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dadsbestfriend!toji holding you on the couch cause he knows you've had a rough day.. :(
the house had been quiet for hours when you finally slipped out of your room.
youd spent most of the day upstairs, barely speaking to anybody. you hadnt really wanted to see anyone, but you knew toji was still downstairs. youd seen his truck sitting outside earlier, and youd heard his low, rough voice through the floorboards while hed talked with your dad.
for some reason, that was enough to get you out of bed, and you made your way down the stairs quietly. on days like these, toji usually stayed over, using the couch as a bed even though it probably was uncomfortable for his broad frame.
you could hear the tv, the volume low, and toji was still on the couch.
he was sunk deep into the cushions, long legs stretched out, one arm resting along the back. his dark shirt pulled slightly across his broad chest, sleeves shoved up his forearms, and his hair had fallen messily over his forehead. a cigarette sat between his fingers, the end glowing faintly in the dark.
he looked over when he heard you, his eyes stayed on you. you stood there for a second, suddenly feeling foolish for coming down at all.
his brow furrowed slightly, eyes squinting in the dark light.
"that you, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and gruff.
"whats eatin at ya?" he added.
your lips parted, but nothing came out, and that was all it took, because your eyes burned almost immediately, tears gathering before you could stop them. you looked down, blinking rapidly, shoulders drawing in on themselves.
tojis expression softened, and he leaned forward, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray as he opened his arm toward you, beckoning. "cmeere…let me hold ya."
you crossed the room before you could overthink it. the second you reached him, you climbed onto the couch and curled into his side, and toji caught you against him with an ease that made it obvious hed been expecting you.
one heavy arm went around your waist, and you tucked your face into the broad slope of his shoulder, trying desperately not to cry. for a few seconds, you managed, and then a tiny, broken whimper escaped you.
his hand moved slowly up your back, and toji dipped his head down to press a soft kiss against your cheek.
you curled tighter against him. he shifted underneath you, pulling you higher until you were tucked against his chest properly, one of his hands cradling the back of your head while the other stayed firm around your waist.
you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek while his fingers moved lazily through your hair.
"dont reckon you need to tell me." his voice was low and gravelly, words slow with sleep.
you nodded faintly in response.
tojis thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching a tear before it could run down your cheek. he looked at you for a moment, then drew you back against his shoulder. his hand settled at the nape of your neck, gently rubbing once before going still.
"been a long day for ya, huh?" he huffed, to which you gave the smallest nod.
he hummed in response.
then, he leaned back into the couch, taking you with him, and let you disappear against his chest. the television kept playing softly in the background, but toji barely paid attention to it anymore.
every now and then, his fingers would comb through your hair or his palm would settle more securely against your back when you shifted. when your breathing finally began to even out, he pressed one last kiss against your temple.
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bunny's been obsessing over the baking club president for weeks, but hasn't made a move, believing he's simply too intense for the sweetheart handing out leftover pastries in the hall. so color him surprised when he finally does act on his needs, and he's faced with the fact that some people will always be better than him. even at his own game. ᯓᡣ𐭩 (wc:2707)
very NSFW minors will be blocked! cw: fem!reader, college!au, bunny is a freak but reader is wayy better at this stuff, bakingclubpresident!reader, dom!reader, sub!bunny turned into bunny explores his need for praise and softness into handjob with a bunch of praise, use of 'good boy'. for these requests!
sweat drips down bunny’s forehead, the afternoon sun shining harshly upon the football field. a break, the much needed respite from the surprisingly intense training. his coach, lavinho, never takes stuff this seriously. at least, unless it’s about going up against his rival, noel noa’s team.
the whole tournament is but a part of the thoughts plaguing bunny’s mind. the movement near the courtyard has more or less been his obsession the past few weeks.
you. the cute, cheerful and generous baking club president who loves to hand out leftover pastries to tired students instead of hoarding them at home. he’s lost count of how many times he wished to take you up on the offer, but the stern look from his coach was enough to discourage him. besides, a man like bunny, a man who wants to die above all else, is not suited for someone like you. and while usually he’d relish in the possibility of bringing someone to tears, to the edge of despair as they beg and whine for him… he simply can’t do that to you. even a freak like him has his limits.
a chuckle startles him out of his thoughts, his coach’s grating voice teasing him beyond what the heat allows him to handle. “whatcha lookin’at? is it that girl again?”
bunny just nods.
“creep,” the man follows up, just as humorous still, “just talk to her instead of starin’. you’ve been doin’ it for weeks!”
lavinho slaps bunny’s shoulder, as if pushing him to get up. “don’t get enticed by the sweets, though. i need you in tiptop shape!”
“she’s too soft,” bunny sighs, “i’d break her.”
the older man bursts out laughing, pushing bunny even more, “just go! i bet girls like that enjoy a little roughousin’.”
being so polite all the time truly does work in one’s favor, bunny thinks to himself. he enjoys being underestimated, it gives him the benefit of the doubt. it’s good that lavinho thinks he was joking, even if he wasn’t.
knowing the fool wouldn’t let up, bunny gets up from the bench and makes his way over. at least he’s got an excuse this time, not that he’ll tell you the details of it.
your little apron, pink as always, flails in the tiny gusts of wind flowing through the nearby trees. a few flour stains here and there, paired with a bit of it on your cheek, you’ve never looked cuter to him. all up in your element, talking to people like it’s no problem, like they’re not draining all your energy by just being in your presence. his heart, usually devoid of much besides dread, fills up as you take notice of him approaching, your smile widening.
“hello, bunny!” oh, you know him by name. how sweet of you. and a little gut churning. “would you like a pastry? i’ve got some cinnamon rolls left~”
he shakes his head, stopping a few steps away, “no, thank you. i’m on a diet.”
your little nod, and the fall of your expression as you can’t hide the bit of disappointment has a smug little smile creeping onto his face. “besides, i don’t think it’d be as sweet as you anyway.”
your lips purse, clearly not very impressed. it does nothing to deter him, though. he’s already here. might as well.
“what’s with the look, amor?” he steps closer, leaning down so your faces are equal level. “i’m just being nice, aren’t i? are you afraid of getting burnt already?”
your breath hits his face as you huff, his smile only widening at your defiant expression, “i’m not as soft as i look.”
oh? how curious. the surprise he feels cannot be understated, his eyes widening marginally. you definitely don’t look like you’d have much defiance in you at all, much less with his face right before yours. most people cower when he walks past. his imposing height, the menacing aura he carries as your school’s star striker, while his face is mostly obstructed by both a cap and the hood of his hoodie. his smile is usually creepy at best, but it somehow has droves of women attracted to him. he quietly hoped it’d be the same for you, but maybe having to work for it this time will end up being worth it.
never did he think working for it would mean this.
being late to practice because he’s helping you scrub dishes, elbows deep in soapy water. he’s so concentrated on doing it well it kind of pisses him off. not to mention it’s now apparently your turn to be the smug asshole as you supervise him with your hands propped up on your waist. “the whisks are the most annoying, but you can do it, can’t you? hmm? sir master striker?”
he bites the inside of his cheek, “of course, ma’am,” he musters through gritted teeth.
how’d he get here? no fucking idea. he’s not a man who submits, ever. he tramples over people and their dreams weekly when he evens them with the ground with each win. so why is it that a singular look from you has him nodding his head, rushing to obey whatever you just demanded of him? he could get any girl he wanted right now, and not have to put up with this bullshit-
“thank you, bunny~ you’re such a good boy.”
oh. right. that’s why.
⊹ ࣪𓍢ִ໋⋆🍰ೀ⋆
it’s not like you did it on purpose.. or maybe you did. another annoying prick approaching you to take advantage of your politeness was never more than a brief inconvenience on any other day, but when it’s someone like bunny, you just couldn’t help yourself from at least trying to put him in his place. the idea of reducing someone like him to his knees was thrilling, to say the least.
so outwardly dominant, you didn’t expect him to fold as quickly as he did, but it sure was a whole lotta fun.
after he approached you while on break from his training, he’s become more vocal when in your vicinity. you’re not oblivious; his staring did eventually become a cause for concern so it was more than relieving when he finally did make his move. as irritating as his cockiness may be.
the memory is still fresh in your mind, how a singular dare managed to tangle him under your spell
“i’m not as sweet as i look,” you would've crossed your arms had you not been holding the tray. “besides, you don’t look like my type at all.”
that seemed to peak his interest. with brows raised, he smirked down at you then, “what is your type, amor?”
with narrowed eyes you scan the man who’s oozing confidence in spite of the initial rejection. he knows he’s of interest to you, even if he supposedly ‘not your type’. that truly does make him even more infuriating. you tilt your chin upwards defiantly, the urge to knock him down a couple pegs only strengthens.
“someone who knows their place.”
in no way did you ever imagine he’d find his place so easily. now, walking next to you with his hands occupied by grocery bags full of stuff you’ll be needing for your next baking adventure, he is very insistent on avoiding eye contact. even if his hand does brush yours very unapologetically every now and again.
“you’re so helpful, bunny,” you praise, “i never expected you to be so… eager.”
“‘m not eager,” he mumbles under his breath, “this is just the polite thing to do.”
you hum, giggling under your nose, “whatever you say.”
once inside your apartment, he sets the bags down on your kitchen counter. he’s supposed to leave, and you’re waiting for him to do so, and yet, he lingers awkwardly. timid movements rustle the bags as he ‘inspects’ them.
“thank you for your help,” you eye him curiously.
he nods, yet doesn’t make any moves to actually leave. eyes darting between you and over your carefully curated space, his feet shuffle, lips forming what one could consider to be a pout. not that he’d admit to it if you asked.
with a curious head tilt, you question, “did i forget anything?”
“no,” he grumbles, eyes now focused on the ceiling as he leans his hips against your counter.
how curious. you prop your hands up on your hips, brows pinched. “then why are you still here?”
“nevermind, just forget it,” he runs his hand over his face, quickly trying to walk past you. you don’t let him, blocking his path as you sidestep at the same time he does. engaging in a dance of sorts, while locking glares onto one another.
you shake your head, sticking a manicured nail into his sternum. “i don’t think so, mister. you’re usually so outspoken! what the fuck happened?”
a few heavy breaths leave him as he stares you down. for a moment you consider him being angry with you. the frown paired with flared nostrils would normally indicate irritation at the least but to your knowledge you’ve done nothing to be on the deserving end of it. it was him who caught you on the way to the store, smugly insisting he’d help because you totally couldn’t carry all that heavy stuff on your own, all while having no idea what you were even going to the store for.
“you’re the one who wanted to help, i don’t know why you’re acting like this,” your tone accusing, you feel a bit of anger sparking in your chest. “stop being weird.”
the heat creeping up his chest, his neck and eventually to his face and ears is comical enough to nearly draw a laugh from you, but the annoyance wins, and thus you stifle the humor down. finally, he graces you with a response; one that draws the need to laugh all over again.
he murmurs, pulling his cap further down his face to hide his eyes, “y’didn’t call me a good boy…”
your brows shoot up so fast it only makes him even more embarrassed. he turns away from you fully, leaning down onto your counter while you finally burst out laughing, “that was it?”
tears form in your eyes while you clutch your belly, “i can’t believe it!”
needing to find your own stability again by leaning on the wall, you blink away the remaining tears while you see bunny with his eyes screwed shut. his face is somehow redder than his eyes, and if you thought he was avoiding eye contact before, he’s just straight-up pretending you don’t exist now.
“aww,” you coo at him through your remaining giggles, your knees a little weak as you approach him. arms wrapped around his middle, you feel him stiffen as you hug him from behind. “for someone dominating the field week-in-week-out, you sure are a softie~”
“don’t tease me,” he makes a, albeit futile, attempt at regaining the upper hand. and yet, the chance of getting what he wants looms heavy over his needs, like some dog having a bone dangled in front of their face. he sounds pathetic, he looks pathetic, but above all: he’s so fucking cute you could gobble him up.
“naww,” you rub his defined abs with your thumbs, “it must be so scary, no? letting someone else have so much control over you..”
luckily, he slowly relaxes in your hold, the strained breaths turning into sighs of relief as your hands travel to his sides, massaging them gently. your voice lowers to a soft whisper, “it’s okay, i’m not actually making fun of you.”
“you sure?” he musters a chuckle, looking down at you over his shoulder. “i’m having a hard time believing that.”
you nod, head leaning against his back. “yeah, i’m sure.”
a few beats of silence pass, the frantic beating of his heart slowly but surely calms down. it brings a ghost of a smile to your face, and you sigh. arms squeezing him a little tighter, you press a kiss to his back, murmuring a small, “good boy.”
a shiver runs through him, a shaky breath not far behind. one of his hands comes up to rest over yours still on his side. he intertwines your fingers, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckle. “thank you,” he whispers.
it’s hard to believe who you’ve got so pliant in your arms right now, but here he is. the school’s most popular athlete, or just guy in general, melting at the slightest bit of praise from you.
“would you like to stay a little longer?” your voice is muffled as you speak into his back, but he seems to understand you perfectly as he places another kiss to your knuckles, nodding.
“yeah,” he whispers, bringing your hand down to his abdomen. he slides it down a little further, the bulge forming under his sweatpants making a smirk spread across your lips. especially when his tone turns just a tad bit whiny as he looks over his shoulder again, “i need your help.”
⊹ ࣪𓍢ִ໋⋆🍰ೀ⋆
lips locked onto yours, his legs spread wider while your hand works under the fabric of his sweatpants. his back pressed to your chest on your plush bed you rub his boxer-clad bulge with a perfect amount of pressure that completely devastates his senses.
your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him further back as you swallow his cute whimpers. you run a nail along his bulge, from the tip down to the base where you finally dip your hand into his boxers. his lips part from your in a startled gasp, his eyes flutter open to gaze up at you with need you’ve never seen before.
“please,” he whispers, “i need you.”
who are you to deny him when he begs so sweetly?
with one decisive movement you pull down both his pants and his boxers. his cock, fat and proud, shoots up to hit his belly. the precum leaking from the tip stains his shirt as he gasps at the cool air hitting his sensitive dick.
your hand wraps firmly around the base, squeezing him tightly while he throbs. more and more pre runs down from the crown and down to your hand, the slick aiding you as your hand finally moves upwards.
“that’s right,” you whisper into his hair, noting how his gaze is transfixed on your ministrations further below. “does it feel good, sweetheart?”
he nods, one of his hands reaching back to pull you even closer to him by the nape of your neck. he seeks any form of stability as you rub small circles over his slit, hips bucking to chase your touch.
“answer me.”
“yes! f-fuck-” he bites his lip, nearly drawing blood. “so fucking good…!”
with tight, purposeful strokes you reach from his weeping head to the base, the copious amounts of slick he produces cause your hand to create the filthiest wet noises that have heat creeping up your own face.
“isn’t it so good?” you nibble on his ear, “giving yourself over to me?”
the sting of when you bite down has him throwing his head back over your shoulder as he scrambles to get even closer. tears gather at his lashline he doesn’t allow to fall just yet.
“yes, yes, yes-” he babbles, hips recklessly thrusting up into your hand. any other time you’d scold him, edge him maybe.
but he’s making such good progress. it must’ve taken a great deal to submit like this when usually he’s the one in control. you can’t fault him for losing himself all too much. at least this time.
his heels dig into the sheets as he uses your hand to get off. his whines get higher and higher in pitch, until finally-
“cum for me, amor.”
the neediest, sweetest moan echoes through your room as ropes of white shoot out of his cock onto your hand and his chest. his hips stutter while his eyes roll back.
you stop the movement of your hand, now merely squeezing gently while the last bits of spend ooze from his tip. with a soft kiss to his temple and his cheek, you whisper: “such a good boy. my good boy.”
a/n: first time writing dom!reader ish something. feedback appreciated ( ☆∀☆) this was really challenging but we prevailed!!!!
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I WIIISSSSHHHHHH toji fushiguro would put me in a headlock 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 I SAID I WIIIISSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH toji fushiguro would put me in a headlock 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀
cw; fingering, virgin!reader, makeout, college au, unestablished relationship ꒰ based on this request ꒱
when the empty beer bottle landed on you, the room filled with hushed whispers and awkward laughter, everyone’s eyes on you. why? because 'the most frigid girl on campus’ was now supposed to spend seven minutes in a closet with satoru gojo.
satoru had a certain… reputation when it came to women. hence why his frat bro’s found this pairing particularly amusing, as did satoru’s ex-conquests stood nearby, giggling to themselves in their tiny mini skirts.
no one expected you to go into the closet with satoru — hell, they barely expected you to play the game in the first place. you wanted to prove them wrong so badly. to see the looks on their faces when you follow him upstairs.
"good luck, bro,” one of satoru’s frat bro’s boomed from across the room, "you’ll need it!"
fuck it.
"after you," you say, standing up from the couch, making direct eye contact with satoru, finally getting a good look at those infamous blue eyes.
shocked, he chugs down the rest of his drink, taking your hand, leading you upstairs to the notorious ‘hook up closet.’ you knew this was a bad idea, but truthfully, it felt good to prove people wrong — to finally show people you weren’t just some boring virgin.
as you reach the closet, satoru stops you from going in, placing one hand on your shoulder. "you don’t have to do this, y’know. i can always just tell people we hooked up or something," he says, appearing somewhat sincere away from prying eyes.
you think about it for a moment, looking down at your feet before meet in satoru’s gaze again, shaking your head. "no, it’s fine. i want to."
satoru shrugs, gesturing for you to go into the dark closet, following you in and closing the door behind him. it was a lot less spacious than you imagined it’d be — you were suddenly aware of how close he was, how his lips were about to be on yours.
"you really a virgin?" satoru asks, finding your hips and placing his hands on them without needing to see what he’s doing. it was like he’d done this a hundred times before (which he had).
your breath hitches at the contact, a faint blush appearing on your cheeks. thank god he couldn’t see it. "yeah, i am. are you gonna stand here and tease me about it or are you gonna start the timer and kiss me already?"
you had no idea where that burst of confidence came from.
satoru chuckles. using one hand to pull his phone out from his pocket, setting a timer for seven minutes. "wasn’t gonna tease you about it, but sure."
your body tenses as you hear the timer begin, satoru’s phone casting a faint light on your face. "relax, princess. it’s only kissing," satoru grins, leaning in close enough for you to smell his minty breath.
one of his hands moves to the back of your head, almost cradling it, the other still resting on your hip. he closes the remaining distance between you both, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips.
you stand there, body still slightly stiff, being given an unfortunate reminder. not only were you a virgin, you’d also never been kissed. the white-haired asshole knew it, too.
"never been kissed, huh?" satoru smirks, rubbing his thumb over your hip. "are you really gonna waste time teasing me?" you scoff, lips only a couple inches from his.
"already told you i’m not teasing, baby. i actually think it’s kinda cute," satoru responds. you blush a little more, body relaxing slightly at his words. whether they were true or not.
he lets his lips brush your yours before kissing you again, letting it last longer this time. "let me lead, mkay?" he says after pulling away a fraction, then leaning back in to claim your lips once more.
after a few slow kisses, they become more frequent, a steady rhythm developing. "you’re a quick learner," satoru murmurs, one hand moving further upwards, now resting on your waist beneath your shirt.
your breath hitches again. satoru gives your waist a reassuring squeeze, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. this time, his tongue enters your mouth, gliding against yours, body slowly melting against his.
satoru’s hand moves a little further up, now resting just below your breast. two minutes had just barely gone by and you were already becoming needy. so needy that a soft sigh leaves your lips, making satoru smirk against them.
"there it is," satoru says, slowly walking you back until you’re caged against one of the nearby walls, your hands eagerly trailing down the solid ridges of his abs. "there’s what?" you say, panting lightly as the kiss becomes more desperate.
"you’re enjoying yourself," satoru responds, brushing his thumb over your nipple, feeling it pebble under his touch. you sigh louder against his mouth, entirely lost in a haze of pleasure, becoming more worked up by the second.
"satoru—" you say breathlessly.
he grins again. "yeah, i know."
one hand reaches down to the button of your jeans, popping it open with ease as he pulls away to give you the chance to protest. to his surprise, you don’t. you were already too far gone — panties completely soaked.
satoru slips his hand down your panties, humming as he continues to kiss your now wet and swollen lips. "you really are a virgin, huh? shit— you’re soaked."
"shut u-"
that’s all you can manage before satoru silences you by circling your aching clit with two fingers, forehead pressed to yours as he lets you adjust to the sensation. "oh god—" you moan out, his fingers feeling much different than your own.
he glances over at his phone resting on the shelf nearby, four minutes remaining. "four minutes left, baby. plenty of time to make you cum."
with that, he slips two fingers inside of your sopping, virgin hole, beginning to curl them upwards repeatedly — thumb pressing on your clit. "hhnnn—shit," you moan, feeling satoru’s lips explore your neck, his other hand palming your breasts again.
"feels good, yeah?" making such pretty sounds," satoru purrs, painfully hard cock pressing against your thigh.
truthfully satoru was starting to lose his mind, not that he’d show it. the way you were purring like a kitten for him, how your pussy clenched around his digits — he’d never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life.
your moans began to fill the atmosphere along with the lewd sounds of your wet cunt, head thrown back to give satoru more access to your neck. every curl of his fingers had you seeing stars, hands clutching his thin shirt for dear life.
"taking my fingers soooo well," he coos, praise pushing you closer to orgasm. satoru was unsurprised at the rapidness of your climax given you’d never been touched like this before, connecting his lips with yours again to swallow down your sweet moans.
"s-satoru, i think m’gonna—” you pause, panting heavily, pleasure making your body tense up, teetering on the edge of climax. "fuuckk—let go for me, baby" he encourages, pressing down a little harder on your throbbing clit.
with a sharp cry, you cum, holding satoru tight for stability — pussy fluttering around his fingers. "good girl," he praises, working you through it with those skilled fingers of his.
the timer beeps just as satoru withdraws his fingers, sucking them into his mouth to taste your release. "mm, wouldve used my tongue if i knew you tasted this good."
you shove at his chest weakly, adjusting your clothes, beginning to feel a sudden wave of half guilt, half satisfaction from what you’d done with satoru.
both of you leave the closet, now stood in the light, making eye contact once more. "hey, so-" satoru begins before your cut him off abruptly.
"yeah yeah, i get it. we’ll never see each other again," you say, rolling your eyes before looking down, raising your eyebrows at the evident tent in satoru’s pants. "i was actually gonna say you should stop by my dorm sometime," he finishes.
satoru gojo wanted to see you again?
a/n; i had to rewrite this cus my laptop crashed and i lost everything </3 so sorry if this is ass and has like 100 errors LMAO
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