

You climbed. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up your legs, but you bit your lip and kept going. Toji followed close behind, his heavy boots loud on the old wood, one hand still gripping your arm so you couldn’t possibly run.

The stairs opened directly into a small, sparse apartment above the butcher shop. It was surprisingly clean for a man who spent his days covered in blood. A single main room served as both living space and kitchen — a sturdy wooden table with two chairs, a stone hearth with dying embers, a few shelves holding jars of preserved meat and dried herbs. A narrow hallway led to what you assumed were the bedroom and washroom. Moonlight spilled through two small windows, painting everything in cool silver.

Toji kicked the door at the top of the stairs shut behind him and finally released your arm. You immediately backed up a few steps, the torn hem of your wedding dress whispering across the floorboards.

He folded his thick arms across his broad chest, blood-stained apron still tied around his waist, and stared at you like you were a problem he was deciding how to carve up.

“Start talking,” he said flatly. “And don’t leave anything out. Who the fuck are you, why is a lord hunting you, and why the hell did you decide to drag me into your mess?”

You swallowed hard, still catching your breath. You introduced yourself by name, then continued quietly, “My family is in debt. Deep debt. They sold me to Lord Kato yesterday to settle it. He’s a cruel man. Three wives before me, and none of them lasted long. He told my father in front of me what he plans to do on our wedding night.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t stay. I ran in the only thing of value I had — this dress. I thought maybe I could sell it in a village for enough coin to disappear.”

Toji’s green eyes flicked over the ruined white lace clinging to your body — torn, muddy, bloodstained. He let out a low, humorless snort.

“And instead of keeping your mouth shut and hiding somewhere quiet, you decided the best plan was to announce to the biggest gossips in the village that you’re married to the local butcher.” He took one heavy step closer. “You realize what you’ve done?”

You nodded quickly. “They won’t hand me over now. Not if they think I belong to you. The whole village will protect the butcher’s wife… right?”

Toji laughed — a short, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Protect?” He shook his head. “You just painted a target on my back too, princess. Lord Kato isn’t the type to let his property run off. When he comes looking — and he will come looking — he’s going to hear all about how the village butcher stole his bride.”

He dragged a large hand down his face, clearly pissed off, but there was something else in his expression now. A glint of dark amusement. Maybe even reluctant interest.

“You’re either the bravest idiot I’ve ever met… or the most cunning.”

You stood there trembling in the middle of his living room, arms wrapped around yourself. The torn bodice of the dress had slipped dangerously low on your shoulders, but you didn’t dare fix it.

“I’ll leave at first light,” you promised again, softer this time. “I won’t cause you any more trouble. Just… let me stay until sunrise. Please, Toji.”

Hearing his name from your lips made his eyes narrow.

“Don’t,” he warned. “You don’t get to say my name like we’re actually married.”

He turned away from you and walked over to the small hearth. He crouched down, added two fresh logs, and stoked the fire back to life with practiced efficiency. The warm orange glow slowly filled the room, chasing away some of the chill.

When he stood again, he looked even bigger in the firelight — shoulders impossibly wide, muscles shifting under the thin tank top, the scar at his mouth pulling as he scowled.

“Sit,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You’re bleeding all over my floor.”

You obeyed, lowering yourself carefully onto the chair. The moment you sat, exhaustion crashed into you like a wave. Your feet throbbed. Every cut and bruise ached. You were filthy, terrified, and running on nothing but fear and adrenaline.

Toji disappeared down the short hallway and returned a minute later with a metal basin, a clean rag, and a small jar. He set the basin on the floor in front of you, then dropped into the chair across the table, watching you with those sharp green eyes.

“Clean your feet,” he said gruffly. “I’m not carrying you around if they get infected.”

You dipped the rag into the water and started wiping away the mud and blood as carefully as you could. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Outside, the village was completely quiet.

Toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed again, studying you like livestock.

“You really think this marriage story is gonna hold?” he asked after a long minute. “Village folk love to talk. By noon tomorrow everyone’s gonna want to meet my mysterious bride.”

You kept your eyes on your injured feet. “I just need a day or two to figure out where to go next. I can… I can work. I’m not useless. I can clean, cook, help in the shop—”

Toji’s low chuckle cut you off.

“You? Working in a butcher shop?” He shook his head. “You look like you’ve never touched anything bloodier than a sewing needle in your life.”

He watched you struggle to clean a deep cut on your sole for another moment before he made an irritated sound and leaned forward.

“Give me your foot.”

You hesitated.

“Now,” he growled.

You slowly lifted your leg. Toji took your ankle in his huge, rough hand — surprisingly gentle despite the calluses and dried blood on his fingers. He pulled the basin closer and started cleaning your wounds himself with careful, efficient movements.

The contrast was jarring: this terrifying mountain of a man, covered in someone else’s blood, carefully tending to your torn-up feet.

“You’re staying the night,” he said quietly, not looking up from his work. “Not because I’m kind. Because if I throw you out now, those three hens will ask questions I don’t feel like answering. Tomorrow we figure out what the hell to do with you.”

He finished cleaning one foot and moved to the other. His thumb brushed accidentally over a sensitive spot and you hissed softly.

Toji’s eyes flicked up to your face for a second, something unreadable flashing across his expression.

“After that…” He set your foot down carefully and leaned back again, voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re gonna start paying off the trouble you just caused me.”

He didn’t explain what that meant.

But the way he was looking at you — slow, heavy, possessive — made heat crawl up your neck despite the fear.

Toji held your gaze for another long moment before he finally released your ankle. He pushed the basin aside with his boot and stood, towering over you once more. The firelight danced across the hard lines of his face, catching on the jagged scar at the corner of his mouth.

“Stay there,” he muttered.

He disappeared into the back room again. You heard the sound of water splashing, then heavy footsteps returning. When he came back, he carried a thick wool blanket and a tin cup. He set the cup in front of you — it was filled with cool water — and dropped the blanket over the back of your chair.

“Drink,” he ordered. “You look half-dead.”

You obeyed without thinking, your hands still trembling slightly as you lifted the cup. The water was clean and cold, soothing your raw throat. Toji watched you drink the entire thing, arms crossed, before he spoke again.

You lowered the empty cup. “Thank you… for the water. And for cleaning my feet.”

He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, like thanks made him uncomfortable. Then he leaned against the edge of the table, close enough that his thigh nearly brushed your arm.

“You really thought this through?” he asked, voice low. “Running in a fancy white dress, announcing yourself as my wife in front of the nosiest women in the village… What’s your actual plan once the sun comes up?”

You stared down at your bandaged feet. “I didn’t have time for a real plan. I just knew I couldn’t let them marry me off to that monster. I thought if I could get far enough away, maybe sell the dress, I could buy passage on a cart or a boat. Start over somewhere no one knows me.”

Toji exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but darker. “Selling that dress would’ve gotten you robbed or worse before you even reached the next town. You’re lucky you only made it as far as my doorstep.”

Silence settled again, broken only by the crackling fire. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, suddenly aware of how exposed you still were — the torn bodice of the wedding gown hanging loosely, the lace ripped in several places, dirt and dried blood streaked across your skin.

Toji’s eyes drifted over you again, slower this time. They lingered on the curve of your shoulder where the dress had slipped, the rise and fall of your chest, the way the white fabric clung to your thighs.

“You look ridiculous,” he said bluntly. “Like a bride who lost a fight with a pack of wolves.”

Despite everything, a tiny, tired smile tugged at your lips. “That’s… not far from the truth.”

He pushed off the table and walked over to a wooden chest in the corner. He rummaged inside and pulled out a large, worn linen shirt — clearly one of his. It looked big enough to reach your knees.

“Here.” He tossed it to you. “Can’t have you walking around my place looking like that. Change. There’s a washroom down the hall if you want to clean up more.”

You clutched the shirt to your chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “You’re still in my house. Still wearing that damn dress that’s going to bring trouble to my door.”

He turned his back to give you a moment of privacy, busying himself by adding another log to the fire. You quickly stood, wincing at the pain in your feet, and slipped behind the partial wall that separated the washroom. You peeled off the ruined wedding dress with shaking hands, letting the torn fabric pool at your feet. The cool air kissed your bare skin as you pulled Toji’s shirt over your head. It smelled faintly of smoke, soap, and something unmistakably masculine. The hem fell halfway down your thighs.

When you stepped back out, Toji turned around. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on you in his shirt.

“Better,” he grunted, though his voice sounded rougher than before.

He gestured toward the narrow hallway. “Bedroom’s at the end. Only one bed. You take it tonight. I’ll sleep out here.”

You hesitated. “I can sleep on the floor. I’ve already caused enough—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off. “My house, my rules. Get some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

You walked carefully down the short hall, every step still painful. The bedroom was small and simple like the rest of the apartment — a large wooden bed with thick blankets, a single chair, and a window overlooking the dark village street. You climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers over yourself.

Toji appeared in the doorway a minute later, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame. The firelight from the main room silhouetted his massive form.

“Door stays open,” he said. “And don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night. If I have to chase you down, I won’t be in a generous mood.”

You nodded, sinking deeper into the mattress. Exhaustion was pulling at you hard now, but sleep still felt far away with him standing there watching you.

“Toji…” you whispered.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you,” you said again, softer. “For not throwing me out.”

His expression didn’t soften, but something in his eyes shifted. He pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave.

“Get some sleep, runaway,” he muttered. “You’re gonna need it.”

He left the door wide open. You heard him moving around in the main room — the creak of the wooden chair as he sat down, the quiet clink of a cup. The fire continued to crackle.

You lay there in his bed, wrapped in his shirt, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. The fake marriage. The village women who now believed you were his wife. Lord Kato still out there searching. And the terrifying, strangely careful butcher who had just tended to your wounds and given you his bed.

Sleep finally claimed you, but even in your dreams you could still feel the heavy weight of Toji’s gaze on your skin.

You woke to the sound of knocking.

It was loud, cheerful, and relentless — three sharp raps on the shop door downstairs, followed by muffled feminine voices. Sunlight streamed through the small bedroom window, warm and golden. For a brief, disoriented moment you forgot where you were. Then everything crashed back: the forest, the blood-stained butcher, the lie you’d told.

You sat up quickly. Toji’s oversized linen shirt had ridden up your thighs during the night. Your feet still ached, but the bandages held firm. You heard heavy footsteps downstairs, then Toji’s low, irritated growl as he opened the door.

“Morning!” a cheerful woman’s voice called up. “We brought breakfast for the newlyweds! Fresh bread, stew, and honey cakes. Don’t tell us you’re still in bed on your wedding night!”

Another woman giggled. “We’re dying to meet your bride properly!”

Toji’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs. He appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking imposing in the daylight. He wore a clean black tunic stretched tight across his chest, the same blood-stained apron tied around his waist. His hair was messy, jaw set with clear annoyance.

“They’re here,” he said flatly. “Three of them. Loaded with food.”

Your stomach twisted. “What do we do?”

Toji’s green eyes dragged over you — bare legs, wearing nothing but his shirt. Something dark flickered across his face.

“You sold us as newlyweds,” he reminded you, voice low. “So act like it. Smile. Look happy. Keep the story straight.”

He stepped closer and tugged the hem of the shirt down your thighs possessively. “There’s a spare skirt and blouse in the chest. Change. Quickly.”

You moved fast, wincing at the pain in your feet. Toji turned his back while you dressed in the simple dark green skirt and cream blouse. They were a little loose but far more practical.

When you were ready, Toji gave you one last look and jerked his head toward the stairs. “Downstairs. Remember — you’re my wife.”

The three women had already let themselves into the front of the shop. They had laid out a generous spread on the wooden counter: warm bread, a pot of hearty stew, honey cakes, and spiced cider. The moment you appeared behind Toji, their faces lit up.

“Oh, here she is!” the tallest, round-faced woman exclaimed. “Look at you, dear. Much better than last night. I’m Mrs. Sato, by the way! My husband runs the bakery just down the street.” She gestured to the other two. “This is Mira and little Hana.”

The younger women smiled warmly.

“You clean up beautifully,” Mira said. “You already have that newlywed glow!”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your lower back, warm and claiming.

“Thank you,” you said, offering a shy smile. “You’re all so kind. I’m sorry for how I looked last night… the journey through the forest was harder than I expected.”

Mrs. Sato waved her hand. “No apologies needed! Running away from a bad match to be with the man you love? It’s the most romantic thing to happen in this village in years.”

Toji grunted, his thumb slowly stroking your spine. “Wasn’t exactly planned,” he said dryly. “But here we are.”

The women laughed and chattered while you helped serve the food. They asked how you met, how long you’d been secretly courting, and whether you planned to stay in the village. You answered carefully, sticking close to the story. Toji added short, gruff confirmations, never moving far from your side.

Just as the women were gathering their empty baskets to leave, a loud, sharp knock echoed through the shop.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This knock was different — heavy, authoritative, and impatient.

Toji’s hand tensed on your back. His expression hardened instantly.

Mrs. Sato glanced toward the door, curious. “Are you expecting more visitors already?”

Toji didn’t answer. He moved toward the door, positioning himself so his broad frame blocked most of the view inside. You stayed behind the counter, heart suddenly hammering.

He opened the door.

Two armed men stood outside, wearing the dark crimson and gold colors of Lord Kato’s household. Swords hung at their hips. Their eyes scanned the interior of the shop coldly.

“We’re searching for a missing girl,” the taller guard announced. “Runaway bride. White wedding dress. She fled the lord’s estate last night. Anyone matching that description come through here?”

The air in the shop grew thick. Mrs. Sato and the other two women turned to look at you with wide eyes, then back at the guards.

Toji’s voice was calm but ice-cold. “No one like that here.”

The second guard tried to peer past him. “Mind if we take a look inside?”

You stayed frozen behind the counter, heart hammering. Before Toji could answer, Mrs. Sato stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had gossiped through every scandal the village had ever seen.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said brightly, waving a hand. “You boys are wasting your time. That right there is Toji Fushiguro — our butcher for the last fifteen years. We’ve known him since he was a surly teenager dragging whole pigs through these doors!”

Mira immediately jumped in, nodding eagerly. “And he has a wife! They’ve been happily married for two whole years now. We were at their quiet little wedding ourselves. Very romantic.”

Hana clapped her hands together dramatically. “Yes! They’re the sweetest couple. Toji can barely keep his hands off her even when he’s covered in blood. Always canoodling right outside the shop like they’re still courting!”

Mrs. Sato leaned toward the guards like she was sharing precious village lore. “Honestly, if some runaway noble girl in a fancy white dress had shown up here last night, the entire village would’ve known before sunrise. This dear girl has been living above the shop for ages. Helps Toji with the accounts and everything. She’s no fugitive — she’s the butcher’s wife, plain and simple.”

Toji finally moved. He reached back with one thick arm, caught you around the waist, and pulled you forward against his side in one smooth motion. His grip was firm and possessive, his large hand resting heavily on your hip as he held you close.

The guards blinked, clearly thrown by the united front.

The taller one squinted at you. “But the missing girl was wearing a white wedding dress…”

Mira let out a theatrical laugh. “Plenty of white dresses in the world! Our girl here has been wearing plain village clothes for years. Look at her — does she look like some pampered noble who ran away last night?”

Hana nodded vigorously. “Exactly! She even makes the best meat pies in the village. We’d know if she was some lord’s bride.”

The two guards exchanged uncertain glances. Between Toji’s intimidating size, the three women’s absolute certainty, and the perfectly domestic scene in front of them, their suspicion melted away.

The shorter guard cleared his throat. “Seems like a false lead, then. Sorry to bother you folks.”

The taller one gave a reluctant nod. “Apologies for the intrusion. If you hear anything about a girl in a white dress, send word to the lord’s estate.”

Mrs. Sato smiled sweetly. “Of course, dears. Safe travels back!”

The guards turned and walked off down the street without another word.

The moment the door clicked shut, Mrs. Sato burst into laughter and fanned herself. “Well! That was more excitement than we usually get before noon.”

Mira winked at you. “Don’t worry, love. We’ve got your back. No one’s taking the butcher’s wife anywhere.”

Hana grinned. “We’ll spread the word. The whole village will keep an eye out.”

Toji gave them a short, gruff nod. “Appreciate it.”

The women gathered their empty baskets, still buzzing, and finally left with more promises of future visits and gifts.

The shop fell quiet again, morning sunlight streaming peacefully through the windows.

Toji slowly turned to face you. His hand was still on your waist, heavy and warm. For a long moment he just studied you, green eyes dark and intense.

“You’re damn lucky those three are the nosiest women alive,” he muttered. “They just sold that story better than we could’ve.”

He stepped closer, backing you gently against the counter. His voice dropped low, rough around the edges.

“So the whole village’s got our back it seems.” His thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone. “This lie keeps growing. Whole village thinks you’re mine now.”

His gaze dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes.

“So tell me, runaway… how long do you plan on playing my wife? And how far are you willing to go to make everyone believe it?”

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was. The counter pressed into your lower back, and Toji’s broad body blocked out most of the morning light. His hand remained heavy on your hip, thumb still tracing slow, absent circles that made your skin prickle beneath the thin blouse.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think past getting away from Lord Kato. I just wanted to survive the night.”

Toji hummed, low and thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to decide whether you were worth the growing headache you’d brought him.

“Surviving isn’t enough anymore,” he said. “Not after this morning. Those guards will report back. When they don’t find you, Kato will send more men. Maybe even come himself.” His fingers flexed on your hip. “And the whole village now believes you’re mine. If the story breaks, they’ll look like fools. They won’t forgive that easily.”

You met his eyes, heart thudding. “Then what do we do?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he reached up with his free hand and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture surprisingly gentle for someone so rough-looking. His calloused fingertips lingered against the side of your neck.

“We lean into it,” he finally said. “Hard. You stay. You act like my wife in public — every smile, every touch, every time someone knocks on that door. No slipping up. No running off when it gets hard.”

He leaned in a fraction closer, voice dropping. “And in private… we figure out the real terms.”

Your breath caught. “Real terms?”

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, dangerous half-smirk. “You cost me peace and quiet, runaway. You cost me the simple life where nobody bothered me. So you’re going to start paying me back.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the heat in his green eyes made it very clear what kind of payment he had in mind.

“I won’t force you,” he continued, surprising you. “Door’s right there. You can still walk out and take your chances on the road. But if you stay…” His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “Then you’re mine until this blows over. Or longer. Depends how good you are at pretending.”

The solid wall of his chest pressed against you, warm and unyielding. You could smell faint traces of smoke, soap, and the metallic hint of blood that never quite left him. Your hands came up instinctively, resting lightly on his abdomen.

“I’m not pretending right now,” you whispered.

Toji’s eyes darkened. For a second you thought he might kiss you — really kiss you — but he held back, letting the tension stretch until it was almost unbearable.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because the village expects a devoted wife. They’ll be watching. Bringing food. Asking questions. Asking when we’re going to have little butchers running around.”

Your face burned. Toji chuckled, deep and rough, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“Don’t worry. We’ll give them a good show.” He finally stepped back, giving you room to breathe again, though his hand lingered on your waist a moment longer. “For now, help me open the shop. Act natural. If anyone else comes asking, you know what to say.”

You nodded, still flushed.

As he turned to start his morning routine — sharpening knives, hanging fresh cuts, preparing the counter — you moved to help where you could. Every time you passed near him, his hand would brush your lower back or arm — small, deliberate touches that looked casual to anyone watching but felt heavy with intent.

By midday, a few villagers had already stopped by “just to say hello” and congratulate the newlyweds. Each time, Toji played his part perfectly — gruff, possessive, pulling you close with an ease that made the performance feel dangerously real.

An older man dropped off a small basket of eggs and clapped Toji on the back. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you settle down, Fushiguro. She must be something special.”

Toji’s arm tightened around your waist as he gave a low grunt. “She is.” His fingers flexed against your side, warm through the fabric of your blouse. You leaned into him instinctively, playing along, and felt the solid wall of muscle beneath his tunic.

A young mother came next with her toddler in tow, offering a jar of preserved berries. She smiled at you brightly. “You two look so good together. How long have you been hiding her from us, Toji?”

“Long enough,” he answered, voice rough but carrying a hint of smugness. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head right in front of her. The casual affection made your stomach flutter.

By early afternoon the steady trickle of visitors finally slowed. Toji flipped the shop sign to “Closed for the Day” and locked the front door with a heavy click. The sudden silence felt louder than all the chatter combined.

You let out a shaky breath and leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around yourself. “They really believe it. All of them.”

Toji wiped his hands on a rag, watching you from across the room. He tossed the rag aside and stalked toward you, slow and deliberate.

Gods, he was huge.

Up close like this, in the quiet afternoon light, the sheer size of him hit you all over again. Broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the fabric of his black tunic, thick arms corded with muscle from years of hauling heavy carcasses, a powerful chest that rose and fell steadily. The jagged scar at the corner of his mouth only made him more striking — dangerous, rough, and strangely, undeniably attractive. Those sharp green eyes pinned you in place, intimidating as ever, yet there was something magnetic about the way he moved. Like a predator who knew exactly how much power he held and chose not to use it… yet.

He stopped right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. One large hand came up to cup your chin, thumb brushing along your jaw.

“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he said quietly.

You felt your pulse quicken under his touch. “I feel like I’m going to faint every time someone looks at me.”

His thumb stroked slowly over your skin. “You’re not fainting. You’re standing here in my shop, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you like you belong to me.” His voice dropped lower. “Looks pretty convincing from where I’m standing.”

The air between you thickened. You could smell the faint mix of blood, woodsmoke, and clean sweat that clung to him. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming — the heat rolling off his massive frame, the way his broad chest nearly brushed against you with every breath.

“What happens when the guards come back?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.

Toji’s expression darkened. “Then we give them the same show. Or I handle it my way.” His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. “But right now? Shop’s closed. No more visitors. No more pretending for a little while.”

He didn’t move away. Neither did you.

Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, exhaustion and adrenaline twisting into something warmer, heavier. Your hands rose to rest on his chest, feeling the hard, solid muscle beneath your palms.

“Toji…” you started, unsure what you even wanted to say.

He cut you off with a low sound. “Careful. You keep saying my name like that and I might start believing this marriage is real myself.”

His grip on the back of your neck tightened just slightly — not painful, but enough to remind you how easily he could pull you in. His green eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering this time, dark with hunger.

“You still haven’t answered my question from earlier,” he murmured. “How far are you willing to go, runaway?”

The shop was quiet except for the distant sounds of village life outside. No one was watching now. It was just the two of you, the weight of the lie, and the growing, electric heat between you.

You wet your lips, heart racing.

“I’m still here,” you whispered. “That should tell you something.”

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, hungry smirk.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “It does.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The shop was quiet now, the afternoon light cutting sharp lines across the wooden floor and the rows of knives hanging on the wall. Toji didn’t step back. He stayed right there, towering over you, one hand still gripping the back of your neck while the other rested heavy on your hip.

He really was massive up close.

Broad shoulders that strained his tunic, thick arms veined and scarred from years of brutal work, a chest so solid it looked like it could take a hit from a horse and keep going. The scar at the corner of his mouth gave his face a permanent edge, dangerous and rough. Yet there was something about the way he looked at you — intense green eyes, half-lidded, focused — that made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

Toji noticed you staring.

“Eyes up here,” he muttered, but the corner of his scarred mouth twitched like he was amused. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna get the wrong idea.”

You swallowed. “I’ve never been this close to someone like you.”

“Someone like me,” he repeated, almost mocking. He leaned in a little more, voice dropping low. “Big, ugly butcher covered in blood half the time?”

You shook your head. “Not ugly.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Toji paused, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to decide if you were lying. Then he let out a short, rough breath.

His thumb brushed slowly along the side of your neck, calloused and warm. You could feel the strength in his hand, how easily he could tighten his grip if he wanted. The contrast between that raw power and the way he was holding back made the air feel thick.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said quietly. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “I’m not a patient man, runaway. And I’m definitely not a gentle one.”

Your hands were still pressed against his chest. Under your palms, his muscles were firm and warm, shifting slightly with each breath. You didn’t pull away.

“I know,” you whispered.

Toji’s jaw flexed. For a moment his control looked strained — shoulders tense, fingers pressing harder into your skin. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“If you stay,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “this stops being fake whenever I say it does. Behind this door, you won’t be playing a role. You’ll be in my bed. Under me. Taking what I give you.” His thumb dragged across your lower lip. “And you’ll moan my name like you mean it.”

Your breath caught.

Toji held your gaze for another long second, then slowly released you. He stepped back, rolling one shoulder like he needed to shake off the tension. The sudden space felt colder than it should have.

“But not right now,” he added gruffly. “You’re still half-dead on your feet and I’ve got work to finish before the meat spoils.”

He turned toward the back counter and picked up his sharpening stone. The steady scrape of metal filled the shop as he worked on one of his larger knives. You stayed by the front counter, watching the way his back and arms moved — powerful, efficient, every motion reminding you exactly what kind of man had just offered to claim you.

Every so often he glanced over at you, eyes dark and unreadable.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged. Heavy with everything neither of you was saying out loud.

After a while, Toji spoke without looking up from his work.

“You hungry?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden normal question. “A little.”

He jerked his head toward the stairs. “There’s leftover stew from this morning in the pot upstairs. Heat it up if you want. Or stay down here. Doesn’t matter to me.”

You hesitated, then moved to help him organize the counter instead. Every time you passed close by, his arm would brush yours — deliberate, not accidental. Small reminders that the tension hadn’t gone anywhere.

The afternoon stretched on like that. Quiet work. Occasional glances. The weight of his presence never really leaving you.

By the time the sun had fully set and the village outside grew dark and quiet, the tension between you had only thickened. Lanterns flickered in distant windows, but inside the butcher shop everything felt hushed and intimate.

Toji locked the front door with a heavy click and killed most of the lanterns, leaving only a single low one burning near the stairs. The warm glow followed you both upstairs, casting long shadows across the wooden beams.

He grabbed a spare blanket from the chest and headed for the worn couch against the far wall without a word. The piece of furniture looked comically small beneath his massive frame as he tossed the blanket over it. Then he reached back and pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion.

Your mouth went dry.

Firelight danced over his bare back and shoulders — thick slabs of muscle shifting under scarred skin, powerful arms flexing as he folded the tunic. His waist tapered into a sharp V, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Every inch of him looked hard, battle-worn, and undeniably masculine. The sight made something low in your belly tighten.

You stood frozen in the bedroom doorway.

“Wait,” you said, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Toji glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised. The movement made the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex visibly.

You twisted your fingers in the hem of your blouse, cheeks already burning.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you offered shyly. “The bed is… big enough for both of us. I don’t mind sharing.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Toji slowly turned around to face you fully. The low firelight carved deep shadows across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every old scar, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing into his trousers. He looked even bigger like this — raw power barely contained, green eyes locked on you with dangerous intensity.

He took one slow step closer, then another.

“Careful what you offer me, runaway,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough. “I’m not the type to hold back.”

You swallowed hard but didn’t back away.

“I just… it doesn’t feel right making you sleep on that tiny thing after everything,” you murmured, eyes flicking involuntarily down his bare chest before snapping back up. “We’re supposed to be married. At least to everyone else.”

Toji stopped just inches away from you. The heat radiating from his body wrapped around you like a cloak. You could smell him — smoke, clean sweat, and that faint metallic trace that always clung to his skin. His sheer size made you feel small and fragile in comparison.

He tilted his head, studying you like prey.

“You offering to share my bed isn’t about being polite,” he murmured. “If I get in that bed with you, I’m not staying on my side. I’ll pull you against me. I’ll have my hands all over that soft little body. And if you keep looking at me with those wide, needy eyes…”

He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I won’t be able to stop myself from spreading those pretty thighs and finding out exactly how wet pretending to be my wife has made you.”

Your breath hitched sharply. Heat flooded your face and pooled between your legs. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, but Toji noticed — of course he did. A dark, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face again, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.

“I’m not gentle,” he continued, voice dropping even lower. “I fuck hard. I take what I want. And right now, I want to ruin that shy little runaway who dropped to her knees at my door and turned my whole life upside down.”

His hand came up, knuckles lightly dragging down the side of your neck, over your racing pulse, then lower until they brushed the neckline of your blouse. Not quite touching skin, but close enough to make you shiver.

“So think very carefully before you offer again,” he warned. “Because once I’m in that bed, the only pretending left will be how long you can keep quiet while I’m buried inside you.”

The air felt too thick to breathe.

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he watched the effect his words had on you.

“Still want to share a bed with me… wife?”

Toji’s words hung heavy in the air.

You didn’t answer with words.

You looked up at him, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat, and gave a small, shy nod.

That was all it took.

Toji’s control snapped. A low, almost feral sound rumbled in his chest as he moved. In one fluid motion he scooped you up, one thick arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your breath caught at how easily he carried you — his biceps flexing hard against your body, the heat of his bare chest pressing into your side.

He carried you the few steps to the bed and laid you down on your back with surprising care, but the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. The mattress dipped deeply under his weight as he climbed over you, caging you in completely with his massive frame. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the firelight, leaving you in shadow beneath him.

“You a virgin?” he asked, voice low and rough, green eyes searching yours like he was looking for any hesitation.

You nodded again, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word almost reverent. His gaze darkened as it dragged slowly down your body. “Gonna have to take my time with you then. Can’t wreck this tight little virgin cunt on the first thrust.”

He kissed you deeply, tongue claiming your mouth in slow, filthy strokes while his rough hands explored every inch of you. He took his time peeling your clothes off — first tugging your blouse over your head, then sliding your skirt down your legs, and finally hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and dragging them off. When you were completely naked beneath him, he sat back on his heels and just stared, drinking in every inch of your exposed body like a man who’d been starving for weeks.

“So fucking small,” he muttered, almost to himself. His large hands ran up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin on the inside, then spread your legs wide open. “Look at this pretty virgin pussy… already glistening and I’ve barely touched you.”

The cool air hit your wet folds and you shivered. Toji’s eyes were locked between your legs, dark and hungry, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He lowered himself between your spread thighs like a man on a mission. The first slow, hot drag of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit made your entire body jolt. Toji groaned deeply at your taste, the sound vibrating straight through you.

“Sweet as hell,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Could eat this pussy for hours.”

Then he devoured you.

His tongue worked in slow, broad strokes, licking every inch of your soaked folds before focusing on your swollen clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue while two thick fingers teased your entrance, circling and pressing but not pushing in yet. When you started whimpering and rolling your hips, he finally pushed one thick finger inside you — careful, but relentless.

“So goddamn tight,” he growled against your pussy, the vibration making your toes curl. “This little hole is gonna fight my cock the whole way in.”

He curled his finger slowly, searching, until he found that spongy spot that made your back arch. He rubbed it firmly while sucking harder on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the quiet bedroom — slick, filthy, and loud. Your thighs started trembling around his head as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.

“Toji— oh gods—”

He didn’t let up. He ate you out like he was starving for it — messy, hungry, and completely focused on pulling every sound out of you. He added a second finger, stretching you open carefully, scissoring them while his tongue flicked fast and firm over your clit. The pressure built unbearably fast.

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your back arched clean off the bed as you came hard on his face with a broken, sobbing cry of his name. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, pulsing wildly.

Toji licked you through every wave, slow and thorough, drawing out every last tremor until you were twitching and oversensitive, whimpering softly. Only then did he pull back. His chin and lips were shiny with your slick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at your flushed, panting face.

Then he shoved his trousers down.

His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, veined, and longer than anything you’d ever imagined. The flushed head was already leaking steadily.

“See this?” he said, stroking himself slowly. “This is gonna stretch you wide open, baby. But I’ll make it fit.”

He climbed back over you, pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed. He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down your drenched folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass.

“Deep breaths,” he warned. “Gonna go slow.”

He pushed in.

The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply, a high-pitched whimper escaping you as just the thick head popped inside. “Ah—! Toji… it’s so big…”

Toji groaned, jaw clenched tight as he fought the urge to slam forward. “Fuck— so tight,” he hissed. “Relax for me, baby. Let me in.”

You whimpered softly, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “It burns… but— ah— don’t stop…”

He worked himself in inch by slow, careful inch. Every time you tensed, he stopped, leaning down to kiss your neck or suck on your tits until you loosened again. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the restraint.

Halfway in, you let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering. “Oh gods… I can feel you so deep already…”

Toji looked down at the bulge already forming in your lower belly. “Shit… look at that,” he groaned, pressing a big hand over the swell. “My cock’s barely halfway and I can already see it inside you.”

When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, you felt so full you could barely breathe. A broken whimper left your lips. “T-Toji… you’re all the way in… I feel so full…”

Toji stayed still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he kissed you slow and deep. “Good girl,” he praised, voice strained. “Taking every inch of my cock on your first time. Such a perfect little wife.”

When your whimpers turned into soft, needy moans, he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet drag of his thick cock against your walls made you cry out.

“Feel that?” he growled. “Feel how deep I am? Gonna breed this cunt so full tonight.”

“Ah—! Yes… I feel it,” you moaned, voice trembling. “It’s so deep… Toji—!”

His pace gradually picked up. The bed started creaking rhythmically as he fucked you harder, deeper. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth.

“Gonna fill you up,” he panted. “Pump this tight womb full of my cum until it takes. Want you walking around the village with my kid growing inside you. Everyone’s gonna know exactly who fucked you first.”

The filthy words sent you spiraling. “Please— Toji— I’m gonna—!” You came hard around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as you screamed his name, “Toji—! Ahh—!”

Toji snarled and fucked you through it, pace turning brutal. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed loudly.

“Fuck— gonna cum,” he groaned. “Gonna breed you— take it all—”

You whimpered and moaned beneath him, voice hoarse, “Cum inside me… please— fill me up—!”

He slammed in deep one final time and came with a long, guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after heavy pulse. There was so much it leaked out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him. Toji kept grinding deep, pushing every drop into your womb, hand pressing down on the bulge in your belly like he wanted to keep it all inside you.

You let out a soft, overwhelmed whimper at the feeling of being so full of him.

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat.

Then he leaned down, kissed you slow and possessive, and murmured against your lips:

“This cunt belongs to me.”

Toji stayed inside you for a while longer, gently grinding and kissing your neck, before he finally pulled out with a low groan. A thick trickle of his cum leaked from your abused hole onto the sheets. He looked down at the mess with dark satisfaction, then rolled onto his back and pulled you against his chest.

“Rest now,” he said quietly, voice rough but surprisingly gentle as he wrapped a heavy arm around you. “You’ve had a long day, runaway. Close your eyes.”

He pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, his large hand resting possessively on your lower belly.

“Go to sleep.”

-

You woke up to warmth.

A heavy, solid arm was draped across your waist, pinning you to a broad chest. Toji’s body was curled around yours from behind, one thick thigh wedged between your legs. His breathing was slow and deep, but the moment you shifted even slightly, his grip tightened possessively.

The room was still dim, early morning light just beginning to creep through the small window. Your body ached — a deep, satisfying soreness between your thighs, faint bruises on your hips from his fingers, and the unmistakable sticky warmth of his cum still leaking out of you.

You tried to move again, but Toji’s low, sleepy growl stopped you.

“Stay,” he muttered against the back of your neck, voice rough with sleep. His hand slid down to cup your lower belly, pressing lightly. “Not done holding you yet.”

Heat rushed to your face. You stayed still, letting him pull you tighter against him. His cock — already half-hard again — rested heavy against your ass.

After a few quiet minutes, Toji sighed and finally loosened his grip. He rolled you onto your back so he could look down at you. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy-lidded, but the smirk on his scarred mouth was fully awake.

“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly. His hand stayed on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles. “How’re you feeling?”

You shifted, wincing a little at the soreness. “Full… and sore,” you admitted softly.

Toji’s smirk widened into something darker, more satisfied. He leaned down and kissed you — slow and lazy at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours. When he pulled back, he dragged his hand lower, fingers brushing through the mess between your thighs.

“Still leaking my cum,” he murmured, almost proud. “Good.”

He pushed two thick fingers back inside you, slow and careful, fucking his dried cum deeper. You whimpered, hips twitching.

“Toji—”

“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your temple. “Not fucking you again right now. You’re too sore.” He kept his fingers inside you anyway, lazy and possessive. “Just keeping you full.”

You stayed like that for a while — his fingers buried inside you, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along your neck and shoulder. The morning was quiet except for the occasional creak of the bed and your soft sounds.

Eventually he pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while watching your face.

“Breakfast,” he said simply. “Then we open the shop.”

He got up first, completely naked and shameless. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the powerful lines of his back, the flex of his ass and thighs as he moved. He caught you looking and chuckled.

“Keep staring like that and I will bend you over the table downstairs,” he warned.

You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.

He tossed you one of his clean shirts and a fresh skirt. While you dressed, he pulled on his usual trousers and tank top, tying his blood-stained apron around his waist.

Before you left the bedroom, he caught your wrist and pulled you close one more time. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

“Last night wasn’t pretend,” he said quietly, eyes serious. “Not for me. You’re mine. Understand?”

You swallowed and whispered, “I understand.”

He kissed you again — hard, claiming — then rested his forehead against yours for a second.

“Good.”

He led you downstairs, his hand firm on your lower back the entire way.

The village was waking up outside. And for the first time since you’d run away, you didn’t feel like running anymore.

Toji unlocked the front door and flipped the sign while you tied on a clean apron. The morning air carried the smell of fresh bread from Mrs. Sato’s bakery and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. A few early customers began drifting toward the shop.

The first hour passed in a surprisingly calm rhythm. You helped weigh portions, wrap cuts of meat in clean paper, and hand them over with a shy smile. Toji stayed close the whole time — sometimes reaching past you for a knife, sometimes resting a hand on your waist as he moved behind you. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was marking his territory even when no one was watching.

Then the bell above the door rang again.

A tall, sun-tanned man with kind eyes and an easy, friendly smile stepped inside. He looked to be in his late twenties, with the strong build of someone who spent his days working the fields. He greeted Toji with a familiar nod.

“Morning, Fushiguro. The usual shoulder cut, please.” His gaze shifted to you behind the counter and softened with genuine interest. “You must be the new wife everyone’s been talking about. I’m Haru. I run the big farm past the mill.”

You returned his smile politely. “Nice to meet you, Haru.”

He watched as you carefully wrapped his order, your hands still a little clumsy with the butcher paper. “It’s good to see a new face around here,” he said warmly. “You seem really kind. Gentle. The kind of person who makes a place feel brighter just by being in it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly. “If you ever need anything — extra vegetables from the farm, help carrying something heavy, or just someone to talk to when things get quiet — my door’s always open. Wouldn’t want you feeling lonely so soon after moving in.”

You tilted your head, completely oblivious to any hidden meaning, and gave him a grateful smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before you could say anything else, the air behind you changed.

Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your hip, fingers digging in with clear possession as he pulled you back firmly against his chest. His other arm slid around your waist, locking you in place.

“She won’t be needing anything,” Toji said, his voice low and dangerously even. “I take care of my wife.”

Haru blinked, the friendly smile faltering as he finally registered the tension rolling off the butcher. “Of course. I was just… being neighborly.”

Toji’s grip on your hip tightened. “Neighborly is saying hello. The rest sounded like something else.”

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Haru swallowed hard, quickly paid for his meat, and muttered a polite goodbye before leaving without another word. The door swung shut behind him with a soft jingle.

The second he was gone, Toji spun you around and backed you against the counter. His green eyes were dark, jaw clenched tight with barely-contained jealousy. One big hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip.

“You really didn’t notice?” he muttered, voice rough.

You shook your head, genuinely confused. “He was just being nice…”

Toji let out a short, irritated breath and leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “He wasn’t just being nice. He was testing the waters. Seeing if my wife might be open to something else. Offering you a soft place to land if you ever got tired of me.”

His other hand slid under your skirt, fingers brushing between your thighs and finding you still slick from the night before. You gasped softly as he pushed two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them slowly.

“Toji—”

“Mine,” he growled quietly against your ear, pumping his fingers in a lazy rhythm. “This pussy is mine. You are mine. I don’t want you smiling so sweetly at other men. Understand?”

You whimpered, clutching his shoulders as pleasure sparked through your still-sensitive body. “I understand…”

He kissed you then — hard, possessive, and hungry — while his fingers continued their slow, deliberate strokes. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still dark with jealousy.

“Next time someone talks to you like that,” he said, voice low, “you let me handle it.”

He reluctantly withdrew his fingers, straightened your skirt, and stepped back like nothing had happened. But the tension in his shoulders and the dark look in his eyes remained.

“Back to work,” he said gruffly, still clearly worked up.

You nodded, legs shaky, heart racing, and turned back to the counter.

The rest of the morning passed with Toji staying even closer than before — a constant, heavy, possessive presence at your side. Every time another customer entered, his hand found your waist or lower back, silently reminding everyone (and you) exactly who you belonged to.

The rest of the morning dragged on with the same heavy tension.

Every time a male customer stepped through the door, Toji’s demeanor shifted. His hand would find your waist, your hip, or the small of your back — a silent, unmistakable claim. He answered questions in short, clipped tones and watched the men with sharp, warning eyes. You tried to focus on wrapping orders and smiling politely, but the constant possessiveness was becoming impossible to ignore.

By early afternoon, when the shop finally quieted again, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

You turned to him while he was wiping down the counter.

“Toji,” you said softly, “you’re being too much.”

He paused, setting the rag down slowly. When he looked at you, his green eyes had gone dark.

“Too much?” he repeated, voice low and deceptively calm.

You swallowed but stood your ground. “Yes. The constant touching, the glaring at every man who even looks at me... They’re just customers.”

Toji stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he slowly walked around the counter, backing you up until your hips hit the edge. He caged you in with his massive frame, one hand braced beside you on the wood, the other coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Tell me something, wife… What kind of husband would I be if I let other men think they can have access to what’s mine?”

His voice was rough, low, and dangerous. “If I smiled and stepped aside while they flirted with you? While they offered you help and soft words like they had any right to you?”

He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear. “I’d be a fucking joke. A weak man who doesn’t know how to protect what belongs to him. And I’m not weak.”

His free hand slid under your skirt without warning, fingers pushing between your thighs. You were bare underneath. The moment his calloused fingertips brushed your folds, he groaned softly — low and rough — when he found you already wet again.

“Already soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Complaining about me being too possessive, but your pussy is dripping the second I touch you.”

“Toji—” you whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from the night before.

He curled his fingers slowly, deliberately, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.

You moaned, loud and broken, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders. Your legs trembled around his wrist as pleasure sparked hot and fast through your body.

“You can tell me I’m too much,” he growled against your throat, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “But we both know the truth. You like it when I act like this. You like knowing no one else can touch you. You like being mine.”

His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the quiet shop. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook.

“Ah— Toji… please—” you moaned, voice cracking. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to him. He took full advantage, sucking and biting along your skin while his fingers drove deeper, faster.

You were right there — teetering on the edge, muscles tightening around his thick fingers — when he suddenly pulled his hand away completely.

You let out a desperate, needy whine, hips chasing his fingers uselessly. Your core throbbed, aching and empty.

“Toji…!” you whimpered, voice hoarse and frustrated, eyes glassy with unshed tears of need. “Please— I was so close…”

Toji smirked, dark and satisfied, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm. He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were — coated in your slick right up to his knuckles.

“Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

You obeyed instantly, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His green eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal. “Look at you… so fucking eager. Whining because I stopped, sucking my fingers like you’d do anything for my cock right now.”

He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your own tongue. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged.

“You can complain about me being possessive all you want,” he said, voice dark and low, “but your body doesn’t lie. This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”

He suddenly lifted you onto the counter with ease, as if you weighed nothing. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs as he shoved your skirt all the way up to your waist in one rough motion, baring your dripping pussy completely. He stepped between your spread thighs, his broad body forcing your legs wider apart until your knees were nearly touching your shoulders.

His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh with unmistakable ownership. With his other hand, he freed his cock — thick, heavy, and already throbbing. The veined shaft glistened as he stroked himself once, slowly, eyes locked on your exposed, glistening cunt.

“Since you think I’m too possessive,” he said, voice rough and dangerous, “I’m going to remind you exactly why I am.”

He rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.

“Toji… please—”

Without another word, he pushed in with one deep, powerful thrust.

You cried out sharply, back arching hard off the counter as the thick head forced its way inside, stretching you wide open. The sudden, overwhelming fullness stole your breath. Toji groaned deeply, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke, his hips flush against your ass.

“Fuck… still so tight,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure. “Even after I filled you last night. This greedy little cunt keeps sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”

He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He started fucking you hard and deep, the heavy wooden counter creaking loudly under the force of every brutal thrust. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the empty shop as he claimed you right there in the middle of the day.

“Mine,” he snarled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave another dark mark. “Say it.”

“I’m yours— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, voice breaking as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

He fucked you even harder, hips snapping forward with powerful, punishing strokes. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, loud and filthy. One of his big hands reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, tight circles.

“That’s right,” he panted, breath hot against your ear. “My wife. My pussy. No one else gets to look at you the way I do. No one else gets to touch you. No one else even gets to fucking think about you.”

Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your walls fluttering around his thick cock with every deep thrust. The counter shook beneath you. Your tits bounced wildly inside your blouse with the force of his movements.

He suddenly leaned back slightly, gripping your thighs and spreading you even wider as he drove into you. The new angle made him hit even deeper, the bulge in your lower belly becoming visible with every thrust.

“Look at that,” he groaned, eyes fixed on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you. “You’re taking me so fucking deep. This tight cunt was made for my cock.”

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you. “Toji—! It’s too deep— ahh—!”

“You can take it,” he growled, fucking you harder. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — fast, violent, and overwhelming. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing as waves of intense pleasure tore through your body. You screamed his name, thighs shaking violently around his waist.

Toji snarled like a beast, his rhythm turning erratic and savage as he fucked you through your climax. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release, hips slamming against yours with wet, filthy sounds.

But he didn’t cum.

Instead, he suddenly slowed his thrusts, grinding deep and slow, keeping you right on the edge of overstimulation. His breathing was ragged, sweat glistening on his chest and neck.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss while still buried deep inside you.

“You’re not done yet,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark and full of promise. “We’re nowhere near finished.”

Before you could catch your breath, Toji pulled out of you with a wet, obscene sound. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing, already missing the thick stretch of him. But he didn’t give you any time to protest.

In one swift, powerful motion, he flipped you over onto your stomach across the counter. Your chest pressed against the cool, smooth surface, your cheek resting on the wood as he yanked your hips back and up, forcing your ass high in the air. Your skirt was still bunched uselessly around your waist, leaving you completely exposed — bent over like a whore in the middle of his shop.

Toji kicked your legs wider apart with his foot, then pressed one large hand firmly between your shoulder blades, pinning you down hard against the counter.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice thick with raw lust. “Bent over my counter like a proper little wife. Ass up, pussy dripping for me.”

He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing your swollen, abused pussy completely. Without any warning, he spat directly onto your folds — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your clit and dripping down. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation, your hips twitching.

Toji groaned at the sight and used two thick fingers to rub his spit into your pussy, mixing it with your own slick, pushing it inside you. Then he brought his palm down hard on your ass with a loud, resounding smack.

The sharp sting bloomed hot across your skin. You cried out, jolting forward on the counter.

“Stay still,” he ordered, voice rough. He smacked the other cheek even harder, watching the way your flesh jiggled and turned pink under his hand. “This ass is mine too. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”

You moaned helplessly, pushing back against him despite the sting. Toji lined up the thick head of his cock again and thrust back inside you in one brutal, deep stroke.

The new angle made him feel impossibly bigger, reaching even deeper. You moaned loudly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden counter as he immediately started fucking you hard and fast.

The counter creaked loudly under the force of his powerful thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the empty shop. Toji’s hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke like he was using you.

“Fuck— this pussy feels even better like this,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, watching the way your flesh rippled red under his palm. “So fucking wet. You like being bent over and used like this, don’t you?”

“Yes— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool counter, eyes fluttering shut. Every brutal thrust made your breasts press harder into the wood, your sensitive nipples dragging against it.

Toji reached forward and fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he fucked you even harder. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. He spat on your pussy again, right where his thick cock was stretching you open, and used his thumb to rub the saliva into your swollen clit.

“Such a messy little wife,” he panted, smacking your ass repeatedly between thrusts — sharp, stinging slaps that made you clench tighter around him. “Dripping all over my counter. Taking my cock so deep like you were made for it. Look at this greedy cunt swallowing every inch.”

Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure. The combination of his brutal pace, the stinging heat on your ass, and the filthy words pushed you right to the edge again.

Toji leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he kept pounding into you without mercy.

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he growled, smacking your ass one more time, hard enough to make you yelp.

“You—! It belongs to you— Toji—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and desperate.

He snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the counter shaking beneath you. His hand slipped between your legs again, rubbing your clit fast and rough.

You came with a broken scream, your walls clamping down hard around his thick cock, thighs shaking violently as intense pleasure tore through you.

Toji groaned loudly as your orgasm triggered his own. He slammed in deep one final time and came hard, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. He kept grinding into you slowly, pushing every drop as deep as possible, his hips pressed tight against your reddened ass.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the shop were your heavy breathing and the faint drip of his cum leaking out of you onto the floor.

Toji stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back and kissing the back of your neck possessively.

“Still think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured against your skin, voice dark and satisfied.

You could only whimper in response, too overwhelmed to form words. Your body was trembling, pressed against the counter, pussy still fluttering weakly around his thick cock. Every small shift made you feel the mess he’d left inside you — warm, sticky, and so full it was leaking down your thighs.

Toji let out a low, rumbling sound of approval. He stayed deep for a long moment, grinding slow and lazy, pushing his cum even deeper as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any of it escaping. His large hand smoothed over the reddened skin of your ass where he’d spanked you, almost soothing now, before giving one last firm squeeze.

“Answer me,” he said quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“…No,” you breathed, voice hoarse and shaky. “I don’t.”

He hummed, clearly pleased. He finally pulled out slowly, watching with dark eyes as a thick trail of his cum dripped from your abused hole onto the floor. The sight made him groan softly.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” he muttered. He used two fingers to push some of the leaking cum back inside you, then straightened your skirt with surprising care.

Toji helped you stand on shaky legs, turning you to face him. He cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing your flushed cheek as he studied your expression — eyes glassy, lips swollen, hair messy.

“You’re going to feel me for the rest of the day,” he said, voice low. “Every step. Every time you move. I want you thinking about who fucked you over this counter.”

He leaned in and kissed you — slower this time, but still deep and possessive. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.

“Clean yourself up a little,” he told you, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “We’ve still got half a day left.”

Toji stepped back, tucking himself away and adjusting his apron like nothing had happened, though the dark, satisfied glint in his eyes remained.

You stood there on unsteady legs, heart still racing, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly leaking down your inner thighs.

And somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.

a/n: aren't the old hags kinda iconic? lmk what you think and if you'd be interested in a part two! likes and reblogs appreciated!!

He was just blinking, the lines between his brows etching deeper the longer he stared.

"Um, sorry, I, uh, asked Uruame for your address. I hope that's okay, I just thought it'd be fun to surprise you," You stammered, palms starting to get sweaty from holding onto the gift bag in your hand for so long.

His expression didn't change, but the door opened a little wider, but there wasn't really any room for you to slip through past him. You ended up just pushing the gift bag at him instead, the tissue paper crinkling inside of it.

You could feel your own pout, the way your lips pushed together while you held your breath for him to tell you to fuck off or scoff something about you being just as dumb as you felt.

"You didn't need to buy me somethin'," Sukuna finally murmured, sticking his hand in and feeling around for the little crochet cat you spent hours staying up after you told him you were going to sleep making for him.

"I just, you know, was thinking about you, and I wanted to make you something," You mumbled awkwardly, toying with a ring on your finger and shuffling your feet but you couldn't take your eyes off of his, even when the intensity behind them was striping away IQ points by the second. "I know it's not very good, but I tried-"

He grabbed your wrists, firm fingers wrapping around them and pulling you inside. But your feet tripped up on the heels you'd picked out in the hoped he'd check out your legs or think you were cute, about to fall before his hands were steadying your arms. Yours wrapped around his sturdy waist, holding onto him for more than just stability.

He was warm.

His grip on you was unsure, hesitating for a second before he ran a large palm over your back in broad strokes. It was like a little kid who'd never been hugged before, stiff at first, a low grunt escaping his throat before he begrudgingly relaxed into it.

"Do you like it?" You asked, letting go like you weren't blushing as you gestured back down to your gift being half-crushed in one of his calloused palms. "The cat?"

"It's a cat?" He grumbled, raising a brow as he glanced between it and you.

You fully pouted now, reaching out to snatch it back from him.

"You don't have to keep it if you don't," You huffed, fingers grazing over the soft fuzz before he held it over your head out of his reach.

"Did I say I didn't?" He teased.

Somehow, you ended up in the seat next to him in some halfway decent restaurant, his hoodie hanging loose over you while your mutual friends went back and forth about how nice it was to finally meet up. You liked to think he had just noticed you were cold, or maybe just wanted to see you wearing something of his, but the same fluttery feeling kept you tapping your foot and sneaking peeks at him after he pulled your chair closer to his.

The legs of it scraped against the linoleum, his fingers sweeping over your arm in absentminded little motions, the edges of his nails sometimes tracing over the thick fabric of your hoodie. You wished it was your skin.

The conversation faded in and out, chiming in and chattering just to distract yourself from how close he was.

And how much closer you wanted him to be.

Sitting on the edge of your chair just so your thigh could press against his under the table, the hard muscles clad in dark jeans.

Hoping that if you just thought about it hard enough, he'd somehow read your mind and know how much you were dying for his other hand to slip under your skirt, to feel his rough palm on your thigh.

The food on your plate was gone, the fork forgotten and napkins crumpled up, the ice already melted by the time you pulled out your phone from your purse and saw almost two hours had passed.

You shoved it back inside, setting it on the table before leaning up, deliberately letting your lips ghost over his skin before you murmured in his ear. "Can we go back to your place and hang out longer? Just, um, us?"

"Just us?" He whispered back, deep and husky, the sound reverberating through as he breathed.

"I didn't get to see your gaming setup earlier."

It was a weak excuse.

One you knew he didn't even believe by the stupid smirk on his face as he looked down at you chewing on your own lower lip. Or by how quickly he grabbed the check and hurried over to the cash register.

But the hand on your back didn't drift south to cup your ass the way you anticipated walking back to his car. He asked questions instead, all gruff and stoic like he didn't really care for the answers, but you could see the way his eyes softened whenever he'd glance your way, knew it in the little lines of his face that he was still listening.

Even the songs playing on through his phone's Bluetooth were ones you'd mentioned to him in passing, a playlist you couldn't help hoping he made for you.

"Hey, I really just, well, appreciate you," You awkwardly spilled out, looking out the window, nervously bouncing your leg up and down while you forced the words out. You wanted to say you really liked him, but your tongue refused to cooperate, scared to get your hopes up in case it was all one-sided.

"Yeah, sure," He grumbled back, throwing another one of those stoic looks your way before facing the road again.

But his hand reached out to rest over your thigh, squeezing just hard enough to get your leg to stop bouncing.

He only moved it when he parked, gruffly muttering something under his breath that you should just stay the night. You weren't even listening to how he rationalized it, couldn't hear anything over your own heartbeat watching his sharp side profile as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out.

You were rushing to pull yours free, grabbing your purse and pushing the door open too fast in the process, accidentally hitting him in the side with it.

"Oh shit, God, I'm sorry," You immediately started apologizing, slipping out through the still half-open door and reflexively rushing to tentatively touch his side.

"S'fine," He insisted, but he didn't go to remove your hands, letting you tug his shirt up just enough to check that no bruise had started to form.

"Are you sure?" You hesitated, eyes lingering on the outline of his muscles, fingers softly grazing against his skin.

"Why? You wanna kiss it better?"

You blushed, hands dropping to your own side as you dragged your gaze back to the gravel pavement. The worst part was you did and you were pretty sure he knew it.

Saying something stupid, you shrugged it off and followed him back up to his apartment, pretending to not feel the flush burning underneath your skin, the electricity tingling through your veins every time his arm brushed against yours or his fingers skimmed against your waist.

He didn't give you a proper tour of his place, just shoving his hands in his pockets and letting you look through his stuff. Always hanging a step or two behind you as you peeked through his open living room and kitchen, jutting his thumb to the hall that branched off. "Everything's in my room."

You blinked, forgetting the entire reason you even said you wanted to come before you remembered he was referring to his computer.

"Oh, cool," You nodded, nervously smiling and fiddling with your bracelet as you stepped forward. "Bet it's probably way nicer than mine."

His chuckle was dry, following you this time as you padded down the hall to an already open door.

"I could upgrade yours, y'know," He offered, his gravelly voice so close to your ear almost making you shiver. "If you want."

"Really?" You glanced over your shoulder at him, unable to stop the smile tugging up on your face at the thought of him coming over to your place after this. "That'd be great. Would it be like, a lot? I mean, I could pay you for the parts and time, or-"

"It's on me," He interrupted before you could keep rambling.

"What?" You had to force the word out, a surprised exhale.

"For the cat," Sukuna shrugged, as if he owed you some debt for a stupid poorly-made gift you hadn't even spent money on.

"That's way too much, I can pay-" You started as you stepped inside his room, but he was leading you over to his gaming chair by the wrist and plopping you down in it.

"Here it is," He wryly said, ignoring your protests and turning your attention back to his screen.

Still pouting, you tried to act interested, clicking through his game library and peeking at his settings and achievements. But his presence hung heavy, an invisible weight that only got harder to ignore the longer you sat there.

You stole another glance at him, your gaze sticking to his lips, wondering how they'd feel, what it might be like to taste them. You never considered he was thinking the same until they were suddenly on yours, soft and starving, tilting your head back to kiss you properly.

His palms were rough, but he was careful when it came to caressing your cheeks, holding you like you were something he was worried he'd break.

If it was him, you'd let him bend you into any shape he wanted.

You were returning the kiss back just as fervently, your canines nipping at his bottom lip as you sucked on it. Could he taste the desperation on you? The devotion? Or was it the aftertaste of his own on your tongue?

Before you could decide, he was picking you up and throwing you onto his bed. The breath was knocked out of you, but you were almost positive it was because of the palms running over your thighs and shoving your skirt up to reveal the little lacy set underneath.

Something you picked out hoping he'd see.

A quiet groan, practically a growl escaped him at the sight and then he was ripping those off, tossing them on the floor. He dragged you to the end of the bed, throwing one of our legs over his shoulder before diving in. Nose nudging against your clit and tongue eagerly lapping at your now exposed entrance.

You were gasping for air, instinctively reaching out to tug on his hair as your hips arched up to drive his tongue deeper. His grip on your thigh tightened, his free hand pushing your stomach down so he could eat you out precisely how he wanted.

He was the sort of guy who reveled in being the best at everything he did, which, you guessed included giving you head, controlling your pleasure and pulling your strings with every deliberate swirl and dedicated drag of his taste buds inside you.

And okay, perhaps you'd touched yourself a time or two imagining what it might be like to see if his mean mouth could back up any of his big talk, but you never imagined it'd feel this good.

Long stripes licked over your clit to collect any spare drop of you that leaked out, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud and sucking like he was trying to set a world record for the fastest orgasm. Nipping and teasing as he shoved two thick fingers inside to fill you back up, groaning at each lewd moan of his name that left your lips.

And he succeeded, getting first place yet again as you cried out, a fuzzy feeling floating through you as he paused just long enough to strip the rest of your clothes off. Pulling and tugging and adjusting until you were fully nude in his bed, greedy hands touching and groping as he explored with a look crossed between lust and lovestruck.

"K-Kuna, fuck, please," You whined, struggling to wiggle under the force of his fingers plunging in-and-out, scissoring and stretching you open to prepare you for the real thing.

Hunger had twisted into need, the blinding kind that burned and seared through your veins, eating away at your bones until you felt limp, something for him to mold and use as he pleased.

"Please what, princess?" He teased, popping out the 'p's, his warm breath over your swollen and aching bud making you whimper as his fingers shoved back inside.

"Fuck me."

You went from staring up at his ceiling to being manhandled and flipped over onto your hands and knees, a sharp smack! branding your ass before he was practically tearing his own shirt off, struggling to get his zipper down and unbutton his jeans fast enough.

You were grinding back on him, feeling something hard and swollen press against your ass as he let out a sharp hiss at the contact.

"Put it in," You purred, pleaded, pitchy and weak as you felt a thick vein pulse and throb.

"Fuck," He gritted his teeth, rubbing the sore spot on your ass as he nudged his tip against your entrance. You squirmed, moving your hips in an attempt to make him slip in further, moaning at the first few inches pushing in. "You don't know what you do to me."

You hoped you made him feel half as intoxicated as he made you feel.

That he shared even a fraction of your obsession.

"Show me," You heard your own breathless challenge, nails clawing at the mattress right as he abruptly bottomed out, his hips smacking against your ass and the sound of skin-on-skin ringing through the room.

He paused for a second, cock throbbing as it pressed snugly against your cervix like he wanted to appreciate what he was claiming.

"Dreamed about this," He murmured, a husky growl that made you squeeze around him. You bit your lip to suppress your whimper, muscles tensing as you waited for him to move.

And God, you'd be dreaming about this forever.

You guessed it wasn't too different from the forever you were already fantasizing about with him.

"M-me too," You confessed, gasping when he started to pull out just to push all the way back in, setting a brutal pace from the start. His hands settled on your hip, holding you up when your thighs started to tremble, as if he could sense how each dizzying thrust melted your muscles into jelly.

"All mine now," He grunted, punctuating each word with another drive of his hips forward, one of his hands slipping up to push down on the arch of your back to deepen it.

But the pressure was enough to make your arms collapse, ending up with your elbows sinking into his mattress, the position allowing him to rest his chest on your back and bury himself deeper inside you.

Angled to reach that soft and spongy spot in the back each time, your makeup running down your cheeks as you hid your face in his blankets to muffle your moans.

His his his.

Was there anything better?

The idea of belonging to him, the intimacy of being split open and wrapped up in his arms, it all left you teetering on the edge, your body only held up by his strength as he molded you to each ridge and vein and throb of his cock.

"You wanna cum, pretty?" He murmured, his fingers skimming back over your ass, slowly reaching around to your front. You almost jolted when the pads of his fingers rolled over your clit, still oh-so-sensitive from the first climax he pulled from you.

"Please, please, please," You were begging, but you didn't care, couldn't. You just wanted more.

For all of him to take all of you.

He chuckled, and you'd heard it before, plenty of times. But this time, you were shuddering, shaking. Barely holding yourself together as he circled over your sore bud again and again, never letting up on his rough thrusts.

And when you snapped, you splintered.

Crying out his name for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, body no longer working or responding to the signals your brain was sending as white splotches scattered across your shut eyes.

He finished at the same time, a gutteral groan let out as something warm shot out, your thighs damp by the time he pulled out. Both of you leaning out onto your legs, but before it could drip onto the bed, he was picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

His skin was hot, burning to the touch, his breaths unsteady and uneven as he wrapped a string around you and carried you into a connected bathroom.

"Kuna," You murmured, blinking blearily and resting your face against his smooth back.

"What?" He grunted, carefully setting you down on the closed toilet seat and squinting at your wrecked state. You yawned, reaching up to brush a loose strand of sweaty hair out of his face.

"Be my boyfriend?" You asked, tilting your head to the side and hoping you hadn't just completely misread the past handful of hours.

"Seriously?" He tch-ed, looking down before he started towards the bathtub.

But you caught the corner of his mouth twitching up, the smile he tried to turn into a smirk.

"Is that a yeah?" You giggled, watching him start running the water, his hand under the faucet to make sure the temperature wasn't going to be too hot for you.

"Duh."

every little thing you did chipped at him. the way you waved from your balcony in the mornings wearing nothing but a thin tank top and no bra, nipples stiff from the cool air. the way you asked him once, all sweet and shy, if he knew how to fix a leaking faucet and stood too close while he worked, soft focused grunts leaving is chest and his rolled-up sleeve. after that night he jerked off twice before he could even get his jeans off, coming so hard he had to brace one hand on the shower tile just to stay upright.

he hated how easily you affected him. hated that a girl barely old enough to rent her own apartment could make a man like him, a man who prided himself on control, feel like some desperate teenager again. his sex life used to be something he managed. now it was just quiet frustration and the occasional guilty stroke while he thought about how small you would look under him, how tight you would feel, how pretty you would sound moaning his name.

then came the router. you knocked on his door at nine-thirty one random night, voice small and embarrassed over the phone first, then in person when he opened up still dressed in his white button-up and black jeans.

nanami stands at your doorway with one hand already in his pocket, the other holding the small toolbox he keeps for these exact random neighbor emergencies all ready, and he tells himself for the tenth time that this is nothing. just a quick fix.

your voice is soft and a little embarrassed over he’s not surprised. “sorry to bother you, nanami-san, but my wifi router just died and i have no idea what i’m doing with these things.” he had sighed, told you he would be right over, and now here he is, hating every single second because the moment you open the door he feels it again. that pull. that stupid, inconvenient heat low in his gut that has been creeping up on him since the day you moved in.

you are wearing your famous oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that ride up when you shift your weight, bare feet on the hardwood, skin glazed with a thin layer of sweat like you had been lounging on the couch all evening.

you smile at him, grateful and a little shy, and nanami’s jaw tightens. he is forty, a divorced but settled, a man who likes order and quiet and routines that do not include getting half-hard at the sight of his much younger neighbor’s collarbones. yet here he is, eyes dragging down the line of your neck before he forces them back up.

“thank you so much for coming,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is warm, a little breathy from the relief of not having to deal with it alone. the apartment smells faintly of vanilla and whatever takeout you had for dinner.

nanami nods once, polite as always, and follows you toward the corner where the router sits on a low shelf. he can feel the weight of his own body, the clean but lived-in scent of his white button-up clinging slightly to his skin after a long day, black jeans sitting snug on his hips. he is musty in that grown-man way, soap and faint cologne mixed with the faint trace of office air and the walk over, nothing overpowering but undeniably male. he knows it. he hopes you do not notice how it fills the small space between you.

you hover close while he crouches down to look at the router, your thigh brushing his shoulder as you point at the blinking lights. “it just stopped working out of nowhere. i tried restarting it but…” your words trail off when he glances up.

his eyes catch on the way your t-shirt hangs loose, the soft swell of your tits visible at the neckline, the smooth skin of your legs right there at eye level. he should look away yet nanami does not. instead his gaze lingers, slow and heavy, tracing the curve of your hip, the way the hem of those shorts digs into the flesh of your thigh. he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, thickening against the zipper before he can stop it.

fuck.

he shifts his weight, trying to hide the growing bulge, but the movement only makes the fabric pull tighter.

“let me see,” he mutters, voice lower than he intends, rough around the edges. his fingers work the cables, checking connections, but his mind is not on the router. it is on you. on how you smell like warm skin and faint lotion, on how you keep biting your lip while you watch him, on how easily he could reach out and slide his palm up the back of your thigh.

he has been trying to ignore it for weeks. it takes him back to the way you wave at him from your balcony in the mornings, the sound of your laugh carrying through the thin walls when you are on the phone with friends, the soft thump of your music when you cook.

every little thing has been chipping away at his carefully built restraint. he is older. he should know better. but his body does not care about should.

he stands up slowly, taller than you by a good amount, and when he does his chest brushes your shoulder. you do not step back and the air between you feels thick, charged, and nanami’s eyes drop again, this time to your mouth, then lower to where your nipples have tightened under the thin shirt.

he swallows hard. his cock is fully hard now, pressing insistently against the front of his black jeans, the outline obvious if you were to look down. he turns slightly, pretending to fiddle with the router settings on his phone, but the movement only highlights the bulge.

he can feel the heat of it, the way it throbs when you lean in closer to see what he is doing, your breath ghosting over his forearm.

“is it the cable?” you ask, voice quieter now, like you have noticed the shift too. your eyes flick to his face, then down, then back up, and nanami sees the faint flush creeping up your neck. good. at least he is not suffering alone. he clears his throat, forcing his attention back to the device, but his free hand flexes at his side, knuckles whitening. he wants to touch you. wants to back you against the wall and slide those tiny shorts down your legs, wants to feel how wet you already are because he can smell it, that sweet faint arousal mixing with your usual scent.

his mind supplies the image without permission: you bent over the couch, his cock buried deep while he grips your hips and fucks the whimpers out of you. he exhales sharply through his nose.

“try it now,” he says, stepping back just enough to give you space, but not enough to hide anything. the router lights flicker green. you pull out your phone to test the connection and let out a small happy sound that goes straight to his dick.

“it works! oh my god, thank you, nanami-san.” you turn to him fully, eyes bright, and for a second he lets himself look. really look. at the way your chest rises with each breath, at the bare stretch of thigh, at how your lips part when you realize he is staring.

he does not smile. his expression stays bland, almost stern, but his eyes are dark and hungry, eye-fucking you so openly now that there is no pretending. his cock strains harder against the denim, a small wet spot forming where he is leaking, and he makes no move to hide it.

he is half heartedly relieved you do not notice. your gaze still stuck on your phone screen, lashes fluttering, and when you look back up, you read there is something new in his expression, something needy and waiting to be unleashed.

nanami’s voice comes out rougher than he means. “you should get a better router. this one is outdated.” it is the most neutral thing he can think of, but it does not matter.

the tension is already there, thick and undeniable, wrapping around both of you in the half-unpacked living room. he can feel his pulse in his cock, the heavy ache of it, the way his balls feel tight just from standing this close to you. he wants to hate how easily you affect him.

he does hate it. but he cannot stop the slow drag of his eyes over your body one more time, imagining exactly how you would look spread open on his bed, taking every inch while he tells you how long he has been fighting this.

you shift on your feet, thighs pressing together, and nanami catches the tiny movement. his jaw clenches. he should leave. he should say goodnight and go back to his quiet apartment and jerk off to the memory like he has done more nights than he cares to admit.

your heartbeat picks up its rate, your finger tips sweaty. you feel the air thickening already, noticing the print of your neighbors dick without even looking down.

“so maybe you could stay and i could make you some te–” your proposal is short lived.

“i’ve fixed what you’ve called me to help for. goodnight.” his stern voice catches you off guard, watching him collect and grab the toolbox on the floor that was forgotten seconds ago. you try to say something but stay frozen when he pushes past you, his neck veins slightly showing on his skin.

nanami strides out fast. because right now, with his cock hard and obvious and his control fraying at the edges, he is not sure he has the strength to stay in the same room with you.

and so he leaves you standing in the middle of your apartment with your wifi fixed and a pile of notifications ‘ding-ing’ every seconds.

+

a week drags by in thick, unspoken tension that sits heavy between the thin apartment walls like smoke that refuses to clear.

nanami wakes each morning with the same stern resolution burning behind his eyes: keep the distance, lock it down, pretend the night you called him over for the router never happened. he leaves for the office before the sun fully rises, comes home long after the hallway lights have dimmed, and when he passes your door he keeps his gaze fixed on the scuffed floorboards like they hold the answers to every moral question he has been asking himself since he first felt that inconvenient throb in his jeans. but the memory refuses to fade.

it lingers in the shower when hot water runs down his chest and his hand wraps around his cock without permission, stroking slow and frustrated while your freshly known name slips out between gritted teeth like a confession he wishes he could swallow back.

it follows him into bed at night, where he lies stiff on his back and remembers the exact shade of flush that crept up your neck when his eyes dragged too long over your body.

he hates it. hates how easily a girl barely out of her early twenties can unravel the careful, quiet life he has built for himself. he is older, disciplined, a man who values order and restraint above almost everything, yet here he is, reduced to stolen glances through the balcony railing and late-night strokes that leave him emptier than before.

you do not make any of it easier. you still wave at him from across the narrow gap between your balconies in the mornings, soft smile curving your lips like you know exactly what you are doing to him. you leave polite little notes taped to his door about shared packages or the new recycling bins downstairs, your handwriting neat and looping in a way that makes his fingers tighten around the paper every time.

each accidental brush of your fingers when you hand him mail in the hallway sends a spark straight down his spine, and every polite “good morning, nanami-san” you offer chips away at the walls he keeps trying to reinforce. he catches the sound of your laugh through the thin wall sometimes when you are on the phone with people… your age, light and warm, and his cock thickens in his slacks before he can stop it.

he tells himself it is nothing. just proximity. just the natural reaction of a man who has been alone too long. but deep down he knows the truth: you have gotten under his skin, and the more he tries to push it away the harder it pulls.

tonight the last thread of his restraint finally frays and snaps.

the familiar knock comes at exactly the time he wishes it to, soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet of his evening like a hook sinking into flesh.

nanami opens the door still dressed from the office, white button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, black jeans sitting low on his hips, the faint musty-clean scent of him drifting out into the hallway, clean and faint cologne and the long day clinging to his skin.

you stand there in another oversized t-shirt that slips off one shoulder and those same tiny sleep shorts that have been haunting him, hair not perfect like you had been caught up in something… private, cheeks already carrying that telltale pink flush. it’s as if last week was repeating itself.

“the router again,” you say, voice small and breathy, but your eyes are not on any imaginary problem. they trace the open collar of his shirt, the broad line of his shoulders, the way his chest fills the doorway. “it keeps dropping signal. i tried everything you showed me last time but… i think i need your help again.”

he should tell you no. should suggest you call the building manager in the morning this time and close the door before the air between you thickens any further. instead he exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight, and reaches for the small toolbox he keeps by the door without saying a word.

he follows you next door, the faint click of the lock behind him sounding louder than it should. the moment you are both inside the living room the atmosphere shifts, warmer and heavier, like the space itself is holding its breath. you lead him to the same corner shelf where the router sits, but this time you do not hover at a polite distance.

you stand close enough that your bare arm brushes his rough skin when he crouches down to look. the lights on the router are steady green. he knows it is working fine the second he glances at it. and most definitely you know it.

the excuse is paper-thin and neither of you bothers to pretend otherwise.

nanami rises slowly, turning to face you fully, his tall frame casting a shadow over you in the soft lamplight. his eyes do the same slow, solemn drag they did the week before, only heavier now, sharpened by seven long days of fighting the memory of your body.

he watches the way your nipples have already tightened under the thin fabric of your shirt, the subtle press of your thighs together like the ache between them is already building. his cock responds immediately, swelling thick and heavy inside his black jeans, the thick ridge becoming obvious as it presses against the denim. he’s sure a faint damp spot is beginning to form, but he does not try to hide it this time. he lets you see. lets the weight of his stare settle on you like a touch.

“the router is working fine,” he says, voice low and rough, carrying that same stern tone he always uses, like he is delivering a verdict in court rather than standing in your living room with a hard-on he cannot will away. “you know that as well as i do. why did you really call me over here?”

you swallow visibly, eyes flicking down to the clear outline of his cock straining against his jeans before rising back to his face.

your chest rises and falls with a heavier breath, lips parting slightly, but instead of answering you take one slow step back. then another. your hands move to the waistband of your sleep shorts, fingers hooking under the fabric, and you bend forward just enough to slide them down your legs in one smooth motion.

the shorts pool at your ankles and you step out of them, leaving you in nothing but a pair of grey lace panties with delicate pink ribbons threaded along the edges. the soft fabric clings to the curve of your pussy, the faint outline of your folds visible through the thin material, and nanami’s right leg twitches involuntarily, his cock jerking hard inside his jeans at the sight.

his brows draw together in a quick pretend of frown, serious expression tightening. “what are you doing?” he asks, voice dropping even lower, a clear warning threaded through the words. but you do not stop. your fingers catch the hem of your oversized t-shirt next, lifting it slowly, inch by inch, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the delicate dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts.

you pull the shirt up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor beside the shorts, and now you stand there in only the grey lace panties, tits bare, nipples stiff in the cool air of the room. nanami’s breath catches, his hands flexing hard at his sides, the long fingers curling into fists as he fights the urge to reach for you.

he says your name then, low and rough, the syllables heavy with warning. “don’t.” but you only smile, small and soft and knowing, and continue. your thumbs hook into the waistband of the panties, sliding them down your hips with agonizing slowness, the lace catching briefly on the swell of your ass before you let them fall.

you step out of them completely, now fully naked in front of him, skin flushed warm under his heavy gaze. you walk toward him, bare feet quiet on the floor, hips swaying just enough to make your tits move softly with each step. when you are close enough that he can feel the heat radiating from your body, when his mouth opens to speak again, you lift one finger and press it gently to his lips, shushing him.

nanami lets out a small, broken sound, half whimper, half groan, the noise slipping out before he can stop it. his cock throbs visibly in his jeans, another bead of pre-cum soaking into the fabric as the tension coils tighter in the narrow space between your bodies.

he exhales shakily against your finger, eyes dark and conflicted, thick needy lines deepening on his face. “you’re a very young girl…” he trails off, voice rough and strained, the words carrying the weight of every reason he has been telling himself to stay away.

you pull your finger back just enough to speak, voice soft but steady. “i’m legal.”

“barely,” he counters immediately, the word clipped, his gaze dropping despite himself to the bare curve of your breasts, it taught him to squeeze on them and make you feel good, the soft swell of your hips, the smooth skin between your thighs where he can already see the faint shine of arousal. “you’re barely twenty-something. i’m more than twice your age. this… this is not appropriate.”

you tilt your head slightly, still standing naked and unashamed in front of him, the tension so thick it feels like the air itself has weight. “and yet you’re standing here with your cock so hard i can see it twitching through your jeans,” you murmur, eyes flicking down pointedly to the obvious bulge. “you’ve been avoiding me all week, nanami-san, but you still came over the second i knocked. tell me again how inappropriate this is.”

caught him red handed. fuck you.

he lets out another low groan, the sound vibrating in his chest, his hand coming up like he might push you away but instead hovering just above your waist, fingers trembling with restraint. “you have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says, voice quieter now, almost pained. “i’m not some young man who can just… give in without consequences. you deserve better than an older neighbor who can’t keep his eyes off you.”

the banter stretches, slow and heavy, every word laced with the electric pull between you. you step even closer, your bare breasts brushing the front of his white shirt, nipples dragging against the fabric, and nanami’s breath hitches sharply. “then why does it feel like you’ve been thinking about this as much as i have?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “why do you look at me like you want to bend me over every time we pass in the hall?”

his jaw clenches, the muscle ticking visibly, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as his cock continues to throb between you.

“because i do,” he admits finally, the words dragged out like they cost him something. “i want to. more than i should. but you’re young. barely out of college. and i’m… this.” he gestures vaguely at himself, the musty yet cleaned scent of his body stronger now with the heat rising off his skin, the faint sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. “a tired man who should know better.”

you smile again, softer this time, and reach up to trace one finger along the line of his jaw. “then stop fighting it for one night,” you whisper. “just let yourself have me. i want you, nanami. i’ve wanted you since the first time you fixed my router and looked at me like you were starving.”

the silence stretches again, thick and humming with tension, his breath coming heavier now, chest rising and falling against yours. his hand finally settles on your waist, large palm warm and slightly rough against your bare skin, thumb stroking once, slow and deliberate.

he does not pull you closer yet, but he does not push you away either. the battle is still there in his eyes, solemn and conflicted, but the hunger is winning, inch by aching inch, as the minutes tick by in the quiet room and his cock continues to strain painfully against his jeans, waiting for the moment his restraint finally gives out completely.

nanami’s hand tightens on your waist, fingers spanning wide enough to nearly wrap around the curve of it, and the last of his resistance crumbles like dry paper under the heat of your bare skin against his palm.

he exhales once, long and shaky, eyes still calculated but dark now with the kind of hunger he has been trying to bury for weeks, and then he is moving, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the couch and you sink down onto the cushions. he follows without a word, dropping to his knees between your spread thighs like a man who has finally stopped pretending he can walk away.

his broad shoulders push your legs wider, the white button-up stretching tight across his chest as he leans in, breath hot against the inside of your thigh. he looks up at you one last time, jaw set, like he is giving you one final chance to tell him no, but you only slide your fingers into his neatly combed hair and tug him closer. that is all it takes.

his mouth finds your pussy like he has been starving for it, lips parting to drag a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tongue flat and heavy as he tastes you properly for the first time. the groan that vibrates out of his chest is low and rough, almost pained, because you are already soaked, slick coating his tongue in a way that makes his cock jerk hard inside his jeans.

he licks again, slower this time, savoring the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head, then seals his mouth around your clit and sucks gently, tongue flicking in tight little circles that have your back arching off the couch. one of his huge hands slides up your stomach, palm pressing flat just below your navel, and he pushes down with just enough pressure to make your pussy clench around nothing.

the size of his hand there is obscene, fingers spread wide so his pinky rests near the base of your ribs and his thumb brushes the top of your mound, the sheer scale of him against your smaller frame making everything feel tighter, hotter, more overwhelming.

nanami eats you out like he has all night and nothing else matters, tongue sliding deep between your folds before circling back up to your clit, sucking and licking in a rhythm that builds slow and relentless. his free hand grips your thigh, spreading you even wider, thumb digging into the soft flesh while he buries his face deeper, nose pressing against your mound as he drinks down every drop of you. the wet sounds fill the quiet room, wet and loud, his groans mixing with the slick slide of his tongue and the shaky breaths you keep letting out.

he keeps that steady pressure on your lower belly the whole time, palm rubbing slow circles that make your insides twist and flutter, the tummy bullying so deliberate it feels like he is trying to feel exactly where his mouth is working from the inside. your hips twitch, trying to ride his face, but he holds you down with that big hand, keeping you exactly where he wants you while he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

when you come it hits hard and sudden, pussy pulsing against his tongue as your thighs clamp around his head and a broken moan spills out of you. nanami does not stop. he keeps licking you through it, slower now but just as thorough, tongue dragging over your oversensitive clit until your whole body jerks and you try to squirm away from the intensity.

he only presses his palm firmer against your stomach, holding you in place, the slight overstimulation making your eyes water and your voice crack on his name. “nanami…plea– fuck, it’s too much,” you whimper, but he just hums against you, the vibration sending another sharp spark through your core, and slides two thick fingers into your still-clenching pussy without warning. they stretch you wide, the size of them so much bigger than your own that you feel every knuckle, every ridge, as he curls them deep and starts pumping slow and steady.

he lifts his head just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside you, eyes dark and tempting, lips shiny with your slick. “look at how well you take them,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough, the praise low and almost reverent as he presses down on your belly again with his other hand, feeling the way his fingers create a very faint bulge against your walls from the outside.

the pressure makes everything tighter, more intense, and you clench hard around him, another wave of overstimulation crashing through you while he keeps fingering you through the aftershocks. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you shaking, the combination of his thick fingers stretching you open and the firm press on your tummy turning every breath into a broken little sob.

he does not rush. he just keeps working you, long fingers dragging along that perfect spot inside while his palm rubs steady circles on your stomach, bullying that soft lower belly until you are dripping down his wrist and whimpering his name like it will make it better than it already is.

only when your thighs are trembling uncontrollably and your pussy is fluttering helplessly around his fingers does he finally ease up, sliding them out slow and careful, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean with a low groan that makes your stomach flip.

he stays on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, breathing hard while his cock strains painfully against his jeans, the front of the fabric dark with pre-cum. when he finally looks up at you his eyes are still determined, still carrying that quiet conflict, but the hunger has won completely now, and the way he stares at your flushed, marked body makes it clear he is nowhere near done with you tonight.

nanami stays on his knees between your spread thighs for another long, heavy breath, forehead pressed to the soft skin just above your knee while his chest rises and falls like he is trying to steady something inside himself that already broke minutes ago. his fingers are still shiny with you, the faint scent of his skin mixed with the sharp sweetness of your pussy hanging thick in the air.

when he finally moves it is slow and deliberate, like every motion costs him something. he rises to his full height, towering over you on the couch, white button-up wrinkled and damp at the collar from the heat rolling off both of you. his hands, large and steady, slide under your thighs and around your back in one smooth motion, scooping you up off the cushions like you weigh nothing at all.

your legs wrap around his slim waist on instinct, heels digging into the firm muscle of his lower back, and the sudden shift leaves you gasping against his shoulder because he lifts you so easily, strong arms locking you against his chest while your bare pussy hovers right above the heavy bulge still trapped in his jeans.

he does not give you time to look down. one arm stays banded tight under your ass, holding your weight like it is effortless, while his free hand works between your bodies to unbuckle his belt with a quiet metallic clink. the zipper follows, the sound loud in the quiet room, and he shoves both jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself.

you feel the thick, heavy length spring up against your inner thigh, hot and velvet-smooth, the blunt mushroom head already slick and leaking. before you can even tilt your head to catch a glimpse he shifts you higher in his arms, pressing your back against the nearest wall for leverage, and uses that same free hand to guide the fat head of his cock right to your dripping entrance.

the broad tip nudges through your folds, rubbing slow and deliberate, coating himself in your slick while he watches your face with those solemn dark eyes, brows knitted tight like he is still fighting the last scraps of restraint.

“breathe,” he mutters, voice low and rough, the single word almost gentle even as his hips tilt forward. he helps you sink down, one thick inch at a time, the stretch burning so good it makes your jaw go slack and your eyes flutter half-shut.

he is big, thicker than anything you have taken, the veined shaft dragging along your walls as he lowers you steadily until your ass meets his hips and he is buried to the hilt. a quiet groan tears from his throat when he bottoms out, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, and for a long second he just holds you there, letting you feel every inch of him pulsing deep inside your smaller body.

you’re pressed and folded in an awkward position, and it only makes the size difference feel more obscene, your soft curves dwarfed by his tall, solid frame.

nanami does not wait long. his hands grip your ass harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and he starts to move, lifting you up and dropping you back down onto his cock with controlled, powerful strokes that hammer into you deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. each thrust makes your whole body jolt in his arms, tits bouncing under nothing. bare and free for him to watch, back sliding against the wall while he fucks up into you like he has been imagining it for weeks.

his height towers over you completely, shoulders broad enough to block out the room, white shirt straining across his chest with every roll of his hips.

the mushroom head of his cock drags perfectly along that spot inside you on every downstroke, the sheer size of him making your belly bulge slightly every time he bottoms out, a faint outline visible under your skin if you looked down, but he keeps your face buried against his neck so you cannot.

he keeps that steady, punishing rhythm, hips snapping up hard while his arms hold you suspended like you are weightless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing louder with every thrust. sweat beads along his hairline, dampening the collar of his shirt, and his breath comes in hot, measured pants against your ear.

“too big for you?” he asks, voice strained but still carrying that solemn edge, even as he grinds deep and holds you there for a heartbeat, letting you feel how completely he fills you.

your only answer is a broken moan and loled nod, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt, legs tightening around his waist as another wave of overstimulation starts building fast. he does not slow down. he just keeps lifting and dropping you onto every thick inch, eyebrows still knitted in concentration, eyes flicking between your slack mouth and the way your body takes him so greedily.

his shirt keeps getting in the way, bunching up between both of you, so he shifts his grip, one hand sliding up to yank the fabric higher until it is completely off of him, exposing his sweaty chest completely to the cool air and your half-focused stare.

now there is nothing between you but sweat-slick skin and the relentless drag of his cock stretching you open. he leans in, mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin while he hammers into you harder, the angle shifting so the head of his cock bullies that perfect spot with every upward thrust. your smaller frame jolts in his arms with each powerful stroke, pussy clenching tight around the thick length splitting you apart, and nanami groans low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest as he feels you start to flutter around him again.

he keeps you pinned against the wall like that, towering over you, strong arms never tiring as he fucks you deep and steady, the size difference so stark it makes your head spin. every time he bottoms out his hips grind against your clit, the pressure on your lower belly from the inside making everything feel tighter, fuller, more overwhelming.

you are already close again, thighs shaking around his waist, voice cracking on his name, and nanami just holds you there, determined eyes locked on your face while he drives you closer to the edge with every heavy thrust, determined to feel you come around his cock before he lets himself follow.

nanami’s rhythm starts to falter just a little, hips snapping up with shorter, more desperate strokes while his breath comes hot and ragged against the side of your neck. he can feel it building fast, that tight coil low in his gut, his heavy balls drawing up tight and aching as your pussy flutters and squeezes around every thick inch of him.

but he refuses to let go first. he is older, more controlled, and right now that control means making sure you fall apart completely before he does.

with a low grunt he shifts his grip, one big hand sliding under your ass to tilt your hips forward while the other presses flat against your lower back, forcing your spine into a deep arch that pushes your pelvis out and opens you up even more obscenely. the new angle is nasty, almost cruel, your body folded and suspended in his arms so your clit grinds hard against the base of his cock on every upward thrust and the fat head of him drags directly into that spongy spot inside you at a brutal upward curve.

your legs dangle wider, heels kicking uselessly against his lower back, the sheer size difference making you feel like you are being split open and rearranged from the inside while he holds you like a toy.

he starts hammering into you with that filthy new angle, cock bullying that spot over and over until your eyes roll back and broken sobs start spilling from your slack mouth.

the overstimulation crashes in hard and fast, your already sensitive pussy clenching and spasming around him while tears prick at the corners of your eyes and start to slip down your flushed cheeks.

your hand flies down between your bodies on instinct, palm pushing weakly at his lower stomach like you can stop the relentless drag of his cock, fingers scrabbling against the damp fabric of his white shirt. nanami’s eyes narrow, jaw tightening, and he leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he hisses the words low and dark, “do that again and i’ll fucking hurt you good.”

the threat hits you like a live wire. your whole body seizes, a choked cry tearing from your throat, and then you are squirting hard around his cock, hot fluid gushing out in messy pulses that soak his jeans, drip down his balls, and splatter onto the floor beneath you.

nanami groans deep and filthy at the feeling, the wet heat flooding around him making his cock twitch violently inside you. he does not slow down. if anything he fucks you harder, hips snapping up with wet, punishing slaps while his free hand slides between your bodies and starts tracing tight, relentless infinity signs over your swollen clit with two thick fingers. the pressure is mean and perfect, circling and dragging in that figure-eight pattern while he keeps pounding into that nasty folded angle, cock bullying your g-spot and his fingers never letting up on your overstimulated clit.

“i know, baby, i know,” he rasps against your ear, voice hoarse and strained, the words almost soothing even as he wrecks you. “you can take it. just let it happen.” your legs shake violently around his waist, tears streaming freely now, little hiccuping sobs mixing with the wet squelch of your pussy taking every brutal thrust.

nanami keeps that freaky rhythm going, hips rolling deep, fingers drawing those endless infinity loops over your clit until your vision whites out and another shattering orgasm rips through you, pussy clamping down so hard it almost forces him out. he hisses through his teeth, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest, but he powers through it, fucking you straight through the peak and into the trembling aftershocks.

his own control finally snaps. his balls tighten almost painfully, cock swelling even thicker inside your fluttering walls as he buries himself to the hilt one last time, grinding deep while thick, hot ropes of cum flood you. he comes with a low, broken groan that vibrates through his chest, pulsing hard and endless, filling you so full that it starts leaking out around his cock in creamy white streaks every time he gives one last shallow thrust.

the mess is everywhere, your squirt and his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his jeans and pooling on the floor, the obscene wet sounds slowly fading as he keeps you pinned against the wall, still buried deep, both of you heaving for air.

nanami’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breathing hard, the last energy well spent, showing of with both of your sweat-soaked body mixing with the sharp smell of sex filling the room. his arms stay locked around you, holding your smaller frame effortlessly even as his cock twitches with the last weak spurts inside you.

for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky sobs and his ragged breathing, bodies trembling together in the aftermath, messy and spent and still connected. he does not pull out yet. he just keeps you there, suspended in his arms, the quiet weight of everything that just happened settling heavy between you while his cum continues to leak slowly out around where he is still buried deep.

nanami stays buried inside you for what feels like forever, thick cock still twitching with the last lazy pulses while warm cum slowly leaks out around where your bodies are joined, dripping down your thighs and onto the floor in messy little trails.

your legs are still wrapped around his waist, trembling, heels digging weakly into his lower back like you cannot quite let go yet, and he keeps holding you up without any effort, strong arms locked under your ass, keeping your smaller frame suspended against the wall like it is the most natural thing in the world. your shaky little sobs eventually quiet into soft, hiccuping breaths, tears drying on your cheeks, but the overstimulation still makes your pussy flutter weakly around him every few seconds, milking out another thin trickle of his cum.

finally he shifts, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he carefully pulls out, the wet sound loud and obscene in the quiet room.

a thick glob of his cum follows immediately, sliding out of your swollen, puffy pussy and running down to join the mess already pooled beneath you. he lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor, but your legs are too shaky to hold you, so he keeps one arm banded around your waist, steadying you against his chest while his other hand tucks himself back into his briefs and jeans with a quiet zip.

the white button-up is wrinkled and damp with sweat when he puts it back on, black jeans dark at the front from your squirt, but he still looks put-together in that quiet, solemn way of his, even now.

he does not say anything at first. just looks down at you with those dark, heavy eyes, thumb brushing slow circles on your bare hip like he cannot quite stop touching you. then he exhales, long and tired, and rests his forehead against yours for a brief second.

“this…” his voice comes out rough, low, almost reluctant. “this can’t happen again.”

the words hang between you, simple and final, even as his hand lingers on your skin and his cum continues to drip slowly down the inside of your thigh.

he presses one last, almost gentle kiss to your temple, the kind of kiss that feels heavier than any promise, before he steps back. his fingers flex once at his sides like he is fighting the urge to pull you close again, then he turns toward the door, shoulders straight, footsteps quiet on the floor.

“get some rest,” he murmurs without looking back, the manly scent of him still clinging to your skin. “and… call the building manager about the router next time.”

the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you standing there naked and trembling in the middle of your living room, thighs sticky, pussy aching and full of him, the quiet weight of what just happened settling deep in your chest. you know he means it. you also know, deep down, that neither of you really believes it.

Even now, they’re smushing you between them on the couch, manspread thighs against your own, you never get any space with these two.

“Hah, i’ll throw your ass right off rainbow fucking road,” Sukuna’s grinning like the psycho he is when he nudges your cart, your cute little Yoshi flying off.

“Ugh, you dick!”

“Sukuna,” Choso sighs and shakes his head. “Stop throwing her off.”

“Stop throwing her off,” you smack him with his mocking tone, getting back onto the road and speeding up. “Hah!”

“Not again!? You’re such a jerk!”

“I’ll avenge you angel,” Sukuna rolls his eyes when Choso runs Sukuna off the road, and his bowser goes flying, you snicker in laughter as Sukuna crashes out.

“Choso, my hero!”

“I’ll come fucking get the both of you,” Sukuna’s locked in, brows lowered – far too close to you now as if the couch isn’t big enough for him, his biceps flexing in a concerning ass way that makes you stop driving. “What brat, ya done?”

“I um…” you blink and focus once more, in time for Choso to lean forward, his elbow resting on your bare thigh so casually.

Casual.

You’re ovulating and losing mario kart!

“Mnh…”

They both look at you and you cover your face in embarrassment, slick dribbling down your inner thighs – you’re always wet around them but today is too fucking much, how many times a day can you change your panties? You could swear they keep coming up missing too.

“You all right angel?” Choso asks softly, tilting his head and looking at you far too closely, hand on your cheek. “You’re warm! Do you have a fever?”

“N-no,” Sukuna scoffs and yanks the remote from your hands, feeling your head for himself.

“You are warm, brat, better not be sick,” he tilts your chin up and smirks. “You lost big time, hah you suck.”

“Ugh!” You shove at him once more. “You suck! I’m fine!”

You three play another round and Sukuna won’t stop knocking you off, sending your car into a tailspin, you get so damn mad at him you toss the remote on the floor. Sukuna snorts when you cross your arms.

“Looking like a little spoiled brat.”

“I am not! You’re just rude!”

“Tch, can’t even lose a game,” you’re so irritated and so horny you can’t think right now, just glaring at the pink haired menace. “Don’t feel bad, I beat you at every single game, don’t I?”

“Sukuna stop,” Choso sets his remote down, wrapping a protective arm and tugging you against him. “Leave her alone, you’re really being a dick over it.”

“I am competitive, she’s the sore loser.”

“You’re not competitive, you’re being an ass,” you snuggle to Choso now and he blushes, your lips against his neck, tickling his skin.

“Thank you Cho,” you murmur, pressing a kiss, he sucks in a breath, hand tightening at your waist, Sukuna glares at the sight, smacking Choso’s hand right off you. “Hey!”

“You’re mad she’s snuggling to me.”

“Hah, right,” Sukuna stands up now, yanking you off Choso like the big brute he is, you kick at him and he smirks, yanking your ankle. “Think ya can hurt me, brat?”

“You’re the biggest brat there is, Ryomen Sukuna!”

“Wow, my full name – really,” you stick your tongue out and Sukuna bars you with his arms on the couch, making your breath catch. Just because he’s a dick doesn’t mean he’s not hot and ruining you with his proximity. “Admit you’re trash at Mario cart and I’ll make you feel real good, won’t have to fuck yourself tonight with your dildo collection.”

“Invasion of privacy! No, I won’t admit I suck,” you smack at his arm and then climb right onto Choso’s lap, he sucks in a breath at the action.

“Oh… Oh! Oh,” he’s gripping your waist with those big hands, dragging your heat against that bulge underneath his pants as you move your hips, his eyes darkening. “Hi.”

You giggle a bit at that, moving again, feeling Sukuna tense behind you. “Hi.”

“Get off his damn lap,” Sukuna turns your face towards him, just to get Choso smacking his hand away this time. “I’ll beat both your asses.”

“No you won’t,” Choso murmurs, turning your face to him now, thumb brushing little circles on your hip, making you even wetter. “I’ll make you feel good without you having to say you ‘suck’ at Mario cart. You don’t suck.”

“I can suck,” you whisper, leaning forward and giggling, Choso moans when you kiss his lips, and everything in your living room shifts.

It’s a desperate kiss once Choso gets a taste of you, moaning into your mouth and working your body against him, sucking in a breath, eyes fluttering shut, sucking your tongue in his mouth and rutting up against you. You whine out at it, you could almost cum from just feeling him, one of his hands entangling in his hair.

“Are you really gonna leave me out?” Sukuna asks, flipping you before you can think, now your back is pressed on Choso’s hard chest, Sukuna is kneeling, his hands pressing against your tits. You’re ovulating so bad they’re full and aching, your nipples sensitive when he brushes his thumbs on them. “You’re needy, huh brat?”

“Not for you and your Mario cart cheating tactics, mnh!” He uses a hand to tug up your shirt, your tits spilling out, earning his moan.

“Don’t want my mouth on them?” You can’t say no, not when Choso’s biting your neck, his fingers slipping up your shorts, making your thighs tremble, back arching for more of Sukuna’s touch. “Answer.”

“I am still mad at you, but I’ll let you do that,” he smirks as if he’ll get to fuck you – little does Sukuna know you take Mario Kart very seriously, and you’re planning on making your giant, pink haired roomie pay. “Mnh!”

Sukuna presses you back against Choso, grabbing your tit and wrapping his lips around the little bud, sucking it into the hot recesses of his mouth, tongue ring clicking against it and earning a soft moan. You move against Choso who whines out in response, cock licking so much sticky pre it’s drizzling against your inner thigh, his finger running over your panties.

“Ngh,” soft moans escape your lips as Sukuna sucks one nipple, the other toyed with by his thumb and forefinger, Choso’s running up and down your slit until you’re dripping wet. “Choso…”

“Even now?” Sukuna scowls and you grin, earning a sharp bite on your tit, leaving glistening teeth marks, you gasp in shock and he grins. “Marked you.”

“Freak,” you grumble, but he’s sucking your other nipple, and your hand finds its way in his pink silky hair, it’s so soft, you tug hard and he grips your tit hard, sucking it in his mouth as Choso toys your clit. “F-fuck… mnh…”

“You’re soaked baby,” Choso whispers, tilting your face to his and kissing you, messy with your tongues dripping saliva. “Like that?”

“Y-yes, ow!” Sukuna bites the fuck out of you again, earning your attention, you yank the fuck out of his hair and make him moan.

“Where’s my attention!?”

“I’m still mad, I already told you,” Sukuna tugs your shorts to the side, seeing how soaking wet you are, panties drenched.

“Already fuck yourself today?”

“Maybe,” he smirks. “Why?”

“Nothing – just that’s my cock.”

“What!?” You shove him hard, he’s chuckling and Choso’s damn near about to bust with how you wiggle. “You did not seriously? Psycho!”

“Bet you loved it,” you did, fuck him. “Could you take it all?”

“No – I mean!? Yep, hah wasn’t that -”

Before you can finish your petty lie, Sukuna’s kissing you, messy and mean with it, tongue ring clicking the roof of your mouth, you’re rocking back and forth, dying for them inside you. If you weren’t such a petty girl, maybe you’d let Sukuna slide his cock inside your cunt, where Choso’s running circles against your slick entrance – but you’re still mad about Mario Kart.

And now he’s making his cock your dildo!?

“You’re batshit insane,” you’re still kissing him though, Choso’s got your clit twitching and Sukuna’s pinching your nipples and rolling them, the simultaneous play is too much to handle. “You c-can’t just… mnh, d-do that.”

“That’s not fair, I wanna make you one,” Choso pouts as he sinks two fingers in your messy, needy cunt, you’re soaking them and quivering, sucking them up so damn easy. “Do you want one of me?”

“I do, stop biting, you dick!” Sukuna’s furious – how dare you give him all the attention when Sukuna is right there, he slips his finger down and Choso pulls his out with a wet pop, sucking on them and moaning.

Fuck he’s hot.

You’re a little lost when you realize Sukuna’s shoving two fingers deep, scissoring them in and out of your hole. “Hah your cunt is already fucked out, you must love my dick stretching your messy cunt out.”

“You w-wish,” your thighs are held up by Choso for Sukuna’s mean fingers to rock in and out of your cunt with loud squelches, your nails press into Choso’s forearms when he grips your tit, squishing it in his hand and rutting that leaky cock right on you. “Close, close… Sukuna!?”

“You thought,” he yanks his fingers out, smirking at the obscene amount dripping, slipping them right in your mouth. “Suck.”

You bob your mouth up and down his knuckles, cheeks all flushed and your eyes dazed, Sukuna moans at the sight, picturing how well you’d suck his cock, as you slip your tongue between those digits. Choso’s already fingering you again, your cheeks hollowed, eyes rolling back.

“I’ll let you cum baby,” he murmurs, Sukuna scoffs – Choso was always trying to ‘please you’ and this was no different, you’re sucking Sukuna’s fingers as his hand grips under your chin, Choso’s fingers making a mess between your thighs as you clamp down. “Go ahead, cum for me.”

“Mmph!” You’re drooling as Sukuna’s fingers go deeper, damn near choking you with them, orgasm making you squirt all over Choso’s lap, drops smacking against Sukuna’s pants, he groans at the sigh.

“Messy lil slut, look at ya, can’t handle a couple fingers?”

“Fuck off, was cummin’ for Choso,” Choso grins, his fingers easing out of your cunt with a messy pop as she keeps spasming, gushing arousal down onto the couch you’re sitting on. “Cho, come on.”

“Come where baby?”

“My room,” you stand and push past Sukuna, whose cock is so hard you can see it pressing out, he winces and has to adjust it when you’re crooking your finger. “You can watch.”

“Watch!? The fuck?”

You drag Choso – dopey grin on his face and all – giggling as you rush him to your room. “Yep.”

“I’m not just gonna watch you…” You’re stripped down right in front of them in moments, and both the boys have open mouths.

Listen, you’ve been waiting to fuck them, and cucking Sukuna seemed apt enough punishment after the shit he was pulling today. Your tits bounce when you turn to Choso, slipping off his shirt and running your fingertips across his tattooed chest, he snatches you up and kisses you, surprising you by how needy he is, you thought he may be shy.

He’s so not shy when he eagerly steps out of his pants, and you see all that white dripping through his boxers. “I am not watching.”

“You sit right there,” you point to your bright pink gaming chair, a big ass flower cushion and a plushy on it, Sukuna’s red eyes narrow – for a moment he does scare you, but not when he throws your plushy and pillow on the ground. “Hey!”

“Fuck off,” he sits in the chair and it creaks under his heavy weight, crossing his arms now. “Well, put on your little show – you’ll beg me to join.”

“You think so?”

“I know it, want all your holes filled,” his eyes drift down the curves of your body, his cock aching so badly he unzips his pants, watching your fucked out little gaze. “Like what you see?”

Who wouldn’t like that thick, veiny cock with the pierced reddened tip? Drooling white as he strokes it in front of you. Your throat goes dry as you consider if you can give him such a punishment, but you smile all mean.

“Admit you cheat at Mario Kart.”

“I don’t you brat!?”

“Then no,” you press Choso down on the bed, he’s tugging his boxers off, his pretty cock smacking his belly button, pre just dripping against that black strip of hair over his cock. “Oh… You’re so ready, aren’t you Choso?”

“Please,” he’s tugging you on him, giving Sukuna a view of your ass, your cunt gliding along Choso’s cock and dripping all over. “Oh pretty…”

He’s got a piercing too, right on his pretty pink tip, you’re running your slit right along it, hands braced on his chest, Choso's mouth wraps around your nipple, sucking it hard into his mouth. You’re whining out when he plays with the other, holding them both in his hands as you move.

“Your titties are so pretty,” he whispers, one hand slipping down to your waist, god he’s dreamed of you but not like this – gliding your cunt right on him? He could lift you and slam his cock so deep, but he also wants to let you tease him, edge him till he can’t help himself. “F-fuck… you’re so wet…”

“Rub it in,” Sukuna earns your laugh, peeking over your shoulder and arching so he has a look of your hole from the back. “I’d fuck you right in your ass first.”

“You would not!”

“Sure would, Choso can have your cunt..”

“I’ll take any hole,” you giggle again, kissing your roomie, his lips plush underneath yours, your nails press into his shoulders as his tip bumps your needy clit. “Ah! Choso…”

“Do you l-like it baby?” You nod eagerly, he’s sucking your tits again, dragging you down hard, his cock leaking more pre – so much he worries he did cum, but it’s still thickening against you. “Wanna fill you up with all my cum. Eat it out of you.”

“Mnh,” you’re leaning up now, gliding faster, watching Choso lose it, bruising your waist, his cheeks dusted with pink.

“You really gonna do all this for MARIO KART!? You’re such a petty little annoying brat.”

You glare and turn around, reverse cowgirl right on Choso’s cock, he’s whimpering and Sukuna’s stroking his cock, his lips parted as he takes in your body facing him. “You’re petty! And annoying, you never give me privacy!”

“Neither does he!?” Sukuna stands, his cock so heavy it’s just hanging, dripping on the pink fluffy rug.

“You’re making a mess, Kuna, all over my rug.”

His jaw sets, Choso’s fingers are pressing harder as he drags you up and down, gasping out. “Like you didn’t squirt on me!?”

“Can I put it in please?” Choso’s completely ignoring your spat – how can he think when he’s so close to being able to slide his cock inside your cute, soaking wet hole?

“Y-yes,” you let him lift you and grab his cock, wrapping his hand around the base, tip slipping in your hole. “Mnh!”

“Oh my god,” he drags you down in one stroke – deep inside – so much your tummy bulges for Sukuna to see, he groans at the sight, Choso lifting you and that mess of slick glistening. “You’re so f-fucking wet, god you feel so good.”

Sukuna’s gripping your hair and bending down as you ride Choso’s cock, ass bouncing up and down, nails pressing into his thighs to keep balance, he lifts your ass up and groans, fingers dimpling the plump flesh of your ass. “Making a whole show, aren’t you?”

You take your hand and swipe your thumb over Sukuna’s tip, licking it off and watching him lose it, only to rock on Choso’s cock more, feeling him hit your cervix, making you gasp out desperately. “You’re so deep, mnh!”

“Swear to god,” Sukuna’s stroking his cock when Choso sits up and puts you on all fours, slapping his heavy cock against your ass, you moan and arch, face precariously close to Sukuna’s cock. “Come on, fuck… just lemme…”

“You can jerk off near me,” You gasp out, a broken little moan spilling from your lips as Choso slams right back in, heavy balls kissing your clit, your head falling back. “You’re lucky to even get that.”

“Fuckin’ brat,” Choso’s groaning as you grip him with your gummy walls just fluttering, he can’t even focus on anything but the curve of your ass like this, the way his tip is pressing your cervix, how full his balls are.

Your thighs tremble, hands gripping the blanket, looking back at him all pretty as he splits you open on his cock. “Ch-choso… f-feels so…”

You break off talking when he shoves in hard, pinning you to him and rolling those hips – god Choso could fuck, you didn’t think he couldn’t exactly but you sure didn’t expect that. He slams again harder, pushing your face until your mouth is almost brushing Sukuna’s needy tip, just that has the six foot five man whimpering.

“Fuck… slutty lil brat,” you’d scowl or stick your tongue out but Choso’s hitting it too good, stretching you right out to his shape with messy strokes. Your mouth is open with your gasps, every stroke of Sukuna’s hand on his cock making your tummy clench any more.

“Y-you’re gonna admit you cheat,” you whisper, sucking in a breath when Choso grabs your shoulder and fucks in so deep it hurts. “Ah!”

“Stop fighting,” he whines out when you pulse around him, leaning over you and gripping your chin, turning you to him. “Just cum, lemme feel it milk me.”

Oh fuck.

You kiss him and let him rail you, as Sukuna has to watch the girl he’s jerked off to fuck his roomate – all because he just had to make her mad. He wishes it wasn’t so sexy hearing the skin smacking and your messy cunt squishing with every thrust, already about to bust like a pathetic loser.

“I’m s-sorry, fuck,” he mumbles, you pull back and Choso chuckles, slamming against you again, pushing you to arch more. “All right!? Shit you’re mean.”

“You’re s-sorry, really? Mnh!” He moans and grips your hair, jerking right in front of your face as Choso snaps his hips hard.

“Perfect cunt just gripping me, god jus’ like th-that,” he’s pussy drunk off you, he can’t help but be happy he’s inside and not in your bright pink cuck chair, or jerking it like Sukuna.

Not that he wouldn’t enjoy that too, but he’s been fisting his cock to you since the first day you met.

“M’gonna cum,” you whisper now, looking up at Sukuna and moaning, breath tickling the tip of his cock. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes, god just… can I just… cum on your tongue, fuck – I’ll let you win, n-next time just…”

You suppose you’ll take a little pity on him, opening your mouth with your little pink tongue out, letting Sukuna jerk it even closer, strings of puffy cum splattering all over your tongue, your mouth, your chin. It’s fucking filthy having it all over you as your orgasm hits, making you swallow all him up.

“Want me to cum inside your pretty lil hole?” Choso asks, you’re still swallowing Sukuna’s cum when he brushes it on your lips, stroking it so even more oozes from that little slit and decorates your lips.

You nod and arch, your nails now pressing into Sukuna’s thighs, Choso busting deep inside your cunt and all he can get is his tip grazing your damn tongue, he’s so desperate he’s happy for that. He’s groaning as he watches you get filled by Choso’s cum, your fucked out face and your crossed eyes.

“Wanna be inside next,” he mumbles, pulling back and groaning, your nails pressing into the tattoos on his muscled thighs as you tremble.

You’re flooded with Choso’s warmth, coating all your walls as he pulses, thickening even more, tip dragging on your spot over and over, making you both sensitive. “Took all that, so greedy.”

“Mhm,” you whisper, licking Sukuna’s cum off his thumb when he gathers it from your cheek, off your chin, slipping it in your mouth. “You came so much, Choso…”

“What about me you brat!?”

You grin and give him the tiniest kitten flick of your tongue on his tip, watching him jerk from just that. “I’ll maybe forgive you.”

“Maybe? Tch,” Choso pulls out of you with a messy pop, watching all his cum flood out of your hole, pushing it right out and dripping on your blankets.

“Look at all you took,” he plays with the sticky mess, fingering it right back inside and smirking at Sukuna. “I think she likes me more.”

“She does not, she’s just sadistic,” he’d be lying if he didn’t say that turned him on more. He helps you up on your knees, tilting your chin up and kissing his own cum off you, Choso’s kissing up your neck, as you feel him slipping out of you. “Evil little brat. You liked that dildo.”

“Maybe I’ll let you use it on me,” his brows lower as he glares again, Choso snorts against your neck, tugging you closer.

“Use my own dick on you!?”

“Then you can fuck me. If you’re nice.” You turn and straddle Choso again, kissing his mouth, he flicks his tongue and gathers the little bit of Sukuna’s cum off your mouth, moaning.

“Can I at least finger you, or am I still in trouble?” Sukuna pouts kind of cutely, you admit, so you nod, and let him kneel on the bed, fingering Choso’s cum back inside you.

Sukuna won’t knock you off rainbow road again.

“Me, mean?” You laugh at that, thighs pressing together like on instinct – Choso’s cum is still trickling out of your needy hole as Sukuna’s huge ass hovers over you, a thigh slotting itself right between yours.

You barely catch a breath, it feels so good, Choso’s got you all sensitive and you do want Sukuna inside you, fuck all you’ve done with him was cuck and tease him – but he just didn’t deserve to yet. You are rightfully still infuriated that he cheated in Mario Kart, and he should suffer his consequences, even if you loved the way his muscled thigh felt against you.

“You act like you don’t want my cock inside you,” he tilts your chin up, watching you bite down on your lip. “Want me in all your holes, huh? Admit that shit.”

“No, I don’t,” you feel your heart race at your damn lie, giggling when he scowls even deeper. “I don’t!”

“Lemme guess, because of fucking Mario Kart.”

“Yep,” you push past him and he grips you, turning you so that your back is pressed against him – he’s so fucking big your ass barely hits those muscled thighs, his hand splaying your tummy, long, tattooed fingers spread all over. “Kuna…”

“I know I could watch my cock move inside you,” that fucks you up, as much as you act unaffected and just petty, you do wanna know what it feels like. “Admit it, brat, you want me.”

Sukuna chuckles all mean – you want him even more, ugh. “Admit you suck at Mario kart.”

His laugh cuts off, red eyes narrowing. “No!??!”

“Good night, Kuna,” you tug off him, just to get his teeth sinking into your shoulder, sharp and leaving marks as you gasp out. “Ow!?”

“Hey, what’s up?” Choso walks out – shirtless with his pajama pants with cute lil pandas all over them, he yawns and looks at you two, raising a brow as he scratches at his stomach all sleepy.

“He’s not admitting he sucks at mario kart!”

“She’s not admitting she wants my dick.”

“I don’t!?”

“Why are you using my dildo then, huh?” You blush, turning and shoving at the big ass, thick fucking man you live with, Choso just sighs.

“Are you all fighting again?”

“Well aren’t you happy we are?” Sukuna asks, Choso blinks all innocently as you rush over to him, slipping an arm around you. “Acting like she’s all yours. I had her squirting all over my fingers.”

“Well,” Choso trails off, a hand on your hip, smiling lazily. “She just squirted all over my mouth, so...”

“Fuck you both,” like he wouldn’t die to have you ride his face – Choso’s living his damn dream. Sukuna walks up to you and grips your chin, tugging it up so you have to look at his tall ass. “Wait till I get your bratty ass alone, won’t be able to fucking talk, will you?”

Your throat goes dry – the thought of Sukuna losing his shit on you?

You’re soaked – mixing with Choso’s cum that you’d love to have fucked back inside you by Sukuna. Instead you bat your lashes all innocent and cute. “Oh, I’ll still be able to talk – I’ll tell you how you suck so bad at games you cheat.”

“Me!?”

“You!”

“All right, bed time,” Choso has to carry you away from the six foot five, scowling ass pink haired man, pouting once you’re in his room. “I want you to have a dildo made from my dick, baby.”

“Oh,” you giggle now, hands sliding up his chest. “You do?”

He nods all eagerly, lower lip jutting out. “It’s not fair that Sukuna has one.”

“But you get to fuck me?”

“Still, baby please?” He takes your hand and you giggle, nodding.

Why wouldn’t you want Choso’s cock to add to your extensive collection? You’ll use it and Sukuna’s together.

You wonder just how much more you can piss him off.

The backshots would be worth it.

*****

“What the fuck is that!?” You scowl over at your roommate Sukuna the next morning, as you drag his character around on the screen – a perfect likeness really, you even have him in a pretty pink kimono.

“It’s your Mii,” his jaw sets in annoyance, ruby eyes narrowing at the version of himself with one fucking tooth, you’ve drawn his tattoos all over him – you’ve even drawn a penis on his goddamn face. “Isn’t he cute?”

“No he’s not fucking cute!? The fuck is that?” You start giggling and see his brows lower over his eyes. “Why am I wearing a dress!?”

“You love it, Kuna,” you giggle and pull another dress from the shop, handing it to his Mii and letting him put it on. He blushes and jumps up and down. “Look how much you love it! Oh my god, you’re so happy!”

“What am I even doing!?” He crosses his arms as you giggle at the screen, looking at the little Mii flashing his flashlight over and over at the little Satoru.

“You’re having fun,” you roll your eyes as if he’s asking some insane ass question.

“And that’s you?” You’re over there living with a Choso Mii, clearly head over heels. You giggle again, hand in front of your face.

“Mhm! Look, even this version of me loves Choso!”

Sukuna has had enough.

“I’m fucking done,” you gasp when he yanks the switch controller from your hands and throws it.

“Hey! Your Mii is getting ready for a european tour with Satoru-”

“You?”

“No,” you grin again. “I made your best friend Satoru a mii, the one from college, remember? You and him have this beautiful yaoi-”

Sukuna snatches you up so fast you gasp, throwing you over his shoulder, having you yelp and smack at him, only for him to smack the fuck out of your ass.

“Ow! Put me down you dick!” He tosses you right on the bed with an unceremonious bounce, you huff in indignation, staring up with your thighs spread – just enough for Sukuna to see the slick trail down it.

“I said sorry about your dumb fucking Mario Kart,” his hands slide up your thighs achingly slow, goosebumps sliding right up them, you can’t stop the whine that slips from your mouth, hands gripping the blankets tightly, bunching in your hands. “Yet here you are, torturing me over that shit.”

“Torturing you how?” You reach up and yank him down, letting him lay over you – his scowl fading, lips parted just a bit when you arch your hips, his hands sliding even higher. “Playing a video game?”

“No, by fucking Choso all goddamn day,” you giggle, but it’s cut off when he yanks you hips, dragging you against him so that your knees are bent, feet planted on the edge of the bed.

“Choso is sweet to me,” you murmur, fingers drifting up his chest, his neck, until a hand entangles in his pink locks, tugging hard at the root. “You’re fucking mean.”

“Me? You’re mean!?” he slams his lips on yours, hands against where your hips and thighs meet, thumbs just pressing in, your core tightens, breaths coming even faster. “Mean ass brat. Over falling off the rainbow road.”

“You’re the one who cheated, admit it,” he chuckles, dragging you against his length and watching your eyes roll back in your skull. “Mnh!”

“Don’t want it, huh?”

You swallow nervously now, nails sinking in until they sting his skin, he hisses through his teeth. “You really think you can handle me, Kuna?”

He laughs, throwing his head back, flipping you so quickly you’re dizzy, shoving your shorts right down your thighs, watching as they tremble, seeing that pussy that’s usually just full of Choso’s cum. “Can you take my dick, brat?”

“I can,” you’re already arching when he kneels down, his breath ghosting your cunt, laughing as you push back on it. “F-fuck…”

“What, gonna admit you want it?” His tongue flicks up your slit, moaning at that taste that coats his tongue, slipping right against that barbell. “Slutty lil cunt, bet I could fit in without any prep, you’re that messy.”

“Mnh,” you’re going to fuck with him later, but right now his teeth are nipping your clit so damn hard you’re gasping out. “Gonna bite it, really!?”

“You love that,” he’s stroking his cock – already leaking pre – parting your puffy lips to watch that hole wink. He pulls you wide open and then spits a glob of saliva right in your hole.

“Did you just spit on it? You’re such a slut – ngh!”

“Me?” He spits again, moaning as he stands up, shoving your head down and pinning your wrist behind your back – you’re arching more, you’ve already taken his cock in the form of that dildo he had made, you can’t help but want the real thing. “Look at you, all needy, arching like that. Been fucking yourself with my cock for months, hah…”

“Dick,” your words are muffled, head against the pillow, nails digging into your palm as a hand grips that wrist, and his cock lands on your ass with a filthy slap. “P-please…”

“Hah, please what? Please tell you – that I ‘suck’ at Mario kart? That I’m mad as fuck I can’t sink inside your slutty cunt and have to hear Choso whimper?” you just moan more, peeking back at him with lidded eyes, making his cock leak pre and drip it right down on the bed. Sukuna smacks your ass with his free hand with a loud smack. “Answer, brat.”

You’ll let Sukuna think he has control – for now – you really want backshots from him, after all.

“Please, in me,” your words fucking ruin him, how could he even imagine you’d be begging him to shove his cock inside you? He spits down your ass and lets it drip down your lips, shoving his pants down and freeing his cock. “Kuna…”

“You’re gonna be sweet for once? Because you want my cock? Hah,” you feel his spit slipping down, his cock slaps his flat abdomen, leaking white on the pink happy trail now, coating it. “Needy lil fuckin’ brat. Gotta be filled by the two of us?”

“Fuck,” he’s mean – but you love that shit, you want him to be mean, love when his hand clamps down on your wrist, pushing you down even further into the mattress.

“Say it,” he’s taunting you now, trying to exact his revenge as he runs his pierced tip right up and down your slit, faster and faster – edging you, breaking you down to where you forget just how annoyed you are with this giant dickhead you live with. “Say you wanna be fucked by both of us, not just him.”

“You’re so jealous,” your giggle is cut off when he pulls his cock back. “Ngh – Kuna, fuckin’ put it in, shit…”

“Nah,” he’s throbbing when he slips two thick fingers through the spit and precum he’s coated your pretty pussy with, swirling them and then shoving them in hard, making you spasm so damn fast. “Don’t tell me you’re that easy f’me, gonna come from my fingers?”

His fingers are thick and rough, years of football have them calloused as they massage your walls, rocking up and down and in and out of you, that clicking sound of just how wet your pussy is echoing in your ears. You’re dizzy from a few pumps, the way he curves up and down on that spot as you’re arched, shoving you down even further until your cries are muffled.

“Gonna squirt in less than a minute, tch,” he’s lost in how good you feel gripping his fingers, he can hardly stop himself from drinking your cunt again. “Love to make me so fuckin’ desperate because of a goddamn game.”

“I t-take it serious,” he laughs then, smacking your other ass cheek and watching that flesh rise up with his hand print. “Ah!”

“Yeah I can tell you do, bratty, mean little – fuck, you’re about to cum, huh?” You shatter before he can yank his fingers out and deny you it, squirting obscenely right down to your bed, legs quivering as that orgasm has your pussy flooded with that slick, so much it’s ridiculous. “Fuck, you squirt like that?”

“Mnh,” you can’t even manage a word, pussy tightening up after your orgasm, just for him to spit on you again, filthy and nasty with it, huge, tattooed hands gripping your hips and tugging you back. “Fuck me… god, put it in – or do you wanna fuck Satoru like your Mii did- ah!”

Sukuna slaps the fuck out of each ass cheek, over and over until you’re about to cum from the pain, hands digging into the covers as you arch your pussy up, he watches the sight of it all messy and glossy and almost cums himself. He strokes his needy cock, smearing that pre along his reddened tip, moaning all pornographic to the point just that is sending you.

“Say you want my cock inside.”

“No.”

“The fuck!?” You laugh again, you love torturing him, especially when he leans over you with his heavy weight, his chest pressing down on your back, hand gripping you underneath your chin and turning your face to him.

When you look into his pretty, dangerous red eyes though?

You’re fucked.

You just swallow, trying to catch your breath and act like you’re not actively losing all your control, until you gather yourself. Sukuna slips his thumb over your lip and you pretend to kiss it, only to sink your teeth in, laughing as he curses.

“You are an evil lil brat, swear to…” He moans when you back up on him, grinding your hips up and down. One of his hands squeezes your throat, the other planted right by your face. “Say it.”

“I said ‘fuck me’!”

“Say you want my cock inside, that you love my fucking dildo, say that shit you brat,” you smirk and almost ruin him, finally conceding a bit just so you can actually feel his cock inside.

“I want your cock inside me,” he loses it then, hearing your breathy whisper, seeing your eyelashes tremble as your lids lower. “Kuna, fuck me… god just put your cock inside, I can take it – I- ngh!”

Sukuna shoves his thick cock inside your needy cunt with one mean thrust, bottoming out instantly. Your eyes roll back as a desperate, breathy little moan escapes your lips – you’re stretched out so fucking good, his pierced tip just kissin’ your cute, puffy lil cervix. You’re so stretched out it’s intense, much more than the dildo you'd been secretly using still.

You couldn’t let Sukuna know how much better his real cock is than his toy, even if his dildo had worked you up to the feeling, there was no replica for that piercing, for those veins pulsing.

“Fuck, you're taking all my cock like you’re made for it," his hips jerk back and then shove forward, burying himself in your slick, hot pussy that’s stretching just for him, the initial resistance already passed. "Needy lil cunt, fuck she’s grippin’ me like she wants cum inside her, huh? That what you need?"

“Ngh…” You can’t talk, not when he’s sliding almost all the way out and then slamming back inside. The pretty little barbells underneath his tip catch on that spongy spot in your tacky walls, making you whine out. “Fuck!”

“Fuck,” as if he’s fairing much better, you’re taking all his goddamn cock inside, those puffy pussy lips stretching around his shafe. “Look at her, wanted this so fuckin’ bad, huh?”

Sukuna’s huge hands grip the curve of your hips hard enough to bruise, and you want him to, you want to bruise him just as bad. The thought has you quivering and spasming as he slowly shoves back in, maddening when his heavy, cum filled balls just smack right on your neglected, twitchy clit.

“Kuna… please…”

“Kuna please,” you scowl now, clamping down on his cock, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. “Stop that, god…”

“Don’t be a dick, I’ll have you c-cum so fast you, ah!” Sukuna scowls, gripping you at the waist and beginning to fuck you then. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“So fuckin’ needy, so bratty, only sweet when you’re stuffed full of cock, huh?” He begins to fuck all his frustrations out on your pussy, skin smacking loud in the room, cock stretching you out so full you feel him everywhere. “Can’t talk? I fuck you dumb already?”

Sukuna is a dick.

But you can’t talk, the faster he moves, slamming so hard inside you it hurts – you can take dick, too, but he’s so mean with it, balls smacking your clit where you need the friction. You reach down between your own thighs, resting on a shoulder and rubbing your own clit, only for him to snatch your wrist.

“Ah-ah,” he shoves your hand back on the mattress, fucking into you as his balls hit your clit again, torturing you. “You’re not gonna touch that lil clit.”

Oh fuck him.

“Your mii wants to m-move in with Satoru and have babies with-ah!” Sukuna slams even harder, filling you up so that his tip is bruising your cervix, his teeth biting your shoulder blade, hand taking your much smaller one over.

“Soaking wet, never even felt someone this wet,” Sukuna is too far gone now, you’re wrapping him too goddamn good, his chest slips across your arched back, shoving you further onto the bed. “Cucking me, edging me, so mean for what?”

“Mario – mnh! – Kart – will you j-just lemme touch my clit!?” He laughs then, his piercings catching on your sensitive spots in those quivering walls, making you gasp out all ragged, your eyes rolling back in your skull.

"Look at you, all that talk about Mario Kart and now you're drooling, can’t talk shit now, huh? Too full of cock?” His huge hand releases its grip and instead wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin, everything fuzzy, until even without your clit played with you’re about to shatter. "Admit it - you've wanted this since I moved in."

"Never," you manage to gasp out the words, even though your body betrays you as you clench around him, slutty pussy completely not agreeing with you. “Won’t… harder, fuck me harder…”

He responds by pulling out almost completely, making you whine out. “When you admit that shit.”

“Okay, fuck, I want you,” you whine out all sweet, turning your face and kissing his lips, making him moan desperately into your mouth. “Please.”

“Mnh…”

“Did you whimper?”

“No!?” You’re laughing when he flips you around, cock dripping with all your slick, smacking it on your puffy cunt with loud thwacks as he pins you underneath him. “Didn’t whimper.”

“You did,” your giggle is fucking cute – not that Sukuna would tell you, he’s too stubborn to admit you’re so pretty he melts around you. No, instead he glares and shoves your thighs to your chest. “Hey! I can’t bend that way!?”

“Sure ya can,” his fingers press into the plush of those thighs, cock slammed right back inside, both of you moaning as he fills you up. “God…”

Sukuna paused for a moment, kissing you all sweet as he crushes you with his weight, making you bite his lip. He glares, so you bite his shoulder, even harder, giggling at the teeth marks.

“You’re so fucking evil, I’m fucking you like this and you’re biting me?” You bite him again, feeling his cock twitch inside you, his sooty pink lashes fluttering shut. “Stop it, brat.”

“You’re gonna crush me, so heavy, mnh!”

“Callin’ me fat? Tch,” Sukuna bites your ear so hard you gasp out, your nails dragging down his back, leaving scratch marks that slip all across. “Mnh…”

“Whimpering again, hah,” you’re digging your nails in harder, eyes fluttering closed with just how needy you are for him, teeth sinking into a well muscled bicep, right over a black tattoo. “Aw, Kuna, you’re so close, huh?”

“Can’t stand your ass,” he’s about to bust, he barely holds back as his balls start tensing and throbbing, hands shoving your thighs further apart when they threaten to close. “I want my mii to move in with you.”

“No,” his brows lower, before you bite him right on his nipple. “Livin’ with Cho.”

“Ouch! Fuck that,” you giggle and he throws you around again, but this time on your tummy, prone bone right over you. His hand wraps your throat again as he shoves his cock fully inside, your head falling back. “Stop biting me!?”

“You love it,” he does – but–

“Oh… hi?” Sukuna groans as he hears Choso – no damn way was he not going to cum inside you.

“Go the fuck away.”

“No, stay,” Choso chuckles, setting aside the box – his cock has been made into a pretty pink dildo just for you! He can’t wait till you see it, though just hearing your slutty pussy and your moans are wrecking him. “Mngh… Cho…”

“Hi pretty baby,” he walks over as your other roommate is pumping your pussy full, he can’t help but moan at the sight. “Is he being nice to you?”

“Nice, hah – she’s biting me and making my Mii fuck Satoru!” Choso snorts in laughter. “It’s not funny?”

“I made your mii, isn’t he cute?” Sukuna might kill Choso, as he walks over and sits in the pretty pink chair, thighs spread. “Can I watch you ride him, baby?”

“No, get out-”

“Mhm,” you turn your head to look at Sukuna. “On your back.”

“Fuck that, I…” He sighs, he sure isn’t gonna turn down getting ridden by you, even if Choso’s over there unzipping his pants. He rolls on his back just for you to run to choso and give him a quick kiss, his hand glides down to your cunt, taking some of those juices from it and sucking them off his fingers. “Get over here!?”

“Impatient ass!” You giggle when Choso presses kisses to your nipple, sucking one in his mouth. “I missed you, Cho.”

“I’m right fucking here, cock out! Get on it, brat,” you stomp over as Choso spits on his cock, moaning at the sight of you straddling Sukuna. Sukuna himself can’t help but whimper a third time, his cheeks all flushed when you sink right down on his cock, his black nails pressing into your hips. “Fuck… Show me what you got, huh?”

“Lemme see you pretty,” you giggle and look back at Choso, just for Sukuna to snatch your chin up, forcing your gaze back on him.

“Eyes on me,” you can’t lie – it’s hot that he’s jealous, that he’s needy, it’s hot that Choso is whining out and the sounds of him stroking his cock are mixing with the wet sounds of your cunt sucking Sukuna in. “That’s it, ride me, fuck…”

“Kuna,” you tease, leaning low as if to kiss him, only to bite his chest again, he yanks your hair at the root, hissing at you as Choso strokes faster, seeing your pussy stretched like that. “You suck at Mario Kart. And your Mii is living with Satoru.”

“Fuck off, just… there just… mngh…” Sukuna busts so much it’s filthy, pumping in your walls and coating them, white ropes just pouring down his length, sticky and dripping out. Sukuna groans, gripping your hips bruising, Choso watches the white mess pour and groans.

He can’t wait for you to use his dildo next, but for the moment he’s perfectly content watching his pretty girlfriend torture and bite the shit out of Sukuna, especially when he gets to drink his cum right out of you. <3

And there was that faint little itch again, the phantom tug of knowing you were forgetting something and unable to remember what for a fraction of a second until the door closed and you were staring at peeling paint on wood.

You doubted anyone would come to his room before morning time, not when they all thought he was getting laid, unwilling to run the chance of interrupting their boss while he was balls-deep inside you.

Suguru snagged your hand to tug you along, and you couldn't help but replay the last time you'd been down this hall together, the memory of how the two of you had left things making you grimace.

He had come back for you.

Seemed to know that you weren't with Sukuna of your own free will. But did he really still see you how he used to?

Would he be able to accept who you were? How far you'd go for the sake of survival?

"Through here," Suguru softly murmured, keeping his voice deliberately low.

Your brave vault boy braced himself before using his shoulder to force open a half-rotted door at the end of the hall. It opened into a closet that clearly hadn't been used (or cleaned) in years, but there was a single dirty window on the wall - an open one.

Was that how he snuck in?

Managed to convince the rest of him he was one of them rather than risk getting recognized at the front desk?

Suguru hoisted you up by your waist once you were in, half-pushing you through without hesitation, and to your surprise, someone else was waiting there to help you out.

Nanami's calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you through the rest of the way, the stupid lingerie you were wearing riding humiliatingly high on your hips as your knees hit the ground.

You didn't have the time to think or even be embarrassed about it before he was hurrying to get Suguru out after you, your head whipping around to make sure no wasted raider dipshit was out here smoking or puking from taking too many chems.

But then someone's hand was on your spine, helping you forward and ushering you towards the treeline, heading what you were pretty sure was north.

You supposed when it came down to it, it didn't matter all that much - as long as it meant putting distance between you and Sukuna. Away from all the raiders who were apparently intent on capturing you alive like he had.

Neither man spoke while the three of you sprinted, not stopping for a good twenty minutes, maybe more, long enough that Nanami felt safe gesturing for you all to pause. Your throat felt sore, familiar thirst trickling in as Suguru pulled out his canteen and immediately offered you a sip.

You tried to smile at him when you took it, slowly bringing it up to your lips for a small drink, your stomach queasy and churning from running with all that alcohol in your system. Passing it back as you avoided looking both the men who tried to save you directly in the eyes, running your tongue over your chapped lips and caught your breath.

"We should keep walking," Nanami muttered, but you felt his observant stare on your skin. Studying you. Seeing through your guise of gratefulness to the anxiety underneath. "Can you keep going? Or should I carry you?"

"I could do-"

"I'm okay," you nodded before they could argue over who would exhaust himself the fastest. "I should, um, probably change though."

They both had the decency to turn away from you when you shrugged off your bag and bent over to rummage through it. You hadn't realized you weren't wearing shoes until you saw them in your bag, glancing down to see how scraped up your feet were.

You cringed at the sight of your own dirt-covered scratches, but there wasn't much you could do about it now.

They kept talking while you changed, tugging on a dark t-shirt and shimmying panties up your thighs, your lips pressed together in a grimace at their hushed exchange. Nanami's thick, concerned tone crackling as he addressed Suguru instead of you, "Did you have any trouble?"

"No one suspected me," Suguru exhaled quietly, keeping his voice low too. "But she already knocked him out."

Something about the possessive way he said it made your stomach flutter, an invisible string inside tugged tight and tense as your breath hitched in the middle of taking your pants out of the bag.

"Was it-”

“I think so,” Suguru answered too quickly for too to fully make out what your blond mercenary had asked from him. Face set in a frustrated frown when you stole a small glimpse back at them as you stepped into your pants, pulling them up as fast as you could before bending over to put on your shoes. “Pink hair, right?”

Your ears perked up, molars grinding as you attempted to decipher what the hell they knew about Sukuna. They had to be talking about him, right?

You were pretty fucking sure you’d never met anyone else in the wasteland with pink hair like that.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Nanami grunted back, and you paused pulling out your holster and gun next, palms growing clammy as you considered the possibility that they somehow knew each other.

You couldn't exactly imagine how a meeting between Sukuna and Nanami must have gone, not when they were about as different as you could get.

Nanami might be a mercenary, but he had morals. A strict code that he lived by, not one to rely on stealing or shooting simply to get his way.

Sure, you'd only spent a week with Sukuna, but you knew that the path he must've carved to control a band of raiders was probably stained with blood, tainted by the type of crimes and sins that would rot anyone's soul.

Even if it was in the name of survival.

But then Suguru noticed you had finished getting dressed, clearing his throat right as you glanced between the two men.

Nanami’s deep set scowl and his chiseled cheekbones, lips pressed together in a thin line, all those harsh features only offset by his hazel eyes softening as they settled on you.

The few inches of height Suguru had on him looked more obvious when they were standing next to each other, but he was fast to walk back over to you, picking up your bag from the ground and slinging it over his shoulders as you fixed your thigh holster. Shoving your gun in it as you turned your head to look behind, ears trained to listen for any footsteps, any sign that you were being followed.

They were waiting for you to say something.

Maybe offer an explanation for why you showed up in the skimpiest piece of lingerie that you were pretty sure only prostitutes used.

"Are you still thirsty? Hungry?" Suguru broke the silence, dark eyes focused solely on you with an intensity you were having a hard time meeting.

"I'm really fine," you insisted, biting your tongue as you tried to figure out how much they figured out. "Are the girls-"

"Good. Your parents promised to make sure they're taken care of," Nanami answered, his eyes narrowing as you shifted your stare to the dirt and leaves below your feet.

"We heard on the radio there that they captured you," Suguru said, revealing what you didn't know how to ask.

"Oh," you breathed, a lump forming in your throat at the reminder of your stupidity. "Yeah."

You waited for them to question it.

Ask how the hell you'd let yourself get kidnapped in the first place.

They didn't though.

Suguru just waited for you to finish getting ready, his huge hand slipping around your side, hesitant at first before relaxing, like he wanted to make sure you were really there.

"Come on," he spoke softly, his warm voice close enough to nearly make you shiver. "We should get the fuck out of here."

You weren't about to argue with that.

They were both clearly more exhausted than you, leaves and twigs crunching as you continued North, only the moonlight to guide you as you trailed a few steps behind your old friend.

"We caught one of them," Nanami muttered as you trekked ahead, acutely aware of the weight of Suguru's palm on the small of your spine.

You didn't ask if they killed him.

But considering that Suguru was clearly wearing clothes that didn't belong to him, you had a heavy feeling that Nanami might have pulled the trigger.

"I was wondering about your, um, attire," you commented, gesturing towards his disguise. Up close like this, you could tell that it was too tight in a few places, clinging to his shoulders and stretched around his biceps. You guessed vault life let him grow muscles that were far more rare here - where most people were lucky to not be starving at any given second. "Must feel pretty different than your vault suit."

Which you were still quite frankly disappointed you hadn't gotten to see him in.

Did he have one of those jumpsuits in the bottom of his bag somewhere?

Your attempt to make the conversation less awkward, less tense didn't work as well as you hoped it did.

"Yeah," Suguru slowly said, giving you one of those looks of silent concern.

Worried about you when his consideration just made you feel guilty for fucking the man they were convinced abused you for the past week.

How many days had they spent pacing and panicking when you were comfortably sleeping and eating well? Recovering?

Sure, you didn't know what fate would've befallen you if you stayed.

What Sukuna would've done with you when you got to your final destination. For all you knew, you could've ended up executed or sold off into sexual slavery.

But he hadn't hurt you.

No, he tried to take care of you.

And when you had no experience with that before, you didn’t know how to feel about it after the fact.

“How did they catch you?” Nanami grunted in his low drawl not a handful of minutes later, his side profile painfully sharp in the moonlight as he threw a long look over his shoulder at you.

“I was looking for a place to hole up for a few days while I waited for you guys and uh, ran into one of them,” you muttered, skimming over more than a few of the details. Like the part where you gave yourself a head injury trying to squirm free of Sukuna’s grip or how short of a time it took you to let him shove his dick inside you. “Just caught me off guard.”

Suguru might buy it.

But you’d never been good at lying to Nanami. He simply knew you too well to believe that you’d let some idiotic raider capture you without putting up more of a fight.

Still, he only nodded, even if his grimace said enough for him.

The rest of the hike was equally uncomfortable, threading the tension as you tried to not think too hard about the steadying hand on your back, his long fingers pressing into your shirt.

Eventually you stopped just outside a small cave, just deep enough for all of you to set up bed rolls inside, shelter from the wind and any bad weather that might come through overnight.

“I can stay up,” you offered, looking out at the thick tree line, halfway expecting Sukuna to come storming out, brandishing a shotgun and seeking revenge for the stunt you pulled. “You guys kinda look like shit. Get some sleep.”

They didn’t, not really, both still annoyingly attractive despite the dark circles under their eyes.

“You were literally kidnapped,” Suguru frowned from your left.

Somehow, you’d ended up stuck between both their set ups, one on either side of you like they were your bodyguards.

“I still would’ve escaped tonight anyway,” you shrugged, refusing to let them damn you as a damsel.

You didn’t know what sort of fairytales they sold him in his vault.

But you weren’t a princess waiting for him to save you.

No matter how badly you wanted to be.

Pushing Suguru away after he’d held half your thoughts and dreams hostage since you left him felt fucking awful. But you couldn’t fight the fear creeping back in now that he was by your side, the worry that it was really just a matter of time before he wasn’t.

He would go back to his vault sooner or later.

His company was just a temporary fix. A momentary distraction from the rest of your crappy future.

“Just let her take first watch,” Nanami grumbled, burying his annoyance under a thin layer of acceptance.

Suguru didn’t want to agree, but he wanted to argue even less.

"Let's talk more in the morning," he murmured in your ear, leaning in close enough that his lips nearly grazed against your ear. Ghosted just shy over them, his breath on your skin as your head bobbed just slightly.

"About what?" You softly replied, not sure if you were ready for what kind of conversation would be.

“What happened to you.”

You stiffened, swallowing hard as you just offered him another small nod. Forced to once again face the fact you liked him far too much for your own good.

Would whatever this was be over if you told him the truth?

You were okay.

You were here.

Suguru kept repeating both sentences in his own head. Replaying them on a loop even when your skin was brushing against his, when all it would take was rolling over once to touch you and confirm it again and again.

He’d been pretending to be asleep for half a fucking hour.

Counting every rise and fall of his chest as he chewed the inside of his cheek, struggling to get the adrenaline and anxiety to subside enough to doze off into dreams.

But they never came.

And all he could really do was crave your warmth, itching to sit up and reach over to where you were on your bed roll.

"Do you need a doctor?" Nanami soberly asked, speaking so low Suguru almost couldn't make out the question. Probably doing it on purpose. Assumed he'd passed out already.

"No," you huffed, making that cute indignant exhale he hadn't realized how much he missed. "I told you, I'm fine. This is just shallow-"

"Not for that," Nanami curtly cut you off.

There was a thick pause.

And while you were choosing your next words, Suguru was stuck on Nanami's last ones. Denial blocking him from dealing with what was obvious for everyone with eyes. But it wasn't until he started talking again in that grainy hushed tone that he realized this wasn't something he could pretend not to notice.

"Whatever he did," Nanami paused, his voice thick and tense before he continued, "Whatever you might have done, we can take care of it."

"I said I’m fine,” you bluntly said, trying to wield the sharp edge in your words to shut him up.

Nanami thought you had sex with that freak to survive.

He didn’t even want to fucking think about the chance that he forced himself on you.

But he’d have to be an idiot to not see that something had happened.

The way that asshole kept you in his lap like a pet hadn’t left his head since he’d seen it. You had that look in your eyes, some trapped animal searching for a way out, desperation glittering in them as you shifted with discomfort in that little dress.

Treated like a doll, dragged around like one too.

You were the one that played him though.

Pretended to be interested in him enough to make him drop his guard. Suguru supsected you drugged him considering the state you both left him in, but he couldn't confirm it without you.

And you clearly didn't want to talk about it.

Didn't want to divulge the details of what you'd been through without them.

He didn't blame you.

Suguru just wanted to be there for you now. Be someone you could count on. Depend on.

They'd both seen that barely-there scrap of fabric you'd left in. It didn't take much imagination to guess why he wanted you. What you might've had to do if Suguru hadn't been there - even when you swore that you would've made it out on your own.

Nanami said your name, but you only let out a low exhale.

"Don't look at me like that," you defensively murmured.

"Are you going to tell me what actually happened?" He pressed to your obvious displeasure.

Suguru hated it.

Hated this.

Loathed that his brain kept making its own crude suggestions, replaying the scene back at the motel, you sitting on his muscled thighs, the way he eye fucked you when you poured the alcohol in his mouth, how you batted your lashes like he was on your leash instead of the other way around.

"I got attacked by a feral ghoul and he snuck up behind me, okay? He just kept me in a cabin for a few days and took all my stuff so I couldn't go anywhere," you mumbled, and he didn't know what to make of it. What to believe when you were so reluctant to say something so simple.

"Your head-"

"I fell and hit it on a rock trying to get away from him," you said, and Suguru was a little disappointed in himself when it hit him how cute he found the hint of embarrassment in your voice.

How he hardly knew you and still somehow managed to develop a childish crush since you became his companion.

"Did he say anything about why-"

"He didn't say much of anything," you interrupted Nanami again, refusing to let him get a full sentence out as he exhaled, all low and long.

"The raider we captured claimed he's been obsessed with you for months," Nanami dutifully informed you, carefully choosing his words.

Suguru wished he could see your reaction, know what you were thinking instead of being stuck pretending to sleep through your conversation.

"How? It's not like I knew him," you scoffed back at him, and he could imagine the way your nose was scrunching up in confusion, brows knitting together tightly.

"He knew you," Nanami evenly replied, refusing to drop it.

"You say that like you know him," you accused.

Suguru had the distinct feeling he wasn't supposed to be hearing this. That there was something more wrong under the surface.

"I've met him before," Nanami bluntly answered, cold and curt.

"You never-"

"I find it hard to believe a man like that wouldn't just take what he wanted from you," he muttered.

You didn't have anything to say to that.

It was hard to conceive that you could be scared of anything. Anyone. But he couldn't shake the suspicion that you weren't telling them everything.

And the only reason he could come up with was you were worried that they wouldn't take it well.

Nausea curdled in his stomach, mouth twitching as he struggled to shut out how sick the thought made him.

He'd do anything he had to just to make sure you never ended up in that position again.

You didn't need him now.

Didn't need anyone.

But he wanted you to want him anyway.

Whatever that dickhead had done, whatever you had done, it didn't matter.

Suguru didn't pull the trigger on him before. Next time, though, he wouldn't hesitate. And he definitely wouldn't miss.

Sukuna should've known.

You sneaky little minx.

Dressing up and stripping your panties off with the promise of sex just to fucking drug and ditch him.

He stared at the pile of his stuff left on the bed. You even left his gun.

That was just like you.

Too caring for your own good. Too stupid.

You should've stolen it. Taken all his caps, everything he had instead of just leaving it here.

Like he was ever just going to fucking let you go anyway.

It wasn't like you could've gotten that far, not with the early morning sun still filtering in through the cracked window.

He'd catch up to you soon enough. And if he couldn't find you, well, he supposed he'd just have to pay your parents farmhouse another visit.

Those turrets you set up wouldn't do much when he already knew how to disarm them after watching you toy with them so many times.

He wouldn't hurt your family, but he was sure a single letter from them urging you to come home would be enough to get you running back.

Right into his arms.

"What should I tell the rest of them?" Uruame asked, standing dutifully in the doorway while Sukuna glared at the contents on the bed.

Your scent was still clinging to his shirt, an irritating reminder at how close he was to having you.

Sukuna supposed he'd just have to hold you a hell of a lot closer next time.

"I'm going to get her back."

reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated :3

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.”

“What kind of game?” He tch-ed, tempted to take the plain stem now from you. 

“I asked if you love me,” you admitted, and he couldn’t decide if this was some crude attempt at teasing him. His fingers sank deeper into your side, pulling you deeper into his lap. 

He nodded towards the scattered petals on the floor, the blood slowly spreading and threatening to seep into them.  “What did you land on?”  

“You love me not.” 

Sukuna’s mouth twitched at how you said it. As if you gave an idiotic child’s game weight. 

But he didn’t protest. Didn’t say no or scoff. 

Instead, he pried you off of him, placing you on the floor, barely bothering to check that you wouldn’t be stepping in blood before he started towards the exit. 

“Kuna,” you started in a soft voice, the irritatingly intimate making him freeze for a split-second, enough that you corrected yourself. He'd only criticized you for it once, snapped at you to refer to him properly when he was at his court. “My lord.” “My chambers tonight,” he announced, not looking back at you. 

There was a rhythm to the routine. A monotony he found dull and draining, a familiar itch creeping under his skin at staying here this long. He wanted back out in battle. To find some other sorcerer claiming themselves capable to cleave down. 

He made up his mind during his next meal, stuffing his mouth full of meat, fork stabbing clean through the fine cut of someone he never got the name of as he planned out his next departure. Some irritating white-haired woman kept trying to talk to him from across the table, claiming to be from some clan he couldn’t care less about. 

An advisor tried to quell his annoyance, but it was like another bug in his ear, whispering that she could be useful as a concubine, as if Sukuna gave a shit. A flick of his fingers was all it took for the room to finally fall silent – even if the wall was now splattered with blood. 

Perhaps they should be grateful he gave them messes to clean. Stable employment meant they wouldn’t starve. That their children wouldn't. 

Not everyone was so lucky. 

You kept eating next to him, taking a long sip of your wine before excusing yourself a few moments later, leaving without looking over at the still body in the seat next to you. You weren’t apathetic like him, but you would hold your tongue no matter how much his anger hurt you. 

Did it splinter your soul to see him kill? 

Sukuna had no way to know. 

Conversations weren’t something so commonplace between the two of you anymore. So much had changed, enough that he tried to convince himself that you were simply a body that he shared his bed with. 

He disliked the other concubines. They always expected things from him. Wanted clothes or jewels or power. Occasionally, he considered making you his wife, if only to put the others in their place. 

To remind them that they would never occupy the space by his throne. That they would never have children that would sit on it. 

His new advisors, these men who swore they had intelligence simply because they were schooled, they all urged him to. Begged him to select someone from a clan to have a child with, for his legacy, but he refused. 

Why would he want a child? Especially one that would be like him? 

He’d carve out his own legacy.

You were waiting for him by the time he returned to his room, cross-legged on the floor, squinting at a poetry book. Neither of you had learned to read as a child, but he’d begrudgingly hired you a tutor – and just happened to sit in on your lessons to learn himself. Supervising, he said. You didn't argue otherwise, even if your brow subtly arched up at his looming presence, his bottom set of arms folded across his chest while the tutor instructed you on how to write, teaching you everything from haikus to the hidden meanings in famous poems. 

Sukuna had found it unfortunate when he had to kill him, but it wasn't his fault that the fool had tried to put a hand on your waist, no matter how innocent he claimed it was. 

You had been mad at him though, huffing and shutting yourself in your room for four days before you started speaking to him again. 

Calling him a child, like you weren't the one clinging to this life he created. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, drawing him out of another pointless memory of the past. 

“You left dinner early,” he dismissed your question entirely. He didn't want to answer it. Why dredge up another reason for you to be annoyed with him? 

“I prefer to eat without the smell of iron,” you said, in that measured voice of yours, playing this game of skirting around the real subject.

“You used to eat dirt,” he pointedly reminded you, and you threw your book at him. A rare reaction, your hurt flickering across your face for a few fleeting seconds before you shut back down, maybe remembering that he beheaded a woman for much less hardly fifteen minutes ago. 

“You ate bugs,” you argued, brows furrowed in frustration before you glanced away from him. 

“And now we both get full meals that you don't even finish,” he sharply replied, the edge to his voice echoing as you flexed your jaw, forcing yourself to not respond to him. 

A poor imitation of the meek submission the other women who flitted around in their fine kimonos were well-versed at.

“My apologies, master,” you eventually murmured, your mockery not going unnoticed as you lifted your chin to look up at him from the floor. Dragging your eyes over his bulky frame, muscles stretched taut over bone, skin littered with scars and tattoos. 

And still, you stared like he was just the weakling he used to be. That faint flicker of sorrow persisting even when he had practically handed you a soft life on a silver platter. 

Sukuna scoffed, squinting before he begrudgingly took two steps forward, beckoning you to stand with a single gesture.

You obeyed. Dusting off the skirt of your robe as your hand reached for the tie – but Sukuna beat you to it. 

Skin slowly exposed when he peeled off every layer, removing piece by piece until you were completely bare for him, the light and shadows from the flames dancing across the shape of you while you stood still. Waiting for some appraisal, for him to do with you as he wished. 

Your position was always defined by him after all. As his friend or his fuck. 

He tossed you onto the mattress, his top set of hands pinning your thighs to your chest, watching your eyes widen as his own loosely-fastened robe hit the floor. 

Love was a waste. 

It meant nothing. 

You said it to him once, declared it under the moon, knees curled against your chest as you looked at him like that. But that had been before. Before the estate and the esteemed treatment that came with a title and land and leverage on all the people that previously treated him with disgust. When it was still simply you and him surviving. 

He didn’t say it back. Didn’t do anything other than grunt, tempted to call you a brat for saying something so stupid. 

“You're rather distracted tonight,” you murmured, fingers frozen just before they could touch his face. He flinched from it – pulled back before you could make contact. 

“You’re irritating today,” he grimaced back, even if you were the least annoying part of his life. The only thing that wasn’t dull and dreadful. The only one that actually made him feel alive.

He waited for you to whine that he didn’t really mean that, but your eyes just searched his for silent confirmation. 

You knew better than to expect him to say it out loud. 

And despite that (pretty) little pout of frustration flitting across your face, you were still wet when he dipped a single finger into your dripping warmth. 

All your feelings fading into the mush of pleasure, eyes rolling back with a simple crook of his thick finger, lazily swirling it around to see your reaction. Not much could compare to the adrenaline of a fight, of sorcery and raw strength, but a faint shiver of exhilaration ran down his spine at the sight of you arching your hips up to make sure he was knuckle-deep, lips falling in a lewd moan as he added another digit. 

He ignored it though, shoulders stiff as your walls tried to clamp down on him. 

“Were you this wet when you were on my lap?” He dryly mocked, not particularly caring how mean you might call him for teasing you later. 

You always forgave him. 

Whatever he did, you found a way to justify it. 

You weakly nodded, chin tilted back in the air as your lashes fluttered, gasping for air that didn't seem to go in. 

“Answer me, brat,” he grunted. 

“Yes, m-my lord,” you moaned, and it was only when they parted he noticed your pretty lips painted the same shade as his hair. 

“Sukuna,” he snapped, sick of correcting this stubborn new habit of yours. Sure, it had been who insisted on it in the first place, but it was annoying to remind you of what you were and weren't allowed to do. 

You swallowed hard enough for him to notice, but you still didn't say it. 

Held your mouth closed, and he begrudgingly closed the gap to crash into it, claiming it in a greedy kiss, his tongue in your mouth while you threw your arms over his shoulders. One hand ending up in his hair, scratching at his scalp the way you knew he liked, even if it was another thing he'd never admit out loud. 

You tried to wrap your legs around his waist, to push back against the palms still pressed against your thighs, but he didn't let you budge, refused to allow you to try and lock him in some more personal position. 

For all the times he'd been called a freak, a curse, for these four arms, there were many more he found them quite useful. 

He crooked his fingers deeper, harder, and your body was tensing automatically, your focus fading as you discovered yourself lost and floating in the force of his strokes. Your features softening, catching a fleeting hint of a smile before you were squirming again in his grip.